#Cargoes Flow

[sol-consort]

I'm sorry but how does the model of propriety sobriety and piety ever so merciful Sir cop River Ward's crush on the mercenary V actually allign with his moral compass

like that's the stealing thieving murdering V, what gold-worthy mental gymnastics is that boy doing to justify his feelings? What is he gonna tell the rest of his badges friends when "bounty on head NY most wanted criminal scum" V shows up to the police department Christmas office party as his plus one?

Or is it another case of a man bagging a clubbing diva after meeting her wilding at the said club, then getting surprised and offended when she still wants to grove at the disco after they tie the knot. Is this a case of "I can fix her!" to River?

[artisticdivasworld]

August Trucking News: A Mixed Bag for Owner-Operators

As we wrap up August, it’s been a rollercoaster month for owner-operators in the trucking industry. Here’s a rundown of ten key news stories that have made an impact, both positively and negatively. Credit: AFTdispatch.com Freight Market Struggles Continue The ongoing freight recession has intensified, with a surplus of trucks on the road and a decline in e-commerce demand leading to lower…

[ofthecaravel]

day 1 of period. laying here sobbing over prince of egypt

[intotheelliwoods]

OH they look so BATTLE READY imagine getting punched in the face by the metal arm from the guy wearing a rubber ducky button up <3

@intotheelliwoods congrats on 4k ^^

[gremlingottoosilly]

König x maid/housekeeper!Reader who tries to quit or resign because they don’t need the job anymore

It's adorable, really, the way you still think this is about working. The way you squirm and curl into yourself, trying your best to hide your body from his grasp - like he would ever just let you escape. Konig pushes his lips up, kissing away all the angry tears that you let flow down your face as you were whimpering something incoherent, something about finally quitting and leaving his sorry ass. You're adorably stupid, and he grabs a handful of your hair to tug you closer, pressing his tongue between your lips. Suck on your lower lip, lap at your mouth like the hungry old dog he is - zero technique, but still very passionate, doing it solely for the love of the game. He won't take kindly to you trying to get away from him - to you acting like you have free will and the ability to do things on your own. It's adorable, really, but he still doesn't believe you're actually going to leave. He is paying you, far more than what you're worth - he doesn't care if you don't need the job anymore or if you want to start a new life somewhere. He is already got you your own room at his house, prepared tons of little gifts for Christmas, and got a two weeks to leave, so he could drag you to whatever warm country doesn't give him flashbacks, so he could enjoy fucking his favorite girl on an expensive sandy beach and give the two of you a little vacation. Oh, what's this? You really don't want to be with him anymore? Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? He is going to be a bit angry, a little disappointed, but it's not like he is actually going to care all that much. There isn't a problem that can't be solved by breaking your pretty legs and forcing his cock in your wet pussy until he fucked away all of your silly desire to leave. He is a master in persuasion, after all. Even if said persuasion tactics would mean fucking you in his basement and locking you up like a piece of precious cargo, until you're fully committed to being his dumb pretty wife.

[phantasm-ae]

cw: suggestive writing, afab reader x soap

HEADCANON: Soap almost loses goes feral it when he sees you in a milkmaid dress holding his little niece. Giving him some ideas and thoughts he shouldn’t have in his mam’s backyard get-together

PAIRING: John Soap MacTavish x reader

now Johnny had seen you in a lot of things even in nothing that was a given.

You in his shirts. His hoodies. His pretty pretty lass in that one tactical vest during a Halloween party that nearly ended the night early. But nothing. And Soap means NOTHING could have prepared him for this.

His sweet sweet minx in a bloody milkmaid dress. All soft cotton and wispy ribbons. The material cradling your frame just perfectly. Hugging you in all the right places. Cinched at the waist. Flowing just enough to tease but not enough to hide. Sleeves slipped delicately off your shoulders. Water running sinfully down glass is what it was.

Clinging and catching just long and sultry enough to burn.

Artemis in his fucking childhood backyard. Steamin' Jesus.

And to top it all off. As if just to ruin him completely -- you were barefoot in his mam's garden, holding his wee niece on your hip like you'd been born for it.

Smiling. Glowy. Bright and so fucking beautiful that Johnny almost passes out with how fast blood rushed down south to his groin. Brain absolutely short-circuiting at that.

Almost dropping the plate of his gran's mash he was holding too. Some poor sausage roll already clinging to gravity as his mouth parts a bit in utter, primal disbelief.

Johnny stood there, frozen, jaw slack, brain gone smooth. You hadn’t even noticed him yet -- busy chatting up his mam and sister by the garden fence, bouncing the babbling baby gently as sunlight hit your hair like something out of a painting. Like some goddamn pastoral fever dream. The kind of visions that made his knees weak and his thoughts utterly unsalvageable.

Rocking his chubby-cheeked niece gently in your arms, cooing like some divine, barefoot angel conjured from some kind of paradise in Tunisia.

Then -- Fucking THEN -- you lift the baby higher, nuzzle her soft little cheek, and say something sweet in that voice of yours that makes his entire soul leave his body.

Done. He’s done.

Funeral's next Thursday. Bring flowers.

He swore his bloody soul ascended.

His body though? Stranded on earth, bloody rock-hard and tragically overdressed in cargo shorts.

“Jesus Mary Joseph -- ” Johnny hissed under his breath, still frozen by the garden path, mouth dry, thighs clenched, gripping his gran’s ceramic dish like it was the last link to his mortal tether. One wrong look from you -- just one, he swears -- and he’d be spilling mash and something else right there on the bloody grass.

You turned, then. Bright, carefree, holding his niece like you’d been practicing for years. And when your eyes found his -- when you gave him that soft, warm smile that screamed home in a way the Highlands never could --

Johnny staggered.

Just a half step. A little foot wobble. Barely recovered. Didn’t matter.

Your brows lifted, concerned and confused. “You alright, darling?”

Oh no.

You said it like you didn’t know you were dressed like the wet dream of a fevered Scottish farmhand.

He opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out. Absolutely nothing. There was a whistle in his brain like a kettle left too long on the stove. Every single survival instinct screamed “do not pop a boner in your mam’s garden.” Every. Single. One.

And then you bounced the baby on your hip again.

His niece giggled.

His mam laughed softly and said something about how good you were with kids.

And that’s when John 'Soap' MacTavish, elite sniper, tactician, demolitions expert, and renowned special forces operator... blacked out from sheer lust.

No, not really. But close. So very close.

He stumbled forward like he’d been summoned, forcing his legs to work, cock already straining at the worst possible time. His brain screaming be normal while his dick whispered breed her right now.

“Love?,” you asked again gently as he reached you, the baby tugging playfully at your neckline, unaware she was the only thing keeping you from being pinned to the side of the garden shed like a poster.

“You alright, Johnny?” you repeated in concern, brushing your fingers along his forearm, completely unaware of the meltdown behind his eyes.

He looked at you. Then the baby. Then the milkmaid dress. Then back at you.

And said, with all the composure of a drowning man clutching his last breath:

“Y’ever think about havin’ like... seven?”

You blinked at his words. “Seven what?”

Johnny looked you dead in the eye.

“Bairns.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

But his mam. Nosy. Gleeful. Loud and always knowing, was already shouting -- “I told you he was gon’ propose one day soon!” -- at the top of her lungs like the whole of Glasgow, Scotland, and even bloody England at that needed to know her prophetic gifts had finally borne fruit.

And if Johnny’s gran finally noticed her plate of mash had been sacrificed in the name of horny spiritual warfare. She didn't need to say a word through her smile.

masterlist

[leeechin]

☆ he got that in him

shy bf jungwon ! (18+) 🪽 🦢 ☀️ 🫧

a/n: i feel like this isn't rlly jungwon :( !! but it's all just fiction 🙄 and i just love this man sooo much. please do let me know if there are typos! i do go over before i publish but i sometimes miss it 😢 reqs are open !! don't be afraid to ask :)

✧ pairing: idol!jungwon x influencer!reader + warnings: smut with plot YAYYY. dom!jungwon x subfem!reader, unprotected sex (don't do that), jungwon hits it from the back lol, riding, ass slapping, degradation (use of the words whore, slut, etc), pet names (baby, won, wonnie, etc), size kink, orgasm denial (so mean jungwon), rough sex, jungwon is such a shy guy wrapped around your finger in public, but is such a freak in bed it’s insane.

word count: [2.8K]

♡ enha m.list | post queue | navigation

you quite literally needed jungwon every second in your life. your attachment to him was so strong it was sometimes concerning.

"are you sure you don't want to just go with me in my car?" your boyfriend asks, walking out of your bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower waist.

you didn't respond but instead stared at the muscles on his stomach, watching how his lower abdomen sucked in a little bit and you were so entranced by the sight infront of you, mouth watering slightly. your whole world stopped for a bit to just simply admire yang jungwon.

you're finishing up some assignments for class. you decided that you're joining jungwon at his group's house gathering an hour or two later than the time he's arriving. you didn't have to worry about missing out too much, the gathering will be going on for a while.

it was jake who decided to throw a mini gathering, including all of the members, and a few other people including you. the gathering including your favorite, an outdoor barbecue and bonfire.

"yeah won." you frown, "have to finish this thesis or else professor jeong will not give me the end of it." scoffing at the mention of your professor. you turn around and your eyes nearly pop out of your socket at what you see. "actually.. are you sure we even have to go..?" you tease, now standing infront of your boyfriend and teasing the sides of the towel that could be down with one small tug, wanting to pull it off your boyfriend.

