#Roof Doors & Hatches

[hyunsvngs]

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 - yang jeongin x gn!fem reader, lee minho x gn!fem reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: sex with no strings attached between mc & jeongin, some boy x boy action, established relationship between mc & minho, smut mdni

synopsis: you and your favourite boy have planned to take apart the youngest member of the frat - but the question is, what has developed along the way? your hot bitch summer has a high chance of being fully successful, albeit with some new feelings.

a/n: THE LAST PART OF HOT BITCH SUMMER OH YEAH WOO YEAH EVERYONE ENJOY! smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: boy x boy action, threesome, dirty talk, sub jeongin then possibly a bit dom jeongin, jeongin's a virgin, loss of virginity, corruption kink if you squint, mc has a wap, oral (m rec), cumswapping if you squint, creampies, unprotected sex, sex with no strings attached

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were alarmed.

Minho had invited you over, claiming he had ‘something you needed to see’, and when you asked if it was his dick, he said no. For the short journey to the frat house, you couldn’t help but contemplate what it was. Why was it urgent, too? You’d asked if you could just go tomorrow, but he wasn’t having any of it, claiming it needed to be done today. 

You opened the door when you got there, sniffing at the prevalent smell of weed. Of course, Jisung was perched on the couch cuddled up to Felix with his hand in a bag of crisps.

“Oh, hey,” He said, cheeks red. “He’s upstairs.”

You nodded, feeling slightly miffed that your best friends were getting high without you. It was whatever, really - guaranteed they’d be knocking on Minho’s bedroom door in an hour to invite you. When you entered Minho’s room, he was sitting at his desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper.

“You’re here!” He spun on his chair, giggling. Okay, now you’re even more alarmed. What is he so excited for? You didn’t think you’d ever seen Minho this excited. 

“Minho, I’m currently terrified,” You said, feet planted firmly on the floor. He just smiled again, bunny teeth showing and hopped up from his chair like he really was a bunny. Before you could say something else, interrogate him even, he was dragging you to the upstairs hallway. 

You watched in shock as he grabbed a ladder, positioning it underneath the small hatch in the ceiling. 

“Minho, do I dare ask why you’re taking me into the attic?”

“It’s a surprise,” He huffed, the typical scornful look back on his face. “The surprise is in the attic.”

“Are you going to take me up here and kill me? I’d rather know beforehand, y’know, so I could prepare-“

“Honey, if I was going to kill you, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” He replied. Quick as a flash, the smile was back on his face, and he was creeping up the ladder to push the hatch open. You sighed as he pulled himself up and into the attic, and then he was poking his head over. All you saw were two dark eyes and a mess of dark hair, and you grinned. He was so cute. “Are you going to come up or just stand there?”

You scoffed, and then followed his steps, climbing up the ladder. Minho pulled a cord from the slanted roof once you were up there, and then you were gobsmacked. 

Fairy lights were strung up around the room, adorning a sun and moon tapestry on the wall. There was a bed pushed against one of the walls, looking newly-built and never slept in with cozy light pink bed sheets on. Most importantly, a little bunny teddy sat in the middle of the bed, looking up at you with its beady eyes.It wasn’t a big bedroom, but it had clearly been renovated for some reason or other, and somehow decorated exactly to your taste.

“Minho-“

“Ssh, let me speak,” Minho came behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. You hummed, holding onto his wrists. You could feel the soft fabric of his dark green hoodie against your back. “You’re over here all the time anyway, right? I thought you may as well have your own space, should you ever need it. Like, if we argue or something.”

“This is for me…?” You asked, in a meek voice. You guessed as much anyway, but you needed it confirmed. Minho nodded against your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

“Of course,” He replied. Then, he shifted from behind you and coughed, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him, seeing the tips of his ears burning crimson and his eyes averted to the wall. “I mean, I just threw it together really quickly. We can redecorate if you don’t like it, or-“

“Minho,” You cut him off, kissing his nose. He scrunched it up, swatting you away playfully. “It’s perfect. I just feel so bad, you’ve done all of this for me when I spend most of my time here in your bed anyway.”

Minho chuckled. He pulled you over to the bed and you sat on the edge with him, giggling as he grabbed the bunny teddy and placed it in your lap. “It’s for if you ever need time alone, like I said. I know how nice it is to have a space to call your own, honey.”

Since fucking Chan in his car, one thing had been on your mind. You’d said you were close to Minho, and that had been how you’d put it. Now… seeing what he’d done for you, the bunny teddy included - it just looked so much like him - you needed to ask. So be it if it ruins the friendship - you’d harboured the feelings a bit too long to deny it. He’d been the one to start it all, kickstarting the crazy time you’d had in the frat and he’d been by your side all the way through it.

After all, all you’d really wanted was him.

“Min,” You began, emboldened by the sweet thing he’d done. Redecorating a whole attic must have been hard. “I… what are we, Minho? I kind of just need you to be upfront with me at this point.”

A beat passed, with no words spoken between the two of you. Your hands remained clutched around the bunny. Minho took a sharp inhale of breath. Then, he was laughing the type of full body laugh you’d only seen him do a few times. He threw himself on the bed, thrashing around in his laughter, and you swatted him.

“Don’t laugh at me-!” You squeaked, pouting.

“No, no, I’m sorry, honey,” He pulled you into him, chest still shaking. “It’s just really funny. I mean, I thought we were together this whole time.”

You blinked. Together? “But… I’ve been fucking your friends.”

“You’re the only one I’d trust to fuck all of my friends, dummy,” He said, kissing your forehead. “Also, God knows I get off on it massively. You know it’s a kink for me, my partner fucking my boys. It’s hot as fuck smelling them on you.”

“Oh,” You said, intelligently. Minho chuckled again, brushing your hair out of your face when you looked up at him. “So, we’re together.”

“I think we have been, haven’t we?” He murmured, eyes gazing directly into yours. It made sense, so you nodded. You’d just been extremely fucking dumb. What was new? You suddenly noticed your surroundings, though.

“Minho,” You began, and he hummed in response. “We’re on a bed.”

He blinked, and then he was smirking. “Yeah. That we are, huh?”

You licked your lips. “It’s a new bed.”

“Yup.”

“Let’s christen it.”

Minho practically pounced on you. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were in that exact room a week later, flicking through one of the romance novels Seungmin had recommended when you saw a head burst through the hatch. Unsurprisingly, it was your boyfriend. Minho fell onto the floor as soon as he came through.

“He said yes,” He breathed, panting heavily. You raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you panting so fucking hard?”

“I pulled myself up here without a ladder,” Minho explained, wiping his forehead. “I got too excited because he said yes. He’s pretty damn excited about it, too.”

You raised an eyebrow, bookmarking your page and shutting your book. Seungmin would murder you if you dog-eared his precious book. “Sorry, Min, what are we talking about again?”

Minho shot up, glaring at you. “Um, Jeongin? Obviously.”

You gasped. Jeongin had said yes? You were going to complete your hot bitch summer, and it would end in taking a virginity. But… was Jeongin seriously comfortable with it?

“Is he… is he sure?” You asked, uncertain. To some people, losing their virginity is a serious thing. Jeongin may be one of those people.

Minho scoffed. “He’s been hard ever since you started fucking around. He’s been waiting, honey. I mean, I think he would have rather been involved with the orgy we had, but…”

“Oh, fuck. We totally should’ve invited him,” You gushed. Minho nodded, shrugging. He was still on the floor. “Anyway, he wants you to be there?”

