#do they even have a ship name? I think we just agreed that they are married and left it like that right

[oscconfessions]

I don’t like any inanimate insanity ships ☠️. My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my brother-in-law Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hank came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. He asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using his connections in the drug world. Connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was... astounded, I... I always thought that Hank was a very moral man and I was... thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret. I quickly realized that I was in way over my head, and Hank had a partner, a man named Gustavo Fring, a businessman. Hank essentially sold me into servitude to this man, and when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling out. From what I can gather, Hank was always pushing for a greater share of the business, to which Fring flatly refused to give him, and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange, uh I guess I guess you call it a "hit" on my brother-in-law, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured, and I wound up paying his medical bills which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge, working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring, and did so. In fact, the bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen in the ranks to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA, and about that time, to keep me in line, he took my children from me. For 3 months he kept them. My wife, who up until that point, had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done, why Hank had taken our children. We were scared. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, to end this nightmare, and in response, he gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. I... All I could think to do was to make this video in hope that the world will finally see this man, for what he really is.

.

[sleepymccoy]

(Spock Prime is pov, McCoy Prime is referred to as Leonard, the aos trio are here too) (here's the full fic, this is the last chapter (spoilers!) and I'm posting it as a teaser cos I'm now releasing a sequel from the aos pov) (the tos one is really good tho you should read it) (if you like spones) (even if you don't actually)

“What’s the plan, Ambassador?” Kirk asked. 

“Yes, Ambassador?” Leonard asked. His had traveled down slightly, resting just above Spock’s arse. Spock blinked once, steadying himself, and found the few remaining threads of his restraint. 

“I might,” Spock said, hesitantly, “perhaps, retire my commission. Captain, would you facilitate a conver- ”

“What?” the other Spock asked. 

“Yeah, what?” Leonard repeated. He tapped Spock’s arse gently. “They told me about Vulcan, Spock, you’re working there. Good work.” Leonard’s frown was genuine, no glint of secret pleasure in it. He grimaced at Spock and addressed Kirk. “Ah, he’s just confused, ignore that.”

“Ambassador?” Kirk asked. 

“Take some time off,” Leonard cried out. He let go of Spock. “Shit, call in sick. I’ve been thinking about this longer than you.” He bent and fished his walking stick up off the floor. Spock went to pick it up first, but by the time he realised that Leonard was on the way down he’d already nimbly stood back up. “On that note, Doctor Me,” Leonard continued, waving the stick in the air as he stepped towards the trio, “how do you feel about having an older you running around? Well, caning around.”

Doctor McCoy laughed breathily, then frowned more seriously. “I’m not threatened by you, Doctor.” He nodded to the side, as if agreeing with Leonard, although Leonard had said nothing. “It is a bit strange.”

Leonard hummed doubtfully. McCoy broke the eye contact first, grimacing at Kirk. 

Leonard spun on his heel, using the walking stick to balance himself. When Spock had left the stick was new, now it acted as an extension of him. He had known Leonard would continue living, and had felt the grief of not knowing him. Seeing just how he had done so was simultaneously heartbreaking and joyous. 

“I could take your name,” Leonard said.

Could he possibly mean- ? Spock smirked. “Take it where?” he asked.

Leonard grinned. Spock’s heart jumped. He was definitely resigning his commission, he would not spend another moment separated, but they could discuss it later. 

“Cute,” Leonard said. His eyebrows raised high, his forehead creasing with wonderful age. “That marriage proposal still on the table, Mister?”

“Ah,” Spock breathed. He felt his counterpart’s eyes on him. “I never proposed to you.”

“Ooh, don’t be tricky now, sugar, I’m exhausted.”

He was leaning rather heavily on his stick now. “Of course it is, Leonard,” Spock whispered.

Leonard’s grin grew. “Ambassador and Doctor Spock!” 

Spock went to him, taking his elbow. Leonard heaved a sign, resting his weight on Spock’s hand. He had new sun spots on his cheeks, greyer hair, deeper wrinkles. But his eyes were precisely the same.

“Captain,” the other Spock muttered, “is this the best solution for- ”

“Quiet, it’s their choice,” Kirk said.

“Also,” said their McCoy, “three Spocks is hilarious.”

Leonard pulled Spock in for a kiss. He was alive and intimate. Spock was dizzy with this all. 

“I don’t wish to marry for function,” Spock said, lips dragging against Leonard’s. 

Leonard kissed him again, just quickly. “I got romance a’plenty for you, love.” He turned, throwing his head back to Kirk. “Can we leave?” He face Spock again, his hair mussed. “Do you have a ship?”

Spock smiled to himself, enjoying how Leonard’s eye caught the quirk of his lips. He positioned Leonard, directing how he stood, so that they both faced Kirk. Leonard winked at him and did not resist being moved.

“Yes, certainly,” Kirk said, with barely a beat of hesitation. He addressed Leonard. “We’ll beam your luggage aboard.”

Leonard nodded, patted Spock on the arse obviously then raised his hand to wave his farewell. He made his way steadily onto the transporter pad, muttering to himself. 

Spock addressed Kirk with a small bow. “Thank you, Captain. Means more to me than you know.”

Kirk put his hands up. “I was just the taxi driver, he did all the work.” He nodded warmly. “Good afternoon.”

“Sir,” Spock farewelled his counterpart. He met poor McCoy’s uncomfortable gaze. “Doctor.”

“Ambassador,” Doctor McCoy said stiffly. 

Spock accepted the farewells and followed Leonard. Leonard winked at him again. Spock’s heart fluttered, and the transporter took them. 

Spock still had his eyes on Leonard as they arrived on his ship. Leonard touched his own chest and abdomen, checking his wellbeing. 

“Do you require anything?” Spock asked quietly. 

“Ahh,” Leonard groaned, “it’s hot in here! Thank God, they keep that ship very cold, don’t they?” He tottered off, leaning on his cane and inspecting the walls. “I wonder how trim and stern deals with it.”

“Trim and stern?”

“Is this alright, Spock?” Leonard asked quickly. Spock wasn’t going to find out who trim and stern was, then.

Spock stood straight. “You had a whole life without me,” Spock said.

Leonard nodded. “I still do,” he said. “I said my goodbyes. I knew what I was doing, love. I’ll find something to do, probably on New Vulcan with you, they’ll need to start mixing up the gene pool to- ”

“Leonard,” Spock snapped, almost scolding him. He didn’t want to hear about work.

“Sweetheart.” Leonard hesitated, rubbing his hand against his mouth. “Listen, Spock, I don’t need you. I just want you.” He met Spock’s eyes slowly and licked his lips. “I want you every night, every morning. And I do what I want, damn it, so I’m here.”

Spock breathed out slowly. 

“Is it good?” Leonard asked, his voice tense. “I hope it’s good, my dear, I can’t take it back.”

“Very good,” Spock said, desperately quiet. He held his hand out, two fingers extended.

Two sharp cracks sounded as Leonard came to him immediately, his cane loud as he stepped. His fingers paired up and joined with Spock’s, as they finally, truly, kissed. 

[boneinator]

My beautiful wife and her rabid husband <3

(reblogs > likes !!)

[deus-ex-mona]

mfw someone i’m mutually blocked with seems to frequent this blog anyway (you know who you are)

[haystarlight]

What if mlp characters had Tumblr

🌟 smartypants Follow

I have a princess conference in the morning but that won't stop me from staying up till 3 am on AO3. Mama needs her bedtime stories

🐉 ogres&oubliettesenthusiast Follow

OP go to sleep or I will eat your crown

2,008 notes

🎈 smilesmilesmile Follow

All of you are like "would you fuck your clone?" hypothetically but, in practice, clones are too dumb to give consent and that's the real reason why I didn't sleep with any of my clones when I had the chance

🎈 totally-not-a-clone Follow

OP you still have a chance

10,000 notes

✨ great&powerful Follow

It's always "take off the evil amulet! it's corrupting your mind!" and never "oh! you look so pretty in your new amulet!"

✨ great&powerful Follow

Celestia forbid ladies do anything

102 notes

😏 sexiestvillaintournament Follow

🦋 Id-like-to-be-a-tree Follow

Um, would you guys please stop voting for my boyfriend?

🌪️ whatfunisthereinmakingsense Follow

I take it as a compliment

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

I am offended

500,467 notes

🍎 cmc-omc Follow

Y'all know how some families got a gay cousin and all 'em other cousins are straight? Well mah family's the opposite. Ah don't even think we got a straight cousin!

🍎 cmc-omc Follow

Mah sister says we have to assimilate other ponies into our family so the family name don't die out. She would do numbers here

5,667 notes

🌈 20%cooler Follow

GUYS I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAYS

I've just been on the hospital (again) cause I got zapped by lightning (again)

But I promise I'll update my Daring Do/Reader fic as soon as I can! Thanks for the patience, love you guys!

🌟 smartypants Follow

It's okay, take your time! I'll just reread the old chapters in the meantime

🐉 ogre&oubliettesenthusiast Follow

NO!!! YOU WILL GO TO SLEEP!!!

120 notes

💎 chicunique&maginifique Follow

"how are you so good at fashion" well you'd be an expert in fashion too if you'd spent 20 years in the closet

🔔 professional-theatre-filly Follow

My sister in Celestia that closet was made of glass

20,354 notes

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

Nothing like coming back from exhile just to find your bedroom was replaced by a whole ass forest

Some people have no respect for others belongings

☀️ cake.by.the.ocean Follow

I don't control the growing of the magical forest, bitch

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

Rude

☀️ cake.by.the.ocean Follow

Don't think I forgot about that time in 500 B.E. that you stole my ice cream

200 notes

🛴 the-agender-acrobat Follow

You can't hurt me I have mommy AND daddy issues I'm unstoppable

🌈 20%cooler Follow

OP do you need me to adopt you

🛴 the-agender-acrobat Follow

I would love that actually

1,554 notes

💎 chicunique&magnifique Follow

*levitates my cat out of the way so I can use the sewing machine, which I need for my job*

my cat: YOU LIFT OPALESCENCE?!?!???! YOU LIFT HER WITH YOUR WICKED SORCERY?!??!!!! YOU ASSERT CONTROL OVER HER WITH YOUR MAGIC?!?!??! OHHHHH!!! MOTHER IS EVIL!!!!!

🔔 professional-theatre-filly Follow

I agree with the cat

1,827,654 notes

🥕 Carrot-TOPING Follow

Girlfriend is out of town all week so I'm gonna dye my mane and tail green

💎 chicunique&magnifique Follow

WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING

🥕 Carrot-TOPING Follow

She's all my self control

364, 245 notes

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

Back in my day we tagged our fanfiction properly. There's a difference between / and & you rufians

☀️ cake.by.the.ocean Follow

Shut up old lady

🌘 I-have-loved-you-for-a-thousand-years Follow

YOU'RE OLDER THAN ME

30,150 notes

🩵 girlboss Follow

Sure, sex is great but does *your* husband help you check all your shipping fanfiction for grammar errors? Didn't think so

💎 chicunique&magnifique Follow

She's everything, he's just Ken

🛡️ malewife Follow

Happy to be of service 🫡

2,035 notes

[krispykollection]

Peanut Butter

Part 1: Anjay

"Seriously Anjay you're eating more of that stuff? Look at yourself, do you really think you need more? You're practically bursting out of your skin already."

Gosh, I almost can't even believe how we got here. If you had asked me if I'd be standing backstage at a local bodybuilding show with a hulked out and glistening version of my best friend Anjay, I'd have for sure thought I were hallucinating off some bad lunch… Funny how close to truth that would end up to be.

It all started 3 days ago when an unannounced package appeared on our doorstep addressed to Anjay. Not only was he not expecting anything, the contents were even stranger. Pulling off the packing paper revealed contents not immediately familiar to two skinny young men like us.

To the left a shimmery pile of purple blueish fabric. Anjay held it up cautiously as it unfurled. The garment presented itself as a bikini, the sight of it filling both of us with an awkward embarrassment of being in possession of such an obscene object.

Anjay quickly dropped it on the table before turning his attention back to the box. I had to lean in closer to make out the next object of mystery. A brown bottle of… tanning oil? "What kind of crazed sex fetish shit is this, David?" Anjay turned to me and questioned.

I didn't know what to say, so I just looked back down at what's left. The remaining item, while on the one hand familiar, only served to confuse further. It was a container of plain old peanut butter. At least something normal, but what on earth did it have to do with any of this? As I picked it up to examine it closer a final item was revealed underneath, and with it an explanation.

"Ohhh" we remarked in unison with the kind of trailing off that makes it clear we're still skeptical. It was a pass for what appeared to be a local bodybuilding show and not just any kind of pass, one for a competitor. That well explained the first two items, not a bikini, but a pair of posers, and not just any tanning oil, the kind used to cake a fake shimmering bronze sheen onto huge muscle heads so they can show off their freakish masses onstage.

The peanut butter could be reasoned to be just a backstage snack for a lunk like the probable intended recipient, but that's where the last mystery comes into play. The name on the badge, it was Anjay's. Realizing the same, he flipped the top flap of the box back to check the address on the shipping label, sure enough it was ours. "Hmph…" he said defeatedly.

In an effort to put a quick and tidy end to the strange past few minutes we had found ourselves in, I offered up a solution. "I guess there must be some other Anjay Bajwa in the area, the show probably just got the wrong address."

Anjay tacitly agreed. I'm sure we both knew the obvious holes in that explanation, our town isn't all that big, and being solidly in the midwest of the united states, Anjay Bajwa was not exactly a common name.

"This guy probably wants this… stuff, right? Should we, uh, try to find him?" Anjay weakly questioned.

I conjured up the image of the intended recipient. Some roided out freak standing wider than a doorway with arms bigger than my head ready to crush someone like me in a single moment. A rush of fear ran down my spine. With a similar picture playing out in Anjay's head, we turned to face each other and in unison uttered "Nah…"

Anjay put the items back in the box and loosely closed the flaps. He tossed it in the corner of the room to hopefully forget about, at least for a awhile.

I wish I could say the strangeness ended there, in fact that was almost true, all the way up to this morning.

I woke up before Anjay. The apartment was bare so I decided to head out early, grab a coffee and a bite, and run some errands. When I got back in the late morning I could sense something was off even before I opened our front door.

Through the opening door I spotted not Anjay, but a nearly naked yoked out freak. I stood frozen for a moment. He was thankfully facing away from me admiring himself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. I spied something familiar, the colorful posers. That's when it hit me, this must be the other Anjay looking for his package. A rush of fear shot down my spine, what if he's pissed we had it? Just look at those fucking arms, that back, he could pulverize me without breaking a sweat.

I stood there long enough for the creature to take notice. As he turned to face me, my fear took it's place as a side dish, with a main course of bewilderment. It was Anjay, my Anjay, from neck up at least, or what's left of it. Finally I broke my silence exclaiming "What the hell, man?!"

