#advanced background challenge

[jcmarchi]

Unlocking the secrets of natural materials

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/unlocking-the-secrets-of-natural-materials/

Unlocking the secrets of natural materials

Growing up in Milan, Benedetto Marelli liked figuring out how things worked. He repaired broken devices simply to have the opportunity to take them apart and put them together again. Also, from a young age, he had a strong desire to make a positive impact on the world. Enrolling at the Polytechnic University of Milan, he chose to study engineering.

“Engineering seemed like the right fit to fulfill my passions at the intersection of discovering how the world works, together with understanding the rules of nature and harnessing this knowledge to create something new that could positively impact our society,” says Marelli, MIT’s Paul M. Cook Career Development Associate Professor of Civil and Environmental Engineering.

Marelli decided to focus on biomedical engineering, which at the time was the closest thing available to biological engineering. “I liked the idea of pursuing studies that provided me a background to engineer life,” in order to improve human health and agriculture, he says.

Marelli went on to earn a PhD in materials science and engineering at McGill University and then worked in Tufts University’s biomaterials Silklab as a postdoc. After his postdoc, Marelli was drawn to MIT’s Department of Civil and Environmental in large part because of the work of Markus Buehler, MIT’s McAfee Professor of Engineering, who studies how to design new materials by understanding the architecture of natural ones.

“This resonated with my training and idea of using nature’s building blocks to build a more sustainable society,” Marelli says. “It was a big leap forward for me to go from biomedical engineering to civil and environmental engineering. It meant completely changing my community, understanding what I could teach and how to mentor students in a new engineering branch. As Markus is working with silk to study how to engineer better materials, this made me see a clear connection with what I was doing and what I could be doing. I consider him one of my mentors here at MIT and was fortunate to end up collaborating with him.”

Marelli’s research is aimed at mitigating several pressing global problems, he says.

“Boosting food production to provide food security to an ever-increasing population, soil restoration, decreasing the environmental impact of fertilizers, and addressing stressors coming from climate change are societal challenges that need the development of rapidly scalable and deployable technologies,” he says.

Marelli and his fellow researchers have developed coatings derived from natural silk that extend the shelf life of food, deliver biofertilizers to seeds planted in salty, unproductive soils, and allow seeds to establish healthier plants and increase crop yield in drought-stricken lands. The technologies have performed well in field tests being conducted in Morocco in collaboration with the Mohammed VI Polytechnic University in Ben Guerir, according to Marelli, and offer much potential.

“I believe that with this technology, together with the common efforts shared by the MIT PIs participating in the Climate Grand Challenge on Revolutionizing Agriculture, we have a  real opportunity to positively impact planetary health and find new solutions that work in both rural settings and highly modernized agricultural fields,” says Marelli, who recently earned tenure.

As a researcher and entrepreneur with about 20 patents to his name and awards including a National Science Foundation CAREER award, the Presidential Early Career Award for Scientists and Engineers award, and the Ole Madsen Mentoring Award, Marelli says that in general his insights into structural proteins — and how to use that understanding to manufacture advanced materials at multiple scales — are among his proudest achievements.

More specifically, Marelli cites one of his breakthroughs involving a strawberry. Having dipped the berry in an odorless, tasteless edible silk suspension as part of a cooking contest held in his postdoctoral lab, he accidentally left it on his bench, only to find a week or so later that it had been well-preserved.

“The coating of the strawberry to increase its shelf life is difficult to beat when it comes to inspiring people that natural polymers can serve as technical materials that can positively impact our society” by lessening food waste and the need for energy-intensive refrigerated shipping, Marelli says.

When Marelli won the BioInnovation Institute and Science Prize for Innovation in 2022, he told the journal Science that he thinks students should be encouraged to choose an entrepreneurial path. He acknowledged the steepness of the learning curve of being an entrepreneur but also pointed out how the impact of research can be exponentially increased.

He expanded on this idea more recently.

“I believe an increasing number of academics and graduate students should try to get their hands ‘dirty’ with entrepreneurial efforts. We live in a time where academics are called to have a tangible impact on our society, and translating what we study in our labs is clearly a good way to employ our students and enhance the global effort to develop new technology that can make our society more sustainable and equitable,” Marelli says.

Referring to a spinoff company, Mori, that grew out of the coated strawberry discovery and that develops silk-based products to preserve a wide range of perishable foods, Marelli says he finds it very satisfying to know that Mori has a product on the market that came out of his research efforts — and that 80 people are working to translate the discovery from “lab to fork.”

“Knowing that the technology can move the needle in crises such as food waste and food-related environmental impact is the highest reward of all,” he says.

Marelli says he tells students who are seeking solutions to extremely complicated problems to come up with one solution, “however crazy it might be,” and then do an extensive literature review to see what other researchers have done and whether “there is any hint that points toward developing their solution.”

“Once we understand the feasibility, I typically work with them to simplify it as much as we can, and then to break down the problem in small parts that are addressable in series and/or in parallel,” Marelli says.

That process of discovery is ongoing. Asked which of his technologies will have the greatest impact on the world, Marelli says, “I’d like to think it’s the ones that still need to be discovered.”

[sirfrogsworth]

Remember this joke?

Well, I am going to do something similar only with photography. This is a photo someone took for an Amazon review of their Clinique products.

Honestly, it is not a terrible photo. They did some staging. They have an interesting background. All of the labels are legible. It is properly exposed. This would be a perfectly acceptable product photo for an Etsy page.

I've been taking these advanced photography courses in preparation for whenever I am able to create a new studio in the house. And my teacher is a photography badass. I just watched a 6 hour class on how to recreate a professional Clinique ad. And at first glance it looks deceptively simple. It's just some skin care products being splashed with a little water.

Which is why I wanted you to see an average person for reference.

This is what Karl Taylor came up with.

And I don't think I've learned so much about photography in one tutorial before.

Product photography is just loads and loads of problem solving. You have to light the chrome caps with a gradient. Which requires giant diffusion scrims.

Those big white panels are literally only there for the two chrome caps.

You need a pure white background, but you can't let light spill all over the studio, so you put up giant black light blockers.

And you have to add another light just for the orange bottle on the right.

Oh, and if you want the bottles to glow, well, you have to hide a silver reflector behind them.

But you still want the edges of the bottles to be darker so they have some contrast. So you add some black tape to the sides.

And in order for the reflective labels to have bold black lettering, you have to reflect black cards into them.

Ack! Karl's beautiful bald head is showing up in the chrome caps! He must put on the naughty blanket.

And once you get every aspect of every bottle perfectly lit, you finally get to yeet some water at it all.

I don't love product photography because I have a weird obsession to help greedy corporations make their wares look more beautiful. I love it because it is a complicated and challenging new puzzle every time. Every product is a different shape and requires a different technique to make it look its best.

I don't know if I will be able to live up to Karl's standards.

This is about the level I was at in 2017 before I quit photography.

I have so much more knowledge in my brain now. I'm really hoping I can surpass that.

[natsaffection]

Ohh an idea 💡 in my head and I know you are perfect to write this, basically reader is working at a company that is run by bad guys but doesn't know it, so natasha is sent on a mission to get close to her and gather Intel, so couple weeks pass and reader finds out in the most distraught way which causes her to end everything with Natasha but still have a good heart decides to give everything natasha needs to take down the company, (happy ending or sad ending either works) 💝

Showing everything. | N.R

Warnings: Just Angst?

Word count: 8,4k

A/n: I'm so grateful every time I finish a Ask that's been on my list for weeks. So thank you for your patience each time. 🫶🏼

You had always dreamed of finding a job where you could make a difference in the world, but you never thought it would come in the form of an elegant office in the heart of New York City. The building, a towering glass structure shimmering in the sunlight, housed one of the city's most prestigious companies. Kinetica Industries. They were known for their groundbreaking technology and humanitarian efforts, advancing medical equipment and energy supply that had revolutionized the industry. It was a dream job, almost impossible to turn down.

You stumbled upon the opportunity by chance. A late night scrolling through endless job listings led you to Kinetica's website. The company was looking for someone with your exact skills: data analysis and project management. The job description was vague but intriguing. Analyzing trends, managing large datasets, coordinating with various departments. It sounded challenging yet rewarding, the kind of opportunity you needed to prove yourself. The application process was quick, almost too quick. A few online assessments, a virtual interview with a charming man who headed your department, and within a week, you were offered the job. They said they were impressed by your resume, your background in bioinformatics, and your impeccable reputation. The salary was more than generous, with benefits that seemed almost too good to be true. But eager to start fresh and leave the stagnation of your previous job behind, you didn't question it further. You accepted immediately.

Your first day was a whirlwind of activity. The office itself was as impressive as the building's exterior. Elegant, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The air buzzed with innovation, with teams of people tirelessly working on the next big thing. You were given a tour, introduced to your colleagues. Bright, motivated people who all seemed to share your enthusiasm for the work. Your role was exactly as described, but with a small twist. You were part of a special project they called "The Initiative." It involved collecting and analyzing data from various sources to create predictive models that could be used for everything from disease prevention to energy distribution. It sounded noble, and you were thrilled to be part of something that could change the world.

But as you settled into your new role, you couldn't help but notice the layers of secrecy surrounding certain aspects of your work. Some files were restricted, accessible only with special clearance. Occasionally, your requests for specific datasets were met with vague answers or outright refusal. But whenever doubts arose, you reminded yourself that every company had its secrets, especially one as influential as Kinetica.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit office in the underground levels of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Natasha Fury sat across from you, the tension in the air almost palpable. "Romanoff," Fury began, his single eye piercing through the twilight, "we have a problem. Kinetica Industries." Natasha leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "The tech company? They've been on our radar for a while, haven't they?"

"They have." Fury confirmed. "But new intel suggests they're more than just a tech company. We believe they're a front for something far more dangerous. We suspect they're involved in illegal arms trading, possibly even human experimentation. But we need proof." Natasha nodded, understanding where this was going. "And that's where I come in."

"Exactly. We've identified someone on the inside, Y/N Y/L/N. She's new, only started about a week ago. As far as we can tell, she's clean. No criminal record, no ties to any organizations. She's the perfect target to infiltrate." Natasha leaned forward, studying the file Fury slid across the table. Your face stared back at her from the photo clipped to the top of the file, a bright smile, eyes full of hope. Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, but she pushed it aside. This was a mission, and she had a job to do.

"What's the plan?" she asked, flipping through the file. "You'll go undercover as someone with a similar background, a data analyst, someone they might hire if the current employee doesn't work out. Your task is to gain her trust, find out what Y/n knows. If she's innocent, she might unknowingly be sitting on crucial information. If not.."

"I'll find out," Natasha finished, her voice cold and determined. Fury nodded, satisfied. "We need to act fast. Every day we wait is another day Kinetica could move their operations. I'm counting on you, Romanoff." Natasha stood up, tucking the file under her arm. "I won't let you down."

As she left Fury's office, her thoughts were already spinning with possibilities, strategies, and the cool detachment that came with every undercover mission. She knew this wouldn't be easy. You were innocent, or at least you seemed to be. But Natasha had learned the hard way that appearances could be deceiving. Her mission was clear: get close to you, gather the information, and expose Kinetica for what they really were. But as she prepared to step into your world, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would become more complicated than she anticipated.

Your first weeks at Kinetica Industries were a whirlwind of new faces, complex datasets, and an overwhelming amount of information. You were slowly getting used to the office routine when you heard about the new hire. Natalie Rushman, as she was introduced, joined the team on a bright Monday morning. You first heard about her during the daily briefing. Your department head mentioned that Natalie was hired to assist with data analysis, given the increasing workload from "The Initiative."

"I want you to show her the ropes." Your boss said, his tone implying it was not a request. "She has a similar background to you, and I think you two will work well together." You nodded, trying to hide the concern you felt about being responsible for training someone so soon after starting yourself. You hadn't fully mastered your own tasks yet, and now you were supposed to mentor someone else? But you forced a smile and agreed, hoping that Natalie would be as easygoing as she seemed in her brief introduction.

It wasn't until later in the morning that you finally met her. You were in the office kitchen, struggling with the intricate espresso machine that seemed designed to torment anyone who wasn't a seasoned barista. You had managed to spill coffee grounds everywhere when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You turned around and saw Natalie standing there, a slight smile on her lips. Her red hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she wore a white blouse and tailored black pants that made her look effortlessly professional. "Need some help?" Natalie asked, her voice warm and slightly amused. You laughed, embarrassed to be caught in the middle of your coffee disaster. "I think this machine was designed by someone who hates caffeine addicts."

Natalie stepped forward, gently nudging you aside. "Mind if I give it a try? I've had my fair share of battles with these things."

"Be my guest." you replied gratefully, stepping back. Natalie moved with practiced ease, quickly coaxing the machine into cooperation and brewing two perfect cups of espresso. She handed you one, which you accepted with a wide grin. "You're a lifesaver." you said, taking a sip. The coffee was perfectm. Rich, smooth, and exactly what you needed to get through the rest of the day. "I'm Y/n, by the way. I'm supposed to show you around today."

"Natalie." she replied, her smile deepening. "And I appreciate the help. The first days are always a bit overwhelming."

"Don't I know it.." you said, rolling your eyes playfully. "I'm still trying to figure out where half the supplies are kept around here." Natalie laughed, a genuine but slightly guarded sound, as if she was still feeling out her new environment. "I'm sure we'll figure it out together. So, what exactly are we working on?" You began explaining the project to her, giving her an overview of "The Initiative" and what your roles would be. As you spoke, you noticed that Natalie was a good listener, nodding at the right moments and asking insightful questions. It was clear she knew what she was talking about, and you felt a little more at ease, knowing you weren't dealing with a complete novice.

"So," Natalie said as you walked back to the office with your coffees in hand, "what made you decide to work here?" You shrugged, trying to put your thoughts into words. "I guess I wanted to be part of something bigger, you know? Kinetica is doing some amazing things..or at least that's what they tell us. It's nice to think that the work we're doing here might actually make a difference."

Natalie nodded thoughtfully, as if considering her own reasons for being here. "I can understand that. It's nice to feel like what you're doing matters." You arrived at your desk, which was temporarily doubling as Natalie's workspace until hers was ready. You showed her how to log into the system, where to find the files she needed, and how to navigate the company's complex database. As you worked together, you noticed how quickly Natalie picked everything up. She seemed almost too proficient, as if she knew the system better than someone on their first day should. But you brushed the thought aside, some people were just quick learners, you thought.

The day passed smoothly, with the two of you working side by side and getting to know each other in small increments between tasks. Natalie was friendly but reserved, sharing just enough about herself to seem open without giving too much away. You found that you liked your new colleague, appreciating her calm demeanor and quick mind.

By the end of the day, you had made significant progress on your tasks, and you were starting to feel a sense of camaraderie with Natalie. As you prepared to leave, you turned to her with a smile. “Thanks for today, Natalie. You made my job a lot easier.” Natalie returned the smile, her green eyes sparkling in the fading daylight. “The feeling is mutual. I think we’re going to make a great team.” You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t expected. Maybe this new job wouldn’t be so overwhelming after all..

In the weeks that followed, the bond between you and Natalie deepened, evolving from a close friendship into something more intense, something charged. There was a tension between you that neither of you could ignore, a pull that grew stronger with every shared glance, every lingering touch. You had danced around your feelings for each other for a while, but the unspoken words were becoming harder to bear.

One evening, after another long day at the office, you found yourselves alone in the break room once again. The city lights cast a soft glow through the windows, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. You sat closer than usual, your shoulders touching as you picked at the remnants of a shared dinner. Your heart raced, the proximity making it difficult to focus on anything other than the warmth of Natalie’s body next to yours.

“Natalie..” you began hesitantly, “I need to tell you something.” Natalie looked up from her food, her green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I..I’ve been trying to understand these feelings I have for you.. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone I work with, but I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I care about you, Natalie. More than just as a friend.” The words hung heavy in the air between you, filled with the weight of their honesty. You watched Natalie closely, searching her face for any sign of rejection or discomfort. But what you saw instead was a softening in her expression, a warmth that she hadn’t fully shown before.

“Y/n,” Natalie said softly, reaching out to take your hand, “I feel the same way. I’ve tried to keep my distance, to stay professional, but..I can’t help it. I love you.” Your heart leaped at her confession, your pulse quickening as the truth settled between you. “You.. you love me?”

Natalie nodded, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Yes, I do. And I’ve been so scared of what that means, but I can’t deny it any longer. I love you, Y/n.” The relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming, and without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Natalie’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

Natalie responded immediately, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she deepened the kiss, letting all her unspoken feelings flow into it. It was a moment of pure connection, where nothing else existed but the two of you and the love you shared. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to process what had just happened.

“I can’t believe this is real..” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “It is,” Natalie murmured, her eyes shining with affection. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, everything felt perfect. But as the warmth of the moment began to fade, a sharp pang of guilt pierced Natasha’s heart. She had just confessed her love to you, but the truth was far more complicated than she could admit. She wasn’t just Natalie Rushman, a data analyst who had fallen for her colleague..she was Natasha Romanoff, a spy sent to gather information from the woman she had just professed her love to.

As you sat there, your hand still in hers, Natasha knew she was at a crossroads. She had sworn to get the information she needed, to complete the mission no matter what. But now, with the thought of betraying you, her stomach twisted with guilt. “Y/n,” Natasha began, her voice heavy with what she was about to say, “I want us to be completely honest with each other. Totally honest. I need to know..is there anything about our project, about Kinetica, that seems strange to you? Anything that doesn’t add up?”