Minho nodded. “He’s pretty excited about that, too.”

Picturing the two men together, you couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so when? When does he wanna do it? Like, tonight?" 

Minho shoved your shoulder gently, shaking his head at you. "He's not the only one who's excited, hm?" 

"I'm not gonna pretend to not be excited, Min. We get to fuck a virgin together! I know you're fucking thrilled too, don't act so nonchalant."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "Anyways, tonight works for him, if you're up to it. Well, as soon as possible, really. You wanna make him wait for it?"

You considered this briefly. "I don't know if I can even make myself wait for it. I wanna shower first, though." 

"Sure, go get ready." Minho began to head down the ladder.

"Don't you dare start without me!" You yelled down at him.

"Jesus, Y/N, some of us can keep it in our pants for twenty minutes," You heard him mutter snarkily as he descended. 

The whole shower you were excited. It was hard to keep from slipping on the tiled floor as you rushed around, shaving and moisturising specifically to rock Jeongin’s world. You had to make his loss of virginity an amazing experience. 

Arriving at Minho’s room in your towel, you opened the door and were met with a delectable sight. As the door opened, Jeongin sprung apart from your boyfriend with blushing cheeks and wide eyes. He looked flustered, caught in the act by you, and Minho sat nonchalantly. 

You pouted, clutching onto your towel. Your hair dripped wet droplets from your shower down onto your chest, and Jeongin’s eyes followed the journey. “I told you not to start without me, Min. You said you could keep it in-“

“Couldn’t help myself,” Minho replied, shrugging. “He’s a good kisser. Also, nothing’s escaped my pants.”

You tilted your head to the side, sizing up Jeongin. He was cute, annoyingly so in his joggers and loose t-shirt, and he was pitching a sizable tent. You had to know what you were dealing with - a full on virgin, or had he done a little something before?

“Innie?” You mused, and he stared at you owlishly. “Have you seen a pussy before, baby?”

He shook his head. “Never. I really want to, though.”

“I bet you do,” Minho hummed, pulling Jeongin over to sit between his legs. You watched in awe as Minho kissed up the column of Jeongin’s throat, making Jeongin bare his neck in acceptance. His eyes were soft when he looked at you, but you could see something beneath them - something wanting, needing. Minho nipped at Jeongin’s earlobe, and then he spoke again. “Why don’t you drop the towel, kitty?”

You smiled, reaching up to undo the knot in the plush white towel. It fell to the floor in a heap, just in front of your feet and in between the two boys perched on Minho’s bed. Jeongin’s jaw dropped. 

“C’mere, kitty,” Minho murmured, and you raised an eyebrow. “Come lay on the bed and let me show Innie how to play with a pussy.”

Well, you were definitely down for that. The blankets felt a little awkward with your body still being slightly damp, but you wriggled around until you were comfortable anyway, head back against the pillows. Minho’s bed was way too familiar to you now, and you revelled in the familiarity while doing something so new. You kept your legs shut, watching the two boys turn towards you with eager eyes. 

“Spread your legs,” Minho commanded, and you obliged. You let your thighs fall apart and Jeongin’s eyes immediately fell to the wetness between your legs. “You see that, Jeongin? You’ve made it wet, yeah?” Minho chuckled and leaned in closer, his hand running up your thigh. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You felt yourself getting wetter as Jeongin's eyes watched the two of you kissing, his body shifting on the sheets. 

You pulled away, grinning at Jeongin. “Do you want us to teach you what to do?”

“I- I mean, yeah, that’d be good,” He cleared his throat. “For future reference, and everything.”

“Okay,” You giggled, nodding. “Come and kiss me then. That’s a good start, no?”

Despite being the one to ask him to come and kiss you, you wrapped your hand in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him towards you. Jeongin squeaked, and fell on top of you, right between your spread legs. You let out an amused noise when his eyes seemed to dart between your face, your tits and your pussy, now pressed into his bulge, and then you were pulling him down by the back of his head. 

Minho was right. He was a good kisser. He seemed to like the push and pull, being dominant one second and then letting you take the lead within seconds after. You let your hand run through his dark locks, pulling on it just a little, and Jeongin let out a low groan of approval. Minho chuckled next to you. Jeongin’s hands, however, seemed perfectly stationed either side of your head on the pillow. He was being respectful, but it was perhaps a bit too respectful.

“Jeongin,” You whispered against his lips. He raised his eyebrows, showing you he was listening. “Who taught you how to kiss? You’re an insanely good kisser.”

Jeongin laughed, a cute, melodic sound. “Hyunjin.”

Makes sense. “That’s cute, Jeongin,” You smiled. “Did he touch your dick, too?”

“Straight to the point,” Minho mused. You gave him a glare, side-eyeing where he was palming over his trousers. You wanted to touch him, but no - you had to focus on Jeongin for now. 

“Mm, yeah, he jerked me off,” Jeongin nodded, and in a bold move for him, he leaned down to press a few kisses against the column of your neck. “Minho’s jerked me off before, too.” 

You turned to Minho, lips parting in shock. Minho merely shrugged. “He has a nice cock. Jeongin, strip.”

Jeongin leaned up, looking at Minho in bewilderment. You chuckled, running one hand down his clothed chest. “I don’t need foreplay, Innie. Other people probably will, for future reference, but… I get too desperate and impatient. So, yeah. Get naked. Please.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, yeah,” You watched in glee as Jeongin yanked his t-shirt off, and then your jaw dropped. Jesus, was he always that built? You’d never really noticed, only seeing him as a cute guy with a lot of love for his friends and a hate for being called a baby. His skin was pulled tight around very, very sculpted abs - ones that could actually rival Chan’s if Jeongin decided to show them off more. You hoped he would. Letting one hand run down his abs, you hooked your fingers into his joggers, and pulled the fabric down - boxers too, because you really were known for being impatient. 

Wow. Jeongin’s dick was hard and standing at attention. You licked your lips when you saw the short, dark curls at his base, framing a thick, average-length cock. The tip was ruddy, flushed and leaking precum in pearlescent drops that made you need him inside of you. You reached down and took him in your hand, stroking him lightly. He moaned in response, hips kicking up into the friction, and you pulled him closer, your other hand caressing his cheek. You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, feeling him harden even more in your grasp.

“I want this inside of me so bad,” You murmured. He sighed, although it was more like him choking on air. “Do you want to fuck me, Jeongin?”

“God, yes, but-” He cut himself off, turning to Minho. Minho raised an eyebrow, hand still stroking over his clothed erection. “Is it… okay if I go in without a condom? Is it okay with you?”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, Innie,” Minho chuckled, finally pushing his joggers down. Your mouth watered when you saw his erection, familiar and just as exciting as the first time you saw it. Jeongin turned back to you, his eyes fixated on yours.

“Fuck me raw, Jeongin,” You nodded. “I want to feel you, all of you.” 

Jeongin sighed, and then he positioned his length at your entrance. His cockhead was thick, and you could feel the heaviness of it before he’d even pushed in and entered your pussy. He left it at your folds for a second, just resting against you, as if he didn’t know what to do. You shifted your hips, hoping to get him inside. The movement was too quick, however, and his cock dragged through your pussy lips without breaching.

“You’re too excited, kitty,” Minho murmured, hand stroking over your hair. You huffed, and he chuckled. “C’mere, let me do it.” 