"Dave! I'm soo glad you're home! Bro, drop that stuff but hold onto your keys, we gotta hurry!" I instinctively stepped out of the way as he came powering towards me. In another second he was out the door, a gust of wind cast from his wide torso the only remnant by the time I had spun around. He was halfway down the hallway by the time I made it out the door. I was astonished he could move so fast with how big his legs had gotten, they clashed with every step yet he was practically sprinting to the parking lot. Still he was clad in nothing but those posers, but passerby's opted to say nothing, either terrified by the sight in front of them or insanely aroused.

Thankfully I hadn't locked my car doors, otherwise Anjay might have ripped the door clear off the hinges. The shocks of my late model sub compact protested as he slammed his weight into my passenger seat. Jeez, how much does he, does Anjay weigh now? Following his lead, I quickly hopped into the car myself. As I got in though, I slammed into what felt like cement, but turned out to be Anjay's arm.

"Huh, sorry bro, not used to my new width." Did he always say bro so much?

"Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?" I ask. That's when he pulled out another familiar item, the badge, pointing at it and exclaiming "Remember this? The expo center!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" too much had happened, too much had changed, it's all I could blurt out. "Look at me Dave, I'm gonna clean up bro!" Okay, that's a bro every sentence. "C'mon, we're gonna be late!" I took a second to sit and process as he sat by anxiously… "Okay, fine we'll go, but you gotta tell me what the hell happened to you."

Anjay was more than happy to tell the story of his morning. He started before I could even shift into reverse.

"Bro! oh my god bro, you won't believe it! So I woke up and there was like nothing in the house, but then I remembered that peanut butter from the other day. I grabbed a big ol' spoonful and plopped my ass on the couch."

As he spoke I found it hard to pay attention to the road, he was so animated, only exaggerated by his newly huge muscles, they were bulging everywhere at the slightest movement.

"A few minutes later, I started feeling this fuzzy feeling, I didn't know what it was, but it felt good. Bro that's when I noticed something else, my body was moving under my clothes, I lifted up my shirt and I had abs, abs bro!"

He took the opportunity to point at his obvious abs, flexing as he did.

"Once I connected the dots I practically ran back to the tub and dug back in… and before I knew it I looked and it was half gone! I knew I had fucked up, so I ran to the bathroom to check out the damage."

"My clothes were pulling apart at the seams, huge fucking peaks ripping through the arms, pecs busting out the front." He flexed each muscle group as he called it out. "Fuckin' delts, abs, quads, lats, traps, my god bro, you have no idea how good it felt, how good I feel!"

I recognized some of those words as he said them, using his obvious context clues for the ones I didn't. I had no idea Anjay was so knowledgeable about muscle.

"I didn't want to completely freak you out." Mission decidedly not accomplished. "So I tried to find something to wear, but the only thing that would fit were those posers… when I slipped them on bro oh shit, they felt so good, I looked so good, but then something else happened. My mind started filling with all this new knowledge… muscle groups, workout routines, diets, supplements, cycles, poses! Before I knew it I was a champion bodybuilder, through and through!"

"Yeah, you can say that again…" I said acknowledging the physical embodiment of his statement. "I'm worried those posers might of sucked some knowledge out of you Anjay, since when do you use bro as a punctuation mark?"

"Haha, don't be silly bro, I've always talked like this… and call me AJ."

AJ? I sat there just wishing for my friend Anjay back, not this beefed up bro'd out version of him. Hesitantly I continued, "Ok… AJ, I just didn't know you were so into muscle?"

"I wasn't…" he paused "at least I think I wasn't, but I mean look at me bro, who wouldn't want this?" With that he raised both of his arms up to flex. As he did his lats? flared out and brushed my shoulder. "Shit, I didn't even know you could even have muscles there."

"Bro I got muscles everywhere and then some. Look at the class on my badge, super heavyweight… damn right! Fuck, I'm so pumped, I'm gonna crush it!"

Anjay… I mean AJ, had his bare foot on the ground before I had even come to a full stop upon arriving. Again I followed in tow. Unlike at the apartment, the sight of a muscleman clothed only in a shiny pair of posers was of shock to no one inside. It's what they're all here to see, what I was here to see I guess?

He led us straight backstage, scattered around were other men and their own companions all getting ready for their time onstage. Looking around I was shocked to realize that AJ was the biggest of any of them.

"Bro, take this," he handed me the bottle of tanning oil "you gotta help me tan up."

I was taken aback "I uhh… well I mean, I don't uhh." I looked around, elsewhere many men were doing the same, but I couldn't I mean, we're friends, but I.

"Fine," he grabbed the bottle back "I'll get started."

He dotted the bronze tan across his chest and started rubbing it in, following it up with his legs and arms. If you thought he looked insane before, with the shimmery coat of tan his new freakish form really popped. Halfway through, I heard his gut grumble, he turned back to grab something else, the peanut butter.

---

"Seriously Anjay you're eating more of that stuff? Look at yourself, do you really think you need more? You're practically bursting out of your skin already."

"I told you bro, call me AJ. Anjay sounds so… formal. As for this," he says as he gulps down a spoonful "I'm lickin' this baby clean…" "Now, I've done as much as I can, I need your help buddy, I can't reach my back." He contorts his arms up and over or behind and up showing just how far he is from reaching.

"I guess there's one downside to all those shiny new muscles," I quip.

"I wouldn't call it a downside, not when I have a bro like you…" with that he made a little pouty face unbecoming of his brutal form. I relent and swallow my awkwardness. "Hand me the bottle." His eyes light up.

I walk around AJ, and I mean around, and find myself staring at the contrasted light patch of his wide back. Man, I really wish I had gloves for this, I lament as I squirt a dollop into my palm. Distributing it between my hands I took a deep breath… here goes nothing.

I feel a jolt of electricity run though me as I make contact. Something's changed, something's flipped. I watch myself as I spread the bronze coating. The back in front of me is the same, but the interpretation has changed. It's not shocking, nor disgusting, it's a thing of beauty. I zoom out in my head, my god, the whole thing is, he is, AJ is. I feel my hands gliding over the many ridges of his back, turning perfection into more perfection. That's when I notice something else, the effects from the latest bite of peanut butter… he's growing. I can see his flesh expanding between my fingers, I can feel it press ever so slightly more against my hands. I've never felt so connected to AJ and I know he can feel it too. The world around us taking a backseat to our own shared reality.

I reapply and venture my hands further down south ensuring that his colossal glutes get the attention they deserve. I pull down his posers, ensuring every inch gets covered. Before I know it my fingers found themselves deep inside as I gently tease his hole. Electricity shoots through me again as I watch him squirm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure coming in hot to our left. Fuck, we're busted, I think, followed up quickly by a different thought, wait, what the fuck am I doing?

The figure comes into focus, it's a frantic respectfully beefed up man in an official looking polo.

"There you are!" he yells out to us as I casually snap AJ's poser back into place. "You missed check-in, you better come with me right now if you don't wanna get DQ'd."

Not allowing for any protest he grabs AJ's hand to lead him away, muttering under his breath as he does, "These lunks, the big ones can't hold a thought in their head outside of their next rep…"

AJ grabs the peanut butter as he stumbles, then walks away. In between bites he shouts back "Grab a seat bro, I'll be lookin' for ya!"

With nowhere else to go I follow his instructions and find a seat in the amphitheater. In the relative calm I have a moment to process the events of the past few hours. Here I am, sitting at a bodybuilding competition waiting for my best friend to walk onstage and show off his insane muscles. I thought about how I feel about that, I have a vague recollection of being scared and confused, but now it seems clear. AJ's got muscles, he's a bodybuilder, of course we're at a bodybuilding competition. The only thing I feel now is anticipation.

I flash back to backstage as I sit and wait. I can't get the image out of my head. His muscles… so big, so hot, muscles are hot, AJ is hot, fuck! AJ is hot! I can't wait to see him again, to touch, I shiver. Almost on command the lights in the amphitheater lower to signal the start of the show.

Competitors start marching onstage, they all have nothing on AJ, I think, only confirming more as they continue to appear. The stage slowly fills as each hits their mark. Still no sign of AJ. I briefly worry something happened to him.

But then, the backlights of the stage are snubbed out by a hulking figure. It steps out under the stage lights. It's unlike any other man up onstage, it's hard to believe it's man at all. It's AJ.

A hush washes over the amphitheater. You couldn't just see, but you could feel his movements, you could hear him coming. The thuds of his footsteps, the stretch of his posers trying to hold back the mass he's become.

He hasn't even flexed a muscle yet but all eyes were on him. I had no idea a man could be so beautiful. He is absolutely bursting with muscle. Every limb, every surface stacked with veiny glistening meat. I find myself getting hard. I stroke my cock through my shorts and make note of many other men in the audience doing the same.

AJ is wearing a cocky smile confirming that he is aware of all our gazes. He coyly takes his place in the lineup, pretending that there's any possible way the show will go on as planned now that everyone has seen him.

To their credit, they did attempt to run though a few poses, but even those onstage found it hard to hold form when their attention was quickly snapping back to their muscled colleague. Noticing this, AJ steps forward to give everyone what they wanted, his juicy up body, up close and personal.

AJ goes through an entire routine like he's spent ages perfecting every pose. His front double bi threatens to encase his head in delt and bicep meat. His ab and thigh positively does. And those thighs, wide sweeping drops of muscle, transforming into carved marble columns as he stomps down.

He turns around to face the other competitors, winking at their astonished faces as he does. It's time to give everyone else the a view of what they've been seeing. His lat spread seems to just go wider and wider without any sign of stopping. And his glutes, my god, they're absolutely planetary.

Spinning back around, AJ playfully takes a customary bow indicating the end of the show. It was indeed the end of the show and he needn't move from that spot on center stage. Not wanting to keep the godlike figure waiting, officials rush out and crown him champion.

There's no lineup. Second, third, who cares, everyone else is a blur. He's first, second, and third both in size and perfection. Medals in hand, AJ turns and leaves the stage, leaving the crowd to reflect on what they just witnessed.

I find AJ backstage, swarmed by all types, attendees, officials, media, competitors, they all couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get close enough to him. He sees me and pushes his wide body through the crowd like it's nothing. He doesn't even skip a beat as he scoops me up and carries me out of the room.

I can tell I weigh nothing to him. I'm a warmup weight. Even without being terribly stressed, his muscles were putting on a show for me. I watch his biceps and pecs bulge to hold me, just taking in the sensation of being cradled by muscle. We lock eyes and smile knowingly.

AJ whisks us away into a side room away from the crowd and gently sets me down in front of him. The room is bare aside from us and the plastic taped on walls and floor for tan smearing muscle beasts like AJ. Not exactly what you'd call ambiance, but it didn't matter. We have all we need.

Without saying a word I step forward and place my hands on his chest. He flexes in approval. I feel a jolt run though me as I feel his pecs shift from beautiful pillows to striated boulders. I lean down and press my cheek against his cobblestone abs. I linger just feeling the motion of his gut contracting and expanding with every breath.

I bring my hands down to his posers and slip them down, his dick pleasingly flops out already semi-hard. As he comes to full mast I realize it's larger than I remember. It didn't grow as much as everything else, but it's still impressive. A stiff golden rod setting itself out from his dark bronzed quads.

I wrap my lips briefly around just the tip before taking it in deep with a skill like I had done this hundreds of times before. I'm in ecstasy as I feel AJ fill me so completely, as I hear him moan with pleasure while I hit all the right spots, as I watch his quads twitch up close and personal with every suck. His movements and breaths become sharply staccato as I take him to climax.

AJ grunts with gorilla-like intensity as he rockets three hot, huge, loads down my throat. I stand up and wipe my lips as AJ comes back down to earth. Once he does, he chooses to finally break the silence with, "It's your turn now, bro." His voice booms deeper than I remember, the statement hitting me like a ton of bricks. He turns around and fully drops his posers, struggling briefly against his quad meat as he does.

My already erect member twitches even harder at the sight of his uncovered ass. Even more so when he leans forward and his massive cheeks split. I hastily drop my pants and am practically pulled in like a vortex. I place my soft hands on AJ's granite glutes before inserting my cock into his waiting hole. I'm glad I went in so deep with the tan earlier, it serving as rudimentary lube.

As I begin to thrust, I watch the dancing mountainous landscape of AJ's back in front of me. His ass is magnificent, so firm and tight. Every few strokes he squeezes his mighty glutes ever so little sending pleasure rocketing through me and also reminding me that he could crush my dick to smithereens in a single flex if he wanted to, this only serving to rile me even more. Regardless, it's clear who is in control in this moment, he wants this just as bad as I do.

I collapse forward onto AJ's back as I cum. We both stay in this position for a few seconds while we catch our breath. Standing back up, we make ourselves as decent as we can. AJ pulling his skimpy poser back into place and me pulling my pants back up and trying and failing to wipe the stripes of bronzer now all over my skin and clothes.

I laugh as I look up at AJ. "What?" he asks.

"Sorry, I wore a spot out on your tan, haha."

AJ chuckles to himself as he turns to face me. "Oh shit bro, but look at you" I'm practically covered in splotches of bronzer. "Honestly, doesn't look to bad on ya, have you ever considered bodybuilding?" AJ heartily boasts. We both chuckle with the silly question serving to encapsulate the wild ride we both have been on.

"Something tells me there's a lot more of this to come, but first… this tank bro" AJ slaps his bloated muscle gut, "she's gonna need a lot more than peanut butter to fill 'er up."

With that we head back out together in search of what I assume is an ungodly amount of food to fill up my hulking best friend… boyfriend? possibly.

We're a total mess, anyone looking at us would have no trouble putting together what we just did. We hold our heads high regardless, because who gives a fuck, like you wouldn't if you could. But you can't, so might as well flaunt what's mine. Besides in reality no one is giving me a second glance next to him.

---

In that first stroll together as an item out in the world, AJ and David find themselves in a place of pure joy and contentment, ecstatic about their budding new reality and relationship. Little did they know what was coming next.

Waiting innocently on their doorstep… another package… Wonder who it's addressed to?

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Could you do one where the reader had been in a relationship with Hunter before being taken with Omega on Tantiss. Now that they're reunited, Hunter realizes that he wants to marry the reader?

With a little bit of Wrecker and Crosshair friendly teasing Hunter.

Marry Me?

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After an insufferable separation from you, Hunter realizes his true feelings. That he never wants to be apart from you- that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Part two right here!

A/N- SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 OF THE BAD BATCH!!!! You have been warned! Thank you so much for requesting babes! Hope you like it! <3 <3

Word Count- 1,755

Beautiful Screen Shot by @isthereanechoinhere96

"Omega... It's- It's been months. We don't even know if they're still aliv-"

You felt shame rise up in your chest when you agreed with Crosshair. He was right, time had gone by slowly and there was no way of knowing if Hunter and Wrecker were alive. Your sweet sweet Hunter. The man who only showed he heart for the people he deeply loved. You were lucky to be one of them.

"They'll be there." Omega stated. She was so sure... but all you could think about were the doubts. Omega was always able to be more trusting and optimistic than you. Constant fear of losing your family limited you severely.