You frowned slightly, confused by the sudden change in topic. “What do you mean?” Natasha hesitated, hating herself for what she had to do, but knowing she had no choice. “I’ve just..noticed a few things that don’t quite fit. Some files that are restricted, some data that doesn’t quite match up. I thought maybe you’d noticed it too.” Your brow furrowed as you thought back over the past few months. “Well, there have been a few things that seemed odd, but I just figured it was part of working at such a high-level company. Why do you ask?”

Natasha swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep up the pretense. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I want to make sure we’re not missing anything important.” You nodded slowly, still puzzled but trusting Natalie’s concern. “I’ll keep an eye out, and if I notice anything, I’ll let you know. But..can we not talk about work right now? I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

Natasha’s heart clenched at your words, the guilt threatening to overwhelm her. She had just used your moment of vulnerability to fish for information, and the realization made her feel sick. But she forced herself to push the guilt aside, to focus on the mission, even as it tore her apart inside. “Of course.” Natasha said softly, pulling you closer and kissing you again, trying to lose herself in the warmth and love she felt for you.

Weeks passed, and the bond between you and Natalie grew even deeper. Your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful, a refuge in the midst of the high-pressure jobs at Kinetica Industries. You spent as much time together as possible..dinners, quiet nights with movies, and long walks through the city. For you, it felt like you had finally found someone who understood you, someone you could trust completely. But for Natasha, the lines between her mission and her feelings for you were becoming increasingly blurred.

The guilt Natasha felt was a constant companion, gnawing at her whenever she saw your trusting smile or felt the warmth of your hand in hers. Natasha knew she was deceiving you, but every time she considered telling you the truth, the weight of her duty as an agent held her back. She had a job to do, and despite her feelings, she couldn’t abandon it.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the office, you invited Natasha to your place. You were behind on some work and needed to finish a report for the next day, but you didn’t want to miss out on spending time with Natalie. Natasha agreed, glad for any excuse to spend more time with you.

Your apartment was cozy and inviting, filled with the little details Natasha had come to love. Bookshelves overflowing with novels, a small collection of plants by the window, and a few framed photos of you with your family. You settled together on the couch, you with your laptop and Natasha with a book she had picked from your shelf. “I’m sorry I have to work tonight..” you said, giving Natasha an apologetic smile. “I just need to finish this report, and then I’m all yours.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha replied with a smile of her own. “I’m just happy to be here with you. Take your time.” As you focused on your work, Natasha found herself watching you more than reading the book in her hands. The way your brow furrowed slightly when you were deep in thought, the absent-minded way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. All of it made Natasha’s heart ache with affection and guilt. But as much as she wanted to lose herself in these feelings, Natasha couldn’t forget why she was there. This was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Your work might hold the key to the information S.H.I.E.L.D. needed, and Natasha had to take advantage of it, no matter how much it tore her up inside.

After about an hour, you stood up and stretched, yawning. “I need to make some tea. Want anything?”

Natasha nodded her head, giving you a reassuring smile. “This would be grate.” As you disappeared into the kitchen, Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest. This was her chance. She had to act quickly. She set the book aside and moved quietly to your laptop. The screen was still on, showing the report you were working on, but Natasha’s focus was on the folders and files scattered across the desktop. She opened one labeled “Project Data” her hands trembling slightly as she navigated through the documents.

Natasha scanned the files, her sharp eyes searching for anything that stood out or seemed significant. Most of the documents were routine. Xatasets, project reports, emails. But then she found something: a file titled “Confidential Research Notes.”

Her heart raced as she opened it and found a series of notes detailing experiments and datasets that she hadn’t seen before. It was more detailed than anything you had shown her at work, and as Natasha read through it, she realized it contained the kind of information S.H.I.E.L.D. had been looking for..details about Kinetica’s involvement in potentially illegal research, experiments that crossed ethical boundaries.

She heard the clink of a teacup in the kitchen, and panic surged through her. Quickly, Natasha copied the file onto a USB stick she had hidden in her bag. She had just closed the file when you returned, carrying twocups of tea. “Here you go.” you said with a smile, handing one of the cups to Natasha. “Thanks.” Natasha replied, taking the cup with slightly trembling hands and praying that you hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

You settled back down on the couch, taking a sip of your tea and letting out a contented sigh. “The report is almost done. After that, we can watch the movie you mentioned.” Natasha forced a smile, trying to push down the gnawing guilt and the tight knot in her stomach. “That sounds great.”

As you returned to your work, Natasha tried to relax, but the weight of what she had just done loomed over her. She had gathered the information she needed, but at the cost of betraying your trust. For the rest of the evening, Natasha was distant, her mind racing with thoughts of what would happen next.

You noticed the change in her demeanor and reached out to touch her arm, concern evident in your eyes. “Hey, is everything okay?” Natasha looked into your eyes, feeling her heart ache. “Yeah, I’m just..tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

You smiled gently and squeezed her arm. “I get it. We’ve both been working so hard lately. Let’s just relax tonight, okay? No more work, just us.” Natasha nodded, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Just us.” she repeated, her voice hollow. As you both snuggled up on the couch to watch the movie, Natasha tried to focus on the moment, to lose herself in the warmth of your presence. But no matter how hard she tried, the guilt and the knowledge of what she had done weighed heavily on her.

The following days were filled with an unbearable tension for Natasha. She knew she had to pass the information to S.H.I.E.L.D., but she dreaded what would happen when the truth came out. The time she spent with you, the smiles, the laughter, all felt tainted by the lie she was living. Finally, the day came when Natasha couldn’t put it off any longer. She knew she had to deliver the USB drive to S.H.I.E.L.D. The mission needed to be completed, but the thought of what that would mean for your relationship was almost too much to bear.

That evening, as you sat together at your kitchen table, your laptop open in front of you as you worked on another report, Natasha made her decision. She had to do this, even though it meant risking everything with you. But before she could leave, something happened that changed everything.

You called Natasha over, a confused look on your face. “Nat, can you look at something for me? This report doesn’t make sense.” Natasha’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. “Sure, what’s going on?” she asked, walking over to the table.

You pointed at the screen, your brow furrowed in confusion. “I just got this email from my boss, and he attached this report. It’s about a security breach at Kinetica. They’re trying to figure out who accessed some confidential files..” Natasha’s blood ran cold, but she kept her voice steady. “A security breach? What files are they talking about?”

You scrolled through the report, your frown deepening. “It doesn’t say exactly, but it has something to do with our project. They’ve narrowed down the list of suspects, but I don’t recognize most of the names..except for one.”

You paused, your eyes widening as you focused on a name in the list: Natasha Romanoff.

“Natasha Romanoff?” you whispered, confusion and disbelief clear in your voice. You looked up at Natasha, searching her face for answers. “Wait, is that you? Is this some kind of mistake?”

Natasha felt the walls closing in on her. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. The truth was out, and there was no going back. “Y/n,” she began, her voice trembling, “I need you to listen to me.” You took a step back, fear and suspicion creeping into your eyes. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice shaking.

Natasha’s heart broke at the sight of the fear in your eyes. “I’m still the same person, Y/n. I’m still me. But..I haven’t been honest with you.” Your hands shook as you hugged yourself, desperately trying to understand what was happening. “Who are you? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes as she took a hesitant step toward you, but you flinched and stepped back. “Please, let me explain..” Natasha pleaded, her voice breaking. “My real name is Natasha Romanoff. I’m an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I was sent here to gather information on Kinetica. But everything else..everything between us..it was real. My feelings for you, Y/n, are real.”

Your eyes darted around the room as if searching for something familiar, something to hold onto. But everything felt wrong. The woman you loved, the woman you trusted, was a stranger. “You used me?” you asked, your voice trembling with anger and fear. “You used me the whole time?”

“No!” Natasha said quickly, desperation creeping into her voice. “It started as a mission, yes, but I never meant to fall in love with you. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, Y/n, you have to believe me.” You shook your head, backing away until you hit the wall. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t even know who you are. Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D.… it sounds like something out of a Movie..”

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched you crumble before her. She took a tentative step closer, her hands shaking. “I’m still the person you fell in love with, Y/n. I’m still the person who loves you more than anything. Please, let me explain everything.” You stared at Natasha, your heart breaking all over again. “You should have told me the truth from the beginning! But you didn’t. You lied to me, and now..now I don’t even know who you are..”

Natasha took another step forward, reaching out tentatively. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m begging you, please give me a chance to make it right.” You looked down at Natasha’s outstretched hand, but the fear and betrayal in your heart were too overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to take it. “I can’t..” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this. I need you to leave.”

Natasha’s heart broke at your words, but she knew she had no right to ask for forgiveness, not now. “Y/n, I-”

“Just go!” you cried, your voice filled with agony. “Please, just go. I can’t look at you right now.” Natasha’s hands fell to her sides, her shoulders slumping as the weight of what she had done crashed down on her. She had lost you, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. But as much as it hurt, she knew she had to respect your wishes.

“I’m so sorry..” Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I love you, Y/n. I’ll always love you.” Without another word, Natasha turned and left your apartment, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through the empty space. You stood there, frozen, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as the truth of Natasha’s betrayal washed over you. The apartment that once felt like a safe haven now felt cold and empty, the warmth of Natasha’s presence gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of loss. You slid down the wall, pulling your knees to your chest as your body shook with sobs. The woman you loved, the woman you trusted, was a lie, and you didn’t know if you could ever trust anyone again.

Hours passed, and eventually, your tears dried up, leaving you with a hollow feeling inside. But despite the pain, you couldn’t ignore the truth that Natasha had revealed. Kinetica was involved in something dangerous, something that needed to be stopped. And despite everything, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

Slowly, you got to your feet, your resolve hardening. You would do what needed to be done, not for Natasha, but because it was the right thing to do. You walked over to your laptop and opened the files you had been working on. With a heavy heart, you gathered everything you knew about Kinetica’s activities, your hands shaking as you worked. The information you collected could help bring the company down, but it came at the cost of everything you believed in, everything you felt.

When you finished, you copied the files onto a USB stick and set it on the table. You stared at it for a long time, your thoughts filled with memories of the woman you thought you knew, the woman you loved. Finally, you took a deep breath and reached for your phone. You hesitated for a moment before dialing the number Natasha had given you, the one you were supposed to use only in an emergency.

Natasha answered on the first ring, her voice thick with emotion. “Y/n?”

“I have the information you need.” you said, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. “It’s on a USB stick. I’ll leave it at the café near my apartment tomorrow morning. You can pick it up there.”

“Y/n, please, can we talk-” Natasha began, but you cut her off.

“There’s nothing more to say.” you said quietly. "That's it, Natasha. After this, we're done. Don't contact me again."

A long silence followed on the other end of the line, and you could hear the pain in Natasha's voice when she finally spoke. "Thank you. I'm so sorry. For everything."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to keep your emotions under control. "Goodbye, Natasha."

The mission was over. Kinetica Industries had been exposed, its leaders arrested, and the illegal activities shut down. Natasha had completed her assignment, but the victory felt hollow. As the dust settled, she could only think about you, how she had lost you and how desperate she was to make things right.

Days turned into weeks, and the absence of you in Natasha's life became unbearable. The empty silence in her apartment echoed the emptiness in her heart. She replayed the last conversation she had with you over and over in her mind, haunted by the pain in your voice, the cold finality of your words. Natasha knew she had no right to ask for forgiveness, but she couldn't live with the thought that you hated her, that the love you had shared was now just a memory tainted by lies. After much deliberation, Natasha decided she had to try one last time to explain herself and apologize in person. She knew it was a long shot..you had made it clear you didn't want to see her again but Natasha couldn't leave things the way they were. She had to try.

One evening, just as the sun was setting, Natasha made her way to your apartment. The familiar building loomed before her, but this time it felt different..colder, more intimidating. She hesitated at the entrance, her heart pounding in her chest. What if you refused to listen? What if you called the police before she even had a chance to say anything? But she knew she couldn't turn back now. She took a deep breath, entered the building, and walked to your door. She stood there for a long moment, gathering her thoughts before she finally raised her hand and knocked softly.

There was a long pause, and Natasha's heart sank as she imagined you ignoring her, refusing to even open the door. But then she heard footsteps approaching, and the door opened a crack, revealing your wary eyes. Your expression shifted from surprise to anger as soon as you saw Natasha. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, and you narrowed your eyes. "What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice cold and hard.

"Y/n, please, I just want to talk." Natasha said quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know I don't deserve it, but I need to explain-" You cut her off, your voice sharp with anger. "Explain? There's nothing left to explain, Natasha. You lied to me, used me, and now you have the nerve to show up at my door?"

"Please.." Natasha pleaded, her voice breaking. "Give me five minutes." Your eyes flashed with a mix of anger, pain, and something else that Natasha couldn't quite place. You hesitated, your hand still gripping the doorknob as if you were weighing whether to slam the door in her face. "If you don't leave right now." you said, your voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion, "I'll call the police."

Natasha felt her heart sink, but she didn't move. She knew you were serious, but she also knew that if she walked away now, she would never have another chance to make things right. "Do it." Natasha said quietly, "Call them if you want. But please, hear me out first. I need to show you how sorry I am. I know I can't undo what I've done, but I can't live with myself if I don't at least try to apologize."

You stared at Natasha, your hand shaking as you gripped the doorknob. The pain in your eyes was unmistakable, and it broke Natasha's heart to see how much she had hurt you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Finally, you let out a shaky breath and loosened your grip on the doorknob. "You have five minutes," you said, "But if you lie to me again, I swear I'll call the police."

Natasha nodded, relief washing over her even though she knew this was only a small victory. "Thank you." she whispered, stepping back as you opened the door just enough to let her in. You led Natasha into the living room, a space that had once felt warm and inviting but now felt cold and distant. You gestured for Natasha to sit on the sofa, but you remained standing, arms crossed over your chest as you waited for her to speak.

"Okay," Natasha began, her voice trembling, "I know I've hurt you in a way I can never fully apologize for. I deceived you and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know that every moment I spent with you, every touch, every word I said to you, was real. My feelings for you are real." Your eyes flashed with anger, and you shook your head. "How am I supposed to believe that? You're a trained spy. Lying is part of your job."

"I know.." Natasha said, her voice breaking slightly. "And that's why I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. But I couldn't leave things the way they were. I couldn't let you believe that everything between us was just part of the mission. It wasn't. You became the most important person in my life, and I was so scared of losing you."

"Then why didn't you tell me the truth?" you asked, your voice trembling with pent-up emotion. "Why did you wait until I had to find out this way?" Natasha swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. "Because I was a coward. I didn't want to lose you, and I thought that if I could just finish the mission, maybe..just maybe we could have a life together afterward. But I was wrong. I should have been honest with you from the start."

You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as well. "You should have. But you didn't. And now I don't know if I can ever trust you again." A tear rolled down Natasha's cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. "I understand." she said softly. "I know I've broken your trust, and I have to live with that. I just wanted you to know that I love you, Y/n. I will always love you. And if you never want to see me again, I'll respect that. But please don't think that I didn't care about you, because I do."

You looked away, blinking back tears. "You should go, Natasha. There's nothing more to say." Natasha nodded, her heart breaking all over again. "I'm sorry." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For everything."

Without another word, Natasha turned and walked to the door, her steps heavy with the weight of the finality of the situation. She paused in the doorway, casting one last look at you, hoping to find something..anything that might suggest there was still a chance for you both. But your expression remained cold and distant, your eyes avoiding hers. With a heavy heart, Natasha opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud that echoed in the silence that followed. Natasha stood there for a moment, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. She had tried, but it was over. You were right. There was nothing more to say.

Unknown to you, the case of Kinetica’s downfall was far from over. The company’s leaders were desperately trying to cover their tracks, attempting to salvage what they could. But amid the chaos, they discovered something alarming: You, one of their employees, had been the one to pass on the damning information that had led to their downfall. And now they wanted revenge.

You were alone in your apartment one evening, your thoughts drifting as you tried to focus on the book you were reading. The quiet was soothing, a respite from the whirlwind of emotions you had been grappling with. But that peace was abruptly shattered by a sudden, insistent knocking at your door. Frowning, you set the book aside and walked to the door, peering through the peephole. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw two men standing outside, men you didn’t recognize, but something about their presence immediately set off alarm bells in your head.

“Who is it?” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease rising within you. “Delivery.” one of the men said, but there was no package in sight, and his tone was too cold, too rehearsed.

Your instincts kicked in, and you stepped away from the door, your heart racing. These weren’t delivery men..they were here for something else, something far more sinister. Panic gripped you as you realized that Kinetica must have found out what you had done. Just as you were about to reach for your phone, the door burst open with a loud crash, the two men forcing their way in. You screamed and stumbled back, your thoughts racing with fear and desperation. But before they could reach you, another figure appeared in the doorway, moving with deadly precision. Natasha.

She had been keeping an eye on your apartment since your last conversation, knowing that Kinetica might try something. When she saw the men approaching your building, she knew immediately what their target was and she wasn’t going to let them harm you. “Get away from her.” Natasha snarled, her voice cold and dangerous.

The men turned to face Natasha, but they barely had time to react before she was on them. In a blur of motion, she disarmed the first man, sending his weapon skittering across the floor. The second man lunged at her, but she easily dodged and delivered a powerful kick to his stomach, sending him crashing into the wall. You watched in stunned silence as Natasha took down the men with brutal efficiency, her movements fluid and controlled. The fight was over in seconds, the two men lying unconscious on the floor as Natasha stood over them, breathing heavily.

For a moment, the apartment was eerily silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two women. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. Natasha turned to you, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, laced with the fear she had tried to suppress.

You nodded slowly, your eyes wide as you stared at Natasha. “I..I think so..” you stammered, still trying to grasp everything. “What..what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave you unprotected.” Natasha said, stepping closer, her eyes full of guilt and love. “I knew Kinetica might come after you. I couldn’t let that happen.” Your gaze flickered to the unconscious men on the floor, then back to Natasha. “You..you saved me.”