You watched in awe as Minho wrapped a tight fist around Jeongin’s length, positioning at your drippy hole. It was a shock when Jeongin finally let his sexual urges take over, pushing in fully and bottoming out in one thrust. You jolted, whining at the stretch. 

“Fuck, Innie, you're thick. You've got a really nice dick, you know that?”

He let out a strained laugh, abs tensing above you. “I've been told.”

“Like this, Innie,” You went fully pliant as Minho pushed your legs up, letting Jeongin use his weight to enter you deeper. He started to thrust into you, sharp and strong albeit clumsy. The friction against your g-spot made you wail, eyes bleary with the feeling of uncalculated thrusts so deep inside of you. “Feels better like this, yeah?”

“Oh, this is wet,” Jeongin blurted, and it was almost like a question, his facial expression in disbelief. You really were wet, from the thought of taking someone’s virginity and the feeling of his cock pressing into you. Not to mention your boyfriend being so close to you, jerking his beautiful cock watching his girlfriend and his friend writhe in ecstasy. Jeongin was whining, hips sharply hitting against yours. “Fuck, I’m in so deep, it’s so good-”

It was good, almost too good - you loved watching Jeongin fall apart above you. It was like he couldn’t handle the pleasure he was feeling, little sighs and sharp grunts falling out of his lips. His eyes were dazed, staring down at you but unfocused as he focused on chasing his high. He had no clue what he was doing, but it somehow made the situation sexier - you were showing him how to fuck a pussy.

The knowledge that it was his first time, that you were corrupting someone previously so innocent and cute had you clenching around his cock tightly. You could cum just from this - something you’d discovered when fucking around with the others - and it wouldn’t take long, your thoughts running rampant and whines tumbling out of your mouth.

You whined when Jeongin slipped out from you clenching so tightly, his hair wet with sweat and his eyes watery. Minho scoffed, one hand on Jeongin’s hip to push him back in.

“Get back inside there, Jeongin,” He commanded, his eyes dark as he stared at Jeongin’s dick. It was wet with your essence, the tip leaking pearlescent droplets that you wanted inside. “You were going to make that pussy cum. You need to get back in if you want to learn.”

“I- I can’t, hyung,” Jeongin whined, shaking his head. He was crying now, fat tears dripping down his perfect skin. You moaned, one hand stroking his hair back to see his cute face. He was pouting, eyes sending a million apologies to you. “It’s too wet, I can’t. It’s too much, I’m gonna cum-”

Minho’s hand reached down and wrapped around Jeongin’s dick, pumping the length steadily. You gasped, lips parting as you watched Jeongin’s hips attempt not to fuck up into the tight ring that Minho had formed around the base of his cock. Minho gave him a few strokes, firm and tight, and then he was tapping the head of Jeongin’s cock against your clit. 

“Ah, h-hyung, that’s good,” Jeongin wailed, and Minho smirked. His thumb swiped over the head of Jeongin’s cock, inadvertently rubbing over your clit too, and you jolted.

“I need it, Innie,” You pouted, staring up at him. He let his eyes meet with yours, his bottom lip quivering. “Please. Please, I need it, I’ll cum on your cock, I promise. It’ll get wetter, but you can handle it, I swear-”

“Fuck, fuck! Okay, okay,” Jeongin shook his head in shock, and then he let Minho push his cock back inside of you. Immediately, he was resuming a blistering pace inside of you, mindless and set on making you cum. Minho’s hand reached up to rub circles around your clit and you moaned loudly, trying to ignore the cramps in your legs from having them pushed back for so long. Jeongin grunted when you clenched around him, his facial expression wild and lustful. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to cum.”

“Make your partner come first, Jeongin,” Minho chastised, and you whimpered at the dominant tone of his voice. You could feel your eyes rolling back into your head, toes curling as you got closer to your peak. “It’s not gonna take long. See, look at their eyes.”

Jeongin blinked down at you, hands moving to your hips to try and keep a steady rhythm. He’d slowed down a little, trying to avoid his own orgasm, but Minho’s fingers more than made up for it. “You look so pretty.”

It was silent for a beat, until Minho chuckled. “Aren’t they pretty? Fuckin’ gorgeous, makes my dick so hard it hurts.”

“M-Min,” You whimpered, trying to focus on his body next to you. His fingers were slipping around on your bundle of nerves with how wet you were, but it did the job. “‘M gonna cum. Can I suck you, Min, please-“

“No. Focus on cumming on his cock.”

“God, if it gets much tighter I’ll cum,” Jeongin keened, his head dropping to your neck. You let your fingers run through his sweaty strands, kissing his cheek affectionately. 

“Cum with me, Innie? I’m about to cum, you can let go,” You began, speaking through stuttered breaths. Jeongin’s hips hit a particularly hard thrust inside of you, and you almost screamed. “You can- oh, oh, I’m there, oh!-“

Jeongin groaned, eyes focused on you as he watched you squirm through your orgasm. You could feel the wetness gush from your core, soaking his cock until it was drenching the hair at the base. You wanted to lick it clean, but you couldn’t focus on anything else - because he was cumming inside of you. Hot wetness flooded into your core, gushing out to mix with your own and all you could do was keep yourself pliant and take it. His dick slid out of you with the wetness, your pussy clenching at the loss.

“Shit,” Your chest heaved, blinking over at Minho next to you. He rewarded you with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue swiping over yours. You moaned against his lips, hand moving to grab his neck and pull him tighter to you. 

“Um, Y/N?” You pulled away, looking at Jeongin when he spoke. “I don’t know how, but… It's still hard. Can we-“

“You’re fucking the biggest slut I’ve ever met, Jeongin. Of course they’ll want to go again,” Minho mused, and you nodded, smiling. “Flip onto your front. Show him how deep it can go.”

You obliged, flipping onto your tummy and arching your back for Jeongin to slip back inside. The slide was wet, noises chiming around the room with the sound of yours and Jeongin’s cum mixed together. It was so dirty, and it had you whining into the pillow, reaching over to grab Minho’s hand. 

“Please, please, Min-“

“I’m not fucking telling you again,” Minho grunted, his hand tight around the tip of his cock. You licked your lips, fixated on it. “Stop being so greedy. You already have a cock inside of you.”

You swore you could hear Jeongin chuckle, and then he was groaning. His large hands splayed across your ass, bringing you back onto his thrusts and you couldn’t help but moan - who the fuck taught him that? You let your hips bounce back against him, skin sticking to his with how fucking wet everything was. His thrusts increased in pace, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your head was spinning and your heart was racing as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming around his cock for the second time. You felt Jeongin's grip tighten on your hips, and you knew he was close too as you felt his thrusts grow more urgent.

“Minho,” You whined, looking over at him. He scoffed, and then he was moving, sitting in front of you with his cock in your face. He’d given in - you let yourself smile at the success, and then you were running your tongue over his balls, moaning. You engulfed his cockhead with your mouth and Minho’s hips bucked, his hand going to the back of your head with a groan.

“Look so pretty with a cock in your mouth,” Jeongin mused, his hands gripping your asscheeks. His balls slapped against your clit with a filthy wet noise, making you clench and suckle on Minho’s cock just a little more. “Can’t wait to fill you up again. God, you really are a slut, aren’t you? Do you want my cum again?”