You swallowed deeply and looked down to Omega, pushing your anxieties down. "They will be." Were you trying to convince Crosshair or yourself?

The next few minutes of hyper-space felt like days. You were so eager. Everything was either going to get a million times worse, or a million times better.

Omega guided the ship to a remote planet you had never heard of, a deep blue over taking you.

Picking at your nails nervously, you stood- ready to depart. Crosshair noticed this and eyed you. He was nervous as well, but for different reasons.

You almost sobbed when you saw the Marauder in the distance. Hope bubbled in your chest, all thoughts of doubt escaped you.

The second the door lowered with a steam, Omega ran out of the ship. You followed her quickly behind.

She stopped at the mid-point between the ships. Wrecker slowly exited the Marauder, "Now there's a sight!"

You laughed, the tension dissipated. Omega ran to him and Wrecker picked her up, spinning around. "Wrecker!" She responded.

The sight made tears of joy fall. To see Omega so happy was enough for you.

"And I wasn't even sure your message was real!" Wrecker half-joked, still holding Omega up.

"Wrecker, I knew you'd show up!" Her words made your ears ring, did Hunter show up? Well, of course he did! That would be dumb for him to leave Wrecker... Unless, unless he wasn't alive to leave.

Your brain ran wild, why hadn't Hunter come out yet? It was almost as if Wrecker read your mind, he rested a hand on your shoulder after lowering Omega.

Just then, another set of footsteps came out. Hunter skipped steps to get to you and Omega.

Your hands shot up to cover your gasp, tears falling fast now. Omega got to Hunter first- you knew she needed it more.

He crouched down and hugged Omega deeply, his words drowned out. What you did make out was him saying your name, an arm stretched out for you and an arm holding Omega tightly.

You met him as fast as your feet would let you. "Hunter..." You whispered, face immediately meeting his neck as he pulled you close.

His arm pulled you in, crushing you against him in a pleasant way.

He pulled back to pepper your face with kisses, then a deep one on the lips. A few of your tears dripped onto his face, mixing with his own.

Omega giggled and pulled on your arm, you pulled back to let her back in on the hug. All three of you were lifted when Wreckers arms grasped around the bunch of you.

Wrecker pulled everyone up, making the embrace tighter. It was like your perfect little family was back again.

That night, after abandoning the empire's ship, was filled with more hugs, catching up, tears, and awkward conversations with Crosshair. You couldn't have wished for anything better. Your family, all in one place. Save for Echo, but you learnt he was safe with Rex- that made you smile.

You helped Omega settle into her room. You noticed too many yawns and drifting off, she was worn out emotionally and physically.

You spoke with her softly, reminding her everyone would still be here in the morning. Picking up Lula, her doll, and tucking it under her arm gave out the last yawn.

"Can I talk to Hunter?" She questioned with big eyes.

"Of course, baby. I'll be right back" You pet her hair back and left to go retrieve him.

You stopped when you saw him, Crosshair, and Wrecker whispering in the cock-pit.

"Ahaha! Be a man, just ask!" Wrecker said as he patted Hunters back harshly. Ask who? What would he have to 'be a man' about?

"If you say it any louder he won't have to..." Crosshair remarked.

"Oh! Sooorry." Wrecker dragged out.

"Both of you hush, I'll do it when I feel the time is right." Hunter spoke, his husky voice immediately filling you with warmth.

"You got this!" Wrecker exclaimed again, this time he earned a "Shhh!" from both Hunter and Crosshair.

You slowly entered the cock-pit, this time making your appearance known.

"Oh! Hello!" Wrecker greeted loudly, signalling to Hunter you were in the room. Hunter just sighed and shook his head.

You were curious about the conversation, but thought it might not be any of your business.

Smiling, you started, "Omega wants you to finish putting her to bed, Hunter." The way his face lit up had you star-struck. Almost like he couldn't believe she wanted him. "Thank you."

He nodded and headed her way, a hand cupping and maneuvering around your waist as he passed you. His subtle but frequent small touches warmed your heart.

You took a seat in the co-pilot chair, swiveling to look at Crosshair and Wrecker. Both looked down at you with crossed arms and smug looks.

"What?" You wondered if there was something on your face, or if you just took someones spot.

"Nooothing, we will be heading off to sleep now. RIGHT Crosshair?" Wrecker spoke in a suspicious voice, elbowing him in the side. Crosshiar grunted but agreed, leaving you alone.

Weird.

But then again, nothing was normal on this ship.

You took this time to lean back and take a few minutes of rest alone. It was nice being able to relax by yourself, knowing everyone was safe.

After a handful of minutes, Hunter made his way back from Omega. He took the seat next to yours, turning to face you.

"How are you doing?" You asked, sparking conversation.

"Fine, I'm just happy you guys are here... I keep thinking i'm going to blink and you'll both be gone..." His words shook at the end. You sat up, understanding the seriousness of the conversation.

"Hunter, Omega and I are alive and safe. We are here and we are not going anywhere." You rose and stood between his legs, hands cupping his face.

He looked up at you, tears filling his eyes slowly.

"What if I can't protect you two again?" He brought up a hand to rest at your hip, the other on his leg.

You rested your forehead against his, "That was a freak accident, baby. No one could have stopped that. Now we have Crosshair, Batcher, and we are ready for anything. We will keep Omega from the Empire. I promise."

He took a deep breath in, like he had just decided something.

He started by saying your name, "You always know just what to say. I wish I had that ability..." He closed his eyes and breathed you in for a moment, then he spoke again. "When... When we were apart I was so lost."

"I kno-"

"No, I don't think you understand. I couldn't think of anything but you and Omega. I was so broken without you." He repeated your name.

"I-I never want you to be away from me again." His voice got huskier as he spoke, and your legs felt like jello. You just looked at him deeply, nodding.

He started for a second time with a shaky breath, "No one can take you from me again. I will claw my way back to you every damn time." He nods his head up, brushing his nose to the side of your cheek with closed eyes.

You let him speak, even when your mind was flowing with your own comments, "It- The distance, made me realize. There is no one that can compare to you. No other woman I would ever want to be with."

Ah, so that is what they were talking about. You smiled big, awaiting the special phrase.

Tears filled your eyes with his words, he was speaking as raw as he was capable of.

"I can't promise you money or luxury, but I will spend every waking hour fighting to make you happy. Fighting to keep you safe." He pulls back, steadying you with both hands on your hips.

You take in a teary breath to speak, but he cuts you off. "Don't say anything yet, just- Wait here, just a second." He stands, reaching to Crosshair's old storage compartment.

He rushes back with a small box. You raise your hands to cup your own face, bright red. He lowered onto one knee, right in the middle of the cock-pit

"Please, for my own sanity and happiness, will you marry me?" He asks.

"Yes. Yes Hunter, there are no other words than yes." You fall down onto him, arms grasping around his neck.

He lets out a sigh of relief like you'd ever say 'no.'

"Thank you, oh thank you." He whispers into your neck, holding you tight. He only pulls back slightly to kiss you. A kiss so deep and full of emotions your head spun. You just held him, never wanting to let go.

It felt like time stopped, just for you two. Just for a clone trooper and a small girl...

"I never planned on you..." He broke the silence, head placed on top of yours. "But I- you were so damn perfect. Too perfect." You gave a small laugh, looking up to see his handsome face.

You rested a hand on his tattoo, thumbing it. "Hunter, if anyone is perfect it's you. You have so much love for me and Omega... How do you do it?"

"I manage." He smirked, leaning down to smell your hair. Something he used to do frequently when you snuggled in the past.

"Am I now Mrs. Hunter? Or is it Mrs. Trooper?" You joked, pulling back to sit fully on the ship floor. Your hands still filled with his much larger ones.

He smiled at you, another reminder on why he loved you so much. "We can figure out all the fine details later... Just let me kiss you again..."

So, you did.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this one, I hope it turned out as good as I thought! Sorry It took me longer to post than usual, I was pretty busy this past week. As always, i'm open to constructive criticism!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[luveline]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

when internet trolls poke fun at your appearance while working on a case, hotch is there to make you feel better. fem!reader, 3k

tw cyberbullying, poor eating habits, criminal minds typical violence

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're not a media liaison or anything close, but with JJ off for maternity leave and Penelope in Quantico, there's a face needed for the press announcement on TV, and you offer to step in. 

You aren't particularly eager to do it, but Hotch doesn't have the time or wherewithal and such a high intensity case, not while Spencer is at half-mast, migraines rendering him ineffective and stubborn. You're trying to keep the ship sailing smoothly, doing your part of the profiling while juggling media and supporting the police sergeant that's heading the tip line.

You're not expecting to become a joke. After a red-eye, three sleepless nights trying to find a missing woman in Oklahoma —the domestic violence capital— and a full day without something to eat, you're aware you don't look your best, but you aren't sure what that has to do with your missing person. 

The FBI — fugly bitches International. #FindDanaLangley

Damn, are they not letting those agents sleep or what? She looks terrible ! 

she should be less worried about Dana Langley and more concerned with the dead woman in the mirror, ew 

hope theu find her just so they stop putting this creature on TV #FindDanaLangley

"Well," you murmur, wondering if it would be inappropriate to burst into tears, "these aren't especially helpful." 

Derek looks at you, his gaze measured, and you know he's not sure how to react to you or what's happening. He settles on his usual loving encouragement, because he's a very good friend. 

"Don't listen to all that," he says, throwing his arm around your shoulder, "those trolls wouldn't know beautiful if it hit them in the face. But we could always try it?" 

You sink into his hold, needing the reassurance even if you wish you didn't. "No hitting," you say, covering your mouth to hide a large and possibly fugly yawn. Your head is racing with regurgitated insults. "It doesn't matter, Derek. Promise. We have bigger stuff to deal with." 

The door opens and Hotch and Emily step inside, Rossi just behind them. You're thinking Hotch is going to agree with your sentiment, no time for comfort when a woman's life is at stake, so you move away from Morgan to sit in front of your laptop again. 

"Is something wrong?" Hotch asks. 

You meet his eyes just long enough to smile at him. "Nothing. What did Amandla have to say?" 

Emily retells the alibi of Dana's ex-girlfriend and is clearly suspicious but without proof, you're forced as a team to move on to the next lead. Spencer returns shortly afterward and you try to brainstorm your next step. 

It's Penelope that pulls through. "You asked me to cross reference the neighbours at Dana's previous address with people crossing state lines, right, after that one guy ended up being kinda icky? Well I did that, and nothing came up, which was–" 

"Garcia," Hotch interrupts. 

"Right. Long story short, one of the neighbours recently had an extreme falling out with Icky Guy after a years long friendship, his name is Justin Mantova, he has extreme PTSD with documented episodes of confused aggression, and he's been seen coming in and out of a storage unit in Paseo Storage Solutions for the past four days." 

"Address?" Hotch asks. 

"Already sent to your phones." 

"Thank you, Pen," you say. 

"Just go catch the bad guy, pretty girl," she says. 

Ah, so she's seen the tweets too. You frown rather than smile, reminded again of what's been said and wishing you could be anywhere else. 

You get your wish and forget all about personal grievances for a while, concerned with the safe location and extraction of Dana Langley. The operation is clean, and she's hurt but has a great chance at a full recovery. It's quick, it's professional. 

You're falling asleep in the SUV on the way back. Hotch at the wheel, Spencer in the backseat, you rub your eyes from the passenger side and try not to look suspiciously morose, but it's impossible. Hotch is too good at his job. 

"Are you sure everything's okay?" he asks. With Spencer's window open and the wind whipping, it's hard to hear him. 

"Hm?" 

"Is everything okay?" 

"I'm just tired." You don't look at him. It's rude of you, but if what they've said is true —you'd seen the photographs, and you looked tired, sure, but you still looked like you. "Just tired," you say again. You snap your mouth closed when your voice wobbles. 

Hotch is regularly too sweet on you. Most of the team say it's a crush. Emily calls it 'character development. Whatever it is, he's nice to you. He warmed up to you near immediately when you first joined the team, and he's been as welcoming months later as he was in your first week. 

Maybe he feels sorry for me, you think, submerging yourself inch by inch into self pity. 

The three of you regroup with the others at the police station to pen immediate recounts of what happened before you can forget, tying up loose ends. 

Finally you're able to go back to the hotel. Another half an hour and you're in the lobby.

"We'll go home in the morning. Nine AM flight, meet in the lobby at eight thirty," Hotch says. "Get some rest." 

You disband. They've squeezed you in all over the place, and you're lucky enough to be next to the elevator on the second floor. Hotch is the third floor, and everyone else the sixth, so you say goodbye to your colleagues and exit the elevator, stepping onto the second floor with a parting smile.

You can't know it, but Hotch notices the way your smile falls before the doors have well and truly closed. Your shoulders slump in defeat. 

You trudge into your room and don't bother turning on the lights. The door closes behind you and the mask you'd been holding up starts to crack. You put your laptop in the closet despite temptation to boot it up, knowing no good can come of looking at the tip hashtag again. 

You head into the bathroom to pee, and you're confronted with your appearance as you wash your hands. 

You stare at yourself. 

You look tired. 

Tears well as you look at yourself. You're not those things those people said. You're pretty, and when you smile everyone knows it. There's nothing so beautiful as a smile. You can't summon one, but you know it's the truth. 

Or, it should be. 

A single tear falls down your cheek, quickly followed by a second, and a third from the other eye. You ignore them, tracing the line of your bottom lip, the texture of your skin on your cheeks, the slight sunken effect of your under eyes. 

A knock makes you flinch. "Fuck," you say, wiping your cheek with the back of a hand, twisting on the spot like looking into your room might reveal whoever it is at the door. Probably one of your team. "Hello?" you call. 

"It's me. It's Hotch. I know it's after hours, but I wanted to speak with you."

Whatever reassurance he has to give might actually make this all much worse. You don't want any pity from anybody, you just want today to be over. Still, you wiggle your toes into the plush hotel carpeting, debating only for a moment about the pros and cons of pretending to be asleep. 

"Hey," you say, opening the door. You wipe your eyes and hope he takes it for a tired gesture rather than a method of hiding the glassy sheen at your waterline. "Hi, Hotch, how are you feeling?" 

"Fine. Tired. Thank you for asking." 

"Do you want to come in?" you ask. 

"Please." 

Hotch follows you into your room. There's an armchair across from the bed next to a desk and an old TV sitting atop it. Your suitcase is still open on your bed, your pyjamas crumpled in the shell. You close it before Hotch can see. That's another thing to add to your list: being a slob. 

"It's very clean in here," he says. 

You startle. "What?" 

"It's clean, considering how long we've been here. Have you ever seen Spencer's room at the end of a case?" he asks. 

"No, is it bad?" 

"It's like a paper hurricane."

You look down at your knees, hyper aware of his gaze on your face, tired of feeling uneasy in your skin. 

"I wanted to say thank you for doing the press release yesterday. You did an amazing job. It's something to be proud of." 

Of course he's talking about the press release, the one thing you need to not think about. 