"quit it perv!" jungwon jokes, "you'll get what's under this towel later tonight." he winks, wrapping a hand around your waist to give you a kiss, you whined when he pulled his soft lips away. "now be a good girl and finish your assignments, i'll see you there in couple hours." patting the back off your ass playfully. going to the closet and picking out an outfit.

you curiously watch your boyfriend style his hair, focus completely shifted from the work you had left with school. "don't you have some assignments to finish?" eyebrows raising at your eyes not blinking once.

"yeahyeah your right." you respond a little flustered, a slight tint flowing on your cheeks. jungwon walks over to your desk, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "see you later baby." then he walked out of your room.

you sigh, already missing the presence of your jungwon. it takes another hour and a half before you're finished with all of your assignments for the week. closing your laptop aggressively, victory filling in your head as you don't have to worry about completing your work this weekend.

you're quick to change out of jungwon's t-shirt, putting on a pair of dark green cargo shorts that hugged your thighs perfectly, and a simple white baby tee with the brands cute logo on the back. grabbing your keys on the counter by the door, dashing out the door, to your car. you had a feeling that you wouldn't be returning home tonight, instead staying over at enhypen's house.

"what's that look on your face jungwon? missing y/n huh?" jake teases him. "she's got him wrapped around her finger! see how she always initiates everything!" jay adds on. "she probably controls ALL the shit that goes on in bed!" someone else says.

"i am NOT talking to you guys about my bed activities." the members laughing at jungwon's quick defense. knowing they're right, atleast they think so.

arriving at the house, you might've underestimated the weather, feeling a little bit cold as you welcomed yourself in, kicking your shoes off at the entrance, carrying them with you to the backyard to put them on again.

"look who's here! we were just talking about you!" ni-ki greets you. "nothing bad i hope." you respond, "don't worry it wasn't anything bad! just talked about how you've practically got jungwon wrapped around your finger." sunoo says, maybe he ran his mouth a little too much, sunghoon glaring at him as sunoo placed both of his hands over his mouth.

you laugh in response to that, "jungwon's just such a loving boyfriend. i really hit the jackpot with this one." beaming at jungwon, you were being held with one arm around your waist. jay started the barbecue and the rest of the members went to help with setting up everything.

jungwon noticed your body slightly shivering. "are you cold sweetheart?" "mm, just a little bit" murmuring that as a reply. your boyfriend taking off his sweatshirt that he was wearing and putting it on you. "i'm not that cold anyways. gotta go help set up stuff, karina's by the pool chairs." he gives you a kiss on your cheek.

"nice arms" you tease, moving one of your hands to squeeze his now bare biceps. you were definitely going to thank heesung later for urging jungwon to frequent the gym more. that white t-shirt was hugging all the right parts of jungwon's upper half.

"not right now baby." he speaks in a low voice to you, "can't help it you look so hot right now." whining and looking up to your boyfriend. jungwon leans down to give you a quick kiss on your lips. karina's waving over to you as you walk towards the poolside, giving a quick turn to see your boyfriend immediately jump in to help with setting up the table.

"girl you have been oogling and staring at your boyfriend for the past five minutes now, without saying anything!" karina says, waving her hand in front of you, making you finally blink again for the first time in a few minutes. "seriously thank your brother for me. he's been taking jungwon to the gym more often." your best friend just scoffs at you in amusement.

"dude, y/n has not looked one second away from you." sunghoon points out, nudging jungwon with his elbow. the members snicker at jungwon's flustered reaction, going back to setting up the table.

"jungwon!" you call out, jungwon jumps at the sudden sound of your voice. "yeah babe what's up!" he exclaims, nearly stuttering at every word. "were you guys bullying my boyfriend." you frown at his fellow members, "because he only gets like this when someone's been teasing him."

"no definitely did NOT!"

"sure, sure." you roll your eyes jokingly, turning to jungwon with a mischievous glint. now he knew that you were up to something.

"won, i think i left something in your room when i was staying with you a few days ago, can i go look for it?" "yeah i'll help you find it pretty." the other members not noticing you and jungwon disappearing, too focused on the food grilling on the barbecue and setting up the table.

walking into the house, your eyes are set on the entrance of jungwon's room, looking behind you and throwing a smirk at jungwon, quickening your pace to his room door. but you felt yourself being tugged into the bathroom.

"do you enjoy teasing me infront of everybody?" he growls, using a hand to hold both your cheeks and turn you to face the bathroom mirror infront of the counter, his other hand gripping your asscheek. you don't respond, eager for jungwon to bend you over the counter and just fuck the shit out of you.

"i asked you a question baby." jungwon says, staring directly at you on the mirror. hand gripping your asscheek a little tighter. you whine and push your hips back, feeling his bulge rub against your clothed ass, shorts rising up and you continued your movements. "need you so bad wonnie please." your boyfriend laughs at your neediness. using both of his hands to grip your waist and hold you in place.

"i don't know sweetheart. you've been teasing the fuck out of me since you've got here." jungwon murmurs, unbuttoning your cargos shorts, sliding your panties down to your knees and moving two of his digits to collect your wetness. "please jungwon! i can't help it that you feel so good everytime!" you babble attempting to wiggle your hips side to side. jungwon finds you so desperate for him to be so amusing.

"you enjoy being a needy whore for me don't you? the way you're dripping around my fingers show me that you do." humiliation tints on your face as you look at yourself on the mirror. it's thrown away when you feel two of jungwon's digits enter you all of a sudden.

you let out a gasp at the intrusion, the stretch of his two fingers hitting you so deep as jungwon already sets a relentless pace, his other hand moving up to push your hair to the side, trailing soft kisses on your exposed collarbone.

"oh shit wonnie, feels so good!" you moan, shutting your eyes as you revel in the feeling of jungwon's fingers working wonders deep inside your cunt. your small noises spurring jungwon to add a third finger.

the feeling of him scissoring and hitting your g spot repeatedly made the pleasure feel so overwhelming. "you gonna close baby?" jungwon noticing the way your pussy tighten and swirled around his fingers. in response, you nodded.

feeling jungwon's pace fasten, your pussy clenches around his digits so tightly, you felt that knot in your stomach about to be undone, but wait… that feeling fades when jungwon pulls his fingers out abruptly, laughing at your pathetic attempt to grind back against him.

"two more hours until i fuck the absolute shit out of you." your eyes widen as you whine at your boyfriend's words. jungwon helped you pull your panties back up, along with your cargo shorts. he gives your ass a playful smack, making you turn around and throw a pout at him.

"you're so mean." your lips curl into a frown looking at the way jungwon has no remorse.

. ✦ · .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀˚ ⊹ ˚

⠀⠀ ⊹

the sounds of your and jungwon's lips smacking against each other filled the room. everyone else being long asleep, as it was pretty late in the night and the gathering ending a couple hours ago.

all that was left on your was your bra, thin material barely holding together your tits that jungwon adored and worshipped so much. the straps slid off your shoulders, being pulled down and showing your lucious tits. with your bra not even being properly off, jungwon's hands grabbing at your boobs, nipples in between his fingers as he twisted and fondled at them.

you let out low sighs of pleasure, feeling like jelly from your standing position, you would've fell down if it wasn't for jungwon's tight hold. "fuck baby, i would have you blow me right now but i need to fuck that sweet pussy of yours." your boyfriend manhandles you onto your front, onto the bed.

"arch that back for me pretty." jungwon says cursing at the slight of your slick dripping out of your spent pussy, down your legs. if only his fellow members knew he had you wrapped around his finger like this. the way you begged for him to fill you up with his thick cock that sent you into an overdrive of pleasure, fat tears streaming down your face as you go thru an intense orgasm.

and you didn't care to conceal or cover your sounds. jungwon completely forgot about that.. only focused on ruining you tonight.

but before all of this, he gave you a prior orgasm by eating you out. the sight of your needy hole throbbing, practically looking like it was ready to pull his cock in made jungwon let out a long groan.

loosing all of his patience to tease you any further. jungwon's hands are on the side of your hips guiding you to the position. you turn your head, tears slightly fogging your vision, seeing how jungwon slid off his boxers and gave his cock a few harsh strokes, you admired the veins that were decorated along his length, his pre-cum oozing out of his mushroom tip. you were entranced by the sight, mouth watering as you watch jungwon align his tip with your entrance.

circling his tip around your wetness, collecting it on his tip to use as lube. he pushes into you, one hand on your hip, and the other pushing your face into the pillow to try to suppress your loud shrieks and moans of his name. it didn't really help much because the walls were quite thin.. and the sounds of his hips smacking against the the soft plush skin of your ass echoing around the room.

you really tried to contain your sounds, hips pushing back to feel more of jungwon's cock stuffed deep into you. a hard smack lands on your left ass cheek. "naughty girl, is this not enough for you?" you mouth shapes into an 'o' as you felt jungwon increase his pace, relentless strokes hitting all parts of your body so so good.

"oh shit." you groan, eyes rolling head spinning at the sensation. it was nearly impossible with the speed jungwon's cock kept sliding in and out of you. "such a fucking pretty cockslut for me." jungwon groans, the feeling of your walls tightening around him from his words. he moves his hands to spread your asscheeks to see the way your tight walls you envelop his dick over and over again.

you let out a particularly loud moan when you feel your orgasm approaching, jungwon stopping his movements briefly to pull your head up, "shush baby, you don't want everyone hearing you like the cockwhore you are do you?"