Natasha nodded, her heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. “I will always protect you. No matter what’s happened between us, I’ll always be here for you.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Natasha, the woman who had lied to you, who had betrayed you, but who had also just saved your life. The fear and anger you had been holding onto began to waver, replaced by a deep, conflicting emotion you couldn’t fully understand. “Why?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” Natasha said, her voice heavy with emotion. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I know you may never forgive me, but I had to make sure you were safe. You mean everything to me, Y/n.”

Your heart broke at the sincerity in Natasha’s voice. Despite everything, despite the lies and betrayal, Natasha’s love for you was real. And in that moment, you realized that your own feelings were just as complicated. You were angry, you were hurt, but you still loved her..more than you wanted to admit.

The two of you stood in silence, the weight of your emotions heavy in the air. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, torn between the betrayal you felt and the undeniable connection that still existed between you. Finally, you took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Natasha..” you said quietly. “But I can’t ignore what you just did for me. You saved my life. And..and I still care about you. I don’t know what that means, but I need time to figure it out.”

Natasha nodded, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked at you. “Take all the time you need.” she whispered. “I’ll be here, no matter what you decide.” You nodded hesitantly, the storm of emotions inside you beginning to calm. “Thank you.” you said softly, your voice barely audible.

Natasha stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “I’ll take care of this.” she said, gesturing to the unconscious men on the floor. “And then I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” You looked at Natasha, your heart heavy with everything that had happened between you. “I don’t know what I want..” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I think..I think I need to be alone right now.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes reflecting the understanding she felt, even though the pain was clear. “I understand.” she said quietly. “Just know that if you ever need anything, anything at all, I’m here.”

You didn’t respond, but the look in your eyes said enough. You stood there, watching as Natasha efficiently secured the two men, ensuring they wouldn’t pose any further threat. She worked in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. When Natasha was finished, she stood by the door, hesitating for a moment as if searching for the right words, but then deciding against saying anything more. With one last, sorrowful glance in your direction, she turned and left your apartment, the door closing softly behind her.

You stood frozen in place, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened. The apartment, which had been filled with tension and violence just moments ago, now felt eerily quiet. Slowly, you sank onto the couch, your body trembling as the reality of the situation settled over you.

You were filled with so many conflicting emotions that it was hard to sort through them all. Anger, fear, relief, affection..they all swirled within you, and you didn’t know how to make sense of them. You had asked Natasha to leave because you weren’t sure of anything anymore. And though it felt like the right thing to do, now that she was gone, you felt a cold emptiness spreading through your chest. A part of you wanted to call her back, wanted her to stay so you could work through these chaotic feelings together. But another part of you knew that you needed time to be alone, to sort through everything that had happened between the two of you.

The night passed in a blur of thoughts and emotions, with sleep coming only in brief, restless intervals. When morning finally came, you felt just as exhausted as you had the night before. But with the new day came a certain clarity. You knew you couldn’t stay in this limbo forever. Natasha had told you that she would always be there for you, and you believed her. But the question was whether you could let her back into your life, whether you could ever trust her again.

As the day dragged on, you tried to focus on mundane tasks, but thoughts of Natasha kept intruding. Finally, after hours of agonizing, you decided you needed more information to figure out a path forward. If there was any chance of peace or understanding between you, you needed to know the whole truth. The next day, you called Natasha. She answered immediately, and you could hear the mix of hope and concern in her voice. “Y/n?”

“I want to know everything.” you said, your voice firm even as your heart raced. “I can’t move on without understanding everything. No more secrets, no more lies. If there’s any chance for us to find peace, you need to show me everything.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Natasha spoke, her voice filled with relief and caution. “I understand. I’ll take you to S.H.I.E.L.D. You’ll have access to everything, my reports, the mission files. Whatever you need to know.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Okay. When can we go?”

“Right now.” Natasha said without hesitation. “I’ll come pick you up.”

True to her word, Natasha arrived at your apartment shortly after. The drive to the S.H.I.E.L.D. building was silent, the tension between you both palpable. Natasha stole worried glances at you from time to time, but you kept your gaze fixed out the window, lost in your thoughts. When you arrived at the unassuming building that housed S.H.I.E.L.D.’s operations, Natasha guided you through a series of security checks, her presence and clearance making the process smooth. You followed her, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity. This was a world you never imagined you would be a part of.

Finally, you arrived in a large conference room. Natasha gestured for you to take a seat at the table while she went to a console on the wall and entered a series of commands. The large screen in the room flickered to life, displaying a series of files and documents. “This is everything.” Natasha said quietly, turning to face you. “My mission files, the reports I sent, the details of Kinetica’s operations. You have full access.”

You stared at the screen, your heart racing. “Why are you doing this? Why are you showing me all of this?”

“Because I owe you the truth.” Natasha replied, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “And because I want you to know that I’m not hiding anything from you anymore. I know I broke your trust, but I want to do whatever it takes to rebuild it. Even if that means showing you everything.”

The next few hours were spent going through everything, the initial mission briefing, how Natasha was assigned to get close to you to gather information on Kinetica, and how she struggled with her growing feelings for you. She explained how she tried to keep you out of harm's way even as she fulfilled her mission, and how every moment you shared, despite the circumstances, had been genuine.

You listened intently, absorbing every word, every detail. There were moments when your anger flared up again, moments when you wanted to shout at Natasha for the betrayal, for the pain she had caused. But there were also moments of understanding, moments when you saw the inner conflict Natasha had gone through, torn between her duty and her growing love for you.

When Natasha finished, she looked at you, her heart pounding in her chest. “I know this doesn’t undo the lies, but I wanted you to see that I truly cared about you. I never wanted to hurt you, Y/n.” You remained silent for a long time, processing everything you had learned. You felt raw, exposed, but also strangely relieved. This was what you had needed. the full truth, with nothing held back.

Finally, you looked at Natasha, your expression unreadable. “You were honest with me today, Natasha, and I can feel that. For the first time, I feel like I’m really seeing you..with all your strengths and flaws, with all your mistakes.” Natasha nodded, her voice soft as she responded, “That’s all I wanted. To be honest with you, even if it costs me everything.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you tried to organize your thoughts. “I don’t know where we go from here, Natasha. I don’t know if I can ever fully trust you again. But..I see that you’re trying. And that means something.” Natasha felt a small spark of hope ignite in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it grow too large. “Thank you, Y/n. That’s more than I deserve.”

You looked at Natasha, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and something that resembled hope. "Maybe it’s a start. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but at least now I know the truth. And that’s more than I had before.”

Natasha nodded, her heart heavy, but she was grateful. “Whatever happens, I’m here. If you need space, I’ll give you that. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I won’t go away.” You managed a small, tired smile. “I guess we’ll just have to see where this takes us.”

You both left the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters together, the tension between you eased but the future still uncertain. As you stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Natasha glanced at you, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a cautious spark of hope. You caught her glance and sighed. “It’s going to take time, Natasha. I don’t know if things can ever be the way they were, but.. we can find something new. Something honest.”

Natasha nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. “That’s what I’d like.” As you walked side by side, the past still loomed over you, but for the first time, there was a path forward..a path that might lead to healing, to forgiveness, and maybe even to a future where you could rebuild what had been broken. The road ahead would be difficult, full of challenges and doubts, but you had taken the first step together. And for now, that was enough.

[juju-or-anya]

It's hard not to find irony in the criticisms directed towards Eloise Bridgerton and the elevation of Penelope Featherington as a more genuine and hardworking figure in contrast with Eloise's supposed privileged circumstances and her discourse on feminism. Indeed, some voices have pointed out Eloise's feminism as something white and privileged, and while this is not without merit, it's akin to rediscovering what others have already noticed, akin to Christopher Columbus "discovering" America.

Understanding the context in which "Bridgerton" unfolds is essential. The series is set in Regency England, between 1813 and 1825. This historical period is marked by a highly stratified and conservative society, where women, especially those of the upper class, were relegated to traditional roles and lacked basic legal rights. In this context, any discussion of feminism must consider the unique limitations and challenges of the time.

It is true that Eloise Bridgerton, being part of a respected family in English nobility, embodies many of the characteristics associated with the white and privileged feminism of the time. However, this should not diminish the value of her role in advancing feminist ideas in her historical context. It is thanks to women like Eloise, who challenged social expectations and dared to question the status quo, that doors were opened for future, more inclusive feminist movements.

On the other hand, when analyzing Penelope Featherington's role in contrast with Eloise Bridgerton's, intriguing nuances worthy of a more detailed critical exploration are revealed. Although both come from upper-class families, Penelope's experiences differ significantly from Eloise's. In the society depicted in "Bridgerton," Penelope is portrayed as a more marginal figure, overshadowed by the prominence and glamour of the Bridgerton family. She is often seen in the background, struggling to find her place in a world where her social status does not put her at the center of attention.

Throughout the series, Penelope exhibits a distressing lack of empathy and solidarity towards other women. Instead of fostering unity and support among her peers, her writings are propelled by feelings of envy, resentment, and desires for revenge. Striking examples of this include her actions to publicly reveal Marina Thompson's pregnancy, intending to undermine her relationship with Colin Bridgerton, or defaming individuals such as Daphne, Edwina, and Kate Sharma, often with no apparent reason other than personal gain.

Penelope's behavior as Lady Whistledown sheds light on her complex nature and motivations. While it may represent an attempt to find her voice in a world dominated by more powerful figures, it also reveals a tendency towards manipulation and selfishness. Ultimately, her role as the mysterious chronicler is more than just a quest for identity; it is a reflection of the moral and ethical complexities underlying the society of "Bridgerton."

In summary, asserting that Penelope is more feminist and hardworking than Eloise due to her role as Lady Whistledown is, at best, simplistic and, at worst, deeply misleading. Both women, while privileged in their own right, have chosen different paths in life and have faced their own challenges. However, the narrative of Penelope as a morally superior and more genuinely hardworking figure should be questioned in light of her actions and motivations, which often reveal a lack of integrity and empathy towards her peers.

It's important to note that when Theo confronts Eloise, questioning her understanding of the real world and her privileged position, Eloise doesn't reject this criticism but uses it as a catalyst to seek greater understanding. Recognizing the validity of Theo's observation, Eloise actively seeks to broaden her horizons. She engages in conversations with Theo and John, seeking to break free from the bubble of privilege in which she has lived so far.

On the other hand, Penelope takes a different stance towards her own privileged position. Instead of acknowledging her situation and seeking to understand the realities of those less privileged, Penelope vehemently denies any suggestion that she also benefits from the system. Rather than accepting her position of privilege, she portrays herself as a victim, despite her actions suggesting otherwise. Ultimately, this divergence in attitudes between Eloise and Penelope highlights the complexity of individual perceptions of privilege and personal responsibility in an unequal world.

PS: The comment: "Penelope saved Eloise by writing that she hung out with radicals, she doesn't know what it's like to be grateful" is shit. Whose fucking fault is it that the Queen is on a crusade with torches and pitchforks, looking for blood and a rolling head? From Penelope because she doesn't know when to keep her hand still and stop writing, if it weren't for Penelope, the queen wouldn't think that Eloise is Lady Whistledown, Penelope wasn't looking to help Eloise, she was looking to save her skin.

[amorfista]

"Dads at the beach"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

But their mischief did not go unnoticed, and the Dads of the Bad Batch, who were trying to enjoy their drinks and straight up chillax, are having a bit of a hard time doing so with all of Omega's giggles and Wrecker's barely contained laughter!

-"The kriff are these devils up to now...?" - Echo says as he takes a sip of his piña colada.

-"I'll do you one better... How the kark is Tech sleeping through that..?" - Hunter mutters in disbelief.

...TO BE CONTINUED! [Part 4]

Alright... this one took a while. I'm very sorry for the huge delay on this drawing but... some parts of it made me lose my sanity :). I hope you can catch all the small details I laid here and there. Echo's shirt covers his Fives tattoo, which is a bit sad, but that's okay because there's another version ^^:

There, that's better🥴❤️‍🔥

This project has been quite difficult and I have a lot of things that I'm not too proud about. I suck at backgrounds and I definitely am NOT GOOD at making a line of palm trees :') The characters aren't that well incorporated in the drawing, I would have liked to make more fun little things here and there (which I'll save for future drawings) and the colors, well, let's just say I can smell them now. I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore ;V; so sorry in advance </3. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND SUPPORT!!! Although this is a challenging project, I'm VERY happy to see myself improving little by little, and your encouragement helps me push through ANYTHING!! I'll do my best again in the next one!! 💕💕

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be included too!) @dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queenjiru @shoe-bag

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

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[barnacles34]

Beautiful Relationship

Tags: Romance, Sex, soft Ryujin, she likes books, male reader

The foggy weather clung to my skin like a second layer, a damp embrace that blurred the edges of the world around me as I stepped out of the condo. Each step felt light, almost floating, buoyed by the strange clarity that had settled over me. The condo itself—where I had just experienced something raw, something deeper than anything I’d known—felt miles away already, even though Ryujin's presence was still etched into my senses. Her face buried in a book, she had waved lazily from the large leather couch as I left, a gentle smile on her lips, a silent reassurance that lingered in the back of my mind.

The streets outside were nearly empty, a ghostly contrast to the usual bustling of Seoul. It was the kind of solitude I had long craved, the quiet that comes after the rain when the air smells of wet earth and fresh grass, mingling with the faint, distant scent of exhaust and city life. The kind of quiet where thoughts can breathe, where the world's noise feels muted, and the only sound is the gentle patter of raindrops on pavement. I inhaled deeply, feeling a strange contentment in the cool, misty air—a sensation that was somehow both calming and electric.

Enough of the background setting drivel. My mind snapped back to the task at hand as I drove toward Samsen HQ, the cityscape slipping by in a blur of gray and silver. The receptionists at the front desk were visibly surprised at my unexpected arrival. I saw them exchange glances, a flicker of confusion passing over their faces before they snapped back into their polished smiles. I had been absent from the office for a few days—unusual for me, and certainly enough to stir the quiet currents of office politics that always buzzed beneath the surface. There was always a game being played here, even if you sat at the top.

The days of absence had been deliberate, of course, a move calculated to keep the lesser sharks on their toes, to stoke the fires of intrigue among those who thought they could outmaneuver me. Let them wonder, let them speculate—it kept them busy and distracted. To be honest, the supposed mind games were more of an ego trip than any real threat. These pretenders held barely any power to undermine me. They were nuisances at best, and any one of them could be removed with a single call. The irony was almost amusing. I had the president’s number on speed dial, and yet these people acted as if they could orchestrate my downfall with hushed whispers in the hallways.

“Viva la Seoul!” I muttered to myself, a half-smile playing on my lips as I navigated the labyrinthine corridors of corporate life. The place had always fascinated me, with its paradoxes and its hypocrisies, its cutthroat maneuvering, and its strange, almost poetic absurdities. The Nietzschean interns who would debase themselves for a fraction of my hourly wage, desperate for approval or advancement. The older managers, balding and paunchy, somehow managing to crawl up the ladder faster than those who had dedicated themselves to optimal efficiency and health.

Was I evil for thriving in this environment? Was there something fundamentally wrong with finding beauty in these contradictions, in relishing the dance of corporate warfare? The thought amused me more than it should have. Maybe it was the fact that my entire existence was built around these principles, these axioms of survival. Maybe that was why I found it so hard to believe that anyone else could see the world any differently.

But then there was Ryujin, the outlier, the anomaly that challenged everything I thought I knew. She was proof that there was another way, that life didn’t have to be a series of calculated moves, that it could be something more—a mix of spontaneity and sincerity, without pretense or strategy. She was the exception to the rule, enough to make me question the very foundations of my beliefs, to make me wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a different way to play the game.

The danger she posed was undeniable—she could unravel me, expose me to vulnerabilities I hadn’t known existed. And yet, the benefits she offered were so much more profound, so much more intrinsic. With her, everything seemed more vivid, more real. The same conversations I’d grown to hate with others—talks of relationships, the future—felt fresh and exciting with her, filled with possibility and promise.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the knock at my door, the sharp rap that pulled me back into the present. My new secretary entered without waiting for a response, a young woman with bright eyes and a sharp tongue, one of the few I hadn’t hired for her looks or her connections but for her brains and her grit. She had been foisted on me by my so-called equals, who thought I needed someone to keep me in check. They didn’t realize that I’d turned her into an asset, someone who could see through the corporate fog almost as well as I could.

“Sir!” she burst out, a hint of panic in her voice. “A rival competitor has just published an article about your recent absence. And they’ve announced a new home appliance chain aimed directly at Samsen’s market.”

I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “Good,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Let them make their moves.”

It was showtime. The familiar thrill of the game flooded through me, sharpening my senses, focusing my mind. The room seemed to hum with a new energy, the fog outside thickening as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

I liked the unpredictability, the dance of strategy and counter-strategy. I could already imagine the maneuvers that would follow, the ripple effects of this new announcement, the way I would turn this challenge into an opportunity. In the end, it was all just another move on the board, another chance to prove that I was still the master of this game.

But even as I prepared to dive back into the fray, my thoughts drifted back to Ryujin. Her face, her smile, the way she made everything seem a little less bleak, a little less calculated. She was the only unknown variable, the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. And maybe that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even now, with the scent of competition in the air and the thrill of the fight ahead.

“Alright,” I said, snapping back to the moment, my voice calm but firm. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”

The secretary nodded, turning to leave, but not before casting a quick, curious glance over her shoulder. I didn’t mind. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. They had no idea what was coming next. Neither did I, but for once, that uncertainty felt like an advantage.

