#realistically this could also be dedicated to me

[desertdollranch]

Dolls brands I never thought I'd own, part 4: Global PenPals

Meet Amity Anderson!

This doll was a tough cookie to track down. I first stumbled across her last year while searching for a completely different doll on eBay. I thought she was adorable, but priced way too high, so I let someone else have her. When I saw her come up again recently for a lot cheaper, I lost the bidding war. When she popped up unexpectedly a third time, I managed to snap her up right away.

The first time I saw her, I was curious about her origin, since the listing said nothing about the brand, Global PenPals. I figured it was someone's small business, because it's an unfortunate truth that many, many 18 inch doll companies produce beautiful and quality dolls for a few short years and then go out of business. Because she certainly didn't look poorly made or low quality; she obviously had a lot of love put into her production. I could tell she had a really nice wig and a carefully sculpted, realistic face mold. She was meant to be more than just a toy, but a little friend as well. That's what I liked about her. She was special, rare, obscure, and unique. And as much as I love my American Girl dolls, I also love the rare and obscure 18 inch dolls that have fallen into my lap over the years through pure luck. That has turned me into a connoisseur of obscure dolls. The rarer, the better.

So for that reason I couldn't get her off my mind. I became very fixated on finding one. I did a Google search that brought up nothing but the listing for her, plus a few dolls with similar brand names, or sites for finding an actual human pen pal. But I noticed the listing photo included a picture of her box, which had the URL of the brand's website. It was defunct, so I plugged into the Wayback Machine at archive.org to see what I could find.

Keep reading for a deep dive into The Global PenPals.

(Hello to anyone in the future who might be doing a web search about this doll! I'm sure you've found little to no information. I've put everything right here for your convenience!)

...

The site's first snapshot was taken in February 2011. It has a very short intro:

"This site is dedicated to children everywhere. Autumn Woods and Amity Anderson will begin pen pal corresponding with children in other parts of the world. They will learn about different living conditions and diverse cultural traditions. Will they discover that children are the same worldwide? Come along with us and see!"

None of the links on the sidebar were archived by the Wayback machine, so I looked at the next three snapshots, taken in July 2013, January 2014, and December 2014 (the final snapshot).

Now this snapshot displays a lot more content, although once again most of the site didn't get archived. The intro is more or less the same. But now we can see illustrations of the two main characters, Autumn Woods and Amity Anderson.

Clicking through the "Meet and learn more about Autumn" graphic linked to a page that had biographies for both characters.

Autumn Woods introduces herself first. She was born in October, hence her name, but she loves Christmas more. She lives in Kennewick, Washington with her parents and younger sister, and likes her school. She's athletic and loves to do cartwheels. Her best friend Amity lives in Basin City, near the farm where her grandparents live. She doesn't know a whole lot about the world outside of Kennewick, so she's looking forward to making pen pals all around the world.

Amity Anderson introduces herself next. She loves living on a farm in Basin City, and most of the other kids at her school are also from farming families, or live in the area seasonally, which has made her curious about the lives of other children of different background. Her family grows cherries, and sometimes the crops fail due to weather conditions. They also have lots of animals including dogs, cats, and cows. She has a secret hideout in the hay loft.

The next page linked at the top contains all of the pen pal letters to and from Autumn and Amity.

There are 10 pages of these letters. The first letter is dated June 11th of 2011, and the final one is dated August 14th of 2013.

Next link is Marcia's Dolls.

To sum it up, Global PenPals was started by Marcia Elovich in 2010. She had always sewn doll clothes for her granddaughter, and her husband built doll furniture. She used dolls to help schoolchildren learn more about the lives and perspectives of children all over the world. She modeled the dolls' faces on her granddaughter and niece, and hopes to introduce more dolls to the brand.

The next link is to the shop.

Only the Amity doll is being sold here. All the images are broken, but I can see that Amity cost $59.00.

The next tab, Media, is pretty much empty.

That's all that I can access with the Wayback Machine, but I didn't stop there.

I Googled Marcia Elovich and found the three Global PenPals books she has published.

These are current, no need to use the Wayback Machine. Here's the link to the list if you're curious about the books. You can click through and read summaries of each.

"About the Author" on the second and third books:

Marcia Harvey Elovich has enjoyed interacting with children in family, at school and other community settings. When she began looking forward to retirement from the local school district, she set up a website around two fictional characters, Amity Anderson and Autumn Woods, using her granddaughter and her niece as visual models for the character images she draws. Through the website, Marcia continues to story-tell to youngsters and adults alike. Amity lives on the farm in Basin City where, in fact, Marcia was raised, and she pursues many of the same interests and activities Marcia did while growing up with her best friend Linda. Autumn lives in town and attends Amistad Elementary School, where Marcia formerly worked as a para-eductor, and earlier as a nurse in the Kennewick School District. This was the birthplace of her peaked interest in interacting with children and later-in-life interest in education. Marcia has recently begun manufacturing of the character dolls and is now converting the website stories into children's books. Also within the framework of her stories, Marcia has interactions from her personal pen pals with whom she is communicating around the globe. Through contrast and compare, she can better present awareness of how alike we are from country to country, culture to culture, religion to religion. "Perhaps the next generation will be more compassionate, not merely tolerating diversity but embracing it!" she adds. In their retirement, Marcia works with her husband and sidekick Bob, marketing her dolls and his woodworked doll furniture. She has one young adult son living at home and an older son living within the community. Her daughter and grandchildren live out of state, so she has to love them long-distance. Through Bob, she has acquired a second daughter who lives in the area and a step-son living out of state. Marcia specifically wants to thank her mother and father, Bob and Kay Harvey, for providing a childhood almost as colorful as the fictional one of which she writes. They gave to her, her three brothers and many childhood friends their mentoring in an era when the village actually did help raise the children.

I also found Marcia's Pinterest profile. She has pinned exactly four images.

The first two are the illustrations seen on the website. The other two are pictures of the dolls.

This picture's caption:

"Amity Anderson if one of the first two characters at www.theglobalpenpals.com and the first to be manufactured as a doll. She is vinyl with soft body and has beautiful peach complexion, with perfect detail down to tiny doll- scale freckles across her nose. She comes in clothes as seen, turquoise tennis shoes, and the matching elastic headband on her long, tangle-free auburn hair. I designed the doll after my own granddaughter. Lovely presentation box designed solely for The Global PenPals."

This confirms that the doll I have is indeed Amity, not Autumn as I had sort of guessed. Amity is illustrated with bangs, but it seems that changed at some point in the doll's design.

I guess that's Autumn on the left? I see no indication on the site or elsewhere that she was ever sold, so it's possible she never made it past the prototype stage.

There's very little else out there about the dolls. A few pictures on Worthpoint with captions stating what I've already put here.

Amity seems to be one of those ultra-rare dolls that only a few collectors know about. After losing out on two other listings, I know that at least two other people do have one and know what Amity is worth. But I have no idea exactly how many dolls were ever produced and sold before the brand disappeared, which probably happened within three years of their debut.

I wonder if their failure may have been due to the price point, $59, which seems very low for a doll with such a nice wig, sleep eyes, a cloth body, a beautifully designed box, and proprietary clothing.

[three-leafed-clover]

day three - bread @nosebleedclub

i went to church with my parents and the pastor was talking about the origins of communion and how jesus broke the bread and said that it was his body. and all i could think about was that someone had to make that bread. someone had to harvest the wheat so they could do it. 

and i remember how my best friend was so convinced when we were teens that she was born alone and that she would die alone. with no one to ever love her. 

at the time, i was very annoyed by this sentiment. i was there, so clearly she was not alone. i was there, and did i not love her?

and presently, i still say no, you’re wrong. your birth involved the pain of your mother. you had doctors, and nurses, who washed you off. you had sisters, and they held you when your mom said it was okay. 

someone made the bread. someone tilled the soil. someone planted the wheat. harvested it. ground it into flour, and made a yeast starter, and fed the chickens so they could have eggs. so many people were involved in making the bread. the body. 

i loved you. i love you. it’s not a great romance, but it’s something. i’m sorry if it’s not enough. 

and even if you don’t die in a house made by other people, even if you die in the middle of the fucking woods somewhere. well. humanity has been around for many centuries on this continent. at minimum, someone else was here too, once.

[kyouka-supremacy]

--

[moe-broey]

Omg.... I can commit Two (2) voter fraud...... theoretically...............

[romantichomicide95]

LEVI ACKERMAN ;

summary: injured reader, levi thinks back to her confessing her love. levi being levi. angst, might do a part II if people tell me to.

tagging: @i-literally-cant-with-this because you asked bbygirl.