"ngh no! too good wonnie i'm close pleaseplease?" you beg, attempting to move your hips back, jungwon's grip was too tight, just simply laughing at your state. he goes back to his moment, one hand pushing your face into the pillows, but the sounds were still quite loud, your muffled moans only spurred jungwon on more.

you lift your face up from the pillow telling jungwon that you're close, he knows by the way your body is tensing up, cunt clenching around his length so impossibly tight.

his fingers moving to your clit and rubbing your pearl as your release approaches, the coil in your stomach finally snapping around jungwon as you drop your body back onto the mattress, arms giving out and just leaving your whole upper body to rest on the sheets.

a laugh falls out of jungwon's mouth as he look at the state of you, slowing down his pace as he finishes inside of you, pulling out and seeing his cum dripping down the insides of your thighs. patting your ass softly, jungwon leans over you mumbling against your ear, "just one more pretty. i want you to ride me."

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀˚ ⊹ ˚

"oh shit" you moan as jungwon finally bottoms out in you, your walls flutter around his walls causing him to throw his head back and groan at the feeling of you. hands placed on both of your hips in a tight grip, moving you up and down on his cock. another moan escapes your lips when one of his hands move to slap one of your ass cheeks, his hand easing the sight pain afterwards. "ride me like you mean it pretty."

jungwon's hands leaving your hips and rests behind his head, enjoying the sight in front of you, your eyebrows furrowed as you try to find a good pace, soft moans of his name repeating like a prayer over and over, it was all just too good.

finally finding a good pace, you feel tired as your pace slows, jungwon groans at the feeling of his cock practically splitting you open. finally giving you some help and moving his hands back to your hips as he moves you up and down.

"mmph jungwon! m' close!" your hands find placement on both sides of his shoulders, velvety walls tightening around his length again.

"come for me y/n." was all it took for you as your eyes rolled back, nails digging into his shoulder as jungwon finishes at the same time as you, stilling his movements and painting your walls white.

⠀⠀ ⊹

your body is sprawled on the sheets, eyes half lidded as your boyfriend brings you up to help you redress yourself in a new set of clothes.

"you're insane." you sigh, knowing the next morning that your legs will be limp. jungwon laughs at you, giving you a small kiss and lays himself beside you.

as the morning comes, jungwon greets the other members a good morning, but an awkward silence is met. jungwon raises and eyebrow at the silence and the way his fellow members looked at him.

"holy shit jungwon! we didn't know you got that in you!"

[imaroyalmess]

An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

~

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

~

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

~

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

~

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

~

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift? 

~

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

~

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I’m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

~

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made. 

~

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

~

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd uses a flip phone. No he will not upgrade.

a little bit proofread! youd think the child of an ESL teacher would know whats up but youd be wrong! anywho this is vv off the dome and i didnt exactly know how to end it so please tell me if you feel like it flows right i appreciate any and all feedback very dearly ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Jay!” his partner calls from the other side of his apartment, making their way from the kitchen to where he was cleaning his guns in the living room. A very ritualistic process for him. They're all uniformly laid out on his coffee table (which he did not own before getting into a relationship, shout out the wife) , unassembled and being very carefully cleaned with a level of precision you seldom see outside of scientific glass blowers. Hes locked in

“What?” Jason looks up from his gun cleaning ritual 

“Can i borrow your phone? I wanna order food” they smiled, leaning over the back of his couch

“Whats wrong with yours?” he asks, “dead” y/n replied simply, and Jason reaches into his pocket with minimal grumbling

Jason was not a fan of technology, as a rule. He thinks its evil. He doesn't have any social media, does not watch any tv that isn't the news, and doesn't particularly like having his photo taken on anything digital. But still, none of that knowledge about their boyfriend couldve prepared y/n for being presented with a tomato red  Motorola RAZR V3 Flip Cellphone after it was dug out of Jasons cargo pants

“...what the fuck is this” they gawked at him. They hadnt been together all that long, but long enough that y/n feels that they should have noticed this piece of ancient history in his possession

“What?” Jason replied casually, unclear why they were looking at his phone like that “you have my phone no? Order your food” he said while getting back to the gun cleaining 

“Im- what is this?? Jason, be serious” y/n said, still absolutely rubbernecking at the phone. They went around the couch to look him in the eyes

Jason made a face “im being serious, order your food” he rolled his eyes at his partners ridiculousness. 

“Jason.” y/n gawped “look me in the eyes and tell me this is your actual primary cellphone.” they said, leaning down to look their boyfriend in his soul. Jason furrowed his brows

“Thats my phone. Why is this a big deal? I dont like apples and samsongs. Or whatever” Jason responds, puting down the half put together glock hes cleaning to cross his arms and lean back against the couch 

“My phone number is in this. You answer my texts from this thing??” they asked, still holding out hope this was a really stupid elaborate prank. From their boyfriend. Who had the driest sense of humor on the- okay yea he wasnt joking

“Yes??” he said incredulously, looking at his partener like they were being unreasonable. Actually- they were being unreasonable. It was a razr phone, not some far future star wars trans communicator. y/n needs a second to think about this

They plop themselves onto the couch next to their boyfriend, staring at the ceiling

“You really are a drug dealer” they murmured. Jason snorted

Jason snorted. “Below the belt” he retorts, snickering as he went back to his gun cleaning. Locked in. clear eyes, full hearts, cant lose.

“You need an actual phone” y/n states, like its the word of god. No protests will be tolerated, this studio apartment is not a democracy. Jason makes a face.

“I dont trust that shit” he murmured, continuing his surgical precision glock cleaning. y/n tilted their head

“Whys that?” they questioned. Jason scoffed, like its obvious

“ ‘don't want the government knowing my business” Jason loured

“Don't want-” y/n looked at him, in his soul “Jason. Whats a drivers license?”

Jason scoffed, smiling since hes won the argument now,in his own mind at least “i dont have one” he said triumphantly. y/ns eyes widened to the size of frisbees. They'd been in a car he was driving. Many times. Yesterday actually

“What the fuck d’you mean you dont have a drivers license??” “i never got one” he answered simply, like that was chill 

“Im- yes i get that. But you drive!” they argued, turning their body to fully face their insane boyfriend

“Well yea,obviously” jason rolled his eyes. y/n guffawed at him

“You're- a prolific criminal” they murmured, deciding not to question it anymore. He dresses up like red riding hood grew up and transitioned and got REALLY into body building. He used to kill people. Hes literally cleaning his multiple unregistered firearms in front of them. 

“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Jason retorts. y/n and jason stared at each other for a second 

“not what that means” “yea not what that means”

.𖥔 ܁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ fun with formatting! i like the coloured text but i wish the shades weren't so jarring. i also find the images incredibly annoying to format properly but maybe im just being dense i dunno. the drivers license bit was inspired by my co worker because she too doesn't have a drivers license and yet owns a car and drives it and isnt in jail yet. you go icon

also the term wife is used GENDER NUTREALY !!1! i wanted an actual gender neutral term for nuptial partner but nothing hits like wife does imo. anyways tysm for reading! i love you sleep well ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡ ༘

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ clothing prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ baggy blue jeans

²⁾ mismatched socks

³⁾ a wrinkled grey button-down

⁴⁾ patterned pyjama pants

⁵⁾ a borrowed hoodie

⁶⁾ a long, flowing skirt

⁷⁾ beaten track shoes

⁸⁾ a boonie hat

⁹⁾ a football jersey

¹⁰⁾ a weathered kitchen apron

¹¹⁾ a soft, expensive hotel dressing gown

¹²⁾ laddered black tights

¹³⁾ strong combat boots

¹⁴⁾ a poorly-knitted blue scarf

¹⁵⁾ black boxer briefs

¹⁶⁾ a green tie

¹⁷⁾ grey sweatpants

¹⁸⁾ tartan pyjama pants

¹⁹⁾ a knitted jumper with loose threads

²⁰⁾ a red sports bra

²¹⁾ a miniskirt

²²⁾ a pink whale tail

²³⁾ a loose graphic t-shirt

²⁴⁾ a sports-branded cap

²⁵⁾ cargo pants

²⁶⁾ one single mitten

²⁷⁾ a balaclava

²⁸⁾ cheetah print leggings

²⁹⁾ a fake fur coat

³⁰⁾ heeled leather boots

³¹⁾ a wedding dress

³²⁾ a blue flannel shirt

³³⁾ black slacks

³⁴⁾ doctor’s scrubs

³⁶⁾ a sleek, tailored suit

³⁷⁾ a white lace bralette

³⁸⁾ jorts

³⁹⁾ a cocktail dress

⁴⁰⁾ a torn wifebeater

⁴¹⁾ a biker’s leather cut

⁴²⁾ a silk singlet

⁴³⁾ a bloodstained uniform

⁴⁴⁾ gaa shorts

⁴⁵⁾ a leather belt with a silver buckle

⁴⁶⁾ a cheap costume feather boa

⁴⁷⁾ rolled up shirtsleeves

⁴⁸⁾ a little black dress

⁴⁹⁾ a polo shirt

⁵⁰⁾ a birthday suit

[slyandthefamilybook]

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[artisticdivasworld]

The Insurance Every New Trucker Should Have—and How to Get It

So, you got your DOT and MC number to make you eligible to haul goods but one of the major stumbling blocks new truckers have is insurance. Once you get those numbers, you have 30 days to get insurance coverage that meets the FMCSA requirements for what you plan to haul. The first thing to know is that trucking insurance isn’t a one-size-fits-all deal. You will probably need to get $750,000…

[mandalhoerian]

(2) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Eight years ago, during the worst summer festival of your life, you cross paths with a certain seal for the first time.