"Did Derek tell you?" you ask. 

"Tell me what?" he asks, voice sharpening.

You look up. Hotch is a picture of concern, professionalism slightly off centre. 

"Nothing." 

"Something's been bothering you. Something Derek should've told me, I'm guessing." 

You chew over your words. "Uh. Hotch, it's really nothing, it's a hiccup. The press release, I…" You really don't want to have to say it. The words get stuck at the back of your throat.

He leans forward. "What?" 

"I looked sick. On TV. I looked really unwell, and it– it actually–" Why are you stammering? What's wrong with you? You laugh and it's not your laugh but it's better than your nonsense stuttering. "Sorry. On the press release, I didn't look my best, and it was a hot topic. That's what I thought Derek told you about. But I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me, Hotch." 

"I don't feel sorry for you." 

You wince, "No, of course not." 

"Two seconds," he says, putting his hand forward in the air between you. "A hot topic? I don't understand." He looks genuinely apologetic. 

"The tip line got clogged up with comments about my appearance," you say. You phrase it as a professional error rather than the embarrassing event it represents in your personal life.

His lips curl downward. "Saying you looked tired." 

"Saying I looked unagreeable." 

"As a friend," he says, tone softening, "could you tell me what they said?" 

Heat blooms in your cheeks and behind your eyes, your throat aching as you scratch at a nonexistent itch in the crook of your elbow. "Um. Well, there was a lot of them, and they weren't all about me, but the ones I saw, they seemed to think I needed more sleep. That I–" 

Hitch rarely interrupts, but something in your voice must impel him. "What did they say?" he asks again. 

"That I looked like a creature. That they hoped Miss Langley would be found, so that they didn't have to see my face on TV again. Hotch," you say, your throat sounding as tight as it feels, "it was pretty bad, but it really doesn't matter." 

"I think it matters if it's upset you," he says. 

He has the warmest voice when he wants it to be, so dulcet, almost melodic. You'd think it was a practised phrase, but he speaks freely. 

"It didn't," you lie. 

Pointless in your line of work and automatic anyways. Hotch doesn't deny you the safety of your untruth, but he doesn't entertain it, either. 

"You're beautiful when you're tired," he says. 

You don't mean to, but you hold your breath. The silence that follows his remark is deafening. 

"You're beautiful," he says, again, as though you could've missed it the first time. "Regrettably, you're very tired, but you don't look any less pretty. Don't think what was sent in to the tip line has any merit." 

"Are you saying that as my friend or my boss?" you ask. It's meant to be a joke that lightens the mood. 

"Neither," Hotch says.

You gawp, and then falter. "Why…" 

Hotch is close enough to offer a hand, and you're feeling stupid enough to take it. He squeezes tenderly, looking you straight in the eye. "I'm sorry about what's being said. I had no idea. We can pull the video, and the tipline should stop now Dana's been found, but it doesn't erase what's already happened. I'm so sorry. It's not right, and it's not fair." 

"It's a hard job, right?" you ask.

His hand is so so big, and not as soft as you'd pictured. It doesn't make a difference, not when he's touching you like you might shatter. 

"That's not the job," he says.

"It's silly to care, though. About what other people think." 

"I hope you care about what I think. The merit of an opinion comes from the person, and the relationship you have with them. Anyone who knew you would know that you're beautiful." 

"Inside that counts," you say, not fully comforted, but trying to give him an out. 

"You're beautiful on the outside," he says, giving your hand a small shake. "You're an amazing woman, of course. But I, for one, enjoyed seeing your face on TV."

You try not to smile too hard, directing your gaze at your joined hands lest he get a read on you.

Hotch must know how you feel about him. He'd be an awful profiler if he didn't. You fawn when you're around him even now, months down the line from your very first meeting when you were sure your heart would ricochet from your chest, the intensity of your instant crush like nothing you'd felt, not even as a schoolgirl. He'd been tall, striking, classically handsome and completely unaware of the fact. Now he's sitting across from you and he doesn't seem so tall, nor so striking. His caring side shines like a gem. It's blinding, and it really does make you feel better. 

"I cried in the bathroom," you confess, rubbing your thumb against his in minute, near imperceptible circles. "I wish it didn't matter to me, how I looked. I know I was doing something important, and there wasn't time to freshen up. Maybe I should've just asked somebody else." 

"You did it perfectly. You were perfect. No one else could have delivered the profile to the public that professionally, and that astutely." 

Hotch stands up, and you don't know what to do. You decide to look up at him just as he takes your face into his hands. 

"No crying in bathrooms, okay? It would… it breaks my heart thinking about it. You come to me."  

Such a dramatic statement, yet Hoch lays it out like it's an unquestionable truth. No bravado, only a sincerity that makes your throat hurt. His frown slides back into place as his palms warm your cheeks. 

"You're so busy, I could never," you say, shaking your head. 

"Time and place, sure, but. I will always try to make time for you. I hope you know that by now." 

You nod dazedly. Hotch's hands drag with a pressure down to your neck, your shoulders, leaving tingling skin in their wake. He looks at you and time stretches, a few seconds pulled out of order. It's his closeness, and his affectionate, empathetic smile. 

You nod again. 

He relaxes. 

"Try and get some rest, okay? You need to take care of yourself. I know it's hard to ignore how you feel, I know today was hard, but you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. I have faith in you." He gives your shoulder a final squeeze. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," you say. It comes out much more quietly than intended.

"Rest, honey. Call me if you're upset again. I mean it." 

He smooths your cheek with the back of his forefinger and you wonder if this is some weird fantasy. Hotch makes for the door, and you know for sure it's real when he says, "And no more caffeine tonight." 

"No more caffeine," you agree. 

He doesn't realise he's twice as bad as a coffee. Your heart races all by itself, his phantom touch on your cheek. 

—

"Hi, beautiful," Derek says. 

"There's the girl of the hour," Rossi says. 

You roll your arm in a bow, eyes stinging from the bright lobby lights but otherwise quite happy. Hotch called you beautiful last night. Hotch called you honey. People on the Internet who have nothing better to do thought you looked gross, but Hotch thinks you're pretty. It's hard to focus on the negative with a positive that good. 

"Good morning, my favourite boys," you say sweetly. 

Spencer looks up from his book. "Hey." 

"You didn't say hello," you say, "you excluded yourself." 

Spencer frowns and goes back to his book. You offer him a mini cookie from your pocket and he perks up, better when you whisper, "You know you're my favourite, Reid." 

"We all know that's a lie," Emily says, rolling her small suitcase to your left and nearly trampling your foot. 

"Unfortunately so," Rossi agrees. 

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Hotch looks chipper this morning, doesn't he?" Derek asks, nodding. You follow his nod too quickly and give yourself away, earning a scattered round of laughter from your tired team. "Got you."

"Laugh it up," you say. You're on a high that can't be killed, even with their collective teasing. 

"Why are we laughing?" Hotch asks from behind you. 

You jump half out of your skin. 

"We were laughing at Y/N's swift observational skills, but we spoke too soon," Emily says.

Hotch takes a moment to smile at you. "Hey, you look a little more rested. Feeling better?" 

A flush rises to your cheeks. "Much," you say, sounding foreign to your own ears. 

Hotch gives a pleased nod and clasps your shoulder gently before manoeuvring around you. "Let me go see where JJ is." 

He walks around the lobby corner and into the hotel restaurant. You have your face in your hands before he's gone, harassed by quiet whistles and giggling. 

"She's so embarrassed!" Rossi cheers, like a proud dad. "How hopeless, young love." 

"Someone please shut him up," you beg, rubbing your aching eyes. It's an excuse to hide your smile a moment longer. 

"Are you still tired?" Spencer asks. "You look tired."

"She does not," Derek says severely. 

You raise your head with a smile. Tired or not, Hotch thinks you're beautiful. He liked seeing you on TV. You lavish the memory.

"I'm genuinely exhausted," you say eventually, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek as you stand tall again.

"I want whatever kind of tired you're feeling," JJ says as she arrives, Hotch a step behind her. 

You meet his eyes. You think he might not acknowledge what's been said between you —it wasn't strictly professional to have held your face in his hands like that, after all— and the beginnings of disappointment creep in, until he stands at your side, his fingertips brushing yours. It cannot be accidental. 

"She wears it well, doesn't she?" he asks the group. He gives no time for an answer. "Everyone ready?" 

You practically vibrate your way to the SUV. Not a bad case, as they go. 

 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, so much! I hope you enjoyed! if you did and you have the time, please consider reblogging cos it makes me happy <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

[forusomimiya]

@coyloves ship & prompt: “Look how messy you are” w/ Osamu Miya ˚₊˚✧🍙✧˖°🍂

"I've been thinking about bending you over this table and just having my way with you" His knuckles caressed your chin before he gripped your jaw and made your head tilt to the opposite side of his face, to have easier access to your neck and kiss it. He smiled when he felt you straighten up, product of shivering. "You like the idea?" you thought you nodded, but it was so subtle your movement that it was enough for Osamu to understand that when you were speechless, it was because you found his proposal more than decent.

It wasn't the first time you had sex in the store. The routine would end up being the same as all the other times before: Osamu wooing you until he had you right where he wanted you, clumsy hands caressing each other's body, quick and warm kisses, and discretion in moaning so he could pay attention to the door bell in case Kita came carrying bags of rice. The last time was fun, despite the fact that you almost got caught red-handed.

"We should be quick."

"Yeah" Osamu said in a sarcastic tone. "I can see you're in a hurry" He pointed his gaze at the wetness in your panties, licking his lips, holding back from touching you still. "Look how messy you are".

"Samu! are you even listening to me?"

"I'm trying to pay attention, but you're just too sexy. Not gonna lie."

"Then, tell me what you want me to do" His grayish eyes bore into yours, able to read what they expressed.

Then Osamu lifted you up and sat you on the cold marble table of the warehouse, taking a quick glance at your body, stunned by the beauty of your curves, savoring them in his mind, decanting and amusing himself with his favorite parts.

"Let me hear your beautiful moans a second time today, darling" His thumbs played with the inside of your thighs, spreading them open, allowing a glimpse beneath them of your chubby pussy. "Hah… shit" He exhaled excitedly. His hips rocked forward instinctively, needing to have you lying there on your back for him, legs spread wide.

The throbbing in his chest began to ache as you lay back on the table and circled his hips drawing him to you, pulling your shirt up and exposing your large breasts squeezed into your bra.

"You're going to fuck me?"

"Fuck… Of course I do" In a quick set of hands, Osamu unclasped your bra as he worked his way under your boxers, reaching for his cock and pumping it a couple of times while his mouth was distracted with your breasts. He didn't skimp on making as much noise as possible as he savored and kneaded them at the same time, sucking your nipples and pinching them on his lips before releasing them. "They are so perfect… just mine" He kneaded relentlessly, and when he noticed that his cock was about to burst through his underwear, he released it as best he could, —caused by nervousness and quickness by the impatience of being inside you—, and pushing aside your panties, he entered you ever so slowly without losing sight of the expression on your face as he filled you.

"Atta girl, fucking your boss in his own warehouse, huh?"

He settled into a steady rhythm, and cursed himself for not having taken you earlier at that table. The movements of your body in response to his thrusts were something Osamu had yet to deal with. The bouncing of your tits followed by pithy gasps flooded his mind so quickly and directly, that in order to speed up the command his brain sent to his cock, he had to take possession of your hips and lighten the pace. His mind clouded as your insides tightened and his ears filled with his cursed name, thus ignoring —though not willingly—, your warning you were cumming. Osamu forgot the discretion agreed upon at the beginning and made sure to fuck you in the roughest way, letting anyone planning to enter the store know that he was busy to attend to any customers or receive any packages.

Maybe that day, the "closed" sign would remain hanging on the door for another hour.

[two-white-butterflies]

i can see you | dr3

Description: Secret relationship tension. You both struggle to keep the relationship a secret.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo/red-bull admin!reader

Daniel's arms were wrapped around your torso, carefully leading you towards the secluded station of redbull racing. You've been dating each other for six-months now, and due to his job and your adoration for privacy - you've never really announced your relationship to the public. It's not like they're supposed to care, right?

'Private but not secret' was your motto.

Everyone in redbull racing knew that Daniel was dating somebody - they just didn't know who.

"Can we get some milkshakes before the race?" you inquired, knowing that the both of you were going to spend the entire race watching from a tiny screen. It could get boring. "Yeah, chocolate or strawberry?" he asked, reaching for his phone to call someone.

"Mint," you replied with a smile.

"Are you serious?" he chuckled - showing you a toothy grin smile.

"Yeah," you hummed.

"Did Max really expose our relationship?" you giggled while pressing small kisses to his lips. "Don't worry, he doesn't know who my girlfriend is." he says for certain, hands trailing up to cup your cheeks. "Really?" you raised an eyebrow.

Daniel told Max everything.

You used to joke around that they were the ones dating.

"Yep,"

Daniel dared to kiss you in the open.

His lips were pressed against yours, hands squeezing your ass - while his hat partially covered your face. "Daniel," you whispered, surprised by his sudden bravery. "Y/N," he repeated your name.

He pulled away from your face - hands raising to settle on your waist. "What are you doing?" you chuckled, pecking his lips. The both of you were lucky since it was lunchtime - thus, there weren't any people in the garage. "Kissing you?" he answered.

"How courageous..." you hummed while he pulled your body closer. "Wanna see how far this goes?" he joked - pulling away in time when another personnel enters the garage.

"Daniel?" Christian raised his eyebrows. "We're filming content, sir." you quickly lied - pulling your phone out to pretend to be filming him. "Oh, okay - have fun then." he waved goodbye - not wanting to be part of another tiktok.

Daniel wiped the tears away from your eyes. "Hey, twitter is a shitty place. Twitter is irrelevant, like who even uses it?" he calmed you down - hiding your phone in his pocket before you could read more hate tweets about you. "If someone feels this about us, I feel shitty - Dan." your voice sounded hoarse from the hours of crying.

"That's normal - but it doesn't mean that you'll live based on what anonymous people say." he reasoned, already used to the hate. "I know - but I never wanted our relationship to be exposed this way." you sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

"I agree, but my manager said that this can be our chance to fuck them up. We need to own our narrative."

F1 FANS DISCORD SERVER

kittenwhispers: anyone else find it weird that daniel is dating some 23 year old 😭? - thebossdaddy: it's weird fr WAHAHA

rosesforrose: it's not weird, i think they look good together. daniel's always been childish anyways. (edited)

annieunnie: nah i ship them so badd acck

danielricciardo: Annabelle in theaters near you. 🤣

0 comments 174,393 likes

comments have been restricted.

[marlynnofmany]

Playing Translation Telephone

“Hi,” I said as the door slid open. “Captain Sunlight wants to know how your translations are going.”

Coals sighed. “They’re going. This one’s a mess.” He shook his lizardy head, brick-red scales dull in the light by the doorway. That part of the translation suite was always dim because Trrili liked looming in the shadows there.