“why can’t we have both?” your words play over and over in levi’s mind. he’s been pacing outside your door for what feels like hours but realistically has probably been only 20 minutes. how could you be so foolish? he thinks. you and your reckless behavior, always trying to barge into danger to save somebody else.

but than again, that was why he respected you so much. levi couldn’t deny it, he had always admired you for it. it was one of the things that had drawn him to you. you were reckless, yes. you were careless, and you were always risking your own life to save someone else. but it was also what made you so brave, so strong, so resilient and so god damn dedicated.

it was also the reason he couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. it was annoying really, like a tiny little bug ringing in his ear that no matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to squash. it didn’t help that you were so god damn easy on the eyes, he’d even catch his gaze lingering on you for just a half a second more than needed. and that irritated him, it irritated him how much he let you crawl under his skin, and into his heart so guarded from all the loss he’d had in his lifetime.

but that didn’t matter. he had a mission and he wasn’t going to let some tiny little feeling get in the way. that’s why he’d rejected you, rejected the one thing he felt was a constant in this shitty war against the titans. and now as he paces outside your door he can’t help but let those words ring back through his head. “why can’t we have both?”

——

“what did you say?” levi says, looking up at you. you and levi were in his office doing paperwork, it had become a habit. at first it was just because you were faster than anyone else and he needed the help; but over time he came to look forward to seeing you sitting there across his desk. the silent rustling of papers, the warm glow of candlelight, the way your forehead crinkled when you were deep in focus, it was something he found himself looking forward to.

“i said, i love you," you repeat softly, your voice trembling slightly as you meet levi’s intense gaze. "we have something here, don't we?" your heartbeat picks up as you wait for his response, hammering against your chest.

levi takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. he looks down at the papers scattered across his desk before finally meeting your eyes once more.

your heart sinks, and before he can respond you speak again. "i mean, you care about me right? i can feel it…i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you murmur. it was like this unspoken thing between you, he never really let anyone in, never let anyone close enough. but with you, he had. he’d let you crack away at his walls until you were the one person he actually wanted to be around. the person he’d gone out of his way countless times to keep in his life.

“i tolerate you, yes. but it doesn’t matter how i feel.” levi says after an uncomfortably long silence. “i don’t have time for romance. i am devoted to protecting humanity, we’re at war.”

“i know that levi, but…” you pause, trying to find the right words. “why can’t we have both?” you meet his eyes, an almost pleading look in your own. “romance and our devotion to protecting humanity.”

there's something about the way you look at him, the way you say his name, that makes him question everything he thought he knew about himself. but he has to shut you down, he knows he is being harsh, but he needs to focus on the mission, focus on the greater good. he can’t let himself be selfish, he doesn’t have it in him.

"we can't have both, no matter how we feel," levi replies firmly, trying to sound more confident than he feels. "our lives are too dangerous, too unpredictable. we can't risk attachment, they only slow us down in the end. i’m sorry.”

——

“she’s still not awake” hange’s words snap levi out of his thoughts. “she’s still breathing, but she got pretty roughed up.”

“oh, it’s good she’s still breathing than.” levi says, his voice as flat as ever, not betraying his inner worry. but hange knows better than that, knows that little crinkle in his brow is an indication of his true inner thoughts.

“i have to go check on something with erwin, i’ll leave you to it.” hange places a hand on levi’s shoulder for a fraction of a second before she disappears down the hall.

he slowly opens the door, taking a deep breath as his eyes are drawn to your still form. his eyes scroll over the bruises marring your pretty face, and without even realizing it his heart clenches in his chest.

he takes in every little detail of your face. he can remember your eyes, so kind and beautiful; the way they lit up every time you laughed at his ridiculous sense of humor. he can remember the way you scrunch up your nose when you think he’s said something crude. and as he does so memories of your time together start to flood back. how kind and patient you are, how fiercely loyal and protective. how you never judge him for his demeanor, and how in that stupid little confession, you love him despite it.

as he sits next to your bed, he can't shake the memory of your words echoing in his mind - "why can't we have both?"

“you’re an idiot you know?” he says softly, unaware of the fact he’s speaking his thoughts aloud. “or maybe i’m the idiot.” he admits. “i’m not the greatest at all this emotional shit. but maybe i was wrong,” he finally admits and he reaches out tentatively, brushing a bloody lock of hair away from your face. his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary before retracting them away.

“maybe we can have both.” he takes a deep breath “i can’t promise anything, but hell, we can try.” and for the first time in forever, levi feels something other than duty and responsibility weighing on his heart - and it scares him more than any titan ever could.

“you just have to wake up y/n…please.”

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Vivzepops fetishization of queer men and the lack of Sapphic content in HH and HB

I found it a bit dissapointing that Charlie and Vaggie had very little interactions that could be read as romantic or sexual, especially since they are the supposedly the main couple of Hazbin Hotel and have been together the longest out of most of the couples in HH and HB.

Of course having more casual representation is also fine but the most memorable thing about their relationship was the quickly resolved argument they had when Charlie found out about Vaggies past. I've seen different opinions about how they were handled as a pair.

I understand when someone says that they enjoyed a more relaxed couple with subtle, realistic interactions, interactions that are often overlooked just because both characters are female.

But I can also agree, that they were really not a stand-out couple (wich is weird since Charlie is the main Character) and that it was a bit dissapointing to not see a lot of content for them.

Now the main issue I found with this is that in Vivzepops stories there is a definitive lack of sapphic content. It sometimes seems like women are sexless unless they are with a man. But two men can be sexual and openly affectionate (romantically too). At first I didn't really understand why I felt weird about Chaggie as a couple, so I looked at all the implied/canon ships in Helluva and Hazbin (including past relationships).

Implied/canon couples between a man and a woman:

-Millie and Moxxie

-Blitzø and Verosika

-Stolas and Stella

-Millie and Chaz

-Beelzebub and Vortex

-Sir Pentious and Cherry Bomb

-Adam and Lute

-Lucifer and Lilith

Implied/canon couples between two men:

-Stolas and Blitzø

-Asmodeus and Fizzarolli

-Moxxie and Chaz

-Angel Dust and Husk

-Vox and Valentino

Implied/canon couples between two women:

-Charlie and Vaggie

Now please tell me if I missed any, but these were the ones I could think of.

Honorable mentions include Loona & Vortex, Blitzø & Striker, Blitzø & Chaz and Blitzø & Fizzarolli. But I didn't put these on there because they're either one-sided or don't have enough romantic content.

Now it's very easy to see the difference between representation for queer men in comparison to queer women in these shows. The only relevant (im not counting Background characters) Sapphic relationship there is, is Chaggie. And it's completely underrepresented when compared to the content the man x woman or man x man ships get (not to mention the total absence of gender-queer characters).

One of Millie's and Moxxie's jokes is that they're so in love, that they're almost always cuddling, holding hands, talking sweet or just straight up making out with eachother (I'll talk about Millie a bit later). Sir Pentious had multiple scenes dedicated to him trying to confess to Cherry Bomb or just crushing on her in general.

Stolas' and Blitzø's relationship has become one of the main topics of Helluva Boss and they get a Backstory and explicit aswell as dramatic scenes for them as a couple. The same goes for Asmodeus and Fizzarolli (except that their love isn't as important). Angel Dust and Husk get a song and part of an episode for their relationship to develop.

Here i'd also have to mention that by the list I made Vivzepop's fetish for queer men is very prevalent. Most of the couples between men and women are either past relationships or they get very little attention to them. The only ships that often get special focus, development or explicitly romantic/sexual focus are ships with two men (no matter if their dynamics are even good, healthy etc.).

Now for Millie there are different ways you could talk about her situation with relationships. In general I think that everyone can agree that Millie lacks Character and is a good representation for the neglect of the female characters. Most of her moments revolve around Moxxie in a way and she hasn't had precise characterization so far.

Millie's relationship with Moxxie is sweet and simple and is generally one of the better things about Helluva Boss (if you ignore Millies lack of personality wich really pulls the couple down for me). Now the Episode "Exes and Oohs" shows the mutual Ex of Millie and Moxxie. Chaz dated both of them and as we see in the episode affected both of them very negatively. At the start we literally see Millie freak out and destroy a bunch of stuff, just because she saw Chaz on the street.

Yet Millie's relationship with him is never explored further. All we know is that she dislikes him and that he's a giant asshole. Whereas Moxxie get's a whole Backstory and episode plot about him and Chaz. No focus is given to Millie at all even though Chaz is the ex of BOTH of them.

Another thing that I wanna point out is Millie's possible Bisexuality. Now im not so sure for this point because I couldn't find genuine confirmation on wether Millie is actually confirmed to be Bisexual or if it's just a headcannon. So take this with a grain of salt BUT if Millie is Bisexual then she perfectly shows how little Vivzepop cares about Sapphic representation. What does Moxxie get to confirm him as Bisexual? An ex of the same gender (also multiple explicit flashbacks with him), a whole discussion about his queer identity and a scene where he literally says that he's Bisexual. Moxxie is pretty good Bisexual representation in that regard.