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

< previous | next >

note: YES, THIS IS A SERIES! I hope you'll bear with me as I'm not actively editing/proofreading my writing and am going with the flow for the most part. Rafayel will also stay as a seal in the next chapter which centers around how he came to be smitten with the reader, so PLEASE PLEASE HANG TIGHT WE'RE GETTING THERE. I hope you enjoy!!!!

Ah, sweet summer festival. You're fifteen.

The entire archipelago is in motion tonight — a grand spectacle brought to life in the unofficial capital Salverna, which is also where you were born and raised, by throngs of locals with visitors pouring in from the mainland for an evening of festivities. Decorated boats crawl like jeweled beetles across the bay beneath a moonbeam sky, torches flickering like amber blossoms amidst colorful lanterns suspended overhead, painting faces in warm splashes of light. Instruments are tuned to perfect pitch, ready to launch into jigs and reels once revelers spill into dancing rings. Children sprint around bonfires with cheeks flushed by sugar, laughter ringing like silver bells in the breeze. Farther along, games fill the streets — prizes stuffed inside balloons perched precariously atop slender sticks, targets waiting to be pierced by dart tips, bobbing heads eager for coins — competing for attention with the delectable aroma of spiced sausage, roasted meat, skewers, sticky cinnamon treats, and fresh fruit piled high for sampling. Even the night's salty breath tastes like sunshine, and despite everything feeling faintly familiar, somehow still manages to seem entirely fresh.

If only you'd been there from the beginning.

No, you were here. The whole day.

At the docks, which is the farthest away from the main event.

Hauling seafood and chasing down lost tourists like some unpaid festival guide.

The family ferry business consisting of multiple vessels is the only one making direct trips between the mainland and the archipelago. Usually, things run smoothly — your parents know this route like the back of their hands, and during normal weeks, the boats run on a fairly consistent schedule with only the occasional minor detour to accommodate delayed travelers. Renting smaller boats out to tourists helps maintain some steady income for maintenance expenses during quieter months, although the real money comes from transporting passengers year-round.

But big events like this summer festival change everything. The mainland port is overflowing with people packed like sardines in a tin, and everyone scrambles for transport space like sharks smelling blood. It's impossible to accommodate every arrival simultaneously, even though Dad doubled the ferry service to operate nearly nonstop — one boat shuttling incoming guests while its twin carries locals back and forth between islands, and even then it isn't enough. People are forced to wait hours for passage, which inevitably leads to chaos erupting.

And the locals ferry doesn't just transport passengers. It hauls festival supplies — crates of seasonal produce shipped to the islands via mainland distributors, stacks upon stacks of boxes labeled FRAGILE in thick black marker, paper fans for the parade, props for the pageant, a seemingly endless list of necessary items for the vendors, bands, food stands, street performers, the barrels of festival cider rolling onto the deck, stacks of pastries needing careful hands to avoid toppling, baskets of flowers meant for decorating stalls that nearly got crushed in the shuffle — you name it — the list of deliveries keeps growing by the hour. And no one has extra hands to spare to deliver all this cargo to its final destinations.

Well, actually, one person does. Namely, you.

It started small. Mom catching you right as you tried to slip away this morning, asking to help with boarding real quick, and if you could take some packages along the way... It was easy to agree, at first — help a few elderly tourists steady themselves as they stepped from the ferry, answer questions from confused festival-goers trying to navigate between islands, toss a sack or two over your shoulder for the vendor working nearby. But an hour later, you were hauling half a crate uphill when one of the wheels broke loose, scattering fireworks across cobblestones in glittering disarray, leaving you running through town chasing them all down under curious gazes of the locals who saw the explosion...

And the moment the ferry docked, suddenly it was all hands on deck. One trip in, another out. Then, next thing you knew, you were the one handling tickets and guiding stragglers toward their destination, organizing groups, shouting helpful tips about what to avoid and what not to eat so you are not about to have people get sick on board and clean off their vomit, answering questions about local attractions and restaurant specialties, calling out to Dad who drove the ferry like it was child's play, warning the older folks and kids not to fall off because the last thing your family really needs is to be sued by someone stupid falling overboard...

And the entire time, you were in the dress you'd picked out specifically for the occasion. Thinking one more trip, and you could finally join your friends in the festivities...

A whole shift later, there are no celebrations awaiting you. No bonfire parties with the music so loud and joyous you could feel it thrumming through the ground, no crowded bars filled to bursting with cheerful singing and dancing, no raffle stalls offering chances to win souvenirs and free meals for years, no fireworks bursting across the night sky so brilliant they chased away the darkness.

Just you with your dress ruined and ripped because someone couldn't watch where they were going while drunk and collided straight into you and left you soaked in cheap beer, and the hem of it torn apart from you desperately trying to fix your mistake after misplacing the boxes of merch you were supposed to haul, again. Your friends probably already enjoying every aspect of the event, laughing their asses off in pure delight without caring for what you missed or had endured all day, knowing you were supposed to arrive with them to witness the greatest part of the summer celebration together.

With angry tears gathering at the inner corners of your eyes, you let the bags drop onto the dock with a harsh thump, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Maybe you're expecting an argument. Maybe you want to pick a fight because the frustration had been stewing ever since you woke up today and demanded release. Or maybe you hope your father would give you permission to go enjoy your own life, rather than force you to suffer his. But none of those comes to pass. Instead, he merely glances up with a tired look, holding your resentful stare before sighing heavily and scrubbing his face wearily with calloused, wrinkled hands.

“You said it would be quick,” you snap, voice shaking. “You said I could go like hours ago. The day is over!"

You choke back the wobble in your tone, biting harshly into your lower lip, hoping it'll prevent tears from leaking out even though it hardly hurts enough to distract you.

"Look, we're in the middle of peak season..."

"Which means peak profit for our business! Couldn't you have just hired someone extra to fill in?! Why did it have to be me?!"

"No other staff is available on such a short notice, especially during a big event." Dad shrugs weakly in apology, the gesture lacking any defensiveness or remorse. He looks drained, exhausted. And still, his priorities remain firmly fixed elsewhere. "Sorry, honey. Next week I'm hiring additional staff permanently, but for now — just one more hour, okay? You know we don't extend our services after the night falls and that's why—"

“No!” The frustration spills over before you can swallow it down. “It’s never ‘just a little longer.’ It’s always one more trip, one more errand, one more thing! I’m always the one stuck here!”

Dad frowns and straightens his spine slowly like a looming anime villain, wiping sweat from his brow. "Don't raise your tone on me like that, I'm not one of your little friends. This is nothing. When you become captain, you'll have to endure far more work."

"I did everything you ask and suddenly my tone is the issue?!" You gesture wildly at your ruined dress, at the damp stains and torn fabric clinging to your skin. “Look at me! I was supposed to be there with everyone else, and now I can’t even show up like this—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Dad's voice turns sharp, exasperated. “It’s just a dress.”

"And now everyone probably hates me because I've skipped yet another celebration and ghosted them!" you huff and puff like an enraged bull despite his interruption.

"What's going on?" Mom hurries over from the harbor shop, stepping between you and your father before tempers flare even further. She takes in the scene at a glance and sighs deeply — though whether out of disappointment or irritation, you can't tell — carefully setting aside several stacks of receipts. "Are you two seriously bickering about nonsense when you should both be working?"

“I’m not being dramatic! I’m sick of this!” You throw your hands into the cold, humid sea breeze as though casting your complaints upon the tides, unable to keep the tremble from your fingers or the tears from streaking down your face. Hot drops patter against the faded wood planks beneath your feet. "“I work just as hard as you do, I never say no, but the second I want something for myself—"

Mom immediately gets what's going on, and alerts you to lower your voice by pointedly widening her eyes and thinning her lips. The entire dock is witnessing the argument and turning their heads to listen in at this point, but you don't care. Everybody should hear about this injustice.

"Yes, honey, I know," Mom hisses, "And we appreciate how hard you're trying, believe me. But — just one more trip, alright? Your friends will wait a bit longer for you, won’t they? Don't forget this isn't just about you. The archipelago depends on us running our business steadily and reliably."

And there it is. That unspoken expectation, that quiet assumption that you’ll always choose responsibility over what you want. That you’ll always understand.

Your throat tightens, choking back the bitterness burning in the pit of your stomach, and for a long moment, neither you nor your mom break the silence, and her stare remains fixed somewhere above your shoulder. Only Dad says anything, grunting a vague affirmative that tells you nothing more than your mother did; work must come first, whatever personal sacrifice must be made for that to happen.

You step back. “Forget it.”

“Honey—”

“I said forget it!”

You're running hot and cold, the rush of blood in your ears don't let your parents' protests in as you rush into the only place where you can be alone right now, the ticket counter cabin with the "CLOSED" sign on it, slamming the door shut behind you loudly and letting the cool glass barrier isolate you from the rest of reality. It's just you inside. There's a desk, empty paperwork piled neatly at the corner, a cash register. An old computer screen covered by dust. Shelves crammed with stacked-up folders and manuals. A window overlooking the harbor. This is also the place to leave your belongings at before clocking into work, just beside the locker of where the attendant usually leaves theirs.