“Jesus, Jeongin,” Minho chuckled, but his voice was strained. You giggled, dipping your tongue into Minho’s slit. “He’s a fuckin’ animal. I knew it. Smack her ass a bit, Innie.”

You squealed around Minho’s length when Jeongin raised one large hand to smack down on your ass, the flesh rippling. You bucked your hips back more, asking for another hit, and he obliged. His cock was so hard inside you and the slaps were heavy, painful on your smarting skin, and you loved it. 

You didn’t think you could handle it much longer. Minho was so beautiful above you, his feline eyes narrowed and plush lips kiss-bitten as he stared down at you sucking his cock. His chest was covered in a blotchy red rash, showing his pleasure, and you let your jaw go slack. 

“G’na fuck your mouth as you cum,” Minho groaned, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him this stuttery and horny in the whole time you’d been fucking him. He was falling apart. You hummed around his length, and he used your head to bob your mouth up and down on his cock. Being treated like a fuckdoll, spitroasted by your boyfriend and his friend was enough to have you clenching down tight on Jeongin again. Minho grinned at your facial expression, your eyes rolled back, tightening his fingers in your hair. “They’re gonna cum again, Jeongin.”

“Fuck. Yeah? You gonna cum again?” Jeongin asked, his cock repeatedly ramming into your g-spot. You didn’t even think he knew he was doing it, but you wailed in response nonetheless. “C’mon, flood my cock again. It felt so fucking good last time.”

You were done for. Your pussy clenched around Jeongin once more, walls fluttering as you let yourself go into your orgasm. Jeongin rewarded you with another smack to your ass, and the sensation had you cumming even longer - had it been a minute? An hour? You honestly weren’t sure, but it felt so fucking good you couldn’t find it in you to care. Minho grunted, and then he was holding your head down and spilling hot white warmth into your mouth. You swallowed it down dutifully, licking your lips, and then you were being flipped over again. 

“Kiss me,” Jeongin urged, his hand pushing your thigh up again to fuck you deep. He was a quick learner. You grabbed him by his neck, letting your tongue lick over his. You knew he could taste Minho. That’s why he’d asked you to kiss him. Your pussy was sensitive now, after two orgasms, but you let him fuck you senseless nonetheless. Jeongin moaned, his lips barely brushing against yours in the exchange of spit and you could feel him getting close, his dick twitching in pleasure inside of you. You let go of his neck and grabbed his ass, pushing him in to cum even deeper than the first time. 

He positively wailed as he came for the second time, his head dropping to the crook of your neck again. His body was squirming, twitching through his high, and he was gripping your hips way more than was comfortable - you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow, but it was worth it.

Once he’d filled you up, Jeongin dropped to your other side, chest heaving. 

“Good first time?” Minho questioned, a smile on his face. Jeongin huffed, slinging one arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder. You accepted the cuddle, even more so when Minho sidled up to your other side.

“Good is an understatement,” Jeongin responded. His breath was so close you could feel it tickling your neck, and you giggled. “I’m still pissed off that I wasn't invited to the orgy.”

You hummed. “There’s always next time.”

Jeongin perked up at that, his smile wide. “You mean… you’re not planning on stopping even after having us all?”

Minho chuckled, kicking you playfully. “I don’t think they could stop even if they wanted to. My baby’s a whore.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You better not be planning on keeping that pussy all to yourself, Minho,” Jisung grumbled. He was shoving forkfuls of cereal into his mouth, and you had strong deja vu. You’d definitely been here before.

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Sungie,” Minho responded, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wiggled with glee from your position on his lap, and he chuckled. “I’m not planning on it, anyway.”

“Great,” Felix responded, elbowing your side softly. “I didn’t get my turn alone. People had to interfere.”

Seungmin scoffed. “You were touching each other up in the living room. Did you really expect us to turn a blind eye?”

“I suppose it’s better than a car,” Chan mused. You almost choked on your cereal, Minho patting your back soothingly. You heard Changbin mutter something along the lines of ‘or a gym’.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured into your ear. You smirked.

“I don’t think that’s something a normal boyfriend should be proud of, Min.”

“Yeah, well - we were never meant to have a normal relationship, were we? Remember, this all started from you saying you desperately wanted to fuck me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jisung giggled, beaming over at you both. “I still think that’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Look where it got us all.”

You hummed. You supposed you did have Jisung to thank for all of this - and your hot bitch summer had ended brilliantly, with a boyfriend you were borderline in love with even after fucking all of his frat brothers. 

It couldn’t be any better for you at this point. 

[accessdoorsandpanels]

The Impact of Technology on the Roofing Industry

Technological advancements have helped every human's life for the past generation, making everyday tasks more accessible and convenient. It is now visible in terms of communication, transport, food industry, education, construction, and others. Aside from the advantages mentioned, we can also see enhancements regarding safety, efficiency, durability, and security.  

These advancements are also present in the roofing construction industry. Enhanced roofing materials now have extra advantages to the whole structure. For this article, we are going to tackle the impacts of technology on the roofing industry and what different innovative products have positively changed the roofing construction game.  

1. Green Roofs  

One innovation in the roofing industry is the creation of green roofs. It has a waterproofing layer, a root barrier, a drainage system, and a plant growing medium. Green roofs, or roof gardens, can be accessible and can include much larger plants and even some water fixtures.  

Although environmentalists may love using this kind of new roofing technology in their commercial buildings or residences, many rumors about green roofs give consumers pause. Fortunately, many of these rumors are simply myths. For example, many people believe green roofs are too expensive, leaky, and complex to build; however, that is not the case.  

If the roof is well installed, with a quality waterproof membrane, leakage issues will not be a problem. And suppose you work with a knowledgeable roofing contractor to select materials, vegetation, irrigation, and others. In that case, it is entirely possible to create a beautiful and sustainable green roof that doesn't need to cost a fortune.  

2. Solar Friendly Roofs  

Solar power is an efficient way to minimize the harmful effects on our environment by creating renewable energy. The solar industry has a variety of advanced roofing technologies available. Instead of the traditional solar panels attached to racks, manufacturers make solar-friendly roofs with roofing materials, such as roof tiles or shingles.  

You can choose from the different brands available, and they all differ slightly regarding size, style, and overall look. Not only will it help you create renewable energy, but it is also a better alternative than the eyesore traditional solar panels.  

3. Metal Roofs  

Metal roofs are durable, they reflect the sun's UV rays, and they can contribute to steady temperatures in any home or establishment, thanks to the material's insulating properties. Considering a metal roof is an excellent option for anyone seeking energy efficiency for heating and cooling.  

4. Synthetic Shingles  

Previously, people usually constructed shingles with asbestos. But now, modern roofing technologies allow manufacturers to create synthetic roofing options that mimic natural materials like cedar, asphalt, and others. But without the toxic materials. These synthetic shingles have a beautiful exterior look crafted with quality and durability. Some commercial buildings can get LEED certification by installing this roofing system. 

5. Flat Roofs  

Flat roofs have always given a more uber-modern aesthetic. Whether part of a green roof or a rooftop deck, you can achieve a contemporary look if you choose this roofing alternative. A flat roof is a viable option. The only caveat is that, depending upon the typical weather patterns in your area. You will want to ask your installer if the rain and snow will create problems for this architectural style.  