—--

After a whole day’s worth of intrigue, the outside felt damper than before with the slight tint of the night on the sky. The executive cars quickly pulling away to their respective areas after Samsen closed in a new historic high on the stock market. Greene’s power laws were accurate, accurate in their vagueness, in what constitutes as a power play, a masterful case of deception, and it just so happens that I have internalized it. 

Crooked? Maybe. 

The drive back home felt even fresher, unburdened by the rush of being down on the market, and burdened by the smell fresh of the damp grass, the damp streets with my windows all the way down. Pedestrians drew their phones, seeking to record the person that seemingly sways the national politics wherever he went. 

I promise you this is not an ego play, I really do control the national politics, but the magnitude of power also brings about the same magnitude of the potential to fail. But I’m used to that, my years of training, being down millions, multiple millions have utterly destroyed whatever the fuck part of brain controls my ability to discern risk. People don’t know how leveraged I am on the stocks, how leveraged to the fucking tits I am, my entire multi-billion fortune rests on the slight percent nudges of the hour, the minute, the second. 

That’s what drives me, performance adapts to what you expect and prepare for. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for the public, The government is readily available to bail me out in the billions.

Finally, I pull into the parking lot. I anticipate what I might see when I enter the condo, excited for the possibilities and excited for whatever the singular possibility might be. Will I see my hot girlfriend splayed onto the armchair, with only a tight-knit sweater dress on? 

The smell of vanilla wafted in the air as I approached the condo. As I approached, I was about to input the code into the door but it just opened with the touch of my fingers. And I saw Ryujin standing there, in a tasteful pajama set with loafers waiting at the door.

“Did you really read books all day?” I asked.

“Sometimes these days are warranted.” And hugged me below my shoulders, it’s always a spectacle to feel how small a kpop idol truly is, not that I have experience with them, it’s just that Ryujin feels small. I held her waist as I slowly entered, as she slowly moved backwards.

“Did you eat?” She asked, stepping away so that I could take off my shoes. 

“No, I just wanted to be home early.”

“Aww, you must be tired,” Ryujin said softly, stepping back to give me space as I entered. She glanced at the table, where dinner was already laid out, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes about her care.

I looked at the meal, then back at her, a small nod of acknowledgment passing between us. “You didn’t have to wait,” I said, my voice steady, though the hint of gratitude was unmistakable.

She shrugged slightly, her hands finding their way into her pockets, a gesture of both nonchalance and shyness. “I wanted to. Besides, I wasn’t really hungry until you got here.”

I raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Convenient.”

Ryujin met my gaze briefly, then looked away, a subtle flush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, well… I figured you’d be starving after today.”

I walked over to the table, pulling out a chair for her. “Sit,” I said, more as a gentle command than a request. She hesitated for a split second before complying, her movements almost tentative as she took the seat.

I settled into the chair across from her, the space between us charged with an energy that was still new, still unfolding. There was a comfort in the silence that hung in the air, a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of us felt the need to fill with words.

“Did you make this?” I asked, gesturing to the food, though the answer was already clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft. “I hope it’s okay.”

I nodded, picking up my chopsticks. “It’s more than okay.”

We started eating, the clinking of chopsticks against bowls the only sound for a while. I could feel Ryujin’s eyes on me from time to time, as if she was trying to gauge something, but she didn’t say anything. I let the quiet stretch on, content to let the moment linger.

Eventually, she broke the silence, her voice low, almost as if she wasn’t sure whether to speak. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

I didn’t look up right away, taking a moment to finish my bite before responding. “Yeah?”

She shifted in her seat, her fingers fidgeting slightly with her chopsticks. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

I placed my chopsticks down, meeting her gaze with a steadiness that I hoped would reassure her. “You’re not. We’re figuring it out.”

Her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile, and she nodded. “I guess I just… I want to be what you need.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying her for a moment before replying. “You already are. But this isn’t just about what I need.”

Ryujin’s eyes flickered with something—relief, maybe?—but she didn’t say anything, just nodded again, as if she was absorbing my words.

Our dinner ended in satisfaction, and plates were washed under our melodic humming. And the area of our participation changed, onto the couch.

The room was dim, the glow from the TV casting shifting patterns of light and shadow around us. "Twin Peaks" flickered on the screen, the eerie opening score filling the quiet. Ryujin leaned into me, her body fitting neatly against my side, one arm draped over my stomach.

I tightened my hold around her, my hand resting firmly on her waist. She sighed softly, a small, content sound, her eyes fixed on the screen but her body melting further into mine.

“You like this show?” she asked quietly, almost as if testing the waters.

“I do,” I replied, my thumb rubbing gentle circles on her hip. “It’s got that strange charm”

She chuckled under her breath, a sound that sent a warm hum through me. “Kind of like you, then.”

I smirked. “Maybe. But you don’t seem to mind.”

She shook her head, nestling closer, her hand moving slightly against my shirt. “No… I don’t.”

I could feel her pulse, a steady beat beneath my palm, her head resting on my shoulder, her breaths syncing with mine. She was so quiet, so small in these moments, her usual boldness softened by the closeness between us.

Without a word, I shifted, pulling her fully into my lap. She let out a surprised breath, looking up at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked, though there was no real protest in her tone.

“Getting comfortable,” I replied simply, guiding her so her legs draped over mine. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, a slight blush creeping up her neck. “No… it’s fine.”

We settled again, her hands resting lightly on my chest, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. I covered them with mine, holding her in place. Her cheeks flushed deeper, and I could feel the way her heartbeat quickened just slightly under my touch.

We watched in silence for a while, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her back. Ryujin shifted now and then, as if finding new ways to fold herself into me, her body instinctively seeking more contact.

The sound of Agent Cooper’s voice drifted through the room, but I was more aware of her—the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the way her fingers occasionally twitched against my shirt, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure how.

“Do you think they’ll solve the mystery?” she asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I think it’s less about the mystery,” I said, my tone low, “and more about how it pulls everyone together… or apart.”

Ryujin nodded slowly, her eyes still on mine, her thumb brushing over my hand. “Kind of like us,” she murmured, almost absently.

I chuckled softly, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. “Are you saying I’m a mystery?”

She bit her lip, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe… but one I don’t mind trying to solve.”

I smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “Good. I like keeping you guessing.”

She laughed, the sound soft and genuine, and then snuggled deeper into my hold, her head resting just under my chin. Her fingers found mine, and she gave a light squeeze, her body relaxing completely against me.

And there, in the flickering light of the TV, we stayed close, without the need for any more words.

A dim warmth spread through my body, a quiet satisfaction as Ryujin nestled into me, her legs folded beneath her. Her soft breaths were steady, rhythmic, her chest rising and falling in a comforting cadence. The episode of "Twin Peaks" ended, but our embrace didn’t. The TV hummed faintly, the credits rolling into a quiet, glowing blue, and yet neither of us moved, content to linger in this stillness.

Her fingers traced over my hands, studying them in the dim light, her thumb brushing against the calluses. “How did your hands get so rough? Did you fight every day or something?” she asked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“After training, yeah,” I replied, a small smile forming as I remembered. “I used to be part of an underground fight ring. It was fucking crazy… I still don’t know why I joined. It was full of middle-aged losers, and we’d just beat each other up, badly, almost every day.”

Ryujin's laughter bubbled up, a sound both amused and surprised. “What the hell? Seriously? Was the owner some big 'Fight Club' fan or something?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “But there was this weird nostalgic element to it… getting stitches almost on a daily basis, feeling like I was constantly on the edge.”

Her laughter faded into a more thoughtful expression, her brow furrowing slightly as she massaged my hands, now resting on her lap. She slowly turned on my lap, shifting until she was facing me, her gaze searching my face with a mix of amusement and concern. “Gosh. What would you do without me? Look at these scars, and how rough your hands are! How did your face not get nicked?”

I smirked. “Oh, it got nicked. Plenty of times, at first. But a teenager learns pretty quickly among a bunch of 40-year-olds. By the end, no one really wanted to fight me.”

Her eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she continued to trace the lines of my scars. “Sounds like a mix of ego and insanity,” she teased, but there was an underlying tenderness in her tone.

I leaned back, letting her study me, feeling the weight of her gaze on my skin. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But it made me who I am, for better or worse.”

Ryujin shook her head, still smiling, and then leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine. “You're a little crazy, you know that?”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, my voice low, teasing.

She laughed softly. “It’s an observation. But… yeah, I guess it is. You pretend like you don’t need anyone, but here you are, with me, letting me hold you like this.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, her words sinking in deeper than I’d expected. I tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “Maybe you just have a way of breaking through,” I said, brushing my thumb over her cheek.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she settled closer, her hands resting on my shoulders now, her body melting into mine as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Maybe… or maybe you just needed someone to see you,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain.

I didn’t reply right away, just let my fingers move to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as I held her close. I felt her relax, her body going pliant against me, and there was a peace in that moment, something that felt unspoken but deeply understood. 

A slow movement between each other occurred, and a slow kiss formed out of it all. A passionate, an unendingly lovely kiss, a kiss that could only be shared by two lovers. I reached deeper, my head moving forward deeper into the kiss, trying to get more out of Ryujin, her taste, her beauty. I slowly stood up, with her still on my body, I held her up with my arms around her waist while still sharing a passionate kiss. 

How could a girl be this lovely? Holy shit.

I quickly plant her on the leather couch, a black luxury couch too expensive for a single man, but a perfect frame for the most beautiful girl in the world. She laid on the couch, motioning for me to join her, in laying, in loving. The next seconds were a haze, the warmth of a kiss being shared, her soft bosom pressed up against me, The warmth shared by two bodies aggressively pressing each other to get more out of each other.

My left hand went from her waist to her breast, gripping firmly against the soft of her clothes, the soft of her breast. She mewled in my mouth, taking quick breaths trying to continue the kiss as long as possible, unbearably aroused by my body.

I quickly pulled away, she was irritated, I quickly took off my button-up, more like ripping it apart, buttons everywhere. That didn’t matter at all, we quickly continued our session, she softly rubbed her hands all over my back as I kissed into her. 

Then, clothes flew off each moment, and a kiss shared in each layer, and a mess on the floor. Her creamy-white skin caved at my touch, the slight ripple of her semi-abs visible as I greedily took more of her. Finally, her bra came off, the perfectly pink nipples were visible, and completely rigid. The kiss transitioned as my mouth traced over her body down to her breast.

I sucked lightly, fingering at her other nipple. Her loud moans and body ripples only inspired greater performance, I felt a slight tug when I felt her fingers around my hair and she seemed to be moaning louder.

I nibbled at her nipple, kissed the white skin around the nipple, which compressed at the slightest touch. It was almost heaven, a girl who gave me her virginity, a girl who is witty, smart, and loving. 

After enough teasing of her nipples, she began to be more reactive, perhaps signalling that it’s turned into pain rather than pleasure. So I stopped, caressing the pads of my fingers along her body, her curves, her identity, all the way down to her thighs where my thumbs hooked on her panties that were damp. 

“You must be excited.” I teased.

“Ah… please I’m so wet, you kept teasing my nipples you bastar- Ah!” I slipped a finger inside her, interrupting her, amusing myself in her arousal.

I took the finger out, it glistened even in the warm light.

“Open your mouth.” I demanded.

She complied, with her mouth open, I inserted the glistening finger inside her, “Tastes good?”.

“So Gooth-.” She replied with my finger still in her mouth. A slight vibration, a fiercely erotic sign, a sign that she was so stimulated that her body was vibrating as a coping mechanism after realizing other ways of coping with it were futile. 

I took out the finger out of her tender, warm mouth, with a trace of saliva still on my finger, I slowly tracked down her body, the shine of her saliva following suit, the rise of her breasts, the drop to her ribs, the softness of her belly no, abdomen, it would be an insult to call it a belly, it was the perfect midriff. The quiver getting more intense as the tip of my finger slowly approaching her pussy.

I pulled off my hands off her body quickly, and hastily set to pull off my belt; suddenly, Ryujin laid her hands on my belt, showing that she wanted to take it off, that she wanted to see my cock entirely of her own volition. Slowly, making sure that whenever her hands were not occupied with taking off my belt and undergarments, she grazed my abdomen with her fingers any chance that she got. She was kneeled on the couch, crouched over, I was kneeled up straight, and she took her time enjoying the rare opportunity to tease me.

She was entirely naked, and I got to see her back, her beautiful back, one that was crafted through sheer divination by the lords above, there was absolutely no other way to achieve that back, the hourglass shape of her waist and the curve of her hip bones, lord almighty.

I traced the lines of her back with my hands as she finally got down my underwear. Whilst I busied myself with her breasts, now that it was hanging, it was even softer, even more beautiful and absolute euphoria to handle.

A firm grasp disrupted my vivid imagination. “Are you gonna keep teasing my breasts, is it that lovely?” she said with a laugh, slightly firmer on the cloth that barely hid my erection. “Is underwear like this even practical? It looks like it’s a camp site!” Somehow she found some humor in this situation, most likely embarrassed about giving me fellatio. 

Of course, I know the cure. I grasped her hair tightly, the hair that has been diligently grown, perfect to grab tightly and insist on what actions you want. She obliged in the pull, her legs completely folded in obedience, and obliging in the slight pulls and pushes of my hand. 

“Too hard?” I asked.

“I don’t even know why you have to ask.” She replied, with a bright flush in her cheeks, knowing that she likes it and that I know it.

“You’re gonna suck my cock, and you’ll do it diligently; and you’ll get fucked into this couch.”

“Ye- Yes.. please Koji.” She submitted with speech.

I swiftly pulled out my erection, and I leaned into the railing of the couch, inviting Ryujin over. She moved closer, still kneeling, still crouched, and slowly approached my erection. She breathed deeply, getting closer to my dick, and started to stroke it with her hand. The soft coldness of her hands confirmed my suspicion, she was so nervous that all the heat went to her torso, “you don’t have to be so nervous, baby.” She smiled at the remark, and immediately took my dick in her mouth.

She learned so quickly, it was unbelievable, what a virtuoso. She sucked on my length, going halfway with an incredible suction. The pleasure was intense, a sensation of sucking was strong, and I would peak too quickly to enjoy her body. 

“My muse, aren’t you learning a little bit too fast?” I said with a chuckle, gritting my teeth against the pleasure.

She released, still very close to the tip, “it’s so delicious that I had no choice but to learn, and it seems it paid off.” Yes it has, but of course there’s an opposing force every force. Before she could continue sucking me off, I pushed her onto the couch. 

“Should I make you cum in one stroke?” I asked, fully intending to do.

“You wish.” Scoffing at my threat. “I was a virgin then-”

I quickly placed pressure just at the edge of the pubis bone, then the other hand traced the outer lips of her pink pussy. Her solid determination was nearly broken at that moment, a hand placed on her lower abdomen pressing into her was getting her off so well.

And it was a technique that only got more arousing the more it was used. She was a goddess personified and I was disgracing her by almost getting her to cum with light presses and pressure. The fingers that traced the outer lips of her pussy slowly converged on her clit hood, applying almost a graze over it, each graze getting a sizzling inhale from Ryujin. 

“Ah~ fuck, I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!”

I immediately took off my hands, and I stared at her. “Wha- What are you doing? I was so close.” I didn’t reply, I swung my left hand against her hip bone, a firm slap, as close as you could get to her ass in missionary. 

She yelped, and I covered her mouth with a firm grip, “it would be a disgrace for you cum on my fingers, and even less so without me penetrating you at all.” I leaned into her with a hand still on her mouth, leaving enough room for her to breathe through her nose. I was still quite above her to let her see me entering her, she looked down, as I slowly pressed my member at the heat, prodding, then slowly entering. When I saw that she was not looking down and when she was trying to deal with the pleasure, I quickly took the hand off her mouth and pulled her head forward to make her look as I entered inside. Each inch pain-stakingly slow and purposeful, she stared with pleasure ablaze.

“Princess. I am the only one who understands you.”

That was it, that was the moment she lost it. I immediately entered to the hilt, then pulled out. She spasmed at the intensity, squirting all over the leather couch, screaming and moaning at the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god!” She placed a hand over her head to recover.

The latter minutes were spent with a more furious kind of love, an intense love.

A manner in which I fucked her, with love and embrace. I held her in missionary position, grasping the nape of her neck, sharing our mouths as I repeatedly and fully drew inside her fully. The motions bringing the deep moans of pleasure out in the form of vibrations in her body, and mewls of her mouth.

She loved giving up control in intercourse, it was something that brought her pleasure to no end. To know that she was not in control of her orgasm nor mine, that any second I could pull away and let her mewl in anticipation, and suffer right under the eclipse of her orgasm. However, she loved it more when we shared our arousal, in this position, she could kiss my shoulder, kiss my jaw, caress my back, and even massage my shoulders. Of course, she engaged in these sorts of affection, she couldn’t control it and I could never resist it. The deeper I went, the more her moan hummed against my jaw when she kissed it.

Sometimes I pulled off to maintain eye contact with her, noticing the twists in her eyebrows, the whiskered dimples of her cheeks as she was drawn to climax again. This time though, her legs locked me inside her, she knew that it would take multiple orgasms for her to get me to eclipse, she acknowledged it and was fully intent on it. Of course, the significant height and weight difference didn’t allow Ryujin to maintain much control at all. Instead of the leg lock, I swiftly kneeled up while my dick was still inside her, while she stared expectantly. 

I seized her legs, right above my shoulders, “Oh not again!” She definitely remembered the first time I did this. Then I lowered myself to kiss her, her legs were now placed next to her ears.