But today she was at the workstation in the back, surrounded by glowing screens and a cloud of irritated hisses. “I think we missed a language,” she announced, snapping her pincher arms and angling her antennae into a scowl.

“What, really?” Coals asked. He ran a hand over his head, scales clicking quietly. “How many is that now?”

“Sixssss,” Trrili hissed.

Coals grumbled something I didn’t catch, and walked back over to the workstation.

Curious, I followed and let the door shut behind me. “What kind of project is this one?”

“Old records of a multi-species colonizing effort,” Coals said from his floating chair with the tail hole. “The originals are lost, and all that’s left is this jumble that’s been translated through a succession of languages, none of which they bothered to write down. And they want us to figure out what the originals actually meant.”

“Sounds tricky,” I said. Each of the screens held writing, most in languages I didn’t recognize. Some were notes in the trade language we all spoke, and I was amused to see how much swearing was in Trrili’s notes.

“It is very tricky,” Trrili agreed, jabbing a little wrist finger at the screen in the middle. “The grammar doesn’t match the words, and the idioms are an utter tar hole. It’s anyone’s guess what culture came up with some of these details.”

“I’m pretty sure the bit about rocks is a Strongarm saying,” Coals said. “It makes more sense than a Frillian interpretation.”

“Yes, fine, probably,” Trrili said with an irritated wave of her pinchers. “I’m stuck at this part that goes off on a tangent about the family arrangements of the wildlife. It’s clearly significant, and at least one layer of translation wanted to make sure the full interpretation was spelled out, but that just makes it more confusing.”

“How so?” I asked. I’d gotten the job on this ship because of my animal-care knowledge, so maybe I could offer some insights. I peered at the screen.

“This part,” Trrili said, “Is a recounting of a colonist’s experience in retrieving goods from a shuttle that crashed in a lake. The water creatures seem to have complex social arrangements, and somehow that relates to their behavior toward this particular colonist.” She folded her pinchers and leaned back, glaring at the ancient diary. “Of course this had to be written by someone disinclined to speaking clearly.”

“What kind of behavior is it?” I asked. “Are we talking mating advances, or aggressively protecting the young, or—?”

“Aggressive,” Trrili said immediately. “This word means mouth, possibly teeth specifically, and in the grammatical arrangement that it’s currently configured into, it has to be saying that the thing bit the colonist.”

Coals flipped through documents on another screen. “Do we know what the official name for the creature is?”

Trrili hissed. “Not even close. That’s what this whole tangent is: an attempt at describing it. I’d love to know if it was the original colonist or someone later who decided it would be helpful to tell us that this creature’s ancestors rejected social bonds.”

“Rejected how?” I asked.

Coals brought up another document. “I’ve got something on the legal system of the original colony. Sounds like there were multiple types of family arrangements at play. Possibly this colonist was just musing on a similarity to their own life.”

Trrili hissed. “How does that help us? I don’t see any accounts of this person’s family life, or even their species. We have no way to know if their own parents performed the socially-accepted rituals or not.”

“Wait,” I said. “Is this about the animal’s parents not doing a certain ritual? Like marriage? Is the colonist calling the fish a bastard?”

Both of my alien coworkers looked at me. Coals asked slowly, “That’s an insult in human circles, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Trrili threw her pinchers skyward and stalked away from the workstation. “Of course it is. You people are sentimental about everything, including reproduction. This would have been so much simpler if we’d known from the start that there was a human layer to this.”

“So what does it say?” I asked. “The colonist went into the lake to help with the crash, and got bitten by a bastard fish?”

Trrili was walking in circles hissing, so Coals scooted in front of the center screen. “Going by what we’ve figured out so far,” he said, “The colonist was trying to move salvage from the shuttle. Walking through shallow water. The water creatures were of many bright colors — it goes into detail about that, comparing them to refractive prisms and seaspray — but they kept their distance as long as the colonist kept moving. Pretty sure this part says one came in for a bite as soon as the colonist stood still. And that’s where we go off on an elaborate description of the creature’s family arrangements.”

I grinned. “‘Dear diary, today I waded through a lake and got bit by a rainbow bastard fish. Terrible experience; wouldn’t recommend.’”

Coals looked closer. “It does actually say something like that afterward,” he admitted. “There’s a suggestion that the next person to enter the water wear protective clothing.”

Over Trrili’s aggravated hissing, I said, “That colonist might have been a human.”

“Might indeed,” Coals said. He scrolled up through a page of notes. “That could actually shed some light on a couple other spots, now that you mention it.”

Trrili appeared beside us. “Bring up the part about the colony leader mating with someone’s mother.”

I laughed. “I can tell you right now that that’s an insult. The colonist is likely complaining about the boss, not describing something that actually happened.”

Coals looked at Trrili. “Told you we need an insult chart.”

Trrili tilted her head dramatically. “That’s so much work!”

“So’s this,” Coals pointed out. “How about you take another look at what we’ve got so far here, and I’ll start a list of common human insults.”

Trrili took a position in front of the screens, hissing quietly.

“I’ll be happy to help,” I said to Coals. “My people are very creative on that front.”

“So I gather,” Coals said. He scooted over to me, digital notepad at the ready. “And not one of those insults revolves around eggs. Mindblowing.”

“Well,” I said with a tip of my head. “There is the thing about teaching your grandmother to suck eggs. That’s kind of an insult.”

“What?” Coals said. “Never mind. I can tell this is going to be a long list.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[potentialguybodyswaps]

Cum Locked Into a Marine:

Are you in the military but feel like you joined the wrong branch? well there’s a way to swap branches, only catch, you have to swap bodies with someone in that branch and live their life, you can always swap back but only after both parties have finished their contract, so if you have 1 year left on yours, and you decided to swap with a fresh boot, you gotta finish the rest of their contract

Not many people wanna swap with a guy fresh out of boot camp but I did.

I’ve spent a year in the navy and didn’t like it one bit, when I joined I was hoping to join a brotherhood but the comrodery wasn’t there , when I was in A school, the base I was at for training was actually a joint base with the army, navy, Air Force and marines

Something that always upsetted me is when ever we’d see the marines, they were fine as fuck, for no reason, hands down the best looking fucking branch, no homo.

Even when I got to my ship and did a deployment with the marines onboard, they always looked hot and way fitter, if I would have join them instead of the navy, I’d definitely have abs but a lot of the navy struggles to stay within height and weight regulations

So I decided I wanted to swap with a marine, I made an account for the Body Exchange Program (or B.E.P. For short) and went to the subsection for military swaps and clicked on the marine branch to see what bodies were available

One thing I loved about the B.E.P. Is while the swaps are basically contracts and ment to last for the agreed time, they’re a couple ways to get out of that aswell… The B.E.P. Isn’t actually ment for long term swaps, so the only real way to do so is by breaking the TOS (terms of servicing). if both parties end up ejaculating while swaped, they end up locked in each others bodies

A lot of them had high standards in order to swap with them but I did find one Private named Matt Cummings. his profile says he’s only been out of boot camp for a week now and hates it, willing to swap with anyone from any branch as long as their not old.

I’ve only done 1 out of my 5 years so it didn’t bother me basically losing a year and having to restart a 5 year contract, especially if it ment I got to look hot as fuck and be a marine

Luckily I was only about 3 years older so I sent a request and after a little talking he agreed saying “I’d love to be in the navy and see more countries than just being deployed and stuck in 1”

Since we were in the same time zone this would actually be somewhat easy, we just set the time to swap to 3 A.M. when we’re both sleeping, and since we both actually had the next couple days off, it’d give us time to adapt and try to figure out our new lives

He asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, promising it’s not like how I think it is. And I told him yes I’m sure…

Unfortunately he was one of the few profiles on here that didn’t have a profile pic so I was a bit worried about walking into this blind, but checking out the basic stats on his profile made me a bit more confident, 5’10 and 140. At the very minimum I might lose like 2 inches of height but atleast I lose about 40 pounds of weight also haha

I woke up the next day in a bed that didn’t belong to me and a dorm room that didn’t look familiar to me. Needing to piss I flung the blanket off me and saw that I was in nothing but my underwear, I rushed to the head (bathroom in military talk) and lowered them to piss and was kinda shocked, nothing too special about the dick, I mean about the same size as my actual body, but maybe a bit longer, ok, more than a little, I had to be atleast 3 and a half inches soft now, bro probably had like atleast 2 inches on me hard, I don’t know yet, so I’ll assume im about 6.5 or 7 inches hard maybe more now. What had me shocked tho was that I’m now uncircumcised! This is awesome man! I always wanted to be uncut. I just woke up and I’m glad this guy wanted to swap, definitely lucked out.

After I got done pissing and shooked my dick, I went to the sink to drink some water straight from the facet, after I got done drinking I stood up water dripping down my face onto my chest and onto my thin 6pack… if you could even call these abs, I’m not sure, maybe inbetween toned and abs status. Finally taking the chance to look in the mirror, I believe I lucked out, this guy seems to be one of the finer looking ones

While admiring my new self in the mirror I started to get hard and decided to check out the goods, pulling my underwear down my initial assessment seemed to be right, definitely bigger than my original body, so definitely atleast 7 inches. I decided to save playing with myself for later, hate to be a cliche and immediately go to touching myself after a swap, I’ll save it for later when I decide to act like a true marine and go get day drunk!

I tried finding some clean clothes but everything that wasn’t a uniform item was kinda just thrown onto the floor so I don’t know which piles are clean and which are not… I decided to take from the pile that smelled the lest like B.O. and get dressed

Once dressed I grabbed a backpack I saw laying around and left the onbase housing and found a store that happened to sell some IPA’s in there. I got a 6 pack and headed back to my room. on the way to the store and on the way back I was getting looks from everyone like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be, can’t be the alcohol can it? I mean no way, I tucked it into my bag. I mean, ya bro didn’t check the back of my CAT card to see my date of birth, so it’s technically underage drinking, but no one knows I have beer in my backpack nor does that explain the looks I was getting on the way to the store in the first place

I shrugged it off and just went back inside to my room. Once in I started drinking right away after I found some good shows to watch on this guys phone, I don’t know his password but the finger ID works, I’ll have to message him and ask him for the code later

It was taking me longer than usual to finish these due to not liking the taste anymore, and they were fucking me up more than usual making me a bit nauseous, I guess it makes since, this Matt guy has only been in for a week, probably didn’t have a taste for alcohol yet, not to mention different tastebuds in general, dam that sucks, this was one of my favorite brands too!

It took me almost 3 hours but I was finally on the last one, on a scale of like 1-10 I was probably a 6 on the drunk scale, trying not to throw up, which is ironic sense I use to black out and wake up never throwing up once throughout the night

When I get drunk I like to start cleaning or working out drunk, makes everything a bit more fun, I decided to do laundry, sense I can’t tell what’s clean and what’s not, I decided to just wash everything on the floor

Once I put everything in the washer I had a thought, technically I don’t know if the clothes I put on today were clean or not, and after spending some time in them today, technically they are dirty “fuck it” I said outloud and stripped completely naked tossing my clothes into the washer too before starting it

I went back and sat on the couch buck ass naked, it always felt weird walking around naked, so the fact that I’m doing it now in a slimmer body, balls swinging? Was kinda erotic, I started to get hard but the hornyness turned into fear when I herd a knock at the door

I remained still hoping they’d just go away, but then herd the sliding of the lock and the door open

“Aye Private FuckFace, I gotta talk to you. A sergeant and 2 corporals came in with him and closed the door behind them. For some reason I forgot that I was totally nude and thought it’d be a good idea to just start playin a movie again and pretend like I didn’t hear them

They walked around the corner into the living room to see me naked on the couch making them freeze and recalculate for a few seconds

I tried to not look up at them and continue watching my phone

“Well what do we have here” the sergeant said walking up to me

“Uh, uh, nothing much sergeant, just watchin a movie, you?”

“Me? What do I have? Let’s see, I’m given the task of coming to scald you for going out in public today and not shaving, what is this? Like my 3rd time telling you in the last week since you’ve been here that you have to shave EVERY DAY. And now I have YOU sitting on the couch, buck ass naked with beer cans on the table” he yelled knocking my partially full can over

“So that’s what we’re doing now? Underage drinking in base housing, not shaving. Sitting in the couch naked, legs open, not even trying to cover yourself, you know I told you if you kept fucking up I was gonna cum on your fucking face Private Cummings, I wasnt joking” he said unbuckling his belt

It didn’t register with me the first time, but it did the second, I’m so fucked up right now that I totally forgot that I was nude, fuck. Wait did he just say he was gonna fuck my face!?

I went to get up off the couch but he pushed me hard when I got half way up, sending me back on the couch.

“Now you know the rules to this, you can try to get out of this but I doubt you’ll be able too” he said nodding to the two corporals as he pulled his 5 inch hard dick out

I went to get up a second time but the corporals went behind the couch, each grabbing an arm and holding it back so I can’t go anywhere

“Suck” he said dick inches away from my mouth

“Fuck that” I screamed trying to spit on his dick as a sign of disrespect

Due to my slow reaction time the moment I tried to build up saliva and spit out on his dick, he just Jammed it in my mouth the second I opened it

I didn’t dare move, I’m not gonna fuck him up by hitting his dick but I’m not sucking it ether

I quit trying to fight to get up and just fell back into the couch more trying to get the dick to come back out my mouth

“Private FuckFace you are to suck my dick until I cum in your mouth, do you understand? That’s an order soldier” the sergeant said yelling at me

The moment he said “that’s an order” it’s like the combination of my boot camp instincts and this Cummings guy’s kicked in and I just quit resisting giving in and sucking his dick

Like a good soldier does, I gave it my all trying to do a good job and I suppose I did cause he yelled “I’m about to cum” I sped up a bit just so I can be done with this gay shit, the moment he started to blow his load in my mouth I quit sucking, but he wouldn’t pull out

I looked up to see my sergeant looking down on me, saying “you know the rules, now swallow, Private”

The moment I swallowed my sergeant nodded again and the corporals finally let go, they came back around the couch laughing

“Oh my god sergeant did he actually do it? Haha” one of them said laughing

“Yep, he swallowed it, which by Marine Social Code, means you, private fuck face, are officially my bitch now and have to do whatever I say whenever I say it” the sergeant said with a smile

“Bro what the fuck is wrong with y’all, fuck that I’m not nobodies bitch, you just mad a private has a bigger dick then you dude” I said standing up

“Private I told you, you know the rules, if anyone is able to take you by force and make you swallow their cum, your their bitch now, you could have gotten out of the hold we had you in, you just decided to say fuck your training, I feel like becoming a bitch all of a sudden right? Just accept it for what it is and do what I say like a good little bitch”

One of the corporals decided to tap the sergeant and ask him a question

“So uh, sense he’s your bitch now, do we get any sort of compensation for helping you? I mean he did put up a fight in the beginning and make us put some effort into holding him down, for someone that decided to become a bitch, he should have known he shouldn’t fight with his superiors” one of them said

The sergeant smiled and said “perhaps… Private go ahead and suck these two’s dicks aswell, take as much time as you’d like”

“No dude what the fuck is your problem I’m not doing that gay shit I’m a marine” I said angrily

“Private, you will suck these two men’s dick, that’s an order” the sergeant said

Once again it was like something in me was triggered and I proceeded to get down on my knees to make it easier for them to stick it in.