6. Roof Doors and Hatches  

Roof doors and hatches provide convenient access to your roof if checkups and maintenance are needed. The convenient hatch allows roofing contractors to safely get up your roof, unlike the traditional ladders, which can be a little dangerous in some cases.  

Final Thoughts

There are still more innovative roofing products available out in the market. If you're interested, search for more details from different websites or contact your roofing contractor and ask for the most suitable roofing material for your establishment or home.  

When it comes to roofing access convenience, Access Doors and Panels provides various products such as roof hatches that will enhance your establishment's quality and efficiency. Contact us at (800)-609-2917, and our world-class customer service team will be delighted to assist you throughout your purchasing process!

[sinsofbeauty]

A Midnight Encounter

Fandom: COD MWll

Pairings: Jealous! Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Requested: Nope :3

Warnings: Jealousy, Soap giving you nicknames, Mild possession, SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, Dom! Ghost, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, choking/breath play, spanking, daddy kink, degradation

Overview: A brief encounter with your superior Soap gets Ghost on edge. Couple of drinks down the hatch and a late night after a mission, turns into something much more heated than your intentions.

A large party blooming with life, and a night that would be one to remember. Undercover, you and Soap had been infiltrating a large mansion for some intel on a lead. The both of you had to pose as a couple, not exactly husband and wife but something “long term.” It was a masquerade party, so faces were hard to see under the masks that covers half of peoples faces. So you and Soap had sat at a round table, across from each other that way eyes were also behind.

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

You and Soap exchanged a quick glance after Price spoke on the comms. It was now all about timing and patience as the first phase will proceed.

“Gettin’ there,” Replied the Lieutenant, who’s checkpoint was to make it on the roof. “No hostiles on the rooftops, closing into position.”

The glass dome over the ballroom had lights around the rim and provided a glimpse of the night sky. With all the commotion, no one would have anticipated someone being up there, but of course you and Soap knew.

“I’m in position, over.”

Looking up, you notice the glare of Ghost's silenced firearm. The ceiling in this area of the structure was quite high, making a sniper with an excellent view likely. You turn to face Soap, who was chatting with you and seems to be having fun as you scouted the area. Price and Daz were sneaking inside the building as this was going on.

“Fox, there’s a door south east to your location.” You heard Ghost speak through your comms. “I can’t get a visual, do you see anything?”

Your eyes transitioned to look at the door, in which had just opened. “Copy Ghost. It just opened.”

“What is there?”

You observed three men leave, two of whom were real close to the third. Those who had encountered the one in the middle, were greeted and left shortly after. It didn't take you long to realize that he was the mansion's owner. Not as quickly, but at a steady enough pace to make your heart race, the man began to walk over to where you and Soap had been sitting.

“Three men in total, one is probably the party host. Seems to have a lot of friendly gestures from guests.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Soap. “The other two are probably guards, they look too alert to be friends or close company.”

“Copy that.”

Upon taking a deep breath, Soap looked back at you after casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Phase two had begun, and the man in front of you had quickly stood up and left without saying anything else. There you were left alone, with Ghost watching as the man of the house approached your table. You had a drink in hand at this point, lifting it to your lips as the three men had came to your table. They all were tall, staring down at you while you set your drink back down on the elegant cloth of the table.

“Good evening. It is my pleasure to welcome you, even though it’s well into the party.”

You gave a genuine smile nodding your head in appreciation. “Of course, it is my pleasure to attend such an extravagant event.”

The man smiled, raising a hand to shoo off the men who had stood closely behind him. With that, the owner of the mansion had taken a seat in the spot Soap had been sitting across from you. Now, it’s showtime.

“Target right on queue,” You heard Ghost speak quietly in your ear.

“Rog. Soap what’s your status.” Price then speaks.

“Oscar mike. The halls are quiet, no sign of hostile activity.”

As you struck up a discussion with the man, you positioned your arms beneath the table. You kept the target distracted so that the men in your ear could continue discussing the objective. Though the longer you stayed, the harder it became, anxiety in the pit of your stomach turning into discomfort. Your face was trying to hide the uncomfortable sensation you were stifling within, while your hands were fidgeting under the table.

“Found something,” Soap was heard on the mic.

Oh thank god.

“A file and a usb. Talks about everything we’re looking for. There’s also a map to what looks like a part of Southeast Asia.”

“Rog on that. Execute phase three, we’re getting the hell outta ‘ere.”

Perfect. As soon as the man in front of you laughed—not at what he said, but at what you had just heard—you started to smile widely. In an effort to attract his attention, you laid the drink that you had just finished sipping on the table.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I must go the bathroom. Would you kindly inform me where it is?” You smiled innocently at the ignorant man who had only given you a lusty glance in response to your politeness.

“Why of course, it’ll be down over there by that entryway. Immediately take a left and you shall see.” The man leaned in and set a hand on yours, lifting it into his before planting a firm kiss on our knuckles. “Please do return, I absolutely love your company my dear.”

“Of course, I won’t take long.” You said with a wink.

He let go of your hand out of amusement and allowed you to stand up. You had moved carefully past other guests while saying excuse me, walking in the direction he had instructed you to go. Finally, you reached the entryway and turned left.

“Ghost, Fox, we got the intel. All we need is you two out of there, copy?”

“Roger. Oscar mike and out in five.” Ghost spoke.

Shortly after taking your heels in hand and moving quickly down the corridor, you adjusted your earpiece and pulled your hair back into a ponytail. It was pitch black, with hardly any lights, dull, and somewhat difficult to see. But it didn't stop there; noise down the hallway forced you to pause, and you eventually found your way into what appeared to be a dining hall.

“Fox? Do you copy?”

Once more, Price's voice echoed in your ear. As you attempted to hold your breath due to your heavy breathing, you could feel your heart beating rapidly. The voices approached the door before stopping, speaking in a language you couldn't comprehend. It was unfamiliar, like something Arabic or a comparable dialect. It was difficult to determine if they were guards or other guests from the party.

“Fox?”

Your ears were straining to focus on the language being spoken from behind the door when you faintly heard the Captain's voice again. They then shifted to using English at that point. You became aware that you had been gone for a while when they radioed about a girl who matched your identical description. Both the party host and the security were looking for you.

“Fox talk to us.”

Your attention was drawn to the comms again, hearing Soap when he called you. The people behind the door jogged off making you take a deep breath. “I copy,” You sigh with relief into the comms. “I ran into a couple of guards, had to hide for a bit.”

“Had me worried there baby girl.” Soap chuckled into the mic making you snort with a head shake.

“I can clearly take care of myself.” You replied, looking out the door to see if the coast was clear. “I’m right near the exit, better have those vehicles ready.”

“Just waiting for you doll.”

“Enough with the flirting you two.” Price scolded in your ear. “Just get your ass outside Fox.”

“Copy,” You couldn’t help but cackle at the nicknames as you finally made it through.

You took a moment to locate the spot where you and Ghost would meet as you snuck through the grass next to the structure. Price would have joined Gaz by this point, and Soap would be going towards the other car. That moment did eventually arrive, and you met Ghost at the predetermined location.

“We have a change of plans,” Price called out through the comms. “There were too many guards in the area for Soap to make it to Bravo’s vehicle. He’s coming with us, copy?”

“Roger that sir,” Ghost took one fine look at you and huffed, taking one final survey through the night vision goggles.