What does Millie get? Nothing. Again I don't know if she's genuinely also Bisexual or if it's ever been confirmed but it'd also be pretty weird if Vivzepop apparently cares so much about queer representation and then doesn't confirm any female characters as actually queer.

I think a lot of people have talked about her blatant fetishization of queer men and I think that that's also mainly why I feel weird by the lack of attention on Vaggie and Charlie as a couple.

I sorta wish I could enjoy a more toned-down and realistic couple in these shows, but when I see that a ship like Vox and Alastor (wich isn't canon nor would it even happen since Alastor is Aroace) is talked about more than the actual main character's relationship I just don't like it.

There's so much more you could say about poor queer representation by Vivzepop (like the fact that she's fine with people ignoring Alastors Aroace identity, and the stereotypes etc) I mainly wanted to talk about the neglect of her female cast in terms of sexuality.

[beegalactica]

How to set S.M.A.R.T goals

Well, January's almost over... Have you abandoned your New Year's resolutions yet? Did you give up trying to work out for an hour every day yet? It's never too late to start fresh and a new hour, day, week, or month could be the chance to hit that restart you need.

It's great to be ambitious, but a hint of realism can make our goals more achievable.

S - Specific

What exactly do you want to accomplish? Why do you want to accomplish this? Get into the smallest details about what it is you actually want. Don't just say you want to 'glow up', what does this actually mean for you?

M - Measurable

How are you going to accomplish it? Break this big goal into little steps. If you want to 'get clear skin', how will you do this? Will you make sure you drink your water every day? Will you develop a skincare routine that you stick to?

A - Achievable

Is this something you can actually get done? Is this something possible for you? There is no limit in life, but if you make a goal that you don't believe you can actually achieve, you're setting yourself up to fail because your own belief is not there. Pick a goal and commit to it. Commit to the idea of yourself being able to succeed in whatever it is.

R - Relevant

Is this goal in line with your greater ambitions? Is this something that will help you become the best version of yourself? How will achieving this thing benefit you? Do you believe it is the best thing for you? If so, why?

T - Timely

How long do you think this will take you? How long do you want this to take you? Do you have the time to dedicate to accomplishing this goal? If not, are you prepared to make time to spend working towards your goal?

How I set S.M.A.R.T goals

Let's use the example of my Tumblr. At the start of the year, I decided that I wanted to start a blog. I didn't just write 'start a Tumblr blog' in my 2024 planner and leave it there, I wanted to 'start a Tumblr blog AND grow it consistently', but even this wasn't all. I didn't set a goal to reach x number of followers by the end of the year, but my main goal was to post consistently every week. I set myself the goal of posting at least once a week, instead of trying to post 5x a week because realistically, I know how busy things can get. I knew that starting this blog would help me improve my own discipline, and also allow me to help others, thus making me a better, more committed person. I was prepared to dedicate an hour of my time every week to sit down and just write. I've done this so far in January and hope to continue this for the rest of the year.

Instead of just setting goals in your head, try to put exactly what you want to accomplish into words somewhere for you to look back for motivation, but also to have as a plan of action to get it done.

[h-i-raeth]

Han an extremely pleasant dream where I want to this tavern/gambling place (which skewed much further towards tavern) & there was an arcade game there being discontinued, which motivated this extremely lucky/talented grifter who was basically viewed as a very minor deity within it's walls to want to retire & thus he strong-armed me under his wing as an apprentice/successor to his role within the tavern, pulling me over to a game that was starting & advising me that I should "stick mirrors where they can't be seen, and be nosy" when I came back.

I spent most of the time reading the little booklet for the game, trying to figure out the rules 'cause it honestly seemed just like a pamphlet about historical dress for a female military group & listening in on the interpersonal drama of the other players. After I had heard most of the interpersonal drama, grifter dude told me that the point of the game was actually to stack the cards in an approximation of an item of clothing described in the pamphlet. I did so, and also interfered in the personal drama of one of the players and her girlfriend, and proceeded to slowly develop the parasocial role within the tavern community that I had been tapped as an apprentice to fulfill.

Last thing I did before I woke up was effortlessly start & manage a little forge thing that was there as decoration, to the delight of the other patrons & the grifter who took me on as his apprentice.

[honestsycrets]

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.” 

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program. 

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for. 

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking-- 

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together. 

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers. 

“You’ll be working with me.” 

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.” 

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious.  Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.” 

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.” 

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

 “Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?” 

“Me.” 

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--” 

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.” 

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?” 

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.” 

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences. 

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out. 

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace.   Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed. 

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder. 

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all. 

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.” 

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side. 

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.” 

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine. 

“Gracias. From where?” 

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?” 

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.” 

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.  

“You like my sad love life?” 

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.” 

“Is that a request or an order?” 

“A date.” 

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too. 

“Miguel?” 

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.” 

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?” 

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely. 

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.” 

“Even you?” 

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?” 

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips. 

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?” 

“Swaying is good.”  

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong. 

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!” 

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.” 

“No need! I--” 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late? 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.” 

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky. 

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.” 

“Hm?” 

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet. 

“I told you not to wander off.” 

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.” 

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

 “I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.” 

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?” 

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?” 

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.” 

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for. 

He doesn’t make mistakes. 

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed-- 

“Miggy?” 

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?” 

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?” 

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.” 

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside. 

“You didn’t--” 

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.”  Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.” 

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe. 

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.” 

“I am.” 

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.” 

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples.  You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.” 

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…” 

“Lay down,” he told you. 

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face. 

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.” 

You flushed. 

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man. 

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission. 

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.” 

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his. 

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand. 

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?” 

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.” 

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.” 

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest. 

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,” 

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.” 

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor. 

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain. 

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--” 

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.” 

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock,  clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva. 

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice. 

“Sí,” you answered. 

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.” 

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.” 

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Good. Let's fix our project.” 

[stuckinapril]

You are so productive and living your best life I admire it so much! I don't understand how you do it... do you have any advice for forcing yourself to do the things you know are good for you even when you are feeling sad and not up to it? Have a lovely day ❣️❣️❣️

Plan your day hour by hour. This actually revolutionized my life. Plan when you’ll wake up, plan what you’ll do every hour of the day, and make it as realistic as possible to stick to your goals. Start with simple things and gradually ramp it up. Don’t overwhelm your day with 60 different goals. I’d pair one passive goal (be on your phone less, for example) with one active goal (study more, take more walks, read more) and go from there. It’s better to start small and be consistent than to start big and quit one day in.

Lower the resistance necessary to accomplish tasks. If you have somewhere to be early tomorrow, plan your outfit the night before. If you have studying to do, have your textbooks/notebooks/notes on your desk by the time you wake up. If you have an overwhelming task, break it into smaller subtasks and focus on them one at a time. If you don’t want to be on your phone in the morning, charge it somewhere you won’t be able to see the moment you open your eyes. I’m trying to overcome the phone issue right now, so instead of setting an alarm on my phone I just bought a digital alarm clock bc I know I’m way less likely to get on my phone that way. I’m lowering the effort needed to actually get started on a task.

Have motivational things handy for when you’re down!! I’m a highly visual person, so it actually really helps me to make moodboards. I have moodboards for things I wanna accomplish, moodboards for things I’ve already accomplished, a Pinterest board for affirmations etc etc. I have a list on my notes app for all the reasons why it’s important to me to accomplish my goals. I have another notes app page dedicated to pasting all the motivational quotes that help me whenever I’m in a funk. You could even print them and hang them up on your wall if you want. In times where instant gratification overshadows getting things done, make it very accessible to remember why they’re important to you to begin with.

Romanticize your tasks. I make silly to-do lists, I make sure I’m always in cute outfits when I’m running errands, I put on perfume and mascara and lip gloss even if I’m literally all on my own in my bedroom about to do a 3 hour study session. I love getting manicures bc there’s nothing more satisfying than studying with pretty dark red fall nails. This may sound extra but I go through my notes pretending I’m Elle Woods or something bc it makes it so much fun. A huge part of why I’m consistent with going to the gym is bc I buy pretty workout fits that just make me feel good. I wear lingerie under my clothes wherever I am bc it makes me feel like a bad bitch even if no one sees it. I don’t start a task with the thought in mind that I want to get it done already—I try to make the act of doing it in and of itself as engaging as possible.

To piggyback off that point, switch your environment if your current one isn’t serving you. Don’t just default to quitting if one approach isn’t working. If studying in your bedroom isn’t doing it, go to the nearest coffee shop. If the coffee shop isn’t working, do the library. Study indoors. Study outdoors. Study in nature. Hell study at a beach if you want to. It doesn’t matter where you are if you’re getting things done. Exhaust all your alternatives before calling it quits.