“I feel this is my obligation, to train your flexibility.” Still punishing her cunt with my deep strokes inside her

“Oh please-ah! Yo- You just want to fuck my brains out!” She was right.

 I still held her legs as the way they were, but I wanted a fuller picture, a picture where I saw Ryujin enjoying herself to the fullest. I observed the strokes, her cunt glossy with her arousal, I wanted her to enjoy it even more.

From then and there, I placed my hand on the place of her pubis bone, compressing the canal that anticipated my strokes, and a slight thumbing on her clit.

One, euphora

Two, amazing

Three, orgasm

She came again, this time she was allowed no movement, my hands acted as braces that held her down, and she vibrated in pleasure.

She tightened even further, her moans became more guttural as the added pleasures of my hands began to feel more like punishment.

I chuckled, she was such an angel. I released my hands, the hands thus landed on the breasts, the warm pliable breasts with very noticeable aroused nipples.

I had been pumping so quickly and hadn’t realized that I was getting close, I was enjoying her mewls and moans so much that I realized that I might cum this instant. Despite the fact that I finally bought condoms because I kept cumming inside her, I forgot to use it. 

Trying to resist pulling out of Ryujin’s pussy was impossible, it wasn’t ‘almost impossible’ it was plain and simply impossible. And Ryujin definitely felt the twitch my cock, “Please Please Cum inside me! Do it inside me~!”

Finally, I pumped into her one two three times and fell onto her as I filled her with my seed.

“I might actually get pregnant at this rate” she chuckled with her hands getting tangled in my hair

“I don’t even fucking care anymore” I breathed by her side, ear-to-ear.

“Would you like that? A little Koji running around?” She asked.

“I don’t know, what about you?” Genuinely curious about her opinion.

“I think it’s cute to see a little Koji running around, a little Koji that has a happier childhood.”

“I love you” I kissed her lips.

She murmured something against my lips, most likely “I love you” too.

The warmth of the embrace lingered as we finally moved from the couch. The night had drawn on, but the intimacy between us only grew stronger. Ryujin stood up, her hand slipping into mine, and without a word, she led me towards the bathroom.

The bathroom light flickered on, casting a soft glow across the tiles. The shower was already running, steam curling up and filling the small space with a comforting heat. Ryujin turned to me, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and something deeper. She reached up, gently tugging at my hand.

Soon, the warmth of the steam wrapped around us both.

We stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over our bodies, washing away the day. Ryujin reached for the soap, her hands lathering it up before gently running it over my chest. Her touch was soft, methodical, as if she was memorizing every inch of me. I closed my eyes, leaning into the sensation, the warmth of her hands, the soothing pressure as she worked the soap across my skin.

I returned the favor, my hands moving slowly, carefully, over her shoulders, down her back, the water rinsing away the suds in gentle streams. She sighed, a sound of pure contentment, as I massaged the tension from her muscles, taking my time, savoring the closeness.

When she turned to face me, her eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. I cupped her face in my hands, letting the water pour over us, and she leaned into my touch, her own hands resting on my waist. For a moment, we just stood there, water pouring over us, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling in the steam-filled air.

Finally, I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips—slow, lingering, full of the unspoken things between us. She kissed me back, her hands moving up to tangle in my wet hair, holding me close.

When the kiss broke, we both smiled, a small, shared moment of understanding. I reached for the shower’s knob, turning off the water, the sudden silence almost startling. Ryujin didn’t let go, though. Instead, she wrapped herself around me, resting her head on my chest as the last of the water dripped off us.

“I want to take a bath,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost shy.

I smiled, pressing another kiss to her damp hair. “Let’s do it.”

We stepped out of the shower, toweling off quickly before I started the bath, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Ryujin watched me, her eyes following my every movement, a small smile playing on her lips. Once the tub was filled, she sank into it with a sigh, the hot water enveloping her.

I settled on a chair that directly faced ryujin still with a towel draped over my lap, watching as she leaned back, closing her eyes, her face relaxing completely. The room was filled with the soft sounds of water lapping against her skin, the scent of lavender from the bath salts mixing with the steam.

“Join me?” she asked, opening her eyes just a sliver, looking up at me with a hopeful expression.

“Don’t even try” I chuckled at the previous time she asked for me to join her in the bath.

With her nestled against the edge of the tub, I reached for the book I had left on the counter, opening it to where we had left off. It was an old copy of "Anna Karenina," the pages slightly yellowed, the spine well-worn from countless readings.

Ryujin sighed contentedly as I began to read aloud, my voice low, resonating in the quiet intimacy of the bathroom.

“‘All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow,’” I read, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on my lap. The words seemed to echo in the room, intertwining with the stillness around us. “‘In seeking happiness for others, we find it in ourselves.’”

Ryujin tilted her head back slightly, her eyes closed, her body fully relaxed against mine. “I love hearing you read,” she whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the water, but I caught it, and it warmed me from the inside out.

I continued reading, my voice steady, letting the words flow through the air, wrapping around us both. “‘But every one of these men, straightway from the first minute of their meeting, was seized by an unwonted feeling of respect, as though they had met with something sacred, and in consequence every word and gesture of hers seemed to them more important and significant than they had ever been before.’”

Ryujin’s fingers played idly with mine beneath the water, her thumb brushing against my knuckles as she listened. The words from the book mixed with the rhythm of our breathing, with the warmth of the water and the quiet that enveloped us.

As I read on, the story of Anna Karenina unfolding in the soft light, I could feel Ryujin’s heartbeat, slow and steady, matching mine. The romance of the scene in the book felt distant compared to the reality of her in my arms, this intimate moment we were sharing.

Eventually, I let the book rest on the edge of the tub, my voice trailing off as I pressed a kiss to her damp shoulder. “You know,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her skin, “this might be better than any book.”

She turned slightly in the water, looking up at me with a playful smile. “Only might be?”

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deep, letting the warmth of the bath and the softness of her lips consume me. “Definitely better,” I corrected softly against her mouth.

Ryujin smiled, a content, sleepy smile, and nuzzled back against my chest. We stayed like that for a while, the water gradually cooling around us, but neither of us was in a hurry to move. The book lay forgotten on the edge of the tub as we simply enjoyed the closeness, the feeling of being utterly connected in this quiet, private world we had created together.

P.S: I have the whole prequel ready but the writing quality is a lot worse than this but its 20k words of setup, comment below if you want it.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | Francisco Morales x reader

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summary | working your summer job you find yourself fawning over a boy you barely know, realizing by the end of the summer that letting go of him may not be the best idea.

content warning | young!frankie morales, reader is working in bar (if there’s some things wrong, just know i tried fjsjsj), background tf boys, phone texts, inebriated hook ups (frankie is a lil drunk but he’s okay i swear) smut out the wazoo, oral (m/f receiving, protecting p in v, hints of voyeurism, idk let me live in this dream pls

word count — 7.5k

The bar was supposed to be easy cash, a second job you picked up during the summer, between the interim of your final year of college and the beginning of your life—just some extra money to keep you afloat amongst the drowning seas of tuition debt. But, the job came with unexpected challenges—rude customers, drunk customers, (given that you worked in a bar you really couldn’t fault them) but it was the rowdy ones that really got under your skin. And you quickly learned the unspoken schedule of customers as they made their weekly round for a few drinks, some over-fried bar food, and a game of darts or pool.

Monday through Wednesday were some of your more favorite days, friendlier people who liked to visit earlier in the day before the bar got packed after sunset, some relaxed chit chat and a beer or two. They tipped very nicely, too.

Thursday was the slowest of the week, co-workers sliding in to catch a game of pool or watch some sports game on the old, ratty television tucked in the corner area of the bar, even with you squinting your eyes it was still barely visible and they almost always left the biggest messes at their table—but again, you couldn’t complain when it was only a few tables you had to scrub down.

Friday was always busy, the weekends just as bad—from open to close you were shuffling around behind the bar, in tune with your co-workers as you moved around each other. You knew some people by name and some would politely remind you—you saw about a hundred different faces every week, some were bound to slip through the cracks.

But, within your first week there, you found a particular group of boys would show up every Friday without fail—a few rounds of beers, a mountain of wings and fries and whatever else they could get their hands on, and a game or two of darts and a pool table they had just to themselves.

The charmer, Santiago, was the first to introduce himself.

A crisp hundred dollar bill slipped over in advance with a softer tone, “I’m apologizing in advance, they tend to get a little, uh, loud.” It wasn't the right word, but you smiled nonetheless, still checking the money behind the counter in case he tried to slide you a fake and mask it with a simple courtesy that wasn't shown often. Kindness. 

You start their tab, grab their orders, and within twenty minutes their voices are already booming over the rest and arguing about a stupid game of darts, three other boys crowded around Santiago as their faces are within an inch of the board, fingers pointing all over.

There is a straggler, though—a man who’s similar in age to most of the boys, late twenties maybe? He had to be close to your age or just a little older but the sodden expression on his face made him feel much older, sipping at the round of beers you had brought by as soon as Santiago headed back for the table.

They call him Catfish, whatever that means—and it seems like they all have nicknames for each other and you wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem worth it. Your Rolodex of names in your head was already bursting at its seams and Santiago was the only one you could bother to remember, especially when he’s sliding over a chunk of cash in advance rather than blowing up his tab and then scrambling to pay.

For a few weeks it’s just that. They come in, Santiago pays, and then they spend a few hours in the back of the bar arguing like boys, rather than men. But, they always leave you a hefty tip when they don’t fill out their tab or when they go over and pay it out and then some. 

And naturally, you’re curious. About them. About him.

So, when Catfish comes in on a Saturday night completely alone, that curiosity does get the better of you.

He doesn’t make much of a scene, sliding into the bar stool instead of taking up a table, and seeing how busy it is, he waits—quietly and with a faint smile on his face that you catch a few times in passing, refilling cups with ice and offering a polite smile back.

When you finally get to him you're slightly breathless, wiping your hands on the towel tucked into your back pocket, “Hey, sorry about—what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” He says with a shrug, promptly sliding over a twenty as you pour and hand off the glass.

“Where’s the others?” You ask curiously, an attempt at casual conversation despite selfishly wanting to know.

“A party,” Fish explains, “Benny won his tournament so they’re celebrating that.”

The name sounds familiar but you can’t quite place it.

“The younger one,” He adds with a subtle smirk, seeing the furrow in your brow of you thinking too hard.

“So Benny, Santiago—but you get stuck with Catfish?”

It can’t be his actual name, but they never use anything else.

“Francisco,” He takes a generous sip of his beer before setting it down, tapping his fingers idly against the surface of the bar, “—but, just Frankie. If that’s easier.”

You tilt your head with a genuine smile, putting a name to a face and it feels fitting, the hat suffocating his mop of hair, curls peeking around the edge of his hat and the dark colored tees he always wore, some sort of dismay always written on his face. You can’t explain it, but it works for him.

Frankie. Francisco. Catfish.

“Well, Frankie—if you need anything just yell. That’s probably the only way I’ll hear you,” You tell him with a laugh before attempting to depart—the bar isn’t too bad at the moment, all customers dealt with but the roar of the bar is loud.

“Well—wait,” Frankie half shouts, grabbing your attention, “what’s your name? I gave you mine, seems fair to ask.”

You tell him with a shrug, “But, I only ever hear honey or sweetheart all night, so really, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Frankie chuckles at that, looking away briefly as if to busy his mind with something else and you slip away then.

You don’t ask why he came alone—why he would skip out on a party with the men he came here every Friday night with—maybe he needed a break. Alone time. It wasn’t your business.

But, one Saturday becomes another. And two months later he’s come by every Saturday. Alone. And giving you his undivided attention. It’s sweet, you’ll admit that. 

He isn’t as closed off on Friday’s when he arrives with the other boys but isn’t as outwardly friendly as say, Santiago would be during that time. But, Saturdays—he’s a whole different person. Lighter. Happier.

He only ever orders one beer, makes small talk, and lately—he’s been walking you to your car. So, not only is he nursing that beer over the four hours left in your shift by the time he gets there, he’s waiting for you. To clock out, that is.

Really, it’s against your better judgment. Allowing a total stranger to know what you drive, where you park, what time your shift ends, but Frankie is a… friend.

He isn’t like most of the customers, terrible at small talk and flirting and only making half-assed, nasty comments toward you when they get a few rounds in. 

He’s seen it a few times. He never berates the guys, but he does pull your attention away, occupies your mind, and always manages to slip in a few words that make your legs go weak and encourage the dull throb between your thighs—even if it’s just a smile and an apology on their behalf. 

Frankie always shows interests, ask about you and your life in the politest way he can without seeming like a complete creep—you can tell he doesn’t flirt often, by the way he’s quiet around his friends when you stop by their table or how he never asks for your number despite twirling his phone in his hands idly most of the night, trying to seem occupied but mostly staring at a blank screen until he finally gains the courage to ask you another question.

The first night he walks you to your car it’s quick—he stays until you close up for the night and walks around back, a careful and watchful eye on your surroundings as he nods and wishes you goodnight with a half-hearted smile, kicking himself in the ass for not just asking for your number.

And it continues like that for weeks, within those couple months, and gradually Frankie bursts out of his shell little by little until you both are giggling one night over a particularly rowdy customer, having gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure and broken a table. 

His hand grazes your lower back as you walk out, a genuine mistake but you turn your head toward him quickly, soothing his worries with a smile as you stick the key into the lock.

“Don’t worry about it,” You tell him with a comforting tone, “I’m used to men being a little more handsy than that, so, if anything, you’re a gentleman.”

“Those aren’t men.” Frankie argues lightheartedly.

“Eh, men who act like boys,” You say, “they’re assholes either way you put it.”

Frankie nods, readjusting his cap on his head as he pushes his fingers through his hair.

You twist the keys in your hand and start the walk toward your car.

“Do you ever take that thing off?”

Frankie’s eyes dart up toward the hat and he chuckles, hidden under the scruff and grown out facial hair, “No. No, not really.”

“Would you do it if I asked you to?”

He contemplates but never gives you a straight answer, forcing you to prod him gently with the end of your key, “Don’t worry—I won’t. Not yet.”

Frankie’s fingers curl around the edge of your door as he holds it open and watches you climb in, mind swimming with a million ways to ask what he wants, but it never comes.

But, you see it on his face immediately, the caution behind his eyes in being so forward with you.

“Ask for it,” You tell him, turning on the ignition to your car, still looking at him as he looms between you and the car door, “—unless you want to make me ask.”

Frankie looks away briefly and you laugh softly at his sudden unabashed expression as he smiles and turns back to you, “Can I have your number?”

You hold your hand out in wait, thumbing in your number the moment the phone finds your palm. You send yourself a short text with a smiley face to make sure it goes through and hand it back over, feeling a sudden flutter of anxiety in your chest.

Not good, not bad—but it is something.

“Put it to good use,” You warn him, “don’t make me regret that.”

Frankie smiles wider that time, his teeth peeking out behind full lips.

“Right,” He agrees, “absolutely. I promise.”

He adds a soft goodnight and you depart, feeling your phone buzz again before you even pull out of the parking lot.

[Unknown Number]: Goodnight

You snort a quiet laugh to yourself.

An hour later, a toothbrush tucked into your cheek as you stare down at your phone when it vibrates. You had half the mind to save his number despite your exhaustion from the shift you worked.

[Frankie]: Home safe?

[You]: Yep. :) Thank you for checking on me

[Frankie]: :) Goodnight. 

[Frankie]: Again lol.

It’s stupid—it shouldn’t make you smile. But, it does.

You quickly find every day occupied by Frankie in some form, through text or just the thought of him. He’s everywhere and you can’t seem to care—and you give up sleep in the middle of the night for text conversations that come from just wanting to hear from him, as nervous as you are to just call—you could, you knew he wouldn’t care. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You try to learn as much as you can about him.

[You]: Why Catfish?

It’s a random Tuesday when the text comes through his phone. He’s busy in class, cramming himself in as many hours as possible before he tests for his pilot license.

[Frankie]: Long story. Obnoxiously long. Why?

[You]: Just curious. It’s a strange nickname

[Frankie]: So what does that make me?

Frankie doesn’t get a response for a while and he knows you’re probably working, but he finds his fingers reaching for his pocket any time his phone vibrates in the hopes that it’s you.

[You]: Sorry. There was a mess at work. 

[You]: It makes you strange btw

[You]: I’m kidding. But, it’s still a weird nickname.

Frankie can tell it’s you from the constant buzzing and he takes a peek at his phone.

[Frankie]: Oh shit. How bad of a mess?

[Frankie]: I know. Maybe I can explain it another time.

You’re busy wiping the beer off your face as you look at his text, the security dragging out the guy who had splashed the glass of liquid back at your face.

[You]: Some asshole threw a beer at me. Nothing new. Clothes are soaked.

[You]: Don’t try to make a joke about that or I’m double charging you this Friday.

Frankie frowns at the implication that you think he’s first instinct is to make a joke at your expense, but you can’t help to protect yourself from the behavior you’re used to from most men.

[Frankie]: Do you need me to bring you something? I can stop by on my way home?

[You]: I’ll survive. Thank you, though. My shift is almost over.

A couple days later you end up going down a fireshot line of questioning to get to know him, much to his surprise.

[You]: Okay. Birthday?

[Frankie]: April 2nd. 

He returns the question to which you answer but add on another text with a joke at his expense.

[You]: Damn, a day short and that would be perfect for you. So, you’re an Aries.

[Frankie]: Yeah, whatever that means.

You laugh to yourself, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you walk through your local grocery store to pick up items for dinner that night.

[You]: It fits you. Oh! What do you do for work?

[You]: Fair game since you know what I do.

[Frankie]: We’re all in the army. I work on aircraft.