“ and you might be a marine but your a fresh marine, ment to be made into whatever the fuck we want you to be, if we want you to be the bottom bitch of the whole platoon, guess what your doing? Suckin dick just like we want you too” the sergeant said as I was giving one of the corporal the works

Both the corporals were bigger than the sergeant, so my only assuming is that the sergeant likes to get drunk with his power and assert it whenever he can, like now

After I got done blowing the first corporal, just like the sergeant did… he ordered me to swallow after cumming in my mouth. laughing, he pulled out and let the 2nd corporal take his turn

This time I didn’t need any instructions and just knew to swallow that way his dick come out my mouth faster, I hated every second of this, I thought the marine corps was the straight bad ass branch but I guess their even worse than the navy somehow

As I swallowed the 2nd corporal’s load I moved my eyes and glanced over at sergeant to see a pissed off expression

“What sergeant, I’m just doing what you told me to do” I said feeling the urge to please my superior officers

“I told you to suck their dicks, I didn’t necessarily say to let them cum in your mouth and swallow it, did i” he said rubbing his hands against the sides of the his temple

“Your point” i asked

“My point is now that you swallowed their cum, your all of our’s bitch now…. man you must really love this don’t you? It’s ok private, I knew from the beginning you must be a little gay from our first encounter, with that being said, we’ll round up the rest of the platoon and make sure you have plenty of cum to swallow and dicks to suck by the end of the week, I’m sure the rest of the guys will be ecstatic to find out they can get free blowjobs whenever they want and not have to go out into town to get it. Good work private” he said now smirking a little bit

“Ok I’ll leave the rest to you two” sergeant said and then walked out

Once the sergeant walked out the corporals both started dying laughing

“Hold up just stay right there private, ima make a call to the E-4 Mafia and get you some more dicks to suck tonight” one of them said pulling out their phone and started reading aloud the text he was sending to a group chat

“E-4 mafia, new platoon bitch is with me right now, drunk as fuck, giving out free blowjobs and swallowing, hit me up if you’d like to get in on this day one, goal is to get him to swallow every guy in the platoon by the end of the week” and send he said

Guys, come on now, this isn’t cool, y’all are gonna make me get a STD or something, you really want that? I said panicking

“Really only a problem for the ones after/if you get one private, but I think most would say it’d be a fair trade off in the hopes of having a platoon wide bitch, it’s gonna be a long 4 years for you dude haha” he said sitting down on the couch keeping an eye on me to make sure I don’t escape before his buddies show up

For some reason thinking about what just happened has me getting hard, the sergeant can go kill himself for all I care, but just like my new marine body, these corporals are starting to look kinda hot

The one that send out the group chat noticed I got hard and addressed me

“You find this hot Cummings” he said with a sly smile on his face

“I got something for you private, just go ahead and close your eyes and start stroking your dick dude, slowly”

I do so, and next thing I know I hear the corporal searching his bag behind me untill he found something, I herd a bag open and he asked me

“ do you like poppers private”

“I love them! What type of popper tho? Like jalapeño poppers?” I said starting to sound excited from the sound of food, drinking on a empty stomach wasn’t my brightest idea

As I’m still stroking my uncut cock I feel the corporal grab the back of my head and go

“ no these ones” he said as he forced my face into the bag inhaling chemicals

It suddenly felt like my dick was about to explode and so I let go immediately but it was too late

My dick started to twitch for a few seconds before I shot my load all over myself

“Noo!! What the fuck was that I yelled”

What I thought you said you liked poppers? I just figured I’d help you get off since you’ll be helping a lot of guys tonight he said with that same sly smile

My whole life has been turned upside down, I was hoping if I could make it pass the next few days the B.E.P. Would swap us back knowing I never cummed, not wanting the swap to be locked in

But now I’m stuck as this private Cummings guy for sure, since the corporal wanted to mess with me and make me cum myself, locking me in this body for years to come

#edit, I’ll try to make a patreon next week where y’all can see the pictures I really want to use for these stories 😏

[in1-nutshell]

Add this to the bottom of the barrel.

I was playing tears of the kingdom and my brain did a hop skip and a jump.

Human body that climbs everything and everyone. has killed a bot with some really archaic weapon, lord knows what they'll do with an actual gun. doesn't really talk but communicates through grunts and hand gestures.

plus

Rodimus who just wanted to get a midnight drink - ...Buddy?

cut to Buddy who just stares back at him for a moment before running into the vents.

Rodimus - HEY GET BACK HERE!

Buddy is chaos. There is no stopping them from climbing anything they can get their little hands on.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy who communicates in grunts, noises and likes to climb with Rodimus Prime, Cyclonus, Nautica, and First Aid

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

MTMTE

The crew picked Buddy up from a planet’s flea market.

Buddy looked so miserable and malnourished.

The crew members were outraged seeing a human so far out in space and being treated like this.

Some go off in a corner to think of a plan to get the human without buying them.

Buying them will only make the buyer rich and chase more humans.

Whirl was the one who stole them from the buyers after causing a diversion.

For once Magnus didn’t put him in the brig for stealing them

The human didn’t speak like any normal human and was very distrustful of all the bots.

Except Whirl.

With time the human eventually warmed up to the bots, but they never really learned how to talk.

They were just fine with the grunts and noises.

It was a random name generator that picked their name since many bots had already gone to the brig for wanting to name them and others not agreeing.

Buddy was a simple name.

And they seemed to like it.

But there were some habits the bots picked up on.

Buddy loved to climb anything they could get their little hands on.

This caused much distress and amusement amongst the crew.

Buddy becomes the crew’s mascot/ friend/ gremlin that lives on the ship.

Rodimus

Rodimus likes Buddy.

He even set up a little chair for them on the main bridge in case they wanted to sit there.

He put it there after too many times seeing Buddy trying to climb the chair themselves.

And that one time they did manage to get on the seat and Rodimus nearly sat on them.

That’s why Buddy now has their own chair.

Do they use the new?

Yes and No.

They use it when they are on the main bridge for more than 5 minutes.

But they don’t sit on it.

At least correctly.

The amount of times Buddy has sat down on the chair wrong nearly glitches Ultra Magnus’s circuits.

Buddy knows this and likes to get a laugh out of everyone.

Rodimus is the loudest.

But not everything is fun and games.

Rodimus hates it when Buddy uses the vents.

He’s scared they are going to get lost up there like one of those Earth videos of families not finding their gerbil until they had to cut a hole in the wall and find it deceased.

Buddy, obviously, doesn’t listen to him.

Rodimus came back to his room after a meeting with Magnus and Megatron.

Turns on the light.

Buddy is sitting on his berth eating some chips.

“…Buddy?”--Rodimus

Buddy stares at him before running to the vent on the ground.

“HEY! NO, NO, BUDDY WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”--Rodimus

Buddy makes some mocking noises in the vent.

“I HEARD THAT!”—Rodimus

Cyclonus

Being one of the bots on board that they were slower to warm up to, Cyclonus does find himself looking after them.

He blames Tailgate for planting the idea in his helm.

He lures Buddy in with treats and by being calm.

Buddy warms up to him eventually.

Cyclonus wants to teach Buddy how to talk so they don’t have to rely on noises or grunts like some unintelligent being.

Buddy was intelligent, they just couldn’t talk or write, that’s all.

He tries his best and sees that Buddy does try their best.

Even if they manage to make a letter sound, is plenty accomplishment for both.

“Repeat after me. Hello.”--Cyclonus

Buddy tries to say but huffs instead.

“No, like this. Hello.”--Cyclonus

Buddy starts making noises that sound like a cat hacking on a hairball.

“…Maybe that’s enough lessons for today.”--Cyclonus

Hacking noises increase.

Nautica

Nautica is one of the crew members that got along the fastest with Buddy.

Maybe it was her being friendly and kind to them.

Or it could also be the snacks she secretly gave to them after their meal.

Who knows?

Buddy has a habit of climbing on her when they want something or need to relax.

They do this with certain bots too, but she still feels honored to be chosen for this job.

All she needs to do is acknowledge Buddy, then be still until they reach the top of her helm or neck cables.

Gives them many head pats.

Buddy looking at Nautica from across the room.

Nautica was talking to Brainstorm about her new wrench.

Buddy walks over and begins to climb her leg.

“EEP! Buddy! You know better to do that without me knowing.”--Nautica

Buddy still keeps on climbing until they reach the top of her helm and just lays there.

“I guess someone wanted some attention?”--Nautica

Buddy huffs but pats her helm.

First Aid

Also, one of the faster members Buddy warmed up to.

But First Aid doesn’t really know why.

He did help Ratchet in making sure they were okay and helped them around the ship, but he didn’t do anything extraordinary for Buddy to like him.

But he is fine with that.

First Aid rather enjoys the company of the smaller human.

He knows Buddy is smart.

One day First Aid came in feeling a bit under the weather and Buddy was making all sorts of gestures and noises to get him out of his desk and to the med slab.

Even trying to carry his digit to the slab.

They knew he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to help, something First Aid found endearing.

However, …

Giving Buddy checkups were 50/50

They could come into the med bay doing everything he said to do and get a treat by the end.

Or…

They would be ‘clawing’ and squirming at everything that came towards them.

First Aid walks into the med bay.

Buddy is sitting on his desk chewing.

“Buddy? Buddy what are you chewing?”—First Aid

Buddy pauses, but then chews faster.

“NO, NO, NO WHAT DO YOU HAVE SPIT IT OUT!” –First Aid

[nattyswann]

Red-haired hero

Parings: captain!shanks x female!reader

Warnings: Smut, Established relationship, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hella dirty talk bc I can’t help it, shanks cums inside reader, threats of murder, mentions of alcohol, mentions of abuse? (Not from shanks), some of the known crew members are mentioned, shanks is a bit evil bc I believe in evil shanks and love mean shanks

Summary: You get assaulted in a random bar for being a pirate but your captain and crew comes to save you just in time. Shanks then comforts you after you get frustrated about the whole situation, always being there for you.

• Being a female pirate is hard. You get no respect and everyone just always assumes you’re the weakest link. I mean you aren’t as strong all the other all stars but you’re apart of the crew and deserve just as much respect and recognition for what you do.

• Even with the knowledge that you were apart of the red-haired pirates, that didn’t stop people from messing with you.

• All you wanted to do was sit at a bar and take a break from your loud crew full of reckless men. That peace was broken when even more men came to disturb you. “Barkeep!” A loud crash was heard behind you as a group of people came rushing inside the tiny bar. “Get a few bottles ready! We just caught a large bounty!”

• Ugh. Of course it was pirate hunters too. You now wanted to get out of there as soon possible in order to avoid these buffoons. Before you could finish your sake, a man sat near you. “And how about you bring out an extra bottle for this pretty lady right here.” The man leaned towards you as the barkeep slid a bottle over to you.

• “No thanks.” You smiled sweetly at the stranger before standing up. “I’m far too tipsy to accept that. How would I make it back to my ship?”

• “Ship?” The man glared at you. “Ah. So you’re a pirate.” It came to him when he peeped the device around your wrist. “That log post is a dead giveaway.” He smirked. “Yeah, captain obvious. I’m holding it for our navigator.”

• “Speaking of..” Snatching the bottle of the bar top, you turned to strut out the bar. “And I changed my mind. I’ll take this bottle for my captain.” You giggled.

• Before you could reach the door another man stepped in front of you. “Your captain?” He leaned down to your height. “Why don’t you tell me their name? Maybe when I beat them and get their bounty you’ll realize that playing pirate is stupid.”

• “She’s only acting so big cause she thinks red hair is gonna get here in time to help her.” You lightly growled under your breath. This sleazy guy is definitely gonna get what’s coming to him, Shanks surely would be here soon, but that was the last thing you wanted to happen though. It would only prove their point. Everyone already agreed that Shanks saved your ass everytime there was trouble. “He’s my captain. Why wouldn’t he save me?”

• “Shut your mouth.” The stranger proceeded to take his bottle and pour the rest on top of your head, drenching you in booze. “I guess we’ll just wait here for your captain to come get you then. Since you refuse to tell us his name.”

• “Want my name?” A ominous voice came from outside the door to the bar. You knew exactly who was behind that door and the voice that was attached to it. When he finally arrived to the scene and bust through the door with the whole crew you bit your lip in embarrassment. You hated this part. The part when all the strong men came to save your ass. “It’s Shanks.”

• You could hear gasps and gulps the moment shanks revealed himself. Some knew him by face but everyone knew him by name. An infamous emperor of the sea.

• “There’s so much commotion coming from this dainty bar.” Shanks said while he slowly strutted towards the bartender.

• “It’s like you guys are having a party!” Yassop leaned near you on the ground and put a hand on your back to help you sit up. “It’s funny seeing our crew member here.” Yassop gazed up at the man who grabbed your hair earlier. “All these men in here and not one of you helped her up?” Everyone avoided Yassop’s gaze and looked as if they wanted to piss their pants.

• “Can hardly call any of them ‘men’, can you?” Benn grunted out.

• “So.” The red-haired man pulled his sword out and stabbed it into the wooden bar top. “Why’d everyone go quiet? Weren’t we celebrating something?”

• Lucky roux pointed at the wall and let out a loud laugh. “Heya, captain! Come check this out!” When the other crew members looked over, they also let out laughs across the room. “They got all our wanted posters hung up on the wall!”

• “Awee. You guys must be big fans of us.” Lucky roux said as he snickered.

• The bar goers who were all bullying you so viciously earlier, were now as quiet as a mouse. Sure they had no problem when it was just a defenseless woman but now that the others arrived, they wanted nothing to do with you. “Well..emperors don’t t-typically dock on our little island..haha..” the bartender peeped out quietly. “I don’t really care about all that.” Shanks stayed serious, unlike his crew mates. “I wanna know why our crew member is on the floor and drenched?” Shanks then lifted his nose up in your direction and shook his head. “Drenched in what appears to be alcohol no less.” He scoffed. “What a waste of good booze.”

• “Please, sir!” The bartender put his hands up. “We’re all very sorry for what we did.” Shanks grabbed hold of his sword again, pulling it out the wood and pointing it in the air. “The person I point this sword at better run.” Everyone in the bar went still.

• The stranger from earlier that poured his drink on you had begun to run before shanks even let his sword leave the air. Benn made sure to trip the dude before he could get too far. Shanks turned in his direction and chuckled. “How did you know it was gonna be you?”

• “Are y-you really gonna kill me?” Only Shanks could make a grown man truly cry in front of an audience.