Set firm boundaries with yourself. This is so big. Self-care is absolutely treating yourself, but it’s also being your own parent and disciplining yourself if you feel like you’re not putting your all into something. In a world where it’s very easy to go “just a few more minutes on my phone” “I’ll do it tomorrow” “I can skip working out today” it’s really important to be able to parent yourself and exercise some tough love and do some things even if you don’t feel like you want to. I really struggle with this as a gen z girl bc this is THE era of instant gratification. But my goals are just more important to me than momentary comfort.

No zero days. Just bc you’re not being your 100% on one day doesn’t mean you should just lie down and do nothing. Being at 50% performance is better than being at 0%. I try to make sure I get some light tasks done on days where I don’t feel like going all in. It helps me not feel like I’ve just derailed my whole life, which consequently helps me move on from my ruts faster.

Look ahead. Can not emphasize this enough. Death motivates me like nothing else. You do not have an infinite time on this earth. You don’t want to be at the same place you’ve been at a year from now. Resist the “I’ll do it tomorrow” mentality as much as possible. Change happens in small increments & there’s no better time for it than the present. What may seem like little things you can skip out on now can quickly snowball into the very things that are preventing you from being where you want to be.

Acknowledge your limits. Someone with two full-time jobs and school should not be comparing themself to the progress of someone with one part-time job and like nothing else. I’m currently studying full-time and also trying to maintain a consistent workout routine, so I don’t expect myself to recreationally read more than 30 minutes a day, even if ideally I’d like that time to be way higher. I know it’s pointless to compare myself to someone who reads 70 books a month but has much less workload than I do. Comparison is inherently flawed bc no one else has been the dealt the cards you’ve been dealt. Tailor your schedule to your own unique situation. Make a list of your priorities and assign them to your hours accordingly.

Listen to your needs!! Mental health is the most important thing. You need to be in tune with yourself to know when you could be pushing yourself a little harder, and when it’s necessary to give yourself time off. If I’m in an actual burnout, I go out with friends. I go see a movie. I give myself the grace of being human and step back for a little bit. It’s completely okay to have those days, and acknowledging them helps you recover quicker. Take care of yourself <3

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ WHERE’S THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME!

↳ part one / the chronicles of jj & smartiepants!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . the alchemy (taylor swift)

an this is dedicated to everyone who said i should write a part 2 thank u for supporting my agenda <3 AND thank you to all the people who helped me understand hs football culture i hope this was a realistic depiction 😓 !!

football never failed to make you feel anxious. before you started dating jason, you didn't really care for it, only showing up for games because you liked the whole 'team spirit' thing and because it was a good excuse to hang out with your friends. now, however, things have changed

since it was jason's whole life, you took it upon yourself to learn all about the rules of the game and the roles of the different players (with a special interest in jason's role for no reason in particular). now, whenever you showed up to a game, you'd actually be watching your school's every move, ignoring your friends' banter and focusing on jason and jason alone

'this is just a friendly match' is the mantra you kept repeating in your head as you watched. you knew that deep down, having a match sprung up on him like this bothered jason, even though it wouldn't count for anything. you also knew that this would affect his skill regarding the game. at this point, you've memorised jason's every move by heart, and you could tell that today just wasn't his day

the rest of the team looked pretty hopeless too. with their captain in this condition, how could they stay positive? they relied on jason to lift their spirits and up their motivation. little did they (and you) know, jason relied on you to lift him up

ever since you started actually paying attention to games, cheering him and only him on, wearing his jersey with his surname plastered on your back, his prowess went from amazing to formidable. there were times when juggling schoolwork, social life and being the captain of the football team really got to him, and he almost considered shutting himself off from the world. but then he'd remember your sugary smile and kind words and addictive lips and he'd feel rejuvenated. just the thought of you alone was like a lifeline to him

this was one of those times. he turned to look at you, sitting all pretty on the bleachers. despite being in the midst of a sea of purple, jason could pinpoint you within a millisecond. he gave you a small grin, and you waved at him as you sported a smile of your own

"go jason!" you yelled, your voice making jason feel like he ate some of the ambrosia greek demigods would in those myths you learnt about in class. all of a sudden, he was full of energy and quickly passed that on to his teammates, hyping them all up for the rest of the game. they could still win this

and they did. others believed it was a miracle, but jason knew what it was. it was you. if you weren't there, they probably would've suffered a scathingly embarrassing loss against CHB high, who'd been shading them for their 'too rigid' style of playing. begrudgingly, their headmaster brought out the trophy, about to present it to jason when he realised the boy had disappeared

jason didn't care about the trophy. instead of collecting it, taking a few pictures and making a speech, he ran over to you - nearly jumping over the barrier between the bleachers and the pitch to give you a very heated kiss. how could he care about the trophy when his real prize had been here all along?

(the picture of the two of you kissing had been passed around school and you'd gotten teased relentlessly afterwards, but you didn't care. you truly were in your own world - who were you to fight the alchemy?)

[blackopals-world]

So this is Love?

Ace Trappola x Jester!Yuu

Ace trying to understand what is happening to him.

Ace doesn't do relationships. He's tried before and yeah he was an asshole. He can't admit it but he was so bored. It was the first date and yeah, she was pretty but he was tired already.

It's not like he led her on. He just didn't pretend he liked her. It's so goddamn exhausting. Ace didn't pretend he was the good guy in this.

He assumed that love and relationships just weren't his thing. Which was fine, but now...now it's different.

Ace originally thought Heartslabyul was going to be so lame. All the rules and no time to cut back but damn that was before Yuu showed up. Someone who knew how to have fun. The saving grace of Heartslabyul, the royal jester.

Every room they enter everyone lights up. Waiting for them tella joke or do a trick. Always bloating around in those elaborate costumes and leaving a trail of glitter as they pass.

Their makeup perfectly framed their face. Their lips were painted the perfect Heartslabyul rose-red against lily white.

Was he going insane? Did he think that their clown was attractive? Seriously?!

Sure, they sang well, had a sweet voice, a silly way of talking, looked good in those gaudy outfits, did that thing with their tongue when they focused in helping frost cakes, looked adorable then they tripped over a paint can and somersaulted over it with a smile ad covered in paint. That didn't mean he liked them.

If anything it was purely physical attraction.

He could ignore these feelings.

Ignore every time they pulled him in for another cake heist, every dance they had during parties, every time they whispered a joke in his ear, every kiss on the cheek they gave away carelessly, every hug that made felt so warm and comforting it made him feel like his chest was being crushed.

Could he ignore every daydream that felt like a dumb teen romcom? Like going on beach trips together, going to concerts, going to a real dance together as dates, and being able to kiss them in front of the school.

But Ace is realistic. He doesn't do relationships.

He's sure of it.

Watching them sit at Riddle's side on the special seat made just for them made it clear. Yuu was an existence that didn't belong to him or anyone for that matter. Yuu was here to make everyone happy and his feeling were just a part of that.

Man, that's fucked up...

Because no rationalizing made the feeling go away.

He wished sometimes he had taken Riddle's place. Then at least Yuu would be his jester. That would be nice, but there's no use sighing over it.

Ace had chosen to be content with being Yuu's friend until he was faced with the most undeniable proof.

One evening he ended up staying out late but rather than being yelled at by Riddle or punished by Trey he decided to stay at Ramshackle for the night.

Ace had no idea who answered the door. They were kind of plain-looking. No makeup, no glitter, hair was worn loosely, and a pair of glasses. They didn't look anything like Yuu but it was Yuu all the same.

Ace felt out of place as Yuu welcomed him inside. Yuu looked so relaxed and less energized.

"I'm just making dinner for me and Grim but I made extra in case you're hungry." Yuu said softly their voice was a bit scratchy at the end. " Sorry, I usually don't talk much after work. I use it so much it tends to hurt."

Ace only nodded, he didn't think he could talk if he tried either. He was still in shock.

Yuu in their dressed down style looked so...cute. Ace acknowledged it bitterly.

Yuu wore a thin turtleneck sweater and jeans which reminded Ace of a librarian maybe or perhaps a studious academic. Both things are not like Yuu at all or at least how people saw Yuu.

They ended up spending the evening watching comedy shows while Yuu studied. Yuu was actually very dedicated to their craft and read books on many subjects like crafting, chemistry, music, and politics.

"A true jester knows how to entertain but also knows their role is also to advise." They said highlighting the text.

As the night went on Yuu changing into a set of stary Pj's and put Grim to bed. Then the two of them watched shows until they fell asleep on the couch together.

As he listened to Yuu's soft heartbeat and even breaths Ace knew he had to give up.

Ace didn't do relationships...until now. Because now he was in love.