Both of you made your way to the vehicle, in which you both hopped in as soon as you saw it. Ghost in the driver’s seat, while you in the passengers. The vehicle vroomed with life before the masked male driven off, making it on the dirt road that lead to the exit of the mansions perimeters. Once off, you had clasped your hands together with glee. Your first undercover mission that didn’t involve shooting people, what a success!

“Oh that was amazing! Never had so much fun being fake.” You giggled out, causing Ghost to grunt at your comment. “I’m glad I didn’t get caught. That would’ve been a disaster in itself. Though, the people I was hiding from spoke another language. I think Arabic? Something of the sort.”

When there was silence, you turned to face Ghost, who had his hand firmly on the wheel and was glaring at the road. Although you couldn't see his face, the silence and the growing tension within the car left you puzzled.

“Is something wrong?”

Before he could answer he swerved on the side of the road, making you jolt in your seat as the car had vigorously jerked into a bunch of uneven grass behind a couple of trees and rocks. You looked at him in shock as he parked the car, turning off the engine and even the lights for concealment.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You exclaimed adjusting yourself back in your seat correctly.

Ghost had looked over, his eyes staring at you with a deep glare. It was intense, cold, and made you freeze in place as you stared at him innocently. The way that his eyes looked so menacing, deadly, made you heat up in more places than just your cheeks.

“Get out of the fuckin’ car.”

“What?”

There was silence in the air, before you watched as he opened the door and got out. He was dead serious about this one. You got out yourself, not minding that your bare feet were on the grass let alone the stockings that matched your skin tone. The sound of Ghost slamming his door made you jump, and watch him walk around the head of the car. With that, you closed your door, but by the time you turned around he was right in front of you.

“Baby girl? Doll?” His voice rang deep within the quiet atmosphere of nature.

Oh…shit. That’s what he was upset about. Let’s just say, you and Ghost have more of a Lieutenant/Sergeant relationship outside of what people see in uniform. It’s been going on for a short time, but still. Simon was very protective of what was his.

“He’s called me that before.” You replied shaking your head. “It’s nothing serious and you know that.”

“I still don’t fucking like it,” He snarled, making your heart practically leap out of your chest. He was dangerously close to you, his mask practically inches from your face. “And on top of that, that man at the party. Putting his fuckin’ hands on you.”

“I had to play my part Simon,” You looked away from him. “Jeez if I knew you would be this jealous-“

You were cut off by a gloved hand taking your chin, yanking it back to look at him. The heat between your legs had been shown in an instant, your thighs pressing together as you whimpered helplessly under the taller man.

“Jealous, is an understatement.” Ghost growled. His eyes looked fiercely down at you, half lidded and hungry for more than what you expected.

“G-Ghost,” You stutter, arousal forming under a nervous expression. “We’re still on a mission, shouldn’t we get back to base?”

The eerie silence of the night crept over, until Ghost took his other hand to his radio. “Captain, we’ve run into a little problem.”

It took a few moments for a response. “What’s your status Lieutenant?”

“There are guards along the border. I don’t see an exit without being seen.” The silence took over, making your raise your brows at what Simon was trying to do.

“Copy that. Stay low until an entry point is sealed. We’ll keep a lookout for any signs of activity.”

“Copy, over and out.”

His eyes, which were malicious and filled with significantly more than what you had previously seen, peered at you from the radio. Ghost had slid his hand that was on your chin over your neck, taking it with a firm squeeze. You gasped only slightly when he used his body to pin you against the car door.

“You wanna be sly, little fox?” His voice was purely filled with his British accent, making you shiver and put your hands on his wrist. In that moment, you had realized why he had lied to Price on the radio. He was buying time.

“Turn around.”

That was a voice you heard many times before. It was the part of Ghost only you have seen out of the members of Task 141. The one that would either fuck you into oblivion, or make you cream so much that not even god could stifle your pitiful screams.

Without a word you turned around, the back of your tightly fitted dress giving Ghost a perfect view of your ass. He grunted, and a heavy slap was planted on your right cheek. You gasped out since it was so unexpected, abdomen clenching tight as his gloved hand let another rip at your other cheek.

“Lemme tell you something sweet girl,” Ghost spoke out of pure lust and sexual tension. “This ass, belongs to me.”

Another hit to your cheek made you grit your teeth, and with another he slapped considerably harder. Tears began to brim at the corner of your eyes, and when he had abused your ass for the last time you couldn’t help but moan out.

He noticed this, a hum making him bend down with his masked mouth next to your ear. “Enjoying yourself, baby girl?”

You didn’t respond, instead you squeezed your eyes shut on how he mocked Soap’s words. Fuck was he good. In an instant you felt the back of your short dress being lifted up, the cold air of your red ass being exposed to the night.

“No panties,” Ghost stated from behind you, as you felt fingers on your stockings. A quiet rip was heard, letting you know that he tore that shit with one easy grip of his hands. “We’re you expecting to get fucked tonight Princess?”

You let out a shakey “no”, but Ghost didn’t believe that. After a night looking like this, so vulnerable, so fucking sexy, damn that was his plan. But of course, he had something else in mind.

“Don’t lie to me,” He said, taking a moment to remove his gloves off of his hands. He tossed them to the ground and moved one of his hands to the front of your dress, cupping your breast.

“I-I’m not lying.” You spoke, opening your eyes at his motion. “I was just..dressing up for the occasion.”

When you felt two fingers on your slicked pussy lips, your breath caught, and your reaction alone caused him to groan. You couldn't hide the fact that you were a mess, due to how wet you were between those adorable thighs of yours.

“Look at how wet you are. Just for me, and only me. Isn’t that right, doll?”

Arousal was clearly visible as skin became flushed, thighs beautifully moist, and your nipples puckered into hard buds. It was hard to swallow, let alone breath without it being filled with lust. In spite of your best efforts to balance yourself on the car with your hands, you eventually lost and melted under Ghost's control. When his fingers made their way to your clit, you exhaled loudly and whimpered as he rubbed in slow, agonizing circles. You moaned, not satisfied with the speed at hand. You wanted more, fuck.

“I can’t quite hear you. Is my little slut wet for daddy~?”

“Fuck Ghost!” You groaned out, head hitting the glass of the passenger window. “Y-Yes, I’m so wet for you…”

Without warning he dips his two fingers in your throbbing cunt, making you almost scream out with pleasure. You tighten around him almost immediately, making him groan sharply while he abuses your sweet sex over and over. He knew the right places, curling his fingers, making you tremble.

“Such a tight little cunt baby.” He purrs, the speed of his fingers fucking you in an unrelenting pace. “Just seeing you in this dress makes my cock ache. I couldn’t help thinking about fucking you while I watched from the roof.”

His hand that had been massaging your breasts came up to your neck, taking it with a strong hold. Your airways had been blocked, making it hard to focus while his fingers pumped inside you. As soon as you felt lightheaded, he slowed his pace before releasing his grip, allowing you to breath for the time being. Taking himself out from your tight hole, he used his two fingers covered from wet juices of your cunt to spread your folds open.

“You look so fucking cute,” He breaths, not being able to help his own heavy, staggered breaths. “I could just fuck you right here.”

Before you could say a word, his fingers sunk back into you. You jolted with pleasure, stomach tightening, thrust after thrust of his fingers repeatedly flicking up at your special spot. You moaned out, whined, and writhed beneath his body, the pleasure making your legs wobble numb. Your climax was close to bursting, Ghost taking your neck once more and cutting of your air supply.