Oh, that’s…not what you were expecting.

[Frankie]: It’s new. I’m trying to get my pilot's license right now. I’ve got a big test coming up for it.

[You]: That’s so cool! Take me for a ride sometime?

You smirk to yourself as you press send.

[Frankie]: Yes.

You look ridiculous smiling at your phone in the middle of the aisle but you can’t help it.

In the army. A pilot. And a gentleman? Or, at least he’s provided himself to be nice enough. You were both young, so it didn’t surprise you that you were both unluckily single. But, Frankie seemed like such a catch—and it terrified you how badly you wanted him. Even in the simplest form. 

A friend, a best friend, even. Or more, definitely more. But, you didn’t mind either way.

He’s due to take the test for his pilot license the Monday after your last shift, showing up with the boys on that Friday before—typical routine and behavior, but he does seem a bit more handsy. Santiago has always been friendly, but he does hug you this time he sees you, catching you on the way back to the bar and he plants a kiss on your cheek that you welcome with a soft, playful shove of your hand at his face and if it strikes Frankie with jealousy, you don’t notice.

But, he does shock you when he wraps an arm around your front and hugs you lazily, haphazardly slumping his other arm over your shoulder as he plants a kiss in your the hair at the crown on your head and rubs your hip with his thumb, leaving you dumbstruck and wanton the rest of your shift, frazzled every time you glance his way.

Santiago orders a round of shots toward the end of the night and thanks you with a wink, departing for the table and interrupting the idle conversation the men were entranced in.

You’re not sure what was going on, wiping down the counter as the night slowed down and casually flicking your eyes up to check on them, hearing them laugh occasionally, glancing your way briefly and suddenly Frankie was headed your way, fiddling around with the brim of his hat as he pressed a forearm against the countertop you had just wiped down. 

You snap him gently with the towel and give him a look, he backs away slightly, hovering over the edge of the counter.

“What’s up?”

“They’re a bunch of dicks, I’m sorry.” Frankie deflected, glancing back at the boys who were staring on with sated smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of him fumbling and dropping the ball as he spoke to you. His eyes flick up wearily, soft and so distinct to him that it makes your heart ache. “Pope—Santiago, he dared me to come over and kiss you. And it’s stupid but if I didn’t at least try I would never hear the end–”

You pull him in by the collar of his shirt, the brim of his hat being pushed askew by the force as you press your lips to his in a simple, but unmistakable kiss. Tilting your head slightly as you pull away briefly to kiss him once more, dropping your towel to push your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and it seems like his brain catches up too late, his fingers barely grazing your neck as you pull away.

You pointedly look around Frankie to flip the other three off with both hands.

“Get out of here,” You warn playfully, “before I murder one of them.”

Frankie huffs a soft laugh through his nose before he turns away, speechless.

They were out of there within a few minutes, but an hour later your lips were still tingling.

Frankie is different that Saturday—more energetic, seeming lighter and more playful. 

He drinks one beer, then two, surprisingly a couple shots of tequila—and before you know it, you’re seeing a much different side of Frankie than you're used to and it is quite the sight.

“Am I cutting you off?” You ask curiously, “I don’t want you nursing a hangover tomorrow when you have your test on Monday.”

“One more,” Frankie promises, “but—surprise me?”

You shrug, not finding a problem with it.

“Sweet or savory?” You ask him.

You feel your breath catch slightly as he pauses, his eyes doing a subtle drag over your body as you take a couple steps back, reaching for an empty glass.

“Sweet.” 

It has an underlying tension to it neither of you address. 

You make something up on the fly—fruity and sweet with the slightest bit of tang, nothing that screams Frankie but when you set it down in front of him and he drinks, his eyes widen slightly.

And for half a second you think he might spit it out, but then he’s chugging the rest down—and maybe it’s alcohol dulling his taste buds but he makes a quick show of assuring you he liked it, even if it’s mostly for your own benefit.

Shaking his head as he licks at his lips with his tongue in a way that feels so unnecessary that you can’t help but giggle, snatching the empty glass away from him as he smiles, his eyes half-lidded from the faint buzz he has going on, but otherwise he still seems fine.

You couldn’t let him get that drunk, not when he had so much riding on that test.

By the end of the night, your side hurts from laughing so much, forceably having to shove your hand in Frankie’s face to get him to shut up for half a second, his fingers circling around your wrist as he pulls you forward and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Stay. Let me close up and we can walk through the back.” You tell him and he nods quietly, though his grin never fades, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip idly while he watches you work around the clutter and reorganize, cleaning everything down before you’re flicking off the lights and nodding at him to follow.

If it were anyone else, you’d have given them a stiff kick to the balls and sent them on their way, but the moment Frankie noses at your neck your hard resolve melts and you shrug him away at how much it tickles your skin, feeling his hand wrap around the bicep on your left arm. He’s never been so touchy but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. In fact, you’re eating it up at this point.

“Frankie,” You warn him playfully, working and failing to lock the door as uses his other hand to squeeze at your side, “come on—I can’t lock up with you doing that.”

“Try,” He teases, challenges, and you can’t help but like the bolder, less restrained side of himself he’s offering up to you.

The gentle nuzzling quickly turns to kisses, wet and open mouthed as he practically drapes himself over you, one hand pressed into the brick wall beside the backdoor and you sigh softly, leaning into his chest as you finally get the door locked and shrug him away.

“Am I going to see you next week?” He asks hopefully, knowing that with August looming in the distance that your job at the bar was close to being nullified. 

You shake your head with a bittersweet smile, “Tomorrow is my last day, actually. For now, anyway.”

Frankie’s brow furrows at that and he shakes his head slightly before he’s invading your space, hands cupping your face as he lifts your chin up to meet your lips and kisses you gently, your fingers coming up to curls around his forearms and you feel his lips part just as you pull away.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask him, feeling like an echo as he comes back to the surface with a delayed response, trying to kiss you again but you're pressing your fingertips over his lips until he realizes that you actually want an answer.

“I’ve wanted you all summer,” He admits and it makes your blood run hot, that distinct tingle of pleasure shooting down your spine and it is nothing you were expecting him to say, but tonight was full of surprises apparently, “do I need to prove it to you?”

He presses his forehead against your own and you shake your head in response. You believed him, you didn’t doubt him for a second—but it feels surreal. Those quick, fleeting summer flings you only hear about in passing, never expecting to experience it yourself.

You may never see him again, you had to strike the match while it was still in reach.

“Are there cameras back here?” Frankie asks hastily.

You snort, “No—we’re five minutes away from college dorms in the poorest part of town. People come here for cheap booze, not security.”

Frankie nods at that, “You’re right,” He responds but the end is muffled as he kisses you again, with less care and a lot more tongue as you open your mouth to him and find the words on your tongue are muffled by his.

And thank god the street lights were shit in the back alley, barely working amongst the occasional flicker, you eventually find your way in the darkened corner of the back alley with Frankie’s hand working at the button on your jeans, almost tripping over an overturned crate on the way there that causes you both to burst into a fit of giggles, laughing through the sloppy kisses Frankie can’t help but smother you with, sighing when his fingers dip past the denim and thin fabric underwear to cup your pussy with his entire hand, the warmth of his palm like an answered prayer.

His hat is frustrating though, constantly bumping and prodding at your head before you finally get fed up, plucking it off his head and tossing it to the ground with an annoyed sigh that forces a choked laugh from Frankie’s throat, dipping a finger down the center of your core before pressing inside of you, gasping at the sudden but welcomed intrusion. You release a shaky sigh and open your eyes to look at him, finding he’s plenty amused but still buzzed in his own way.

Half beer, half pleasure—but he looks like he wants to devour you.

Lucky for you, he was starving.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, breathing picking up as he angles his fingers and slips another inside, curling them toward you from within and you pull at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He smirks in amusement, “Wish you could see how needy you look,” Frankie comments, “all it took was a couple fingers, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Too bad it took you all summer,” You pester him as he picks up the intensity, using his other hand to push your jeans lower down your hips, “and some stupid fuckin’ drink to make you finally want to have sex with.”

“Sex?” Frankie jokes through a throaty chuckle, “Who said anything about—”

Your hand cups the front of his jeans firmly, a little harsher than necessary but you can tell he doesn’t mind, almost challenging you to tease him a little more but the moment you both hit a solid wall you’re tripping over each other’s feet and it pulls you back to the surface and despite your clothes being half-stripped away and Frankie’s hand still shoved down the front of your jeans, it brings back a surprising amount levity to assess the situation at hand.

“I mean, do you want to?” You ask him curiously, tucking a curl behind his ear as he blinks, considering how this would affect his relationship with you, as brief and fleeting as it was.

“You’re really asking me that?” He responds, “Of course.”

“Well, I mean you did just say—”

Frankie places his palm over your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He deflects, hoping you’ll play along.

You work at his belt without hesitation, far over the small talk and tired of wasting time. Frankie pulls his hand away much to your disappoint, pouting slightly as he drag his hand up your stomach, under your shirt until he’s got it tucked under your chin and mouthing of your bra greedily, the fingers of his other hand peeking around the fabric to pull it down, taking the soft, pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking with a satisfied groan as you dip your hand beyond his waistband and over his boxers, pulled tight against his thighs and groin. You could picture the sight of him in your mind for hours if you wanted, but you had him here, right here. 

Why not give yourself a peek at the real thing?

Frankie is lost, deep within the exploration of your body that he doesn’t even hear your voice when you plead with him, his voice grazing over the delicate skin of your breasts as he pulls away, already ready to descend and yank your jeans the rest of the way down, press his face between your legs and feast on you like it was the best thing he’s tried all night.

But, there’s the pout again—so subtle he would miss it had he not finally given you his full, undivided attention and he was right. You are needy.

His thumb rubs at the small sliver of your lip that’s poking out, rocking his hips gently into the hand still tucked away into his jeans—there was such a distinct charm to him, melting under his gaze the second his eyes made contact with your own. Every time.

“I don’t wanna keep you,” You whine emphatically and Frankie almost immediately begins to shake his head—

No. No, of course not. You wouldn’t be keeping him at all. Not a chance, not a fuckin—his inner monologue is going wild but he finds you perking up at the slowly growing panic on his face.

“But,” You breath, the thumb that was resting at your bottom lip trailing down the valley of your breasts before he cups one gently in his hand, “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t give you at least something to remember this.”

“Couldn’t forget about you if I tried, actually,” He begins, but you shake your head, shushing him and pushing his hand away before you sink to your knees despite the immediate protest in your knees at the hard gravel—but god was it fucking worth it when you look up, half-lidded eyes staring back as you shake his jeans down his hips, just far enough that you can watch as he does the work with his boxers, cock bobbing free as he settles the band underneath his balls and if has to look away by that point, overwhelmed in the way your eyes roam but you don’t speak, clearly admiring and seering this to memory as you smile cheekily, taking his cock in your hand and jerk him slowly, thumb running along the vein that follows to the head of his cock.

“Get off the floor,” He begs pathetically, “gonna tear your knees up doing that.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and slide your tongue along the head of his cock, dipping down the slit of his head and to his shaft, pulling back at the skin and taking him into your mouth fully. He’s uncircumcised, thick and perfect—he fills your mouth out so beautifully in all his girth that you wonder just how much better it can feel between your legs, filling you out in the best way.

“Oh, jesus—baby, that’s,” You hum, bobbing your head in constant rhythm as your work your free hand around his balls, cupping them and allowing your other hand to cover the rest of what your mouth couldn’t take of his length and Frankie looks like he might actually pass out, looking around desperately for something, anything to lean on before he just settles for the wall behind you, resting both of his palms against the brick as he towers over you.

Frankie sighs shakily, dropping a hand to tuck against the back of your head, and your stomach swirls with anticipation as he allows himself to break his restrain a little, guiding his cock into your mouth with little aide given how eager you were as you took him as far as you could go, brush your nose against the trimmed patch of hair at the base and feel his hand flex in your hair, gripping it tight and attempting to pull you off to no avail, repeating the process until he’s begging for you to slow down, give him just a few seconds to breathe, ultimately finding that you don’t stop until he finally finds his voice again, stuttering out a desperate, “Stop, stop, stop–”

You pull away suddenly, worrying crossing your face but quickly dissipating as Frankie laughs, pulling you to your feet without much fight on your part and he does notice the few scraps on your knees, collecting with blood and he really wishes you would have listened but you brush him off, his body pressing you up against the brick wall behind you, pants still hanging at his thighs and his dick pressed against your stomach, shirt still sloppily bunched up over your tits.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, so vulgar it makes you pulse around absolutely nothing, his eyes roving over your face curiously, his thumb tracing over your lips, with a soft mumble, “God, I need you so bad.”

“My car,” You respond, tongue pressing against the pad of his fingertip as you nod behind him, “Condoms, they’re—in the car.”

Frankie makes a face, sort of amused but a little confused.

“Shut up,” You null his question before it slips out—”It’s precaution, okay? Guys love to pull the whole—”

“No, I—I get it,” Frankie answers, a small laugh rounding out his tone, “I just figured, you know—we’d…go back to your place? Or mine?”

Your hand fists into his shirt slowly, pulling him impossibly closer like he wasn’t already pressed against every surface of your body.

“What if I can’t wait?” Your eyes soften, looking up at him and catching the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, wanting to taste that tinge of sugar that lingers with him, “Would you fuck me right now?”

Frankie nods eagerly and you don’t hesitate, grabbing for his hat, placing it against his chest and gripping his hand in your own before you shove him away gently and lead him to your car, mostly covered in darkness aside from the obnoxiously orange streetlight that glowed overhead. Your clothes haphazardly pulled back up as you clamber into the driver's seat to reach over the console and into the glovebox, aware of the hand that slides between your leg as you search in the poor lighting, squealing when he squeezes at the flesh under his grip and shoving the foil wrapper into Frankie’s chest when you finally get your hand on the box.

“Off,” He tells you, pulling at the zipper of your jeans, “all the way.”

There was so much going on in your mind, nothing you could pluck out and focus on but it buzzed with excitement, anticipation, the kind of adrenaline that only comes in situations when your judgment is hasty and not fully-thought out. You’re barely kicking your shoes off and pulling your jeans past your ankle before Frankie is manhandling you into the backseat, and pressing his face between your thighs as he licks into you, a surprised gasp tearing from your throat as you grip the seats wherever you can.

Your pussy throbs under the care of his tongue, and he carries on obnoxiously, making a mess between your legs as his fingertips grip at the flesh of your ass and force you to open yourself wider to him, “Frankie—” You interject weakly, but he silences you with his mouth, sucking at your clit like it was his new obsession and you whine so pathetically that you find you covering your mouth in shame, biting gently at your bicep to muffle the flurry of sounds that came out after.

He pulls away some time later—minutes, hours, days, you can’t even place it. But, you hear him shift, the rip of the wrapper and the jingling of his belt as he shifts his jeans further down and slides into the backseat more comfortably, hovering over you. His hands squeezing at your hips, a comforting gesture as he speaks from behind you.

“Are you sure?” 

It’s sweet, you can admit that. But, you don’t need that.

“Frankie.”

He wasn’t budging. Because, if by some sudden change of heart you didn’t want this, he wanted to know.

“Yes. Yes,” You say, turning slightly to look over your shoulder, his face only an inch or so away as you tuck your arm back and push your fingers into his hair, pulling his face next to yours as he pushes inside of you slowly, yanking gently at the strands between your fingers as he settles, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“Let me hear you,” He begs, “It’s just us.”

He hears you all the time, voice carrying across the bar but never like this—for him, only for him.

He pulls back gently, snapping his hips firmly and you hum softly, slightly giddy over the entire situation. He continues that way, so gentle and cautious that it makes you wonder why you both avoided this for so long, “More?” Frankie asks. You nod and his pace quickens slightly, a little harsher, and your hand grips onto the passenger seat beside your head for leverage as he chest rumbles with a deep sigh, “Fuck this is—baby, you have no idea.”

“Tell me,” You plead, the quiet creak of the car drowned out by your loud, pathetic moans as Frankie’s fingers curl around your throat and hold, no pressing or squeezing, just another place for them to find a home.

“Thought about this—so many times,” He admits, “came here for months—fuck, months. And then you show up and I was nervous—couldn’t, couldn’t even think of what to say to you. I knew I’d embarrass myself in front of them.” He squeezes then, a gentle pressure on your throat that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“I had to see you alone,” His throat is tight, his breath a little quicker as he speaks, his hips snapping into you at a steady pace that clouds your mind effortlessly, “wanted you for myself—and, I would’ve fucked you that first night if you’d let me.”

You cunt squeezes him tight at his words and he curses, “So greedy, baby. She’s drooling all over me—such a fucking mess,” And you need to see him, face the man who’s finally found just the right amount of confidence to make you speechless. You lean up suddenly and force a hand into his chest and he only looks slightly confused before you’re pulling him inside and forcing him to sit into the cramped back seat, uncaring of the open car door as the car rocks with the weight of your bodies and you seat yourself on his lap, gripping his dick in your hand and sinking back down onto him without a word, curling yourself over him as you push away the hair clinging to his forehead, damp from sweat and his eyes are blown wide, staring up at you like he was under hypnosis, gaze locked on your own.

“Tell me now,” You challenge him—nowhere to hide behind his words.

“Would you—have let me fuck you that one night I walked you to your car?” He asks.

You smile guiltily, remembering the heat of his hand on your back, never really an accident.

“I’d have let you fuck me over the pool table if you asked, Frankie.” You admit, “In front of your friends too, if that’s what you really wanted.”

Frankie laughs weakly, giving you the lead as you lift your hips with a sudden eagerness.