[restinslices]

Earth realm boys dating a popstar???? 👀👀👀👀

“Send me ideas guys” *proceeds to hit brain block* I didn’t know if you wanted the Lin Kuei Bros or Syzoth involved but imma add this little rule/guideline(?) so I don’t throw myself down the stairs. So the Earthrealm Boys will be Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, Raiden and Liu Kang. Lin Kuei Bros are Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas. You can also ask for specific characters but IMMA LET YALL KNOW RIGHT NOW y’all have a limit of FIVE people per post or I’m sleeping in traffic.

Johnny Cage 

If you think Johnny Cage is anything other than excited, you're wrong. 

There's no way he doesn't enjoy dating a pop star. 

He'd tell you how great your names sound together. Johnny Cage the movie star and you the pop star. 

He's probably asked you if your songs can be in his movies. 

I think he'd be extremely supportive. Sometimes a little overbearing. Some people might enjoy him wanting to come to every show, while some people may say “dude, calm down”. 

Your ringtone on his phone is one of your songs for sure 

He also asks for some of your merch for free since ya know, debt 😀

If there's a dance that goes along with it, I can definitely see him learning it and showing you how good (bad) he is 

Please let him be in your music videos. He's on his knees begging 

He has such a huge ego, he'd probably say something like “you can't possibly turn down an A lister like me”

He's so President of your fanclub 

He also posts exclusives of you on his social media 

This may sound selfish but he's hoping your popularity will increase his. When we meet him, his fame is dying out so he's hoping being seen with you will remind people he exists 

Don't get it misconstrued though. He adores you. He just can't help but have these thoughts 

Probably makes you promise to dedicate a song to him too. Realistically he wants an album but he'll take whatever

He's so Ken coded to me and remember, Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him. You're his Barbie, regardless of gender 

Kenshi Takahashi 

Considering the fact that he's on the run from the Yakuza, uhhhh he's not the happiest 

Is he proud? Yeah. But dating him puts a huge target on your back. Kenshi can hide. You, as a popstar, can't do that. You're always in the spotlight. And since the Yakuza got connections, they'd find out somehow. 

He'd encourage you to take a break until things cool over. Only problem is he doesn't know when that'd be, and the music industry is competitive. You don't have time to be on a break. People could forget about you. 

Under any other circumstance, he'd be happy for you. Not many people can make it in the music industry. There are tons of people who have big plans but settle for less. 

In any other circumstance he'd listen to your songs, spread the word about your concerts, buy your merch cause he's not in debt, even attend a few concerts. 

Now though, he's uptight and worried. Every concert you have he's worried will be your last. Any fan meet you have he's worried will end in death. 

I honestly think he'd try to actively avoid anything that has to do with your career. It's a constant reminder that you're doing the exact opposite of what he's asking you to and you're putting yourself in danger. This could possibly cause a lot of arguments since he could come off as controlling when in reality he's worried and trying to be cautious 

He's trying to avoid anything to do with your career but every playlist he has has your songs sprinkled throughout them 

Overall he's proud of you but life has him pretty uptight. He'll be his normal self once he restores his clan. 

Kung Lao

This cocky little shit is so hype his partner is famous 

I can see him talking about your music with others like “my partner? They make music. You probably know them. I don't know yours though cause they're unknown. How are y'all paying the bills?”

You tell him not to do that but he continues anyway. Everyone had to know how awesome you were compared to them

Idk why I have this scene in my head of him buying your concert tickets to sell it again but make it more expensive. I legit don't know why but I couldn't ignore it. 

Kung Lao has such a huge ego and your success does not help that. In fact, it makes it worse 

How many people can say they're dating a popstar? Or anyone famous for that matter?

I can see him “helping” with lyrics but the shit he tries to add is dog shit so you do not add it, which he does not get. 

“I have an ear for music” “An ear. Not a talent”

Starts a fanclub and forces Raiden to be involved 

You'd think he's the popstar with how much pride he has when it comes to your career 

Like Kenshi, he has a whole playlist dedicated to you and your songs are sprinkled throughout his other playlists 

If you ask for his honest opinion on a song, he's gonna give you his honest opinion so be prepared. It's like asking a kid if a jacket makes you look fat. 

He doesn't mean to be malicious. He just can't have you releasing bad shit. His approach just isn't the best but it's all with love 

“What do you think about Bubblegum?” “The chorus isn't catchy at all if I'm being honest. You've definitely made better” 

He'd help though by saying what he liked from other songs and it'd steer you in the right direction 

Your career? No. Y'ALL career. UterUS type shit

In all seriousness, he's very happy that out of all the celebrities you could be with, you chose a non celebrity like him.

Raiden

Honestly I don't think anyone would even know you're dating. He's just too shy. 

With Johnny, he's famous and has no shame so that's how people know you're together. The Yakuza is out here so that's how they know about you and Kenshi. Kung Lao is Kung Lao, idk how else to explain it. With Raiden though, I don't think he'd want your fans to know you're dating. 

He's shy and also values privacy and you respect that. Your fans know you're dating someone just not who. 

He probably has a second account he uses to stay up to date with fan discourse 

Likes every edit of you and shows you them. 

“Were you looking these up?” “I… don't know what you could possibly mean”

I don't think he's a big concert person. I don't know why. At least not a huge, no personal space type of concert. So I think he'd do other things to support like using that second account to promote your activities, reposting edits, and buying your stuff. 

Knowing his luck, that second account for privacy and being sneaky would end up getting fans attention. He'd become the main update page everyone goes to. Guess he wasn't sneaky enough 

Probably asks you to sing to him when it's quiet 

Has bought a poster of you and forgot to take it down when you came over 

“Kung Lao put that up” “Mhm, sure”

He has two hats. His normal hat and a hat that has stickers of you on it. Kung Lao or Johnny probably did it to tease him but he kept it anyway 

Dedicate a song to him and watch how flustered he gets. He'd be so honored 

If you had an MV and there was a love interest in it, he wouldn't wanna be jealous but it'd happen. 

Everytime he sees you perform or hears you, he falls deeper in love. Like Kung Lao, he's very happy you picked him to be your love and muse 

Liu Kang

He probably saw this coming based on your life in the past timeline

Knowing how the past timelines were though, your life was probably chaotic and your music career was probably disturbed by the constant threats 

Seeing you just having fun and making music in this timeline would make him extremely happy and proud of himself for creating such a peaceful timeline (at first)

Liu Kang has glowing eyes so there's a chance concerts aren't happening, but I think he'd still stream your music like everyone else 

Would probably try to keep you far away from any disturbances. When he takes his champions to Outworld, he makes up a lie. He doesn't want what you're passionate about disturbed at all 

Supportive in the sense that he's always going to say “yes” to whatever ideas you have. A breakup song? Great idea. A fun party song? Awesome. A fan meet? Sounds fun. 

He genuinely just wants you happy this time and music makes you happy. 

You could talk him into using his fire as some background effect as long as others won't see 

He talks you into doing smaller performances at Madam Bo's. You're spying on Raiden and Kung Lao without even knowing 

Whenever you find out about the shit storm going on, he does not want you involved and will say so. He wants you to focus on your passion and let him take care of it. Whether you do or not is up to you 

After all that though you'd probably end up making music for Johnny's movie about shit that happened. He doesn't disapprove but thinks you can do better than make a soundtrack for Johnny 'Big Mouth’ Cage 

Secret fanboy. Forced to act all serious all the time but he's mumbling your lyrics under his breath, even if it's super cutesy. 

He's just so happy for you. I know I keep repeating it but you probably DIED in the past timeline or some shit so seeing you happy and just living? It shows his efforts for peace paid off. 

I usually say smth after but idk what to say. I wanna start art commissions so bad but half bodies are kicking my ass. I’m finna start tweaking fr

[homeofatlas]

Wasted Days

Summary: Being in the public eye isn’t easy. Especially when you’re in love with your best friend. 

Authors note: Y'all.......I'm sorry this has been sitting half finished forever and i just needed to get it done and out there. Not edited. Also yes this is lowkey based on that line from call me by your name. but not really but inspired from it.

Word Count: 3.2k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being somewhat famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You loved the fans' sweet messages, the way they encouraged you and supported you when you had bad games, and how much dedication went into the edits and the fanpages. You’d even be lying if you said you hadn’t looked up your own name on tumblr to see if their was any fanfic of you. It flattered you, all these people you didn’t know idolising you and watching your interviews. What you didn’t appreciate was how they began to read into your relationship with your best friend. Could you call it reading into when they were just calling it like they saw it? It’s hardly their fault whenever you and elisa posted pictures of your excursions or you had interviews together you were staring at her like she’s hung the moon and the stars. It seemed quite rude of them to have to point that out though, in your opinion. 