“Fuck baby,” Ghost grunts out. “You’re clenching hard on my fingers, gonna cum already?”

As you closed your eyes you let out a choked groan, feeling yourself on the brink of pure bliss. Although you wished it was his huge cock sensuously rubbing your walls, he was using his fingers quite well. Ghost quickly withdrew himself from your cunt, releasing his hold on your neck which caused you to take a deep breath. Your clit was yearning for attention, and you were twitching in desperation. He pulled your head up to gaze at him just as you were about to approach orgasm, causing your back to arch away from his body.

“Don’t you fucking come.” He commanded.

“B-But I-Im-“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He grabbed your hands from being able to touch yourself.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, holding back your orgasm as you were told. For fuck sake, why did he stop?! It was so fucking good “Please,” You beg, shaking your hips in desperation. “Please, please fuck me please!”

Ghost gave you a firm slap to your ass, making you flinch with a whine. “This is your punishment for flirting like a little whore.”

“But I wasn’t-“

SLAP!

You moaned out, legs about ready to give out under you. “Fuuuck~!”

“Has anyone been able to pleasure you like this?”

Your eyes stay closed, not being able to look at him. “N-No.”

“No what?”

You felt his finger back at your slit, massaging and running up and down your creamy hole with ease. Your breath halted, swallowing hard at the feeling. “No, sir. Only you.”

“That’s right princess,” He spoke deeply, making sure your clit got some attention. “Open your fucking eyes.”

You do as your told, opening them as you stared right into his. His fingers plunged into your pussy again, a moan escaping the pit of your throat.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes sir.” You say weakly.

His fingers pump into you, slow and steady as your tight cunt clenched around him once more. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, but as soon as you did he stopped. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.”

Your eyes shot open, and his lowered into a glare. His fingers began to fuck you again, only this time at the pace he was doing before. You yelped out, unable to control your helpless cries as his fingers made your abdomen clench for release.

“Does my dirty little slut wanna come for me? Does she wanna fucking come all over daddy’s fingers?”

“Yes! Yes please!!”

“What do you say doll?”

“Please Ghost! Pleasepleaseplease I wanna come so bad!!!” You pleaded, your climax reaching faster than it did before. “Ahh~ Simon, I wanna-“

“Fucking come for me baby~.”

With that, you climax consumes you. Your inner walls spasm, making Ghost grunt out and grab your hip with his free hand. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, fingers curling harshly into your tight walls as you scream out in ecstasy. Your legs shake finding yourself being overstimulated to the brink of coming again.

“Si- mon- fuck!- aha mmhn~!!”

The squelching of his thick fingers in your pussy was soon interrupted by the sound of liquid gushing out. Onto the floor, on your stockings, on his pants it went, squirting until Ghost stopped, pulling his fingers out and rubbing your slit gently.

“Good fucking girl.”

You panted, letting your head fall and your body hunch into a weak position against the car. Ghost removed his hand from your pussy and held onto you, seeing that you practically had no balance left over. Your stockings had been soaked on the inside, from your slick cunt to your thighs. Ghost pulled your dress down and pulled you away from the door, opening it and picking you up to set you inside.

“I can handle myself.” You said because of his actions.

“I know, you handled me pretty well Princess.”

You puckered your lips as he set you down in your seat, closing the door and walking back to the other side. He hopped in as if nothing happened, turning on his radio.

“Captain, do you copy?”

A couple moment of silence later and Price responded, “Affirmative. Any changes?”

���Oscar Mike and off the radar, we should be home soon.

Ghost turned off his radio, turning on the car and soon driving away back on the road. One hand stayed on the wheel, the other, which was the one he mercilessly fucked you with stayed on his crotch. Man did you wish he railed you, made you fucking come undone over and over again like last time. You looked at him, head titling to the side in a tired stare.

“If I knew you would be like that over a couple of nicknames…I would have let it slide a lot sooner.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost huffed, simply out of amusement. “You really wanna piss me off don’t you?”

“Why not? You fuck me anyways.”

“I won’t be nice the next time it happens. You can trust me on that love.”

[indigosunsetao3]

For the GIF game, requesting something with 141 and a shorter reader or character. 🥹

"If you go in there I'm going to have to follow," Ghost answers over his comms as you glance back at him.

"Good luck catching up."

You smirk with a small little wave from over the edge of the roof, peering down at the team scattered about the compound. Ghost is standing right out in the open glaring up at you from behind his sunglasses, you don't have to see his eyes to know they're narrowed. And pissed.

"Lass, if you don't come back down from there we're going to have bigger issues," comes Johnny's voice, full of exasperation but also a bit of amusement. "Ghost is going to just kick in the front door."

"I'm already here," you answer as you throw your body into the halligan you had swiped from the helo. The lock pops and you throw it away before prying the small maintenance hatch open. "And none of you brutes can wriggle in here anyway, even I'll have to crawl in this short space."

"Give me five minutes and I'll find a way to wriggle in...I'm quite flexible." Gaz taunts and you snort as you shirk off your vest.

Someone whistles over the comms and you glare off in a random direction not sure which of your boys it was.

"Mmm, while I would love to watch that," you cut off as you drop your legs down in the narrow entrance. "I don't think we've the time," you finish as you drop into a crouch, you voice echoing in the small space. "Now shush, I'm working."

The compound was covered with security, Konni all over the place monitoring for infiltration. You all had been watching for hours and couldn't find a single point of infiltration until Price shoved the blueprints at you to look over. The main building had an old maintenance hatch to access all the electrical and air systems.

Before anyone could tell you no you had taken off. Slipping under a cut fence, up over a trashcan then to the roof access ladder. There had been a flurry of yelling over the comms as you shimmied up and Ghost had nearly bit your head off when your foot slipped halfway.

"Sitrep," Price says after about three minutes of silence.

You don't answer as you roll over on your back, shifting a few times to center yourself, and stare up at the mess of old wires. It's a disaster as you try to figure out which one to pull and not get zapped in the process. Prying the small, but lethal, knife open with your teeth you pull a few wires and press the blade to them.

"Red or black Johnny?" You ask in response as your eyes try to follow the trail.

"Always red Bonnie."

"Nighty night shitheads," you reply to yourself before swiping your blade through the bundle of wires.

The lights cut instantly and you hear the instant response of panic below you. You flip on your stomach and move toward the exit, slipping your blade away and pulling out your pistol from your thigh holster. You don't need it though. The moment the lights cut the team pushes in and you listen to the gunfire and shouts for a few moments before you drop out another hatch door.

Climbing down a few rungs of a ladder you see the team holding down an office while Price riffles through paperwork. You had come for intelligence.

"See? Not so bad," you say as you walk up to Ghost who is towering by the office door watching you. His hand is tight on his rifle and you grin up at him innocently as he looks down at you. "You need to trust me every now and then. Price did hire me for a reason."

Pushing up on your toes you grab him softly by the back of the neck, feeling the tension in his muscles as you pull. He doesn't resist, even if he could stand like an unmovable rock in the sea, and bends down a bit. You press a soft kiss over his lips, even with the mask on. You grin as he huffs a bit at the gesture, doing his best to still be aggravated with you for going off book.

"Got it," Price says as he walks out the door and stares down at you as well, eyes roving over the fact you are in a simple compression shirt and jeans. "Where's your gear?"

"On the roof. Tight quarters and all that."