On a whim, you snatch up your jacket and backpack before fleeing out into the crowd again. It's so easy to lose your parents along the wharf because of the teeming masses.

Your phone is buzzing rapidly in your bag with Dad and Mom both probably threatening to drag you back by your ear, so you take it out and switch to airplane mode before tossing it back in with a grimace. You're not allowed to be out this late without supervision (much less sneaking away from work), but right now, there's not an adult in existence that could compel you to walk willingly back into this mess. Screw it. Being grounded for life isn't any worse than being imprisoned on this stupid island forever anyway, you think, huffing quietly in protest as you stomp down the street. Besides, if worst comes to worst, you can spend some time with Aunt Leen. At least she wouldn't judge.

The festival feels a million miles away. You can’t go there, not in this state, stains everywhere, smelling like fish and sweat and regret, dress ripped apart. So, instead, you end up wandering along the rocky beach near the outer edge of town, in parallel to the protected seal rookery islet offshore and well beyond the boundaries of the town proper. The bright, swirling glow of the firework display across the water glints in the dark, mingling with distant stars and overshadowing the full moon, reflecting off rippling waters like flickering embers dancing across a glossy obsidian surface. The waves roll gently across sand and stone in soothing rhythmic whispers whooshes that pull you onward through the night like invisible ribbons drawing you back into the present.

This was always your favorite place as a child — wild and beautiful. An unclaimed stretch of wilderness stretching beyond the public access point, filled with coves and tide pools that felt like hidden kingdoms tucked away from the rest of the world. Here, among the jagged rocks, washed smooth by centuries of ebbing currents, you sit on one flat boulder, bare feet lapped at by the high tide and shoes by your side, frustrated tears dropping into the sea, staring absently off towards the seal islet floating peacefully in the distance.

You remember trying to swim out there years ago, despite having been strictly forbidden from venturing close to not disturb them. What would it be like, to be out in the open sea instead of tied to this isolated little community? To see something other than the same faces, places, and names repeated ad nauseam for all eternity, as though nothing changed no matter how many seasons passed? What would it take to break free?

"Ugh!" The sound bursts free before you can clamp your jaw shut, a ragged groan against clenched teeth as your palms scrub fiercely across your damp, salty cheeks.

Before you can start ranting into the night like a madman, your turmoil is shattered by a sudden, piercing cry like metal scraping stone ripping through your tangled thoughts. Your head jerks upward, pulse quickening into a painful drum-beat. Something is terribly off. Someone's hurt, panicking—or worse—maybe drowning?

But where?

You blink frantically, scanning the surrounding coastline, but the thick curtain of night refuses to offer clues. So you rely on your ears and follow the keening through the beach, stumbling hastily across damp sand, uneven rocks and slippery seaweed patches alike, nearly slipping on slimy barnacles embedded in the crevices between each massive stone and fighting hard to balance every step, all the while ignoring the scrapes accumulating on your soles from sharp pebbles digging into tender flesh and flaring in protest at every bit of impact.

Then, unmistakably—

A high-pitched, squealing shriek erupts out of the ocean — like the frantic deflating of a balloon twisting violently apart in midair.

Your stomach drops. The sound is frantic, terrified. Unmistakably animal.

And it's coming directly from the water.

At last, you spot the source of the commotion — about fifty feet offshore, just beyond a tangle of blackened driftwood clogging the shallows: Moonlight catches on slick, gray fur, the seal’s body bobbing helplessly, its hysteric movements hampered by the thick snare of a fishing net and heavy with debris, the tangled mess constricts tight, dragging it downward each time it fights to resurface.

Seals can drown. You know that much. You’ve heard Elias muttering to Dad, thick with disgust, after cutting loose yet another pup ensnared by abandoned traps — relics of poachers who refuse to acknowledge sealing was banned around here nearly thirty years ago.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Your mind stutters, paralyzed for a breathless instant. What do I do? What do I do?

There’s no time to think.

You’re moving before reason catches up, scrambling over slick, uneven rocks as brine stings the scrapes blooming across your bare feet. Your pulse slams against your ribs. In one frantic motion, you strip off your windbreaker, fling your bag aside, and plunge into the waves without hesitation. Salt explodes in a cool rush over your skin as you kick off from the seafloor, paddling hard, muscles burning with every stroke.

Next thing you know, your arms are locked tight around the drowning seal, grappling to haul it toward shore as it thrashes wildly, overwrought beyond reason and twisting all it can to land a blow with brutal strength you wouldn't expect from a round and inflexible body like that. Flippers beat against your chest, claws scrape at your arms, and its ragged cries tear through the night like something feral and furious. It doesn’t understand you’re trying to help — it only knows fear.

Somehow, impossibly, you make it.

Every muscle in your body screams in protest as you drag the tangled pup onto the shore, collapsing beside it in a gasping sprawl, limbs weak and trembling. Your lungs gulp down air that tastes like victory, the sweetest breath you've ever taken.

And then—

The seal’s shrieks reach a fevered pitch. It flails vigorously, flinging itself against the unyielding net, snapping, fighting, tearing at the fibers with blind desperation.

That’s when you see it.

The moon-desaturated dark liquid pooling beneath its body, sinking into the wet sand in sluggish tendrils.

Blood.

"No! Stop that, stop!"

You scramble upright, stomach at your throat, hands grabbing frantically at the writhing seal to keep it from thrashing itself into worse injury.

"Hey, hey — settle down! Stop moving — please! You're making it worse!"

It doesn’t listen. It fights harder.

Panic and instinct are what fuels its every move, and the more you hold on, the more fiercely it resists, wails cutting straight to the center of your chest, high and desperate, feeding your own fear in a vicious cycle. Its pulse is hammering beneath your hands, a wild, terrified beating of a bird's wings matching your own as its breaths come fast, erratic, interrupted by harsh snorts and shuddering yelps. The pup is almost one singular muscle beneath your grip, trembling and taut with the primal need to flee.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," you chant, the words spilling out in a frantic loop, cracking under the weight of utter desperation of not knowing what to do even as you're repeating you're there to helo. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just let me help — please — fuck, what do I do — ow!"

Pain explodes up your right forearm before the scream even leaves your throat.

Teeth. Deep. Sinking into muscle like fire.

Your body jolts with the instinct to yank away, but you don’t. You can’t. One wrong move and you’ll scare it even more, maybe make it clamp down harder. Tears blur your vision, breath coming in ragged gasps as you bite your own molars together, forcing yourself to go still.

And then — so does the seal.

The aggressive lashing out ceases, replaced by eerie, frozen silence. Its nostrils flare against your skin, warm breath feathering across the bite, making the hairs on your arm stand on end. Your pulse pounds between your teeth, the sting of the wound dulling under the weight of something more pressing — its eyes.

Two inky pools, round and bottomless, reflecting your fractured likeness like tiny mirrors.

"Please," you whisper, shaky, but soft. "I just want to help. You're safe. I won’t hurt you."

The grip on your arm doesn't tighten. Doesn't loosen. The only thing left between you is the weight of your words and the fragile, fragile stillness.

"Let me go," you murmur, swallowing hard. "And we’ll fix this. Okay?"

There's a pause, a single, terrifying moment suspended in time. Then, the seal's jaws relax, and he releases his painful grip on your throbbing arm, and as quickly as the assault began, it ends. Blood rushes forth in a thin rivulet down your wrist and between your fingers. It doesn't really hurt, not compared to the dull ache in the rest of your exhausted body, and the relief that washes over you is so profound that you're momentarily dizzy from it. And yet... The fact that the seal has calmed down means everything.

"It's okay, it’s okay, don't worry about it," you say hurriedly, intended for yourself more than anything so you wouldn't freak out about it. "You were scared, that's all. It's not your fault."

But the pup isn’t looking at the net.

Its gaze is locked onto your arm, the blood pooling at the wound, round, ink-dark eyes impossibly wider, focused in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You stare at him, and for a fleeting, impossible second, it feels like he understands. Like he knows what he did. Awe prickles through you, pushing aside the pain, the exhaustion, everything.

Seals are intelligent — you’ve always known that — but this is so magical to experience how emotionally aware they are.

"Hey. Hey, I’m fine, buddy," you insist. "Look at me, look. I'm good, it’s just a scratch. Let's focus on getting that net off, yeah? Can't have you swimming away in that state. You’ll drown."

As you lean in to inspect, the pup shies away initially, clearly wary and distrustful, but eventually allows you to examine the tangled mess of knots and lines ensnaring his sleek, streamlined figure. The heavy, dense debris he's wrapped in like a blanket is making it impossible to unravel anything, and the more you try to remove it, the tighter the bindings grow. Your injured arm is growing numb, which is probably not a good sign, but there's no time to dwell on that now.

Frustrated and increasingly anxious, you search frantically for something in your backpack to use as scissors or a knife, but the jerky movements make the pup tense up, its tail slapping nervously in the sand, and you have to take several calming breaths to prevent scaring him further.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you. I'll be gentler," you promise in a rush. "Just bear with me, okay?"