The recent influx of comments asking whether or not you two were dating made your heart beat faster in your chest. Surely there must be something there that other people can see and you aren’t just making it all up in your head, right? If not then it’s blatantly obvious for the entire internet to see how in love you are with your best friend, Elisa. You honestly can’t help the way you allegedly look at her. You’ve tried to rein it in, you’ve tried to like other people, you’ve tried to not tell anyone and make it go away. But apparently no matter where you go as soon as anyone sees you interact with her it’s like you’ve got I’m in love with her tattooed on your forehead. 

During your professional football career you’d been at Montpellier with Elisa for a year before she’d left to join PSG. Giving you just enough time to learn everything about the girl and fall in love with her, convince yourself she might feel the same way, and then be heartbroken about her transfer. You’d kept in contact and tried to see her as regularly as possible but with training and games and travelling it’d been difficult until one day when you got the call from your agent telling you PSG wanted to sign you. Immediately you’d said yes in every way but in formal writing. 

Upon your first connection with the PSG team they’d noticed something was different about you. The way your hug reuniting with Elisa lasted longer than it potentially should have. The way she was more distracted with you around. The way she stuck to you like glue and smiled more than she had before. You’d gotten into the habit of constantly being around each other again. When you two played together there was no stopping you. You could read what the other was thinking before they did it. It was like watching one person be split into two bodies. Unfortunately none of these things made your crush on her go away or dull even a little. That old saying “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”? They had a point. 

In your time away from Elisa you’d forgotten the way her eyes crinkle when she smiled and the sound of her voice without the glitchiness of the phone. Constantly being around her again made everything better and worse at the same time. You were so screwed it wasn’t even funny. Which is why it took less than three weeks for the girls to corner you and ask about your relationship with Elisa. They’d assumed something had happened in the past or you were currently together. Either way that had been your first inkling you weren’t hiding your feelings as well as you tried to. Realistically there was only so much you could do before you started to avoid the girl or be constantly dead faced. You couldn’t help smiling at her the way you did or being the one she ran to when she scored a goal. If you’re being honest, it’s her fault for being so loveable. What were you supposed to do?

Pulling into the PSG parking lot you ready yourself for the teasing you know you’ll face. Elisa posted a photo last night which showcased you two looking awfully close together while on a night out with the team. You’d already skimmed the comments and they were the same on every post which had the two of you together. 

“Are Elisa and Y/N together?”

“They are such a cute couple!”

“My OTP”

Yeah, you thought bitterly, mine too. Scanning the parking lot to see which of the girls were already getting ready your eyes landed on Elisas car. Knowing she’s already there puts a pep in your step. Walking towards the change rooms weaving into corridors and making turns you come up on the hallway before the change room. You can hear voices inside speaking with one of the voices distinctly agitated. As you move to enter you hear your name. It’s Jackie and Elisa speaking about you. Deciding to wait for a moment, you want to hear what they’re talking about. You hear Elisas voice cut through the tense silence. 

“Drop it Jackie, we’re just friends. I don’t have feelings for her and I never have. Plus if anything was going to happen don’t you think it would have by now? We’ve been friends for years.” 

You can practically see the face Elisas disbelieving face as someone once again questions the nature of your relationship. Are you really so bad she can’t even see how someone else could see the two of you together? Your stomach turns at the thought. It never gets easier to see her with other people, or hear her refer to your love as being strictly platonic. It never feels strictly platonic whenever you shiver and she immediately throws an arm around you pulling you into her side. Or when she grabs you to tell you something when she could have called your name to grab your attention. Or when she cracks a joke and she looks at you first to see if you’re smiling. Those moments rarely feel entirely platonic. 

The words straight from her mouth saying she hasn’t got feelings for you makes you want to turn around and call in sick for training but you have to get over this at some point. You have to learn your place in Elisas life, her longtime friend, perhaps even her best friend. Not her lover. The realisation never hurts less despite the dozens of times you’ve come to it.

You give it a couple more minutes letting the conversation truly die out before walking in as though you hadn’t heard a thing. As you walk in you notice the way Jackie glances between you two. You’re sure your melancholy is written on your face, everything always is. You avert your gaze before she can decipher why. Thankfully she’s quiet while you change silently you really can't handle any teasing right now. Small bits of you break off every time you have to tell someone you and Elisa are just friends. Going up to the pitch and beginning to warm up Elisas words are still ringing in your head. Day 1067 (roughly) wasted thinking of a girl who doesn’t want you back. Story of my life, you think to yourself. 

—-------

A team dinner is the last place you want to be tonight. It’s good for bonding but you’re attached to Elisas side the whole time anyways. You aren’t sure you can get anymore bonded to her. You wonder how much of it is you sticking close to her and how much of it is her keeping you close. You wonder how far you’d get before she pulled you back into her orbit. Not very far, you reckon. 

Sakina slides into the seat opposite of you. You’d say her grin is wolfish but her features are too soft for the term. 

“So you two looked pretty comfy on instagram the last couple of posts. Anything you’d like to share with the team?”

Your eyes flicker to Elisa beside you only to find her making eye contact with Jackie a couple people down. Whatever telepathic conversation they’re having right now makes your chest burn. You’re supposed to be the only one who knows her that well. Your mouth is filled with a bitter taste and something clenches and flexes in your chest. You look down trying to contain yourself before replying to Sakinas comment. 

“We hang out a lot, sue us.”

You can feel Elisa nod more than you see it. 

“Plus Y/ns a good photo taker I’ve got to put her skills to use when I have them!” She says jokingly. She leans forward in her chair propping one elbow up on the table the other coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You glance to the side meeting her eyes and smile. Yes keep your focus on me, the beast in your chest sighs and relaxes. 

“Yeah but she’s been here for a while now. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other. I mean you’ve been friends for so long. What else do you even have to talk about?” 

You have a feeling it's time for Sakina to start drinking water. Luckily Elisa saves you from having to answer again. 

“Anything, everything, whatever we feel like mostly. Sometimes we talk about nothing at all and it’s the best conversation I'll have all day.”

See? It’s stuff like that which makes you wanna scream and shout and call bullshit on being platonic. 

It's like watching everything you've ever worked for go down the drain as Sakinas eyes light up. Something in her brain seems to scream BINGO!

“So have you guys ever….you know?” She looks between you two, clearly hinting at something. “Clearly you’re great together and have been in the same places at the same times coincidentally.”

Yeah coincidentally, you think. 

Elisa leans back in her chair seemingly nonchalantly, “I mean I liked her when we were younger but it was never the right time.” She shrugs as if she hasn’t just blown up the ground you’re standing on. 

“I mean we were young and starting out in our careers, we didn’t know where we’d go. There was no point in saying anything at that point.” You try to recover. Jumping in so it seems like you’re also unbothered and knew this information. You might pass out. It feels like the lights got brighter than they were a minute ago. 

Sakina puts down her drink and seems to take a pause before replying. She goes unnaturally still for a moment before she relaxes and looks between you two with a confidence you see projected towards crowds but rarely in spaces with her friends. You’re starting to think she’a lot more sober than she’s let on and this a massive ploy or some sick fucking prank you’re the victim of. 

“So why aren’t you now?”

Oh, Fuck. 

Damage control. 

Act like this is the first time you’ve thought of this. 

You see Elisas eyes darken and an intense look in her eye directed at Sakina which the girl seems to pointedly ignore instead putting on a vague attitude of indifference which seems to suggest she’s just come to an observation, not blown up your carefully constructed weird homoerotic friendship. 

“We could never jeopardise our friendship.” Elisa answers lamely. 

You feel nauseous. Someone might need to call an ambulance because you aren’t sure if your heart has beat at all in the past five minutes. You’ve got to get out of here, you need to be alone. Just as that crosses your mind, a warm palm goes to rubbing circles on your lower back. You know she’s trying to soothe you but right now she’s a match stick and you're an old crumpled newspaper. Glancing back you give Elisa a tight smile before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, instead you walk out the front door and go home. 

—----------------

You aren’t expecting to hear from her. She’s made it abundantly clear in the last 12 hours she values your relationship but strictly as friends and used to like you but doesn’t anymore? You sigh, needing a minute to shut your brain off. 

So when there’s a knock at the door you’re confused about who's at your door on a thursday night at almost 11 pm, you know it’s the one person who would’ve noticed you slip away. 

She’s the last person you want to see and the first one you want to go to about all of this. Being in love with your best friend is too frustrating, you think as you unlock the door. 

“You left.” She’s pouting in your hallway. 

“I’ve filled my quota of hearing why I’m not relationship material to you today. Thanks, come back tomorrow.” Crap. You’re tired and you just want to go to bed, it slipped out. 

“So this is about dinner?”

You’ve had enough. 

At 11:08 pm on day 1067 (roughly) of being in love with Elisa you’ve decided you’ve had enough. 