• “Nah. That’s not up to me. Y/n’s a big girl, She can make her own decisions.” He looked towards you. “If she doesn’t want us to cause a riot then I won’t.” The pirate then faced and walked towards the crying guy on the floor. “But if she decides that you hurt her too badly..” shanks glared the man down so harshly that the drunken fool had started trembling. “Then I’ll fucking kill everyone in this bar and spray your blood on the walls for the next fucker that decides to screw with y/n.”

• Yassop hollered out a loud laugh while smacking his leg. “Whew. You guys really made our captain mad.” Lucky roax joined in on the laughter. “That’s a recipe for disaster!”

• “More like a recipe for death.” Benn chimed in.

• “Enough.” You called out from the corner of the bar. “I’ll be fine.” You quickly walked over to shanks and put a hand on his chest to calm him down. “I think they’ve learned their lesson.”

• “You sure?” He lowered his weapon momentarily to look into your eyes. Making sure his full attention was on you. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “You know what I’d do for you. Just say the word.” He put his sword back on his hip so that he could stroke your arm with his hand. “Don’t be afraid to speak up.” “I’m not afraid of these fools.”

• “I mean don’t be afraid of what I’d do.” “I’m serious, shanks. I’m fine.”

• “Fine then.” Shanks smiled and turned back to the guy on the ground. “See how sweet she is? She just saved your life.” The man nodded. Shanks got serious again. “Say ‘thank you’ to her.”

• “T-thank you! Thank you ma’am!” He clasped his hands together to show his appreciation.

• “Let’s get outta here, captain.” Benn said as he flicked his cigarette and stepped on it. Shanks led the way and the rest of the crew followed him out of that crummy bar. Leaving all of the destruction behind. That place definitely lost a few customers that day.

• Once the two of you were back on the ship, alone in his room, you finally let off some steam. “It’s not fair.” You grunted as you kicked the wall. “I know.” He reached out to hug you and held you close against his chest. “It must be so frustrating.” You accepted him taking you into his embrace but still scoffed. “Im serious, shanks.”

• “I’m serious too, y/n.” He said as he stroked your hair with his one hand. “I hate it when someone treats my crew members like their weak. Especially over something as stupid as their gender. I mean, I didn’t add you to my crew because you’re weak.”

• You pushed away from him a bit to look up at him. “No, you added me because you wanted to fuck me. That’s even worse.” Now looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “All the other crew members know it too. I’m not an asset and I just keep your bed warm.”

• Shanks let go of you and bent down to your height to meet your eyes that were avoiding his. “Is that seriously what you think?” When you gave him no answer, he grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “If that were the case then you woulda been out the crew a while ago.” He just giggled and patted your head. “Think about it, y/n. It’s a crew full of dumb men with guns and swords.” Shanks laughed even harder like you said something hilarious. “We woulda been dead ages ago without you. All of the best crews have a smart woman secretly running shit.”

• Looking into his grey eyes mixed with his sweet words made you so weak. Only with him could you let your guard down so much. “Do you really mean that or are you still just trying to get me in bed as we speak.”

• “Oh I’m telling the full truth..” He leaned his hand against the wall behind you as he also leaned his body in for a kiss. Of course, you accepted the kiss and opened your mouth for him. For a moment he broke the kiss just to finish his sentence. “If I happen to talk my way into your pants in the process then that’s just a plus.”

• “Well it’s working.” “Good. You wanna take it to the bed then?”

• After you gave a small nod, Shanks took his arm and used it to throw you over his shoulder. Ugh. It’s not fair. Even with one arm he was still so strong. It wasn’t long before you reached the bed and he lightly tossed you down. “Since my poor baby was having such a bad day, I’ll give her a present first.”

• Shanks spread your legs and used his hand to hold your hip. He sat down in front of you so he could lean forward and place kisses all over your beautiful thighs. “I always love the way you taste. It never gets old.” While shanks continued to set kitten licks on your clit, he put one finger inside you just to be a tease. “I know I’m doing you a favor but could you do me one and beg for me?”

• “Ahh..it’s soo good, shanks.” You said while clutching onto his beautiful red hair. “Gonna cum soon!” Shanks hummed as he lapped at your pussy like it was his salvation. As if your juices and slick was holy water to him. “I’m waiting.” The moment Shanks felt you tighten around his tongue, he sent his fingers to rub quick circles on your clit to send your senses into overload. Momentarily kissing your thigh to give you extra comfort and to show his attention was fully on you. “Cum on my tongue and lemme taste all the juices this yummy cunt has to offer.”

• That was it. Just then you felt an explosion of orgasmic pleasure run through you. While you shook, shanks made sure to hold you close to him. He took his arm that was wrapped around you and reached back down to stick two fingers back in your hole that was already so sensitive. You whined and let your head fall forward onto his shoulder. Shanks only put them back in to feel your pussy clench over and over while you finished your orgasm.

• “Wow..Look at you. Haven’t even taken my cock yet and you’re already such a fucking mess. Maybe I shouldn’t fuck you tonight..” Shanks said in a teasing manner. You shook your head and reached out for him. “No! Please, I want you right now!”

• Shanks smirked and kissed your collarbone. “I know, baby. I’m just teasing ya.” Your man spent no time stripping himself of his clothing, You making sure to help him (since he only has one arm). He yanked his pants down, revealing the cock he was about to split you in half with. You’ve taken him several times but it still took some preparation for him to be able to slide in with utter ease.

• When the two of you got situated, shanks got on top of you and spread your legs, using his arm to put one of your legs up on his shoulder. “I just know your cunt can’t wait to take me.” He said as he put his tip on your clit, rubbing it a bit to see you writhe. “Look at how messy you are. Getting slick all over my sheets. You’re about to make my cock so messy too.”

• “Shanks! Please stop teasing me!” You moaned out when you felt him poke only his tip in your entrance. “I’m sorry. I’m being mean again..I forgot I’m supposed to be making you feel better.” He kissed you on the cheek as he finally pushed the rest of his shaft inside of you. He dips down and you wince at the stretch you start to feel. Shanks only just started but you already felt soo full. Groaning when he could finally get his honey around him. “Please make me cum quickly shanks..I need it now.”

• Shanks would fuck you forever if he could. It’s like your pussy was made for him. To be fair, was the one who took your virginity and he’s told you multiple times how he’d make sure that he’s the only one fucking you. The only one who gets to taste your delectable cunt. No one else would get to see you become undone the way you do with your man.

• “You are so antsy. Since it’s all about you this time, I’ll give to you quick like you asked.” Shanks took hold of your thigh again and started to pound into you at a rough pace. “Since you want to rush me you better hurry up. Cum on my dick like you did my tongue and fingers. Such a dirty girl.”

• His thrusts began to speed up and get more sloppy as he was closer to bursting inside of your warmth. “Your fucking pussy keeps clamping down on me. His lips found their way to your neck. Then your lips, Licking and sucking in an attempt to rip more moans from your plump lips. “You’re seriously the light of my life. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. I’ll protect you no matter if they laugh.”

• Through your loud pleas for more, you could hear a light chuckle slip past his lips. “They’re all just mad that I’m the one gets to fuck you this good every night.” “Shanks..I love…I love you.” Before you could even process what you were doing, your arms flew to wrap around his broad shoulders and hug him closer to you. “Don’t want anyone else but you.”

• The red-haired man just smiled at the rose tinted expression you wore and caressed the soft skin on your cheek. “I love you too, princess.” Those fives words are the most simple in the world but it meant so much to you. Knowing that he reciprocated your feelings made the upcoming orgasm that much more important than the last.

• Beforehand, you believed he only wanted you for your virgin body but after hearing shanks actually say it, made up all the difference. “Do you mean it..?”

• “Hmm. Let’s see..” before answering your question, shanks gave a few more rough thrusts to get to his finish. “If I didn’t..I wouldn’t have just came so much in your raw cunt.” When he seen your shocked yet relieved expression, shanks knew how much you loved the feeling of his cum filling you up. Fingers grasping the sheets while you dry heave and try to regain consciousness.

• “Don’t forget that I’d do anything for you.”

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Epistolary Yearning ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: a series of letters, speckled with notes of budding romance and longing, exchanged between a newly married couple separated by seas and the ongoing war the emperor sent his commander to end.

pairing: duke!lsm x reader (gn afab)

genre: epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut

tags: arranged marriage, mentions of a war, dk and yn accidentally invent the concept of planes, two people very much falling in love | degrading, fingering, guided play, honey play, marking, mirror play, pet names, praise, pussy slapping, riding, spitting, squirting…

wc: 5.13k

message from nu: fueled by my love for historical, fantasy, and isekai manhuas. big thank you to my beta readers (@heartkyeom, @aceofvernons, and @multi-kpop-fanfics) for reading when I was playing with the format of this fic + @junkissed with helping out with the syntax for this one very confusing line I wrote. also summoning @onlyseokmins bc I told her I'd tag her once duke!dk was finished <3

himbocoups's masterlist

Letter One - YN

My Lord, 

How are you? I hope your trip is going as smoothly as planned. 

It has been a while since I last heard from you. As Summer comes to a fading end, Autumn threatens to wash the foliage to hues of brown and auburn. And I sit at the library nook beside the window, taking quill to parchment against the cover of a heavily bound book and scratching against blank pages before I can muster the courage to write to you. I do sincerely apologize if this attempt seems strange. 

Though I pity our brief time together, the only things I familiarized myself with are your scintillant eyes. Maybe instead of feeling as dull as the color of nature, I’ll think about how the color is reminiscent of your eyes. Eyes, these beautiful jewels seem to reflect the light through your smile. I can’t help but imagine myself as the last person to see them every night as I lay beside you as we drift off into slumber. Would it be too forward of me to say that the thought of growing fond of you, not just your eyes, is slowly appealing more and more to me? 

However, I do have hesitations as I am left alone to roam these lonely halls in a place so unfamiliar to me. It would be a pity shall I reach familiarity with my surroundings before I become familiar with you. Or even worse, to have you forget your familiarity with me. 

Please be safe for me. Hurry home soon.

Letter Two - DK

My Jewel,

For someone who longs for familiarity, you need not create even more distance between us through formalities. And my love, you need not refer to me as your Lord. Love is all I ask for, as love is what you will always be to me. Albeit, I do find it disheartening to read that you think of me so lowly. I could never forget someone as precious as you, even if you do not believe in your preciousness. 

Nevertheless, I, too, pity the brevity of our time together. Marriage agreed upon through an exchanging of letters by our guardians, now our marriage follows suit in the epistolary form. Yet no descriptive access through penmanship could ever grant the feeling that blossomed inside me and continues to bloom since I first laid my eyes upon you. And on the eve of the third week of our matrimony, I was whisked away to end the war. I do sincerely apologize for my absence. 

On this rocking ship, all I can do is stare into the swirling sea in search of a passing merchant ship with letters to deliver. The birds that soar above me seem to provoke me with their independence, cawing in hearty guffaw at the fact that this poor man can never take flight at any moment back into his lover’s arms - where he feels most at home.

Maybe we should take giant birds instead of ships, soaring in the skies and reaching our destination in an instant. How wondrous that would be. 

But I am an equally lonesome Commander among his squadron, a man who keeps the first letter from his lover in the pocket against his breast and his wedding band around his neck. Just thinking about how you were thinking about me while writing that letter, still thinking about me, conciliates any disarray in my mind. And I promise you that I will make you feel loved for the rest of your life, even if our love is only budding. 

I will lead my men well. Then I will lead myself home. To you. 

Letter Three - YN

My Dokyeom (If it is fine to refer to you in this way),

I do have to admit to my shyness, how my face flushed with heat when you referred to me as your beloved. Your “love”…my goodness, our servants nearly called the doctor over when they saw my state of awe. Although, I do apologize if the language in my initial letter seemed blunt or made you feel even a hint of sadness that I accidentally made you for a man with a cold demeanor. 

You wrote: “Maybe we should take giant birds instead of ships, soaring in the skies and reaching our destination in an instant” in our last exchange. What a preposterous idea! But what a new discovery to find that you are as funny as you are charming. Shall we commission a local alchemist to create potions that magnify tiny sparrows to large ships? Or shall I ditch my archery lessons in exchange for nights in your magnificent library, scouring the archives with the hope to find a recipe to an enlarging potion hidden in a romance novel? 

Oh, how I wish everything could be as easy as depicted in romance novels or that one Opera we went to watch. Days consume me on end. Not in the way in which I consume much of my leisure time by staying in the places we frequented in our time together, but in the way in which time passes by so slowly it feels like the concept of time is consuming me instead. I wish it were you who were consuming me even though I do feel it through your love. Because I, too, keep your letter near me. And I trace over the areas your quill indented the parchment, so much that I sometimes end up smudging the dried ink with my hand. 

I do miss you...even more when everything around me reminds me of you. Because you, who makes silly promises about a budding romance, will also be the receiver of my elementary promise about my slowly collecting love for you. 

P.S. They are close to finishing our portraits. I have yet to decide where they are to be hung. 

Letter Four - DK

My Love,

My Seokmin. Seok. Min. Mine. Beloved. Love. Dearest. Husband. Equal. Anything but Duke, Lord, Commander, or Dokyeom is welcome. How I wish for the day I get to hear my name leave your lips through a soft murmur, laughter, greeting, whisper, and mayhaps even a whine. 

Honeymoon was cut short by my trip across the sea. We are finally on land. In front of me is a crackling campfire whose glow conceals the redness of my cheeks, dappled with jubilance from reading your last letter. 

My dearest shy and humble lover whose metaphoric propositions of love are anything but reticent, I have annotated my favorite portions and circled words that I replay in my mind as a source of comfort. However, like what you did with your quotation of my imaginary bird ship, I must reference a few nuances in your letter that I find interesting. Particularly, I find that you must be careful in formatting your syntax, my beloved — for your way of language is enough to drive a sane man mad. Just think of me: a sane man before I had you and now a man slowly falling madly in love with you. 

Referring back to how time achingly consumes you, your “I wish it were you who were consuming me. Although I do feel it through your love” causes me to quiver in a way that is only shared between two lovers. I am a man whose honeymoon was interrupted by the king’s call, a man who is weeks without his lover, a man who has needs - desires. And your need for me to consume you? I can only pluck it out of context. 

If everything around you reminds you of me, then I must tell you that I hope your reminder does not make you suffer as how I suffer. My love, do you know how painful it was to lay in my bed while the ship continually rocked back and forth? It was reminiscent of our second week together when you decided to mount me in bed, your beautiful opalescent undergarment covering an action so lewd that it could never be named in public. Yet I was a man on a ship with his aching cock in his hand, imagining his newly beloved on top of him who squeezes him tightly as they ride his lap. 

No hand could ever replace the fervor of having you rock me, leaning forward to kiss me down my naked chest while sucking and licking the thin area of skin right above my collarbone. How warmly your walls enveloped my own, squeezing and contrasting with every glide you make. I couldn’t help but twitch in you, trying to hold in my selfishness by grabbing onto your thighs - kneading and feeling the skin fill the areas between my fingers. But you bounced on my lap like a bunny in heat, causing my hands to trail further upwards until they lay on your ass…I wanted to worship you by turning myself into a throne, a marble stand so others could be in awe of you for centuries to come. 