“Is that what you want?” You tease him, “You guys are all about claim, right? Army boys love to show off—I mean, they’d probably be into it. Santi, for sure—”

Frankie covers your mouth with his hand and you giggle, biting playfully at the flesh of his palm.

He squeezes at your hip with his free hand, forcing you into a hurried pace as he begins to move his hips to meet your own, lifting off the seat slightly with every snap of his hips. Your cry is muffled by his hand but Frankie sees it in your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes that tells him.

“Touch yourself, babygirl,” He tells you, “Let’s see how bad you want it.”

You lean back between the open space of the driver and passenger seat, one hand gripping the upholstery of the seat while the other works between your legs, fingers drifting over your clit and into the mess of yourself that was leaking over Frankie’s cock from where it was buried inside of you and he wasn’t lying—you’ve never been so turned on in your life. Half-assed hook-ups and guys that didn’t give a shit about your own pleasure, Frankie was a goddamn dream and a hell of a good fuck. 

You know your body well enough that it doesn’t take long, but the show is for Frankie’s benefit alone, head thrown back over your shoulders as your middle and ring finger circle your clit, occasionally wrapping your hand around what of his shaft was available as you tried weakly to move your hips, squeezing to pull a soft little gasp from his chest. It was such a damn shame you didn’t have him fully naked, splayed out on the mattress in your shitty apartment. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin, leave half crescent marks and a reminder of you for days, weeks even. 

“Fuck, I’m right there, baby—” He warns, unexpectedly joining your own fingers and forcing you over the edge just before he pulls you in, a brutal snap of his hips before he’s muffling the deep groans of his orgasm into your skin, teeth sinking gently into your shoulder.

The next few minutes is spent in a blissful silence, moving off of him carefully as he discards the condom but never letting you drift to far, still curled up and half naked on his lap as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss that takes your breath away, literally pulls from your chest and makes your heart stop.

Oh…this was not good. 

You breathe shakily and pull away with a smile that masks that sudden ache in your chest and kiss again at the inside of his palm. He leans his head against the backseat, eyes closed as he catches his breath and groans slightly when you move off of him, oblivious and exhausted as you redress hastily beside him, pulling your jeans back up your legs and over your hips, slipping your shoes on and readjusting your shirt, shaking him gently when you fear he might have passed out right there in the back of your car.

“Frankie,” You call out, saying his name a few more times before you call out, one last time, “Francisco, hey.”

His eyebrows raise in question, a subtle smile on his lips as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

“I really need to get home,” You tell him, laughing half-heartedly at his drunken stupor, “you’ve gotta go.”

Frankie seems to realize then that he can’t drag this out any longer, redressing himself slowly as he climbs out of the car, watching you fiddle with your shirt and your appearance, trying to not look like you just got fucked in the backseat of your car.

He seems to notice the slight dismay on your face, knowing that your lives were diverting down different paths, but this was still the present. Now. And he was still here.

He presses you into the driver’s side door and kisses you then, hands crawling up the side of your neck and caressing the curve of it, dipping his tongue past your lips and really stealing your breath away, moaning into your mouth like you were the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.

You pull away regrettably when you feel him start to ramp up again, “Good luck on your test, by the way.” You tell him honestly, “You can text me the good news when you pass.”

Frankie chuckles, “I will.” There’s a long pause and then he’s speaking again, the few words you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, “Can I see you again?”

The hesitance is obvious on your face and it kicks Frankie down a peg, but he gets it. He wasn’t a boyfriend, barely even a friend. But, he was still hopeful.

“Maybe.” You offer, “I mean—you still have my number. I’m just a text or call away, you know.”

Frankie couldn’t admit that you were the only thing getting him through this summer without relapsing or making another misstep, that wasn’t your burden. But, the weight on his heart is heavy and his own to bear, welcoming the hug you offer him immediately and squeezing you so tight you might break, but of course, you don’t. 

And he thinks that if he showed up broken, in pieces, that you would know exactly how to piece him back together, but he hoped that never happened. That maybe you might manage to escape him and he wouldn’t drag you down with him.

“Goodbye, Frankie.” 

He smiles and nods, settling his hat back on his head as he steps away.

You leave soon after, not sure why this sudden dark cloud is looming over you.

Frankie never texts you about his test and the texts you send in the aftermath are never responded to—and eventually you give up, feeling like an idiot for being hopeful in the first place.

↝ beta: @chaotic-mystery

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[tabarkraed]

Giving birth is a profound and transformative experience for any mother, but the stark contrast between bringing a child into the world during a war and in a peaceful environment is heart-wrenching. Imagine the emotional turmoil and physical hardship faced by mothers who deliver their babies in the midst of conflict, within the confines of a makeshift tent, surrounded by the constant threat of danger.

For my friend’s @bilalhammadsblog sister and sister-in-law, the journey to motherhood was fraught with fear and uncertainty. Instead of the calm and controlled environment of a hospital, they endured labor amidst the chaos of war, with explosions and gunfire as their background noise. The tent that served as their delivery room was a far cry from the sterile, well-equipped birthing suites that most mothers have. There was no access to pain relief, professional medical care, or the comforting presence of loved ones.

The conditions were harsh and unsanitary, increasing the risk of infections and complications. The lack of clean water, proper nutrition, and essential medical supplies made every moment perilous. These mothers had to summon unimaginable strength and resilience, not only to give birth but also to protect and care for their newborns in such dire circumstances.

In contrast, mothers in peaceful settings prepare for childbirth with a sense of excitement and anticipation. They attend prenatal classes, have regular check-ups, and often create a birth plan with their doctors. Their biggest concerns might be about the birth itself or the baby's health, but they are surrounded by support and resources. Hospitals are equipped with advanced technology, skilled professionals, and all the necessary amenities to ensure a safe and comfortable delivery.

For these war-affected mothers, there is no such assurance. Their overwhelming joy at meeting their babies is tinged with the constant worry of how to keep them safe and healthy in an environment that is anything but. The basic comforts and reassurances that should accompany childbirth are replaced by the harsh realities of survival.

Every cry of their babies is a reminder of the fragility of life in a war zone. The emotional toll is immense, as they grapple with the fear of losing their children to preventable illnesses or injuries caused by the surrounding conflict. The physical exhaustion from childbirth is compounded by the stress of providing for their newborns in such conditions, often without adequate rest, food, or medical care.

Despite these overwhelming challenges, these mothers display an extraordinary level of courage and love. They hold on to hope and fight every day to give their children a chance at life, even in the face of such adversity. Their strength is a testament to the incredible resilience of the human spirit, even in the darkest of times.

Please open your hearts 🤍

and donate to support these courageous mothers and their precious newborns. Your generosity can provide the essential care and comfort they desperately need during this harrowing time. Every donation is a lifeline of hope and love for these innocent lives. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[nornpai]

I have a theory about the whole Alastor and Vox thing. At the beginning of "Stayed Gone," Valentino questions Vox on whether or not he was pissed about "that time he almost beat you," which indicates some sort of physical altercation between them and Vox won, right? But it wasn't that Vox won by "killing" Alastor. I think Alastor fled from the fight... I believe this due to another line in "Stayed Gone" where Vox declares "The demon is a coward." This could be interpreted as Vox is upset at Alastor for just up and disappearing from their friendship(?) but as I've stated I don't think that's the case, or at least it's only partly why he said it.

In the episode "Dad Beat Dad," Alastor is seen provoking Lucifer which led fans to ask Vivienne Medrano herself why he did so. She answers that Alastor felt threatened by someone more powerful than him and felt the need to provoke Lucifer to assert dominance by being a shithead.

With the confirmation that Alastor does feel threatened by those more powerful than him, this is my speculation: Vox is all things technology, he changes and advances with the times, he can physically alter his body to do so as seen by his old box TV head which was seen in a picture frame in one of the episodes' backgrounds. This shows just how dedicated he is to becoming better, faster, and stronger alongside the advancements in technology. Vox's powers are greatly connected with tech as well and with the growing influence and spread of tech across the world makes it much easier for Vox to manipulate masses of people at once or use his "teleportation" ability to zap wherever he wants to using electronics. Alastor knew Vox was steadily increasing in power and began to feel intimidated by that prospect so to prove himself he challenged Vox, as the fight continued and Vox and him wrestled to show their power Alastor may have got badly injured and decided to take the blow to his ego and flee from the battle leaving them with no conclusion on who was actually stronger and Vox alone with no explanation for his actions.

----

Or in short: Alastor one day was like "Oh fuck this mf actually getting powerful fr" and decided "I'm gonna kick this guys ass to show I'm the alpha male" but then while he's getting his ass kicked he goes "Ow okay well I don't wanna be killed by this guy, fuck this I'm out of here." and vanishes for 7 years leaving Vox to rip all of their photos together in half like some sort of heartbroken teenage girl (Normal reaction to your business partner leaving).

(I spent so fucking long on this you have no idea.)

[jcmarchi]

Unlocking Secrets of Natural Silk-Based Materials - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/unlocking-secrets-of-natural-silk-based-materials-technology-org/

Unlocking Secrets of Natural Silk-Based Materials - Technology Org

Professor Benedetto Marelli develops silk-based technologies with uses “from lab to fork,” including helping crops grow and preserving perishable foods.

Growing up in Milan, Benedetto Marelli liked figuring out how things worked. He repaired broken devices simply to have the opportunity to take them apart and put them together again. Also, from a young age, he had a strong desire to impact the world positively. Enrolling at the Polytechnic University of Milan, he chose to study engineering.

Professor Benedetto Marelli uses silk-based technologies to help crops grow and to preserve perishable foods. Image credit: Jake Belcher / MIT

“Engineering seemed like the right fit to fulfill my passions at the intersection of discovering how the world works, together with understanding the rules of nature and harnessing this knowledge to create something new that could positively impact our society,” says Marelli, MIT’s Paul M. Cook Career Development Associate Professor of Civil and Environmental Engineering.

Marelli decided to focus on biomedical engineering, which at the time was the closest thing available to biological engineering. “I liked the idea of pursuing studies that provided me a background to engineer life,” in order to improve human health and agriculture, he says.

Marelli went on to earn a PhD in materials science and engineering at McGill University and then worked in Tufts University’s biomaterials Silklab as a postdoc.

After his postdoc, Marelli was drawn to MIT’s Department of Civil and Environmental in large part because of the work of Markus Buehler, MIT’s McAfee Professor of Engineering, who studies how to design new materials by understanding the architecture of natural ones.

“This resonated with my training and idea of using nature’s building blocks to build a more sustainable society,” Marelli says.

“It was a big leap forward for me to go from biomedical engineering to civil and environmental engineering. It meant completely changing my community, understanding what I could teach and how to mentor students in a new engineering branch. As Markus is working with silk to study how to engineer better materials, this made me see a clear connection with what I was doing and what I could be doing. I consider him one of my mentors here at MIT and was fortunate to collaborate with him.”

He says that Marelli’s research aims to mitigate several pressing global problems.

“Boosting food production to provide food security to an ever-increasing population, soil restoration, decreasing the environmental impact of fertilizers, and addressing stressors coming from climate change are societal challenges that need the development of rapidly scalable and deployable technologies,” he says.

Marelli and his fellow researchers have developed coatings derived from natural silk that extend the shelf life of food, deliver biofertilizers to seeds planted in salty, unproductive soils, and allow seeds to establish healthier plants and increase crop yield in drought-stricken lands.

The technologies have performed well in field tests being conducted in Morocco in collaboration with the Mohammed VI Polytechnic University in Ben Guerir, according to Marelli, and offer much potential.

“I believe that with this technology, together with the common efforts shared by the MIT PIs participating in the Climate Grand Challenge on Revolutionizing Agriculture, we have a  real opportunity to positively impact planetary health and find new solutions that work in both rural settings and highly modernized agricultural fields,” says Marelli, who recently earned tenure.

As a researcher and entrepreneur with about 20 patents to his name and awards, including a National Science Foundation CAREER award, the Presidential Early Career Award for Scientists and Engineers award, and the Ole Madsen Mentoring Award, Marelli says that in general his insights into structural proteins — and how to use that understanding to manufacture advanced materials at multiple scales �� are among his proudest achievements.

More specifically, Marelli cites one of his breakthroughs involving a strawberry. Having dipped the berry in an odorless, tasteless edible silk suspension as part of a cooking contest held in his postdoctoral lab, he accidentally left it on his bench, only to find a week or so later that it had been well-preserved.

“The coating of the strawberry to increase its shelf life is difficult to beat when it comes to inspiring people that natural polymers can serve as technical materials that can positively impact our society” by lessening food waste and the need for energy-intensive refrigerated shipping, Marelli says.

When Marelli won the BioInnovation Institute and Science Prize for Innovation in 2022, he told the journal Science that he thinks students should be encouraged to choose an entrepreneurial path. He acknowledged the steepness of the learning curve of being an entrepreneur but also pointed out how the impact of research can be exponentially increased.

He expanded on this idea more recently.

“I believe an increasing number of academics and graduate students should try to get their hands ‘dirty’ with entrepreneurial efforts. We live in a time where academics are called to have a tangible impact on our society, and translating what we study in our labs is clearly a good way to employ our students and enhance the global effort to develop new technology that can make our society more sustainable and equitable,” Marelli says.

Referring to a spinoff company, Mori, that grew out of the coated strawberry discovery and that develops silk-based products to preserve a wide range of perishable foods, Marelli says he finds it very satisfying to know that Mori has a product on the market that came out of his research efforts — and that 80 people are working to translate the discovery from “lab to fork.”

“Knowing that the technology can move the needle in crises such as food waste and food-related environmental impact is the highest reward of all,” he says.

Marelli says he tells students who are seeking solutions to extremely complicated problems to come up with one solution, “however crazy it might be,” and then do an extensive literature review to see what other researchers have done and whether “there is any hint that points toward developing their solution.”

“Once we understand the feasibility, I typically work with them to simplify it as much as we can, and then to break down the problem in small parts that are addressable in series and/or in parallel,” Marelli says.

That process of discovery is ongoing. Asked which of his technologies will have the greatest impact on the world, Marelli says, “I’d like to think it’s the ones that still need to be discovered.”

Written by Michaela Jarvis

Source: Massachusetts Institute of Technology

You can offer your link to a page which is relevant to the topic of this post.

[bogleech]

Today I learned about "Black Belt Challenge," a Gameboy Advance fighting game with some lovable charming little character designs that apparently did not sell very well in the U.S. and I feel like that can be blamed entirely on what has to be one of the ugliest, blandest box covers I've ever seen that wasn't just a photo of a football player or a car:

I could have seen this game right in front of me back when I was a kid with a GBA, dozens of times, and my mind never would have registered it. I would have glossed right over it. I'm not big into fighting games anyway but had the game's character's been more visible and obvious on the front of the box I would have at least looked at the back and probably remembered their designs?! You know like most games, like the Megaman Battle Network games or Mario and Luigi Games or like THE COVER THEY ALREADY HAD FOR THIS GAME EVERYWHERE ELSE WHAT THE FUCK:

That one eyed metal doohickey in the background is even a character!!

Balbora the completely nonhumanoid fighting game robot was robbed of fame by just one terrible marketing decision and one equally terrible graphic designer

[lunarlianna]

Planets in the 9th house

This house beautifully transforms our learning into wisdom. Our core beliefs, ethics, religions, and morals find a home here. It's the realm of expanding our minds—through venturing to new lands, embracing diverse cultures, and pursuing advanced education. Named the House of Philosophy, the Ninth House is our guide in seeking understanding and purpose. It encapsulates education, ideals, and spirituality that shape our profound journey. It also holds space for law, ethics, travel, and the richness of cultural exchange. In essence, this house embarks on a heartfelt quest for truth and profound meaning. It’s ruled by Sagittarius and the planet Jupiter.

The Sun: In the 9th house, drives a quest for higher ideals, truth, and wisdom, either embracing diverse perspectives with tolerance or becoming a dogmatic follower. Your keen intellect and love of travel, whether literal or intellectual, are complemented by potential for foreign language skills and appreciation of other cultures. While your humor, knowledge, and adventurous spirit make you an engaging companion, it's important to respect others' viewpoints without imposing your beliefs.

The Moon: in the 9th house, you're a contemplative dreamer, seeking higher meanings. A desire for fresh experiences leads to extensive travels, both physically and mentally, while security is sought in philosophical or religious beliefs that nurture your soul. Your diverse interests and passionate teaching style stem from a personal connection to subjects, making you a stimulating educator. The yearning for broader horizons, whether internal or external, could find fulfilment through a steadfast belief system, offering you a sense of inner security.

Mercury: ninth-house individuals can hold strong, often contentious opinions on universal matters. Mercury in the ninth enhances this with detached, factual communication, benefiting the placement. Your skill in elucidating abstract ideas and mastering languages is notable, but remember to stay grounded in facts to avoid getting lost in grand concepts.

Venus: fosters a love for travel and benefits from it, often leading to relocations. Your capacity for bridging cultural gaps and appreciating diverse beauty, art, and music is prominent. While fair in legal matters, your attraction to religion, philosophy, and higher learning might make you seem distant to a partner due to your focus on future adventures, drawing you to relationships with people from varied backgrounds.

Mars: in the 9th House brings an enthusiastic yet restless mind, independence in thought, and a strong desire for mental exploration. While having strong opinions and a progressive outlook, guarding against fanaticism and self-righteousness is important. Your zeal for travel, both physical and mental, is accompanied by a fight for your beliefs, though maintaining humility and openness to others' perspectives is advised. Your contagious optimism and humour shine, reminding you to balance your convictions with respect for differing viewpoints.