All you can find is your nail clippers, but they'll have to suffice. With painstaking care, you snip away at the individual strands binding the pup's limbs together, pausing every few moments to reassure him that everything is alright, that it will survive and go back to the rookery islet. Its fur is wet and matted with blood beneath the ropes, and the sight sends a fresh surge of anger through your veins at the thought of whoever abandoned such a careless trap in the ocean.

"Almost got it, buddy, almost, you're doing great," you sniffle, working steadily to free its front flippers. They're the most delicate and prone to injuries, according to Elias. "One last cut and..."

With a soft pop, the final strand gives way and the net falls loose, the release of pressure causing the seal to scramble sideways and flop awkwardly onto his belly in a clumsy roll. It lies there motionless for a brief second before letting out a piercing, mournful wail that stabs at the pit of your stomach.

You drop your tool and fall to your knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly over its body. You don't dare touch, afraid of hurting it further. In a burst of energy, the pup pushes itself upright, body wiggling and coiling to propel it forward in a frantic dash towards the safety of the sea. You watch helplessly, unable to move or think or react in any way, until it pauses halfway to the shoreline and glances back at you, a low whine emanating from his throat.

"Go on, get out of here," you urge him, waving it onward. "Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? You've had enough close calls today." A pang of dread hits you, realizing how much danger the pup was already in and how lucky it had been that you happened to be nearby to save it from a terrible fate. But now, all you can do is let it return to its natural environment. "Be free, cutie," you say quietly. "Live well and happy. You deserve better than this."

The pup hesitates, still watching you with those soulful, inscrutable black eyes. Then, in an act that leaves you speechless, it turns and galumphs back to your side, lowering its head and nudging its muzzle against the bleeding gash on your forearm. When it pulls away, his whiskers are slick with red, and a strange sense of gratitude overwhelms you.

"Oh, you angel," you manage, a lump forming in your throat. The urge to viciously pet his head is strong, but this isn’t a cat or a dog. Your arm really might get bitten off from the elbow socket. "Now scram. I'm sure your mama is worried about you."

This time, the seal does as instructed. It slides gracefully down the sandy slope and slips into the waves, vanishing from view in an instant. Only a small trail of blood remains, mingling with the foam and seawater that wash over the shore, evidence of the ordeal endured by this remarkable creature wiped away in an instant by the protective hands of the sea.

The shock of it all, of the stress and adrenaline, finally catches up to you and you collapse backwards in the sand, the pain in your arm flaring once again and only now feeling the cuts on the bottom of your feet.

Shaken to your bones in a way you can’t quite name, your fingers fumble to switch off airplane mode before you even realize what you’re doing. The moment the call connects, you’re babbling into the phone, voice thick with tears, words tangled and frantic. Mom struggles to make sense of you, but it doesn’t take long for her to find you — half an hour later, sprawled on the ground, your windbreaker haphazardly draped over your shoulders, backpack wedged beneath your head. The gash on your arm is wrapped in a makeshift tourniquet, one of your old bandanas knotted tightly around the wound.

If Dad’s ferry hadn’t been stuck in the harbor, he would’ve been here too. No doubt about it.

You get an earful the moment she kneels beside you. Irresponsible. Reckless. Running off without telling anyone. Dad would’ve had a heart attack if things had gone any worse. Yes, yes, yes. You let her words wash over you, nodding at the right moments, too drained to do anything else. Her hugs and kisses make up plenty for it. 

Neither of you bring up the fight. Neither of you need to. Some things are easier left unspoken.

She doesn’t mention the festival, either. But you both know what kind of rumors will be swirling by morning.

For now, you're taken to the local clinic and given a rabies and a tetanus shot, and a lecture from the nurse who treated you, warning you to never approach a wild animal again because the next time, you might not be as lucky.

[bxllxebxtch]

wife~

No warnings, it's a fluff. Valentines day special!

"Babyyyy" Billie called out as cooks in the kitchen. "Yes, love?" you respond as you walk towards the kitchen. As you reach in the kitchen you lean on the wall admiring how pretty Billie looked, her skin soft and kissable. "Can you hand me a cloth Ma'?" Billie askes softly, her voice low and gentle. A soft hum of breeze flew through the window, our curtains opening slightly. "mhm" you answer softly, as you rummage through the drawer looking for a cloth. You pick out a white cloth and hand it to her "thank you Ma' " she says softly, a smile spread across her face. As she wipes the kitchen counter you gently hold her waist from behind, your finger tips against her soft skin making her giggle softly.

"You're so cute when you giggle.." you murmur as you nuzzle your face into her neck, taking in her vanilla sent. She leans into your gentle touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips "I need to clean Ma' " her voice is low and gentle. You whin like an spoiled, cuddly puppy "pleaseee" you beg. She giggles softly, then she spins around cupping your cheeks "you're lucky so cute" she says making you smile and blush. "i have a question" you ask gently "will you be my girl?" you say innocently. She nods smiling gingerly "Well get ready, i have a small valentines surprise for you..." your voice is low almost like a whisper "ok" she responds. almost immediately going to change.

15 minutes later

She comes sown the steps with a big baggy top and a cargo pants, her hair flowing like a waterfall on her back. "damn" you mumble under your breath. "come here love.." you say, your voice sweet like a bee's honey. She walks towards you and as she does you hold her by her waist and pull her into a sweet kiss. Her lips are pink and soft, the kiss is gentle and passionate. You slowly break the kiss "i love you so much" you murmur making her smile. "i love you too baby" she responds. You both leave the house and enter the car and begin to drive.

10 minutes later

You both arrive at the park, the tall tress swaying and dancing in the breeze. Your gaze is loving and kind "stop looking at me like thatt" she teases as blush creeps up her neck. You giggle at how cute your girlfriend was being, you hold her hand tangling your fingers with hers. Damn her hands were so soft. She sits on the blanket that was already spread perfectly on the grass. You watch how beautiful your girlfriend was, how perfect and kind, how cute and gentle, how perfect she was. You sit next to her a tender smile spread across your face. As you sit she lays her head on your lap, letting you play with her long hair "baby, i also have a small surprise for you..." she says, her voice dove like. Your gaze is loving and sweet-tempered on her as she gets up "can you stand for me mamas" her voice is low but tranquil. You stand up in front of her, confused "yes, love?"

She looks...nervous and kind of...scared "what's wrong?" you ask concerned. "ok so um...i-i've been thing about this f-for a while" she stutters on her words a bit "take your time love.." you say a angel like smile painted on your face. Finally she spoke as she knelt and got on one knee, pull out a small red box. "wait..no..b-bils" tears fills your eyes as she slowly opens the box revealing a gold diamond ring.

"will you marry me?"

The words spill out her mouth, leaving you in happy tears "i-i-i" you stutter as you could feel your heart racing. "Yes, yes, yes!" say say happily, as she gets up you jump into her arms She spins you around her own tears filling her ocean blue eyes. "I love you so much..." you say, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more, you're finally my wife..." she smile as those words escape her soft, pink lips. Your hands gently cups Billie's cheeks as you kiss her lovingly, filled with joyousness and happiness.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik being strong enough to pick Price up when he's in a bad mood and just put him on the bench of his workshop.

Price is in air jail and now at the perfect height for when Nik tugs the zipper of his flight suit down to reveal that fluffy chest, those burly arms, that glorious belly and happy trail that leads to the weapon between his legs.

Honestly I don't think John could work those cargo pants off fast enough, maybe Nik forgoes that entirely and cuts a neat hole right in the crotch and rips to get at his prize.

Price is walking (Maybe a little bow-legged) out of there a hell of a lot happier than when he walked in.

The lads chip in for a nice takeaway for Nik for helping them out (Dealing with Price's shitty mood)

Nik uses his dick as a captain tamer.

cw: anal sex, mild brat taming, a little rough.

John’s temper was nothing new. Nik had experienced it in its various permutations through the years. It was like a hurricane; loud, destructive, and indiscriminate in the damage it caused, taking out friends and foes alike. But it eventually ran out of wind; surviving it was simply a case of moving out of its way until the inevitable conclusion. And, just like a storm, it wasn’t personal, but a natural byproduct of all the pressures and stresses weighing on John’s shoulders. He was only human.

Sometimes, however, the bad mood would fail to wear itself out and John would become more cantankerous as time wore on and his frustration built. If he was particularly tired, stressed, his body wound tight, feeding his brain a continuous flow of cortisol and catecholamines, then his grizzly mood was liable to last for days. A dark cloud hanging over the base and Task Force, suffocating.

It was day three this time and Nik’s patience had worn out. It was time to give the feral bastard what he needed. The lieutenant called it ‘a good seeing to’ and the sergeants, while not quite brave enough to say it to John’s face, said he was always a bit more human after he’d been stuffed with cock. Nik had worked out it was the act of having control stripped out of his hands, his mind emptied of all but pleasure, and his body flooded with endorphins from an orgasm. It stopped the spiral in its tracks. Even if it was only a reprieve to simply clear his head, it was often enough to give him the breathing room he needed to resolve the problem. He would deny it, of course, but John surrendered every time.