“It’s about us. I’ve loved you for a quarter of forever and I've spent all day listening to the ways you don’t like me in front of our teammates so excuse me if i had enough and came home.” 

“Can I come in? This feels like an inside conversation, not a hallway conversation.”

You hate how she’s right and how she places her jacket on the hook that’s unofficially hers. When you turn and she’s made your home hers. She does that a lot, gets into your stuff and makes it her own. Your heart was the first thing she ever did too. 

The moment you make eye contact with her again, it comes spilling out. 

“I’ve loved you since forever. Honestly I can't pinpoint a specific moment in time where I knew I was in love. But when I listen to music there’s montages of your smile running through my head and your spirit feels like everything good in the world. Violins and guitars remind me of you. You’re music. You’re art. I love you, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t.” Everythings comes out of Elisa at rapid fire. You’re left blinking at her tiredly. 

Word’s have done enough today. You’re too tired to talk. You walk over to her and tangle her hands with yours. Her fingers run along the sides of yours and you’ve never felt simultaneously at home and like you're on a rollercoaster. You love that feeling best when you’re with Elisa, she makes everything down to going on a walk feel like an adventure but also like you’re coming home and taking off your shoes and falling into bed when you’re tired. Safe, you realise, she makes you feel safe. No one ever felt this much like home before. In fact, you think if there is a home where all the atoms in the universe started your’s would be next to hers. 

She pulls you closer to her body and before you can register it you feel a soft kiss, tentative kiss on your lips. It feels so right. You’ve always felt like your bodies were made to fit together and now you have confirmation. 

“Sorry, I had to do that, I couldn't wait any longer.” 

You hum at the sentiment. 

She pulls away before bumping your foreheads together and letting it rest there. You love how Elisa knows you. Kissing is great but you know there’s more way to be intimate in a moment without you being attached to each other. Sitting here in this silence with her is filling your lungs with life again. You hadn’t noticed how little air you’d been breathing before, now every breath is a big heave and you’re trying to fill all your senses with her. You can see her, you can hear her breaths, you can feel her warmth against you, you can smell her, you can taste the chapstick she keeps in her car. This is where you’re supposed to be, you’ve never been more sure of anything. 

Her hand comes up to cup the side of your face. Speaking quietly she utters,

“We wasted so many days.” 

She sounds like she's laughing at the irony of it all. You know her well enough to detect the hint of bitterness in her voice. You think back to all the days you spent throwing her longing looks, waiting until she looked away or turned to look back at her. Everytime she smiled or laughed or frowned and they all went into a file to document exactly what she looked like. When you were younger and she would run up to hug you after a goal or the late night phone calls or the times where the moment hung just long enough for you to consider saying something. A light on the dark sea looking for a boat to say I see you, come home to me, I'll keep you safe. You wouldn’t trade any of those moments for the world. 

“No, my love,” you whisper back bringing your own hand up to clutch hers, “I haven’t wasted a single day loving you. You make me feel like I’m somebody when I'm next to you. I don’t care about how many goals or assists I have, none of that matters. I don’t need to be somebody to anyone, I want to be someone to you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

You love her so much it’s utterly overwhelming, you can feel your throat beginning to close up. Sometimes it’s hard for you to tell her you love her because she means so much to you. Words could never portray how essential she is to your being. All you can do is hold her and try to give her the same sense of safety and wonder she gives you. Your hands tightly grip hers. You can feel her lips ghosting over the skin of your face. Her warm and heavy presence reminds you that this moment isn’t a dream. 

You feel her press small kisses from your temple to your hairline, her hand moving to cradle the back of your head. Eventually she trails her kisses along your nose before hovering over your mouth where you meet her to connect your lips again. This kiss isn’t as soft as the last. This is the kiss which tells you she’s waited long enough to have you, she isn’t going to waste another moment. Your arms creep up to wind around her neck pulling her closer to you. A deep inhale from your nose tells her you don’t want to let go just as much as her. With a small bite to your lower lip, you knew you’d been right in assuming your chemistry would translate to the physical side of the potential relationship. 

Pulling away with great effort you ask her to stay over tonight. 

She replies by kissing you harder than before. 

Perfect, you think, you’re not going to waste one more day.

[maislovebot]

Tbh this is just me rambling about how Atsushi loves eating you out because I love him and I’m sick and have nothing better to do

Today I saw someone say that Atsushi wouldn’t really care for eating you out and all I could think was ‘did we watch the same show??’ and I wrote this out of retaliation LMAO

Atsushi eats, and he eats good. He loves to give you head, there’s something about dipping his tongue between your folds and holding your hips down and eating you out until you go numb and your vision goes white. He also loves to pin you down while he eats you out. He’s not sure why, but something about gripping the crux of your knee and pushing your legs back until your knees are touching your shoulders is so hot to him. When he does this, your cunt is practically on display to him, and just the thought of that drives him insane.

He so badly wants to pin your legs back and eat you out for as long as you can handle, but he knows it’s not realistic. He knows he probably couldn’t dedicate hours of his time to just eating you out, but he can surely try. Just the thought of your thighs clenching around his head while he bends you in half is so hot to him.

These thoughts often bleed into his head during work. Specifically if he’s been doing paperwork all day, his back is sore from the cheap chairs, his brain hurts from staring at a screen all day, and then there’s you, who single handedly manages to make even the mundane more interesting. His thoughts start wholesome, just thinking about finally getting home from work and getting to hold you close on his bed, getting to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck, then he’s thinking about nuzzling his head between your thighs, and now he’s zoning out with a dumb smile on his face while he thinks about eating you out for as long as you can handle.

Before he knows it, he’s desperate and he gets even more red from Kunikida questioning him as to why he looks so red. Kunikida goes on a short rant about how if he needs a short break, Yosano’s office is right around the corner, but before he’s done Atsushi is running off to the storage closet to take some deep breaths and calm down. He doesn’t want to jerk off at work, so he tries his hardest to get you out of his head, but it obviously doesn’t work. He ends up just suffering for the rest of the day with his head on the desk.

Once he’s finally back from work, he is practically all over you. He’s like your shadow, patiently waiting for you to lay down on the bed, then finally begging to do what he’s been thinking about all day. And he does not give it up. Before you know it, you’re drooling and whining and pulling at his hair while he does exactly what he was dreaming about and pushes your knees up to the sides of your head (with a pillow under you as a sort of brace) as he fucks you with his tongue. He’s forcing his tongue as deep as it can go and tasting you from the inside. He hasn’t even glanced up at you once the entire time, he’s so focused on your taste. Anytime you twitched and tightened your thighs around his head as you got closer to orgasm was like a sense of relief for him. You didn’t even notice the tears beginning to sting your eyes from the sheer overstimulation.

He loved tasting you, but at a certain point he figured he should begin to stimulate your clit, the way you were bucking your hips up and into his face was very telling. He placed his tongue directly on your clit and began to lick stripes up it and you swore you could see stars. Your head turned to the side as the grip on his hair loosened because you didn’t have the strength to grip it anymore. He loved it. Even after you were exhausted and tired, he couldn’t stop. He made sure to get you to come just a few more times to play it safe, and he finally stopped holding onto your thighs for dear life. Once he finally pulled away, he was rewarded with the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

There you were, with your hair disheveled and sweat dripping down your forehead as you breathed heavily. There were small tears bubbling at the corners of your half lidded eyes, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He looked down and saw you twitch every so often from the effects he had on you. There was slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed, leaving it a stain you both would definitely have to clean up later. He could see small bruises on your thighs from his tight grip on you, and he did feel bad, but a carnal part of him loved the sight. He finally took a look at himself, and he couldn’t help but notice the embarrassing stain on the front of his pants. He didn’t even try to receive any form of stimulation the entire time, and yet he somehow came completely untouched.

He glanced back up at your face, smiling at the way you whispered for him to come closer. He could tell your voice was rubbed raw from the amount of noise he had made, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wc - 0.8k

This was so hot it started getting hard to type because I was getting that weak feeling I always get across my entire body when I'm super turned on. Just writing this a/n was difficult so I apologize for any spelling errors in advance..:3

[beyondspaceandstars]

Relationship Quizzes

Relationship: Carol Danvers x Reader Warnings: fluff!!!! Summary: Based off a random prompt: Person B and Person A taking couple quizzes on the Internet. A/N: I just saw The Marvels today and I am HAVING THOUGHTS. This is a short little thing. I was a little tipsy when I wrote this but I had fun. Also - I did take these quiz titles from actual Buzzfeed "relationship" quizzes I found so if they sound fun, they are out there. and it just so happened to work out really cute. You'll see. And I'm not lying about the quiz result in this one shot.

Masterlist

"What are you up to?" Carol asked as she approached your sitting form. She had just finished some maintenance on the ship while you were cuddled under the one blanket on the bed in her ship. Your laptop was sprawled up on your lap.