Jupiter: in the 9th House bestows optimism, broad-mindedness, and prophetic intuition, often guiding and inspiring others with your ideas and ideals. While benefiting from travel and foreign interactions, your accomplishments might be acknowledged later in life. While your enthusiasm and teaching inclination are appreciated, be mindful of potential dogmatism or lapses in faith. People are drawn to your knowledge-sharing and open-hearted approach, driven by your curiosity, which fosters meaningful connections and impactful teaching.

Saturn: deep-rooted religious or philosophical beliefs can sometimes breed intolerance and criticism. It could reflect a strong religious background, perhaps from a father figure. Challenges might arise in foreign travel or cultural interactions, urging a balanced and open approach to avoid frustration. While your intense focus is a strength, remember to balance it to prevent mental exhaustion. Be open to spontaneity to avoid becoming overly rigid.

Uranus: in the ninth house craves freedom and exploration, yet this quest for novelty can inadvertently lead to rigid views against those not open to new ideas. While embracing diverse cultures and philosophies, remember to avoid judgment and intolerance toward those with different beliefs. Your detached, intellectual approach holds potential for societal contributions through teaching and research, even as your wandering spirit seeks room to roam and expand boundaries.

Neptune: in the 9th House signifies idealism, mystical leanings, and vivid, possibly prophetic dreams. While drawn to unifying concepts, be cautious of veering into fanaticism or following deceptive influences. Traveling with spontaneity appeals, but unexpected events may arise. Embrace your strong faith while remaining vigilant against potential manipulation by religious groups, focusing on genuine spiritual growth and avoiding deceptive paths.

Pluto: in the 9th House grants intuition and potential clairvoyance, fueling a deep interest in religion and philosophy. Avoid fanaticism by embracing tolerance for others' beliefs and controlling the need to always be right. While your hunger for Truth drives you to explore metaphysical realms and philosophical insights, allowing open-mindedness and listening to diverse opinions can strengthen your truth and lead to transformation and growth beyond self-imposed limitations

[kurooo-is-here]

Mind if I request how kieran and Drayton try to date the reader(who they both have a crush on)?

Oh god, it's a MESS 😭 Get ready for some angst

They're constantly competing for your affection. Sometimes they get so pissed at each other that their Pokemon start fighting too, and Lacey has to kick them both out of the clubroom.

Kieran is so sick of Drayton; every time you come close to having an intimate moment with Kieran, Drayton is always somehow in the background making snarky comments or just straight up interrupting them.

Drayton is... well, he's annoying. He TRIES to be as annoying as possible. Always interrupting you and Kieran, always trying to flirt with you in a way that Kieran hates. He knows you get flustered by his advances, and he KNOWS you're interested in both of them-- so he doesn't back down from a challenge.

Kieran's most likely the first to snap and just ask you to choose between him and Drayton. He's already been pushed around so much his whole life, and he is absolutely NOT losing you again.

If you choose Kieran, he's obviously delighted and feels relieved he no longer has to compete with the annoying dragon boy for your affection. Drayton backs down, though he's secretly very hurt about it. He doesn't really speak to you after that, partly out of respect, but partly because it hurts his heart to see you taking pity on him.

If you choose Drayton though... Kieran doesn't take it well. You and Drayton look so happy together... and once again, Kieran lost something important in his life to someone else. It's not fair. Why him? Why, why is it always him? No words can comfort or reach him. He's a cold, shell of the person he once was.

[faebaex]

Hi? It's my first requests, so if you don't mind could you please do GN!MC stingrays × octavinelle?

(I'm sorry if i have grammatical mistake)

Have a great day Author-nim ♡

Octavinelle with a Stringray Reader

author note: hiii welcome! i feel like it is going to become my mission to turn every imaginable sea creature into a reader (✯◡✯) i'm up for the challenge! this was really fun to write! also, accidental sugar daddy Azul? Accidental sugar daddy Azul <(￣︶￣)>

characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech x GN!Stringray Reader

background:

You are a stringray mer, specifically of Bluespotted Ribbontail species. You are considered quite attractive, and your small stature and timid nature only add to your allure. Despite having quite potent venom, your spinal blade does not carry over to your human form.

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh you poor, sweet summer child.

The first time Azul laid eyes on you, people swear they could see thaumark signs in his eyes.

It was like someone has personally delivered prey to him.

But he was doing you a favour, you know?

With your timid and tender nature, it was only a matter of time before one of the many rogues at this school took advantage of you.

But luckily for you, he can offer you protection. Just sign here and... Perfect. That was easy, wasn't it?

And that is how you began working as a server at the Mostro Lounge, in exchange for Azul's 'protection'.

You quickly became the most popular server at the Lounge, your attractive appearance and nervous, stuttery service becoming a hit with the clientele. Poor little thing, you tug just right on their heartstrings.

Azul was surprised. Whilst he was expecting you to have some popularity (exactly the reason he preyed on you in the first place), he wasn't expecting you to blow up like this.

But he isn't complaining! Celebrating, in fact. Sales have never been better, and seasonal specials have been selling out faster than normal since you joined his staff.

Anyone who goes in the VIP room after hours will see a huge grin on Azul's face as he pours over the business ledgers.

Its because of this that Azul starts to spoil you.

It starts small at first, an extra 15 minute break here and there, a side you hadn't asked for slipped on to your employee meal.

Soon enough, you are granted exclusive access to the VIP room, a perk that was only afforded to the twins up until now.

Oh and what a coincidence, you'll find a study guide for that class you are struggling with on the VIP room table as you take your break. It must have been left out after a client meeting... No harm in you thumbing through it whilst you take your break, Azul would coo.

Azul tries to be discreet, especially once the twins cotton on to your special treatment, with Jade flashing a sharp toothed eerie grin and Floyd complaining that he too wants free study guides.

Azul could justify it, of course, with that you are their best server, in order to maximise the hours you could work, he needed to ensure no other aspect of your life got in the way.

He was definitely justifying it more to himself than he was the twins.

So come, dear. Let him show you your new special uniform for the lunar new year seasonal service...

Jade Leech

You make work so much more fun for him.

Watching you quiver and almost drop a glass when he creeps up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder is just precious.

"Oya, oya. Those glasses are quite delicate. Do be careful."

However, despite the fact that he slyly bullies you for fun, he is a very good manager.

He will always ensure you take your break on time, and that your employee meal is ordered far enough in advance that it is ready for you as soon as you sit down on your break.

And should any particularly rowdy clientele decide to bother you...

Then he will ensure they are dealt with <3

It is his favourite part of the night, after all. How he adores it when you hide behind him.

Jade ropes you into his sneaky work agendas too.

For example, he'll coach you into pushing the mushroom dishes to customers so that he can stop Azul from taking them off the menu.

Probably the least sinister smiles you've received from him are when he beams at you when you deliver a bunch of mushroom dish orders to the kitchen.

Jade will stand with the most innocent smile as Azul looks on in confusion through the order ledger and the sudden influx of mushroom cuisine orders, with you hidden behind Jade.

Azul: "Why are they tucked behind you like that?"

Jade: "They're tired. :) "

Considering the nature of your 'deal' with Azul, Jade's protection of you extends outside of the Lounge into your school life.

But that doesn't mean it is convenient, even if it is effective.

He terrifies you just as much as the people around you, after all.

However it has its perks.

The lunch line is infinitely easier when you have a 190cm eel ensuring that you don't get caught in the lunch crush.

He likes to tell you over lunch how his favourite food is octopus when Azul is sitting right there.

He'll then remark, with the most unassuming of smiles, how he hasn't tried stingray yet.

Funnily enough, you don't feel so hungry anymore.

Floyd Leech

Oh dear.

This man terrorises you.

You're just so cute to him! Especially when you tremble and tear up when he spooks you.

He just wants to tuck you under his arm and keep you <3

Floyd is constantly on your heels when you are working. Whether he is spooking you or draping himself over you, he's always somehow impeding your work.

Azul is constantly scolding Floyd and tries his best to keep you separated, so that Floyd's behaviour does not bother you. Or effect profits.

Jade just looks on in amusement.

Despite the above, your relationship with Floyd isn't all bad.

You and Floyd take your breaks together, simply because he stops working when you do and throws himself over your lap when you sit down to rest.

He's fairly calmer then, passing the time by showing you pictures of clothes he is thinking of buying and asking your opinion on them.

You caused a few mood swings at first when you didn't give a good enough response, but after awhile you got comfortable enough to give him your honest opinion. That makes him happy!

He also shows you his basketball videos, even if most of them are just Ace getting taken out by one of his basketball throws.

He's definitely roped you in to going to practice with him one time. He thinks it would be funny watching you struggle to make the hoop.

Floyd is also the cause of one of your most terrifying incidents at NRC.

On one of your rare days off, you were taking a swim in the Octavinelle pool to relax and reacquaint yourself with the water, and Floyd snuck up on you and scared you.

And well...

You almost skewered him with your spinal blade.

You narrowly missed stabbing him right in the stomach. Even Floyd was shocked but the suddenness of it.

... Until the giddiest grin spread across his face and he started cackling.

You, on the other hand, started bawling your eyes out.

Floyd ended up carrying you to the Lounge because you wouldn't stop crying.

He sat you on a barstool whilst Jade prepared you a drink and Floyd went into the kitchen to steal you some ice cream.

Floyd then gushed to Jade about how cool you were when you almost stabbed him with your tail blade and how sharp it looked.

He looks freakishly delighted when he remarks that maybe next time you'll actually get him.

If you did, he'd probably wear it as a badge of honour and show it off to everyone shamelessly.

Meanwhile, Azul comes to check what all the noise is and pretends to be upset that the twins are giving out free refreshment, like he doesn't do that himself.

[shelbystales]

Story Time - One Shot

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Word count: 1672

Summary: After a few days being absent in his familly, Tommy arrives late, once again. But to his surprise you and his son are still awake.

Warning: fluff, fluff and more fluff?

A/N: I could EASILY have turned this into a long SMUT, but hey... all my one shots are smut 😂. But if you guys want i can write a part 2.

Oh and please dont forget to comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot to me.

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes

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Thomas Shelby trudged wearily through the dimly lit streets of Birmingham, his mind still reeling from the day's events. It had been a long and exhausting day, negotiating business deals, and handling the never-ending challenges that came with running the Peaky Blinders. 

The Peaky Blinders' operations had been especially intense lately, and the weight of responsibility rested heavily on his shoulders. All he wanted now was a moment of peace and a good glass of whisky.

As he finally reached his home, a beautiful Victorian house tucked away in a quiet corner of Small Heath, bought especially for you, he let out a sigh of relief.

The familiar sight of his residence offered a small respite from the chaos of the outside world. He pushed open the creaky front door, the familiar scent of his home enveloping him as he stepped inside.

The living room was dimly lit, the fire crackling in the hearth casting a warm glow over the room. Thomas made his way to the worn-out leather couch and sank into it with a grateful sigh. 

With a heavy sigh, he poured himself a glass of his favorite drink and took a sip, relishing the familiar burn that washed over him. The warmth of the alcohol began to soothe his frayed nerves, and he allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation.

As he closed his eyes, the sounds of his home enveloped him—the crackling of the fireplace, the ticking of the clock, and the distant creaking of the floorboards. But amidst the background noise, he heard something that brought a small smile to his face, a soft chuckle, unmistakably belonging to his son, Charles.

It was such a joyful and carefree sound that he hadn't heard in a while. He furrowed his brows, wondering why Charlie would be awake at this hour. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Thomas set down his glass and followed the sound. He made his way through the hallway and stopped outside his son's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the flickering light from the hallway revealed a heartwarming scene.

There, on the bed tucked under the covers, was his son Charlie, just three years old, and you, his mother, playing with him. Charlie was giggling uncontrollably as you tickled him, a smile on your face that lit up the room. 

Thomas felt a softness in his heart, a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to feel amidst the harsh realities of his world.

"Well, look who it is," you said with a playful grin, noticing Thomas at the door. "Come join the fun, Tommy."

Thomas hesitated for a moment, his mind still clouded with the weight of his responsibilities. 

But something about the sight of you and his son together drew him in. He stepped into the room, his eyes locked on the scene before him.

He approached you with his usual confidence, but as he got closer, he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. 

You looked up, your eyes meeting his in a moment of unspoken understanding. It was as if you could see the pain and darkness that lay hidden behind his steely exterior.

"Seems like I've walked into a tickle battle. Why are you still awake little one?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Aye, you have" you replied, giving him a knowing smile. "Charlie was missing his dad, weren't ya, love?"

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with adoration as he looked up at his father.

Thomas moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the weariness in his bones momentarily forgotten. He reached out to ruffle Charlie's hair, earning another delighted giggle from the boy.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy all these days" Thomas said, his voice softened by genuine regret. "No need to apologize, Tommy," you said, laying a hand on his. "We know how much you have on your plate."

He sighed, his eyes never leaving the two of you. "It's not an excuse, though. Family should always come first."

"You're right," you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And you're here now. You can help me put this one to sleep"

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to play with da!” Charlie cried, the crying giving away the little one's tiredness

“How about we play tomorrow, hm?” Tommy asked

“You won’t be here tomorrow,” Charlie spoke in a weeping voice.

You just sat there, with Charlie in your arms. Just watching.

Charlie just missed his dad, but Tommy was needed out there. You could see the pain in Tommy’s eyes, to be an absent parent was not in his plans. 

“How about I tell you a story?” Tommy asked “and tomorrow I can take you and your mom out, maybe we can go to that park you like, ey?” 

Charlie got agitated in your arms, happy with his dad's promise. But you feared he wouldn’t keep it, again. Making you go silent. 

Charlie got out from under the covers and crawled into his father's arms, who received him with a strong hug.

Thomas found himself immersed in the simple joy of being you both, a rare respite from the constant struggles of his life.

“Okay, now lie down" Tommy ordered, pulling the blanket back for Charlie to get inside.

"Lie down here too daddy" charlie called him

Impossible to resist his son’s request, Tommy kicked off his shoes and crawled under the covers, Charlie between the two of you.

"What book are you going to read?" charlie asked

"No books. the story is here" Tommy pointed to his head making Charlie smile “Once upon a time, in the green hills of Birmingham, there lived a magnificent horse named Midnight."

"Like cocoa?" Charlie asked, refering to the brown horse Tommy had bought. Cocoa wasn't his race name, but the one Charlie chose for him.

"No, this was no ordinary horse, my boy. Midnight had a coat as black as the night sky, if you looked close by, you could even se the stars. He was magical and he could run faster than the wind…” Tommy went on telling the story. 

As Thomas spun his tale, the room seemed to come alive with his words. He painted vivid pictures of the horse's daring escapades and heroic deeds, capturing his son's imagination with each passing moment.

You watched the scene unfold, your heart swelling with love for the two most important people in your life.

You marveled at how effortlessly Thomas could transport your son to another world with his storytelling, and you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of admiration for her husband.

As the story reached its end Charlies's eyelids began to droop, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. 

Thomas leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his son's forehead and you gently tucked the covers snugly around him.

Once Charlie was fast asleep, you and Thomas went back to the living room. The fire had died down, so you gave it life again, with a few woods and a single match. 

Thomas poured another glass of whisky, and you sat beside him on the couch, streching your legs across his lap.

"I never thought I could have this," Thomas admitted quietly, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "A family, a home... it was never part of the plan."

"But here we are," you said, taking his hand in yours. "Life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does," he murmured, his fingers entwining with yours. "And I wouldn't trade this for anything." he pulled your face gently for a kiss

"Where this is coming from? all this declaration of love for us?" you chuckled lightly "had a hard day?" you asked and he nodded

“Yes" He sighed "you were silent back there” tommy pointed out

“Well, good you noticed. I don't want you promising Charles things you can’t do,” you admitted. “We both know how it’s with you. You can’t stay away from work”

“I have a lot of work to get done, y/n” he said almost in a whisper

“I know. Just, please don’t lie to him. You’re his hero” you asked

“I never plan to” he sighed

“So you're taking him to the park tomorrow?” you asked and he nodded “good. you better, I can’t stand to look at the disappointment at his face again”

“What do you mean again?” he asked frowning

“Oh, come on Tommy. ‘i’ll be home dinner’, ‘i’ll pick you up at school’, ‘i”ll do this or i’ll do that’. you may not remember tiny promises, but he does. Everynight he asks if you are coming home before he sleeps” 

“every night?” he asked, sounding defeated

“Yeah, and even though i know the truth i say ‘i don’t know, maybe’” 

he went silent

You could see the guilt wash over Tommy's face, and you knew he was grappling with his own emotions. You didn't want to add to his burden, but you also couldn't bear to see Charles disappointed again.

"Tommy, I understand that you have a lot on your plate, i promise i do," you said gently, "but you need to make time for Charles. He's growing up so fast, and he needs his father in his life."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I can't promise to be there all the time. It's not easy, y/n. You know what I do, what I'm involved in."

"I do know, Tommy," you replied softly. "And I know that your work is important, but so is your family. Charles needs you, and so do I. I also miss you. You come home after i am already sleeping and you leave before the sun comes out. I am getting abit tired of this loneliness"

Thomas took a deep breath, his gaze locked with yours. He could see the concern and love in your eyes, and it weighed heavily on his heart. He reached out to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb caressing your skin.

"I'm sorry, love," he said sincerely "I can't promise you miracles, but i'll try to be home earlier".

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand on your cheek.

He gently kissed you. His lips slowly savoring yours. Tongue gently invading your mouth and sliding on your lips. 

“I love you y/n” He said resting his forehead on yours

“I love you too tommy” you smiled 

“Let me take care of you now, eh?” he smirked pushing you down to lay on the couch. 

“Yes please!” you said smiling in anticipation, making him chuckle as he lifted your nighgown.

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