Nik finished the maintenance he’d been performing on the Black Hawk’s main rotary engine and washed his hands clean in the workshop sink, careful to remove the grease and grime from his cuticles. It was late. Most of the base had either retired to the barracks, gone home to their local residences, or headed out to the pub, but John was still here, huffing and growling over the laptop on the nearby workbench. “I can’t fuckin’ believe they’re takin’ Simon for another trainin’ seminar, puts him out for three fuckin’ days—“

Nik had invited him in to discuss some intel, citing his need to continue maintenance to stay on schedule as the reason for the location and, ever diligent, John had arrived on time with his laptop in tow, unknowingly sliding right into Nik's trap. Nik turned off the taps and returned briefly to his heli to dip into his duffle bag for the lube before he approached John at the bench. He slid his hands around John’s waist just as he closed his mouth beneath the hinge of his jaw, sucking a mark into soft skin.

“Ah, fuck, Nik—“ John went rigid in Nik’s hands, almost knocking the laptop off the workbench as he span to face him. “You randy bloody bastard, ‘ve got work t’ finish."

Those fierce blue eyes, the stern set of John's face, they would have struck quivering fear into the heart of many a man. But all Nik saw was the stress, the tension, the bone deep exhaustion, all locked up tight behind a safety valve that needed a practiced hand to release it. “Nyet, you are done for the evening.”

“Oh fuckin’ reall—“

He didn’t finish. Nik leaned forward and swept the laptop to the side, before grabbing John’s narrow hips and lifting him effortlessly onto the bench. He shoved his way between John’s knees, not letting him clam up, the expanse of one big hand staying at the base of John’s back to keep him from wriggling away.

John wrestled with him, fists bunching in his flight suit and shoving against his chest, their first kiss more teeth than tongue or lips. But as the heat of Nik's body enveloped him, their crotches pulled flush, chests together, John stopped thrashing in Nik's arms. Nik took it as the first defeat, drawing back to nuzzle John's beard.

"Lemme up, ya muppet."

"Nyet " Nik straightened a little, creating a gap between them even if he remained between John's legs.

"Nik," John growled his warning, but it was a hollow threat.

“You will do as you are told, captain. Good boys get rewards.”

Nik knew the low rumble of his voice, the manhandling, it stirred something primal and receptive in the back of John’s mind. He watched those bright baby blues widen before they dropped to Nik’s hand, following it like a hawk tracking a mouse as Nik grasped the zipper of his flight suit and tugged it down, deliberate in the glacial pace of its progress.

John’s mouth dropped open as curls of black chest hair emerged between parting metal teeth, Nik’s dusky nipples peaking in the cool air, and John’s greedy hands slid across the heat of newly revealed skin, following the firm contours of his tits. Nik leaned forward to kiss John’s neck again, encouraging his touch, and this time his captain relaxed, his legs spreading a little further apart as his hips tilted. He was begging to be fucked. Nik would take John here as planned, and then he would take him to his bed to exhaust him into complete surrender.

Nik tugged his flight suit open to its fullest extent, his cock arching up in readiness where he hadn't bothered with underwear knowing his intentions with John that evening. He popped a few of John's shirt buttons to kiss the furry perk of his pecs, smiling against John's skin as he squirmed, opening his belt and fly with practiced ease. "Oh, fuck, Nik, no, not here..."

"Da, here," Nik replied, listening to John's tone, his body, rather than his words; the way he gasped so desperately and arched into Nik's heat screamed please, please, please. He didn't resist when Nik slid his arms beneath his thighs and grasped his waistband, lifting his arse for a moment to yank his Carhartts and boxers down his thighs.

John hissed as his flushed skin settled back on the cold surface of the workbench, eager for the return of Nik's palms around the upper curve of his cheeks and the dip of his tailbone. John had an exquisite arse; firm, muscular and round. Perfect for bouncing on a cock. Nik kneaded the top of it as he nipped along the edge of John's jaw to his ear lobe, relishing the powerful body writhing enthusiastically in his arms. Who was Nik trying to kid? John was perfect in every way, even with his penchant for sulking.

Nik earned his first needy moan when he let the tip of his cock kiss the tight furl of John's hole, the slightest pressure rubbing his wet slit against the fluttering muscle in an insistent tease. He nuzzled John's beard as he fished the lube out of his pocket and flicked the lid off with his thumb. John's hands pushed beneath the fabric of his flight suit to grip his shoulders, one looping behind Nik's neck to play in the curls at the nape of his neck. John flinched when Nik squeezed the lube onto his balls, the tube clattering on the workbench when it was cast aside. "Bastard..."

Nik smirked, smoothing warm fingers gently down the seam of John's sac to his taint, circling, teasing his rim with little tugs at the opening. When the first finger dipped inside, Nik swallowed John's groan with a kiss, tongue licking into his mouth when it fell open in a shock of pleasure. John didn't need much coaxing, his body opening eagerly around one and then two probing fingers. Nik crooked them up, John's cock flicking as Nik's fingertips rubbed over his prostate. John panted, his head falling back, the filthy noise of Nik's fingers squelching into his hole accented by his soft whimpers. Blunt fingernails dug into Nik's skin as John clung to him, his leaking cock fully hard against the unblemished milky softness of his inner thigh.

"Ah, ah, Nik... Mm, fuck... Ah..."

"Da, solnyshko. Just a little more and I will give you what you need."

Nik could make John come like this, but his balls ached and there was only one place he wanted to empty them; to watch John unspool on his cock was a privilege he deserved. He pulled his fingers out slowly, his thumb tugging down at John's slick, puffy hole as he smeared lube and precum over his crown and down his shaft, tongue between his teeth as he groaned at the sweet anticipation of what awaited. He was so hard, cock throbbing in his grip, balls already tight, and he took a moment to steady himself before sliding his arms beneath John's thighs again, John's booted feet dangling either side of his back, his trousers bunch just shy of his knees.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of John's hips to keep him still as he ground the tip of his cock over the slick skin of John's taint, lower lip between his teeth as John shivered in his grasp, hips tilting again, urging, begging with his body. Nik's tip notched against his hole and Nik held him firm as he thrust inside, John's body gaping wide around the flare of his crown and thick shaft. John quaked in his arms, thighs trembling, his soft, tortured noises nursing a primal delight deep inside Nik's chest.

Nik kept going, sinking into John's body, inch by aching inch, even as it bore down around him in desperation.

"Fuck, Nik, Nik!"

"Da, my love. Surrender to me as you yearn to..."

It wasn't simply the act of sex. Penetration itself was not surrender and John had ridden Nik's cock from above many times, in complete control as Nik ceded, leaning back into the pillows with his eyes closed. But this act, of letting the tension and frustration melt from his body, of giving in to the pleasure of sex with a man who knew how to pluck every string, of finally letting his mind empty and his muscles relax. That was surrender.

Nik pressed deeper, achingly slow, clutching heat struggling with the girth and length. Every time John's channel fluttered, pulsing between relaxing and gripping, Nik seized more ground. John's eyes rolled back as Nik nestled in his guts and finally bottomed out with a satisfied groan, John's stretched hole pressed against the dark curls of his pubic hair. Nik kissed trembling, spit slick lips, rocking gently, staying deep as he hollowed out his place in John's body. "Mm, detka. You are so tight. Relax, breathe..."

"Nik, ah, fuck, Nik. I'so much, hng."

"Ssh, I know, but you are... mm, taking me so well. All you have to do is let go."

Nik didn't give him any choice. He drew out until John's body sucked on his tip, clenching around it in greedy throbs, before he thrust his full length back in. John bit out a soft, startled cry, back arching as his nails bit into Nik's shoulders. Nik leaned into his lover's neck, the downy curls of his chest hair pressing to the warm swells of his firm chest as he clutched his hips tight to pull them into his cock. The next thrust was just as firm, just as demanding, shaking the table on which John sat.

Nik picked up a bruising pace, forcing John's body into submission with each deep thrust, wet skin slapping wetly as the table rattled under the force of Nik's hips pounding against John's arse. John clung to him, unable to find purchase anywhere but Nik's shoulders as he was fucked hard, Nik's palms providing a softer cushion for him to be pressed into, keeping him from being shoved away so that he was made to take every thrust to the hilt at an angle that sent relentless curls of pleasure arcing up the length of his body.

John shook apart so beautifully, his first orgasm was dry, triggered purely by the insistent, relentless drag of Nik's cock over his prostate. Nik felt the first tremors of it and leaned in to coach him through with whispered encouragement, "da, John, such a good boy, let it happen..."

John's body milked him in tight pulses and Nik watched in awe as John's pleasure unspooled through him, his limbs shaking, broad chest heaving in rattling breaths through loud, high-pitched whines, completely overwhelmed at the full body experience of coming on Nik's cock. It was like a molten heat that burned away the last of the tension and left him pliant and open in Nik's arms.

John's hole relaxed, sloppy with lube and wells of precum, the perfect sheath for Nik's cock, still sucking hungrily on Nik's length every time he withdrew before slamming back inside. Nik chased his high, growling into John's neck, nipping at his hammering pulse to taste the sweat on his skin. His climax crept up his spine, a vine of tension pulling him tight, and he nipped John's ear. "Touch yourself, detka."

John grabbed his cock obediently, pumping down its slick length in furious jerks that matched Nik's pace, his moans reaching a crescendo as he was trapped between two pleasure centres. Nik felt John tighten again, another orgasm, and it teased him over into his own. His hips jerked, stuttering against John's arse, as his cock pulsed its first load deep in John's body. John followed him over the brink, the flood of heat inside him making his eyes roll back as his cock painted his hand and shirt in thick ropes of cum as he was filled with it.