"Did you ever used to take those couple quizzes that would come in magazines?" You asked while your eyes remained on the webpage in front of you. You had been browsing some social media when you came across one of those silly but cute Buzzfeed-like quizzes. An idea immediately popped in your head

When Carol asked if you'd like to spend some time in her world, you had eagerly agreed. When you met your girlfriend you hadn't been ignorant to the fact that she wouldn't be like the other girls you had been with and you were constantly amazed by her skills and dedication. So, taking some time off Earth to really see everything, see the galaxy, you were so pleased. But a couple of hours into your adventure you realized you were missing something: WiFi. The internet. Connection. It had taken you a hot minute to figure it out but you got it. And you were quite proud. Carol was a wizard with fancy space technology but when it came to your dedication to the internet, she didn't quite get it.

"Couple quizzes?" Carol repeated and thought for a second. "Like, those ones you'd take to figure out if you and your crush would be together?"

You nodded, eagerly. "I found some online that looks fun." You shifted over on the bed to make room beside you. "Come take a few with me."

Carol laughed and threw down a dirty towel she had been using during her ship maintenance. "What, are we twelve all of a sudden?"

You rolled your eyes and patted the space next to you on the bed. "Babe, come on. Humor me."

Your girlfriend sighed and finally caved. She slid under the blanket, your legs pressed against one another. You shifted the laptop so it was half on your thigh and half on Carol's.

Carol immediately started reading the page pulled up on the computer screen. Her brows furrowed. "'Create An Outfit From Urban Outfitters And We'll Reveal What's Missing In Your Relationship.' Honey, are you being serious?"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at your girlfriend's expression. "Yes, I know it's silly but come on, it can be entertaining."

"Fine, fine," Carol sighed as she took the helm and clicked the 'Start Quiz' button. The first question popped up.

Question 1: Let's start off with picking out a bra.

"Seriously?" Carol smirked.

"You read the title," you pointed out. "You know what you were in for."

"Fair enough," your girlfriend agreed. "Let's go with the white one. Keep it simple."

You agreed and made the selection.

Question 2: Pick a pretty dress.

"Oh, that's cute," you said as you pointed to an off-the-shoulder multi-colored dress.

"It's not bad," Carol agreed, "but you'll be able to see the bra straps and I don't think it'll work with those patterns. We should go with the white one, it has thick straps and it's flowy. Could be comfortable."

Your jaw went slack as you processed Carol's words. "You're taking this seriously now, huh?"

Carol laughed. "If we want to know what's missing in this relationship—as the quiz promises to tell us—we gotta be realistic here."

"Alright, alright," you caved. "White, flowy, thick-strapped dress it is." You selected the photo and moved on to the next question.

Question 3: Won't you need a jacket? Pick one.

"I don't know, will we need a jacket?" Carol asked in somewhat disbelief.

You shrugged. "Maybe it's fall time in the midwest. They didn't really set the scene for this outfit. I say we go with the leather jacket."

"I won't argue with that."

Question 4: Pick some comfy bottoms.

"What? Are they going under the dress?" Carol asked in confusion.

"I mean… Maybe?" You frowned at the computer. "These aren't very scientific."

"I need to manage my expectations. Go with the jean shorts, they should be fine."

You agreed and clicked the high-rise jean short photo.

Question 5: Of course, you can have the shoe of your choice.

"Oh, how nice of them, of course I can have shoes," Carol laughed.

You scoffed. "Stay focused, it's almost over. I think the black slide-ons will work."

Carol nodded. "Ties in with the leather jacket."

Question 6: Lastly, accessories make the outfit, so pick one.

"We are in the homestretch," you announced. "I think we should complete the look with sunglasses."

"Not the purse?" Carol asked.

"We have pockets on the leather jacket."

"You're so smart, babe."

You blushed as you selected the sunglasses and held your breath dramatically for the reveal… And there was nothing.

No results populated. It was blank. Whoever had made the quiz had apparently missed a crucial component.

Carol gasped. "We did all that for nothing?"

You bit your lip to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. "Maybe it means…nothing is missing. We're perfect."

Carol sighed and turned to face you. "My little optimist."

You giggled. "Well, what did you make of these results? Or lack thereof?"

Your girlfriend shrugged. "Maybe it means we're both cursed."

Now you could laugh again. "I actually think we're perfect."

Gently, Carol leaned in for a kiss, which you happily reciprocated.

"Should we try one more?" You asked after your lips separated. "These are really ridiculous."

"But you were right, they are kind of fun."

You smiled. "Awesome, one more it is then."

Carol agreed and gave you a full reign of the laptop. You typed and clicked away with Carol watching you closely. She liked your laptop, probably even like the idea of having it on board, but she never really used it when you offered it up to her.

After some browsing, you finally settled on a neutral but interesting-sounding quiz. "This one could be fun: What Relationship Type Do You Have With Your Partner?"

"There are different types of relationships?"

You nodded. "The quiz says so."

"Well, if the quiz says so," Carol smirked and motioned toward your laptop. "Let's go."

Question 1: How much do you and your significant other talk?

You and Carol both skimmed the options. And settled on the exact same one.

"We talk at least 100 hours a week."

"I can't get enough of you," you admitted and made the selection.

Question 2: How far away does your partner live?

"Oh, this was so not made for us," you laughed.

"Hey," Carol said in faux defence but she started laughing as well. "We make it work."

"Would you say we're in a long-distance situation? Or do we just live far apart but make time to see each other?"

"We make time, right?" Carol asked. Her tone dropped significantly. "I make time to see you."

You gave her a soft smile. "Of course you do, babe. You go beyond what I expect. I mean, I'm in space, right now. For you. With you."

Carol grabbed your hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Question 3: What do you and your partner have in common?

"I want to say loyalty. Or everything."

"Yeah," you nodded, " but you don't like my music taste. Or my food preferences."

"I'm sorry I'm not into jazz or eating ketchup on scrambled eggs."

"Loyalty it is," you decided.

Question 4: What's one thing you'd change about your partner?

"Kind of a rude question," Carol mumbled. "Absolutely nothing, right? Unless you're going to take this as a chance to admit to me what I don't want to hear."

You shook your head. "Nothing." You could worship Carol. "Nothing at all. I'll take all of you. Flaws, perfections, and everything in between."

Question 5: What's something you'd leave your partner for?

You both read through the responses.

"Communication could ruin us," you pointed out.

"You're always right, babe."

Question 6: If your significant other was sad, how would you cheer them up?

You let out a light laugh at the options under the question. "You either shower me with so much affection when I'm upset or don't know what to do."

Carol lightly bumped her shoulder into you. "I like the more flattering option. You also shower me with affection. I almost have to peel you off me."

"You never peel me off you."

"I love you too much."

Question 7: Your significant other is working themselves way too hard. What do you do?

"Oh, this is so you," you point out to Carol. "All work, I swear."

"I am not-,"

"I am in your bed and you spent hours working on this ship."

Carol humphed. "Well, I'm here now."

"I would say I try to express to you how concerned I am about your…working habits."

Carol agreed, reluctantly. "You are allowed to express them."

"I am. And I will."

Question 8: Oh no – your S.O. is sick! What do you do?

"Soup," you decide as you read the options. "You do like to me soup when I'm sick. And watching movies. I love watching movies with you even when I'm sick."

You saw Carol's cheeks get rosy. "Do you enjoy my soup?"

"Your soup?" You smirk. "I didn't know you owned Campbell's Soup."

Carol laughed.

Question 9: How well do you think you really know your partner?

"'I feel like I know every facet of,'" you read off the webpage.

"Yeah," Carol agreed. "That one."

You placed a quick pack on her cheek. Her skin was still rosy and pink.

Question 10: And lastly, do you see a future with this person?

"Of course," you whispered. "I never want us to be apart even for a second."

Carol said nothing but gave your thigh a tight squeeze. You could've pounced on her then and there.

As you made the final selection, you once again held your breath and waited on the edge of your seat for the result.

This time, it actually worked. A confetti animation decorated the screen as your quiz result populated.

"'The super-love relationship,'" you read off the computer screen, "'Wow, your relationship is like one of those whirlwind Hollywood romances that everyone dreams of having! It's like some sort of fairytale, but it's clearly not fiction.'"

Carol let out a surprised but pleased yell at the results. "We actually are perfect," she noted. "You were right."

You hummed in agreement. "Like some sort of fairytale. That sure does describe how I feel."

"Really?"

You nodded. "Sometimes I can't believe you're real. And that I'm here. And you're mine."

Carol subtly intertwined her hand with yours. "I'm always gonna be yours, babe."

"We're so cheesy," you muttered. "I love us."

Carol smiled. It was so genuine and intriguing. "I love us, too."