Mouth unable to talk, your kitten drooled onto my lap and coated the surface with liquid lust while you whimpered as I praised you for treating me so well. I scooped the syrup from the maple tap and brought it to my mouth to suck; even now I can still feel your sweet syrup rest on my tongue and swirl in my mouth. Yet there I was on that boat, losing my mind with my hand on my tap. Bed sheets soaked with my sweat, I could only imagine that it was your sweat-glistened skin that stuck against mine. It was but a shame, and still is but a shame, that the image of you collapsed against my chest with exhaustion when your thighs trembled with such a quake only exists as a memory. How long would it take for me to turn the memory of me looping my arms around your back and pushing your upper body against mine, feeling you build and crash through a scream, into our reality? 

The land is no better than the sea. Truly, it must be treason to think such impure thoughts while riding on my finest stallion to head to our base. I am a Commander, a Duke for God’s sake. But the bouncing, the clopping - oh, beloved, my skin pricked with heat so much that I thought bandits were ambushing us. The pain I felt while I waited for my swelling to go down - I am utterly embarrassed to admit I almost released while riding in front of my men. 

How I wish I could come running back home to you. Shall I single-handedly overturn the monarchy so we can be equal partners to the throne? So that we can be rulers who need not leave our estate? Just give me the word, and the empire will be yours. Then I would never need to leave your side. That I guarantee. 

P.S. Hang the portrait wherever you please. Perhaps the ballroom so I would always be with you during the night of the balls. 

Letter Five - YN

My King,

How mad of you to write such vulgarities, to suggest usurping the throne only if it means being able to stay with me. You are a Commander. You are a Duke. You are one of the King’s men. Do you not fear the inevitable consequences that you would face should your letter be opened by anybody other than myself? Do you not fear what would happen to you if your lust-driven joke was wrongly taken for treason? I must say that despite everything, I found myself dipping a finger into your words and listening to my juices sing your letter like lyrics. 

Your words comforted my ache at my core, skillfully fighting fire with fire to extinguish my burning forest. However, if you were to turn into a mere object – a chair, a throne, a stand – I would never be satisfied in your worship. ‘Tis true that I would like to be worshiped by you like the first time your palm cupped my face in private confinement under the shade of the gazebo in the garden. With nobody around us, your face softened to reveal the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. Earnest eyes flittered to and fro as you studied me in awe and whispered words of praise. Up until then, I never even knew you could worship a person such as me. Yet, you, a mere stranger I met a few hours ago, placed a kiss upon my lips as soft as the petals on the flowers that surrounded us. 

If worshipping me means an inanimate you, I don’t think there would be anybody who could worship me with such sincerity and reason as you do…and I quite like the animate you even if the animate you screamed at the bug upon your sleeve. I couldn’t stop laughing then. And when you looked back at me with those bashful eyes, I knew this would be a marriage filled with laughter.  

Laughter, as I have recently learned, doesn’t only exist jovially. No. Reading your comment about my syntax, I almost erupted in a peal of sinister laughter. My poor lover with his cock in his hand and his quill in his other and his attempt to warn someone with such an extensive educational background about their syntax…you are too pure for this world. Should it make you feel better in any way, I have also thought about you in ways such a person in my stature should never. 

The other day when I was particularly distracted by the particular “unease” that had been building inside me, I accidentally launched a practice arrow into the wind. Chasing it, I happened upon our agriculture stables where the young workers sit and milk our cows. I swear, I must have been in such a delusional state to feel such a rush just from watching the motion of our cows getting milked that I ran off to the kitchens without picking up my stray arrow. 

Can you believe it, my dear? Have you been thinking of me differently since I admitted to almost leaking when I saw the cows getting milked? Would you think of me even differently if I told you I thought of you while talking to our ice sculptors? If you can quench my thirst on my loneliest days, I can only imagine what taking you in paired with ice would feel like for both you and me. 

Mayhaps, we should convene in the kitchen at night after the bell strikes twelve when all of our kitchen staff have retired. I want to kiss you with cherry-stained lips, watching tint transfer onto yours as I play with the seed of the fruit in my mouth while I wait for our cups of tea to steep. Kissing, I hope, would act as an analgesic for your painfully sleepless nights. Still, I find it abstruse that a kind, gentle, and good man like you would live such a cathartic life as a commander. Enerverated in every way as I am, I can only offer a somnolent kiss in hopes of luring you to sleep before your tea can fully steep. 

“What is a man without his honey,” you would say. Then I would ask you to specify what type of honey you are referring to. 

You would reply with this cheekiness in your voice while your lips pull into a wide smile, “the syrup.” If I’m not wrong, you would peck the top of my head while you reach over me to grab the jar that the cook keeps at the counter for you to easily access. Because the man with a honeyed siren voice that often procures lullabies for me to fall asleep also has a taste for the pollinators’ syrup. 

As you can tell…we are not simple people. We are not a regular couple. We have exchanged letters for longer than we have physically been together. So when I tell you to close your eyes to try to find your honey, would you? If I blindfolded you with a kitchen towel and told you to search for the dab of honey I swatched on my body, could you do it? Would you go to the lengths just to search for the honey to your tea?

Would you use your nose and sniff along my skin, searching for the floral and fruity aroma? Gently picking up my arm and bringing it to your nose, would you gently guide your nose along the surface of my skin in a position so intimate that you feel my arm hairs tickle the tip of your nose? Would you guide your nose upwards along my arm until you arrive at my collarbone, sniffing and docilely licking areas you think to be as sweet as honey? 

Imploring you in your reconnoiter, I must keep quiet as I watch you blindly explore every groove of the topography of my body. I imagine myself tilting my head towards the side to allow you access to the side of my neck, sharply breathing in as you nose the area in which I am the most sensitive. I see you hesitate for a second before planting your supple lips against the skin as if to sample before making a decision. To your surprise, what coats your lips in a sticky and sweet amber gloss is the honey I placed on my neck slowly trailing towards my collarbone. And I watch you intently as you lick it off your lips, leaving a translucent liquid sheen. 

Affected by a magnetic lure, you would somehow find yourself in front of me, your head positioned right above the slowly trailing bead of honey. It starts with a lick, hot tongue against cold skin. I can’t help but feel how the bumpy texture of your tongue cleans and pulls its way up my neck. After the hot saliva hits cold air, you take off the kitchen towel and look at me like a puppy waiting for its owner. 

“Such a good boy,” I murmur as I take the towel from your hand and wrap it around the nape of your neck to pull you in closer. “How does it taste?” 

What is more, is that I hope that in that moment my heart is not the only one that is beating as fast as how a hummingbird flaps its wings. My greedy husband, you back me against the kitchen island until you are pressed firmly against me as I watch and feel you bite and suck a garden of flowers across my neck and chest. Your large hands find themselves around my thighs, kneading and squeezing them so much that the fabric of my night clothes bunch in the palm of your hands. So I maneuver your hands around my waist, and you spin me around and bend me against that counter so I can feel you push yourself against me. 

“Be good for me,” you would command while undressing me. 

Then I would feel it, hands spreading my legs and fingers prying my ass apart, and then your warm and flat tongue against my kitten. One single lick would make my knees buckle. But you eating me out from behind, the way you knead my ass while you take your time swirling your tongue against my lips and lapping up my juices would make me come in an instant. Your tongue presses against my nub while your nose digs itself into my opening almost to the point where you’re fucking me with the tip of your nose, yet it is me who begs for air. And you keep my liquid on your tongue as you rise from your knees to pull my head back until I’m looking at you and your swollen and burgundy lips with my head tilted backward. 

And you pry my mouth open with your hand and watch me catch that sweet honey on the tip of my tongue. 

My dear, I am much too hot to even think about what comes after you let go of my jaw. My tenses in this letter are all mixed up because I’m so caught up in my delusions that I mistake dreams for reality. I feel ashamed to revert to such elementary composition when I am clouded by lust. But in this sensory game of wits, who do you think would win — the explorer or the explored? 

P.S. I’ve had our painting temporarily hung in our dining room as I cannot even bring myself to think about the possibility of hosting a ball without you. The great ballroom has been collecting dust since the first month you left for the war. Besides, invitations to the first ball of the season have long been sent out. I attended and made some acquaintances. Are you proud of me? Are you missing me as much as I am missing you?

Letter Six - DK

My Sweet,

Loneliness is when you are trapped by your stillness while everything around you splits into two and crumbles. And you are stuck in the open space of where everything once was, you in your bubble of muteness as the world crashes and breaks in a cacophonous roar. The feeling that engulfed me during these past few months was beyond my description of loneliness. So with a happy heart, I am telling you that the war is over. I’m coming home soon to hold you in my arms, to show you what this world that surrounds you is truly like — delicate and with the warmth of a glowing morning Sun that promises juvenescent Springs until the end of time. 

Regarding your question about the potential winner of the sensory game you described in your last letter, whether I am the person exploring or explored, I know I would always be the victor as only a true victor can call you “his.” My sweet love, I hope to stick by your side as long as I prefer honey in my tea and you by my side when I sleep. 

However, with a slightly interruptive transition, I have a few requests regarding the contents of your postscript. That is:

One, I am wholly and with every fiber of my mind, soul, and body proud of you. You, my shyest lover who sought friendship in your moments of loneliness, I love you so. Yet I find myself utterly in distress that I cannot co-host our tea parties until later should you hold one in a few days. Our estate is boring, and it must be tiring seeing the same things and people every day for the past few months. I urge you to go out more and explore so I can come home to plentiful stories told in your voice. I want to fall asleep to your descriptions so I can dream of how you see the world around you. 

Two, of course, I am missing you. Even if I were a few yards away from you, I would still miss you. I am currently bothering our treasurer in regards to spending the rest of our budget on a winter wonderland in which we would freeze the entire world so I could easily and quickly sled back home like a seal off an iceberg. However, our treasurer is insistent on saving the budget for lodging, travel, and sustenance. I, for one, think I am right.

Three, I think this might be my last letter in a while as when this stack of parchments finally reaches you, I would almost be home. So I am struggling between keeping this short and straight to the point or long and thoroughly eloquent with everything that I want to write and say to you. Instead of coming to a conclusion by myself, I bid you farewell until we meet again with this set of instructions within my set of requests for you. I’m sorry if the format of my letter makes it very hard for you to read. Like how you described your delusions, I often find myself alone at night imagining you by my side so much that I feel your physical presence next to me. 

Four, as for our portrait in our dining room, I must ask you to perform a favor for me as I have not seen the finished painting myself. It is a test regarding the “likeness” of our portraits that can only be performed by yourself. When you wish to perform the test before I arrive, please excuse all our staff who stay by your side during dinner and ask to eat alone. Should they give you looks, please say that it was requested by me. 

When you are alone, I need you to get into a position in which you can look at yourself through the large mirror that is mounted above the low mantle towards the end of the dining room table. I assume our portrait is hung on the wall at the other side of the dining room table, am I right? If you move the plates and sit on the table, you should be able to look at both your entire body and our portrait through the mirror. Do not worry about making a mess my dear. 

Perhaps this test may be a little lewd for a dinner setting. But after your proposed rendezvous in the kitchen in your last letter, I suppose this test would be nothing to you. 

Look at yourself in the mirror. Can you imagine me behind you, slowly kissing down your neck as I undress you while the candlelights flicker beside us? Our shadows cast against the walls that surround us tell the story of two lovers slowly conjoining into one. And I sit you against the front of my naked body, bending your legs and positioning them so you can see all of you through the mirror.

My love, can you see your lips unfold into a beautiful bloom, leaking with its sweet nectar for your man to taste? The sweet nectar, the glistening substitute to the honey our staff brought alongside our dinner rolls, rolls off the flower and soaks the tablecloth beneath you. Tonight I am not doing anything except revel in your beauty like a man awestruck by something so exquisite that he cannot do anything but stare. 

I want you to imagine that the same me in the portrait is the me you imagine to be behind you, the very me who writes this letter and instructs you on how to pleasure yourself for the night. Suck on your own fingers, my darling. Bring your fingers to your lips, and let me see the way you ready yourself before the pleasure comes. Because what I want is for you to fuck yourself well for me so that after you’ve squirted all over the dining table your pussy continues to throb so much that you confuse it for your beating heart. 

Don’t be shy. Bring your soaked fingers to your folds, and trace along the lines of the petals. Look at how they seemingly open and close as your stomach jerks in reaction. Slowly rub yourself up and down, coaxing that beautiful sigh that I know too well out of your mouth. Feel the pads of your finger mix with your juices, slipping easily and making your hand glide smoother. 

Are you looking at me through the mirror? Are you begging me to instruct you in other ways to satisfy your lust? Do you want to rub your pearl and flick it with your finger in a way that makes you clench and collapse? 

What is it, honey? Are you whining for me to make you feel good? But this is your guided session. Don’t you see yourself through the mirror, so pathetic looking that you would do anything that I tell you to do? Then take that same hand you used to tease yourself and slap your pussy for me. Bring the hand back and bring it down on your pussy quickly and with so much might that the sound of palm against tender skin echoes throughout the empty dining room. 

Don’t you feel pathetic? Getting off from you slapping your own pussy? Doesn’t it please you and make feel so dirty at the same time? When you’re striking your palm against your pussy over and over as your other hand unconsciously reaches upwards to knead your sore nipple, are you looking at yourself through the mirror? Are you still imagining me sitting behind you on our dining table, whispering and taunting you as you attempt to come undone? If your head is not completely clouded with lust, when that pussy is throbbing with such pain and pleasure, you will take your finger to your entrance and insert it slowly so you feel your warm and wet insides slowly swallow your finger the further in it goes. 

Let your mouth hang open as you plug yourself with another finger. Fill the lonely dining room with your sweet moans for me. Listen to your kitten squelch and leak the more you pump yourself so that a warm and hot feeling grows in your stomach, making you clench your body tighter and tighter. Scissor your fingers, and fill up that empty space where my cock usually rests. When you release, pull out your fingers as you come on the tablecloth and look at the cream I miss the most. 

You’re so perfect, you know that? You’d look even more perfect when you’re on your knees with your fingers underneath you and inside of you. Bounce for me my sweet, ride your own fingers as if you’re riding me. Massage yourself with your other hand, grabbing and kneading your breasts and your nipples as I do for you. Can you see yourself through the mirror more clearly when you’re in this position? Do you see how messy and needy you look while you’re pathetically riding your own fingers? Do you wish they were mine? Do you wish they were my thighs? 

Open your eyes for me as you reach another wave of ecstasy. Look at me in the eyes, the man painted next to your glowing figure as you reach your last high. I know you can do it. Scream my name if you love me, and squirt as if your pussy was crying for the man you love. 

Turn your head around when you’ve caught your breath. Look at our portrait. Do you see how I’m smiling at you? 

I’m proud of you, my love. Thank you for holding on for so long. I’ll be home soon. 

P.S. I love you.

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