Nik's vision greyed, the force of his own pleasure leaving him breathless as his cock twitched in John's channel. He hadn't realised how pent up he'd been, his balls offering a seemingly endless breeding. He panted hot breaths against John's skin, the tip of his nose resting in the bristles of his beard, lips placing soft, fleeting kisses as his body finally finished. When he finally gathered enough coordination to draw out, the filthy noise of his cock withdrawing made him growl with pleasure, his seed welling at John's hole to drip down the curve of his arse to the floor.

When he lowered John's feet, his legs shook, and he lifted him off the table by the hips. "Go to your room. When I get there, I expect to find you naked in bed," Nik said.

John might have argued if he hadn't been completely spaced, his eyes soft in post-orgasmic bliss. Nik helped him right his belt and trousers and then watched him hobble out of the workshop. Once his captain had disappeared from sight, Nik turned his attention to tidying his tools, a little jelly-legged as he strolled about his workshop.

Nik would find John showered and snoozing, naked and warm beneath his blankets, about an hour later. He washed himself, removing the grime and sweat of the workshop, and slipped in beside him to rub his back and shoulders. John roused slowly, content to let Nik ease his aches, legs spreading when those strong fingers slid between them for a second round, his hole buttery soft, eager for Nik's touch. He was impossible to resist.

[legsopen-22]

🝮𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮🝮

Pairing:!fem reader x ellie williams

Word Count: 1.8k

CW: Straight smut. Intense Language

Comments: This is sort of a slow burn not really.

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Your girlfriend Ellie surprised you with a weekend trip to atl. You and she plan to visit the aquarium, walk through the city, and go to some restaurants. The day of the Aquarium was Saturday. You and Ellie had settled into the hotel and were getting ready to go to the aquarium. Ellie was wearing some cargo pants and a graphic tee shirt that you had bought her a few weeks prior. She notices that you are wearing a short skirt that shows off your legs and your new jellyfish tattoo. Also to include a tight crop top showing off your boobs and your butterfly tattoo flowing up your stomach. Ellie looks at you in admiration while you put on your makeup and spray your perfume. She smiles at you, and then looks away when you realize she's staring. You then pick up your purse and tell El’s you are ready to go. Before both of you can walk out the door, Ellie points out how beautiful you are and pulls you in for a kiss. After the kiss, both of you have a look in your eyes indicating that you want more, but instead, you just let the tension rise.

At this point, you are in the car on the way to the aquarium when your girlfriend puts her hand on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your inner thigh. You feel butterflies in your stomach as her finger caresses your thigh softly. You feel a warm sensation down on your pussy, but you are trying to play it off as if everything in your body isn't telling you to tell her to pull over in a secluded parking lot so you can get on top of her on the driver's side and makeout. In a blur, you both make it to the aquarium, and Ellie kisses you on the cheek before you get out of the car.

As you both walk through the aquarium, Ellie smiles at you as you get so excited looking at all the sea life around you. You notice a huge tank with a view of a huge whale shark. You walk towards it as you turn around to see Ellie blushing looking at your ass, then come up behind you and Whispers in your ear, “Baby, you know what that skirt does to me, I need you right now.” You then look at her and smile for a few seconds and whisper back with “I’ve needed you ever since I caught you staring.” There for a few hours, y'all have taken so many pictures and videos, it was time to get food and head back to the hotel room.

When you get back to the hotel room, Ellie is taking off her clothes to get into comfy clothes, and you do the same thing. You are both lying down, cuddling, watching one of your favorite movies, Final Destination 3. Ellie kisses your forehead and tells you that she loves you. You say it back as you look at her with ‘need you’ eyes. You go in for a kiss, and at first it is soft and sweet. Ellie pulls away to look at you intensely. She then pulls you in for a more passionate kiss, as you both slowly maneuver around until you are on top of her. Tongues are intertwined when she finally pulls away and says in a needy tone, “Take your clothes off, baby”. She helps you take your shirt, bra and skirt off as she is taking off her clothes. You can tell that she is admiring every part of your body. Ellie starts kissing you again, and this time she's on top of you.

Your heart is racing because you know what is about to happen. She begins playing with your nipple, and you start breathing a little fast while letting out soft moans as you can not contain them because of your excitement for what's going to happen next. Ellie begins kissing at your neck while still playing with one of your nipples, then trailing down to your other nipple with her tongue. You watch as her eyes look into yours while her tongue circles around your nipple. Her tongue begins to move faster, and you start moaning a little more consistently as she bites, pulls, and licks your nipple at the same time.

Ellie is moving back and forth between each nipple. You then say, “Baby, please, I want-”. Ellie interrupts, “Be quiet, I’ll give you everything you want on my timing, got it?” as she trails her fingers down circling your clit. Barely being able to speak, she demands an answer from you. So you say “ Y-Yes ma’am”. She then says “Thank you pretty girl” as 2 of her fingers slide into your pussy and you gasp, as you were not expecting it. She looks at you with a smirk on her face as her fingers slide in and out, faster and faster. With your eyes rolling back, Ellie grabs your neck and says, “Look at me while I'm doing this to you”. You listen and look her in the eyes as best as you can. Ellie then says, “Good job pretty girl, your pussy feels so amazing on my fingers, you get so wet for me.” At this point, you are ready to be fucked. You want to watch her thrust every bit of energy she has into you. She finally takes her fingers out and notices all of the cream on her fingers, and says “Fuck baby, you did amazing” as she licks up every drip on her fingers.

In the blink of an eye, you see her standing up, putting the strap on, and applying lube when she says, “Alright, mama, lie down on your back and relax for me.” She’s on top of you staring directly into your eyes when you feel the tip start to go in your pussy. She starts with slow deep strokes, looking at you telling you how pretty you are when shes fucking you. You then say “Fuck F-f-faster baby, this feels s-so so good”. Ellie smiles like that was exactly what she wanted to hear, and speeds up as she puts her hand around your neck. She is looking down at your pussy when she says, “Holy fuck baby, shes so pretty when theres cream all over her.” This statement gives you butterflies that you have never felt before. Trying to come up with words, struggling to get anything out you say, “Only you can make her do that, baby.” As Ellie is still sliding in and out giving her all to you, she says “Right, because she belongs to me” to then pull out, grabbing your hips, and flipping you over on your stomach.

Grabbing your hand, she says, “Be a good girl and arch your back for me, baby”. You comply as she puts the dick in, and you gasp. You continue to moan with one hand gripping Ellies, the other gripping the sheets, and your head on the pillow, trying to refrain from getting noise complaints. She starts going faster saying, “You take it so well mama” as she slaps your ass. As she slides in and out faster and faster, you feel yourself about to squirt, and you tell her. She pulls out, and sure enough, clear liquid comes out of your pussy getting all over the towels that she thankfully put down before. Ellie says “That's my good girl” then puts the dick back into you. You can feel her body leaning into you as her hand trails to your clit while she is thrusting in and out. She kisses you up and down your spine, then gets to your ear and asks, “How are you feeling, baby?”. You feel like you are about to orgasm, and you want to give it to her so bad. You then say, “I f-feel like”-- “You feel like what, mama, use your words.” Ellie interrupts. “Like I’m about to c- cum”. She begins to thrust harder and spanks your ass again until you finally feel yourself orgasm. Her thrusts get much slower and pulls out, and she says, “Good job, baby, you and her did so amazing”. You are stuck on how she said “her” referring to your pussy.

Ellie quickly gets up and grabs a towel to clean you off gently, turns on the shower, and helps you up. You have to stand there for a second as your legs are shaking. She pulls you in for a hug and whispers how much she loves you. You smile and say it back as she pulls away from the hug, grabs your hand, and takes you to the bathroom so you can pee. Ellie then hops in the shower, reaching for your hand to get in with her. She helps you wash your body and kisses you on your shoulders and neck.

You begin to feel the need to please her. She gave you everything you wanted, and you felt that it was important to return the favor. You position her so that she is facing the water. You get in front of her, not saying a word, you bend down on your knees, and tell Ellie to spread her legs. She listens while grinning, knowing what she's going to get from you. You gently put your tongue on her clit as she's looking at you in the eyes, and you stare directly back. She then tilts her head back biting her lips saying “Fuck baby, your tongue feels so amazing on my pussy.” You look up to see the water flowing perfectly down her body. She starts to flinch and moan a little bit louder, as you can tell, she is getting closer. You are holding her ass so she doesn't pull away, and flicking your tongue faster. She grabs your head and pulls you in harder, almost suffocating you, but you like this. You feel submissive to her, and it turns you on a lot. She says “Baby oh my god, im-im c-c cumming”. You smile a little bit as she's having an orgasm. You then start kissing up her body from her stomach, all the way up to her neck, where you leave a few hickeys.

She then grabs your neck, and it catches you off guard. She pushes you against the shower wall to kiss you with her tongue in your mouth. You start to suck on her tongue and she groans. The kiss then turns soft and sweet. Ellie wraps her arms around you, rubbing up and down your back. She then turns off the water, as it is getting a bit hot. She grabs your towel sitting on the counter, and you both get out of the bathroom to put on your sleeping clothes.

Both of you get into the bed, turning all the lights off with Twilight playing in the background. You lay your head on Ellies chest as her arm rubs up and down your side. You begin to doze off when you hear her say, “I love you more than anything. You are so beautiful, and there is not nor will there ever be anyone else like you. Goodnight, baby.”