"I should make you climb back up that tiny little hatch to go get it," Ghost growls as his eyes trace back up to where you had appeared from moments before.

"You just want to look at her arse as she goes back up," Gaz answers as he appears behind you, giving you a smart little swat on your behind. You tilt your head back up to look at him and swipe his hand away before he can get a better handful.

"I mean, I can if that's what you want," you answer slipping away from them to walk toward the ladder, careful to add an extra swish of your hips.

"I think we should let Gaz show us just how flexible he is," Johnny chimes as he grabs you around the waist to pull you back, lifting you a few inches from the ground as he tugs you possessively against him. As if displaying that you belonged pressed against one of them, crowded and protected by their bulk.

Between all of them you were like their own little doll, short and oh so easy to toss around as they liked to show you.

It started simple, their display of size against yours. Picking you up and tossing you over their shoulders as a tease to rile you up for being easy to manipulate under their hands. Then they'd tug you in their laps during downtime wrapping their arms around you to rest their chins on your shoulder showing you just how well you fit, as if your short frame was made to mold against their broad bodies.

But one night your Captain, of all people, had taken it further. He snatched you up on your way back to your barracks and threw you into his bed. He prowled up your body as he taunted you about how perfectly sized you were for him to pin under him, teasing your body under his fingers. When you bit his shoulder to keep in your scream of pleasure as he fucked you he laughed, as if that had proved his point. Your mouth was in the perfect spot to keep quiet as he made you fall apart under him.

"If you want to watch Gaz squirm you only need to ask, Johnny," you tease pinching his bicep, "that's all I did...I'm sure I could ask him to do it again for us if you behave."

Despite the fact they all loomed over you, they were all wrapped around your finger and bent to your will without hesitation. And the way they all looked at one another with a smirk before back to you, you knew you were about to get your next request granted.

[hollybell51]

If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding. 

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip. 

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?” 

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened. 

“That was fucking insane!” you burst. 

“Are you ok?” 

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” 

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers. 

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back. 

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.” 

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.” 

“A bullet graze!” 

“It’s fine.” 

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.” 

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !” 

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics. 

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes. 

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him. 

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair. 

“Ethan?” 

“Yeah.” 

Another silence, though less tense. 

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest. 

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso. 

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted. 

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–” 

“No, (Y/N)–” 

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall. 

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast. 

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled. 

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?” 

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own. 

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–” 

No one’s coming. 

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.” 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!” 

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear. 

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him. 

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should. 

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards. 

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed. 

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle. 

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back. 

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath. 

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you. 

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure. 

“(Y/N).” 

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive. 

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.” 

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…” 

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.” 

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. 

 You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know. 

“For yelling at me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–” 

“All that matters. You said.” 

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle. 

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.” 

The frown deepened. “Hm?” 

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real. 

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely. 

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.” 

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek. 

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up. 

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades. 

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. 

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.” 

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his. 

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too. 

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition. 

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt. 

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything. 

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt. 

“Huh?” 

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.” 

“All’s fair in love and war.” 

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose. 

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?” 

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine. 

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind. 

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone. 

“Yeah.” 

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?” 

Again, “Yeah.” 

You smiled. “What about me?” 

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.” 

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it. 

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity. 

“What else?” you asked. 

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.” 

Oh. Oh. 

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.  

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys. 

“Can–” 

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh. 

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair. 

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.” 

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?” 

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.” 

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit. 

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders. 

“Hm?” 

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.” 

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?” 

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face. 

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises. 

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–” 

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad. 

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–” 

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders. 

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again. 

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail. 

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification. 

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?” 

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.” 

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?” 

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again. 

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap. 

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand. 

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.” 

“Yeah?” 

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.” 

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?” 

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?” 

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.” 

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–” 

“Insane?” 

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?” 

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?” 

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.” 

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again. 

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?” 

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other. 

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.” 

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined. 

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece. 

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.” 

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.” 

“Hm?” 

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?” 

“(Y/N)–” 

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–” 

“In me.” 

“You sure?” 

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–” 

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter. 

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress. 

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed. 

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned. 

“What?” he asked. 

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?” 

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything. 

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?” 

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?” 

He nodded. 

“I still want to check them.” 

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.  

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?” 

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” 

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.” 

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?” 

“Yeah.” 

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.” 

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.” 

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.” 

“Guess I’m just that special.” 

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

[marlynnofmany]

Rainy Day Eggs

The last delivery our ship made was to a dry planet with too much wind. I’d say it was nice to be somewhere with moisture in the air again, but this was a lot of rain. And while I can appreciate the scent of petrichor and the sound of raindrops on the roof as much as the next Earthling, our current setup was a smidge inconvenient.

Paint asked, “Are you sure we don’t want to use the cargo bay instead?” She peeked past my elbow through the personnel door. “I feel like a wet floor there is less of a slipping hazard.”

“Maybe, but the awning doesn’t fit,” I told her, pointing up at the portable thing that came with this spaceport’s landing pad. It was made for single-person entrances, a hovering pink rectangle tethered to the ground with some kind of localized tractor beam. It stuck to the ship nicely, and hadn’t let so much as a drop sneak past to drip down my shirt, but it wouldn’t have fit over the cargo bay entrance.

“I thought we were going to use one of the bigger landing pads,” Paint said, surprise on her lizardy face as she looked out at the spaceport. “I know our ship is on the small side, but this spot looks tiny!”

“It is,” I said. “That douchnozzle over there sniped our spot.” I pointed at the sporty red single-person cruiser that was currently hogging a courier space. I’d heard Wio swear from the cockpit when she had to adjust our approach because the jerk zipped in front of us. I’d seen the nice big awning crumple down to fit his jerkmobile. After we’d landed in a spot almost too small for us, I’d seen him stroll away with fancy clothes and a force field umbrella, and he hadn’t come back yet.

He was a human, too. Not that I was bitter about any of that.

Paint huffed. “How rude! Well at least we have the comfort of knowing that the kind of person to do that is likely to make their own life harder every day.”

“You’re right on that count,” I agreed. “I can just imagine how much his food gets spit in when he eats at restaurants.”

This concept was a new one as far as Paint was concerned, and we spent the next few minutes before our client arrived talking about unsanitary food sabotage. (She wasn’t a fan. Can’t say I blame her.)

The birdlike cargo of the day was making quiet cooing noises from its cage as the client approached: a slender Frillian who’d come prepared with a bubble-shielded hover cart. I greeted him and handled the electronic payment while Paint gave the cargo one last look over. The coos turned to anxious warbles.

I wanted to call them chickens, and I’m still not convinced that I’m far off, but while their speckled feathers reminded me of the Aracaunas I’d had as a kid, these guys had scaly jaws instead of beaks. Feathery little velociraptors, all puffed up into anxious feather-orbs and looking ready to bite.

I was grateful for both the cage and the awning.

“Here you go,” I said, passing over the cage with extreme care. It barely fit through the door. Luckily the dino-chickens were light, even when they flapped and hissed. The client got them onto the cart with practiced ease. I tried not to show how relieved I was. That cage going sideways to smash open on the rainy ground would have been disastrous.

“Oh wait!” Paint said from behind me. “What about the eggs?”

“Right, I forgot about those,” I said, turning to grab the bowl she held out, which I’d set in the hallway next to the cage. Three speckled eggs rolled merrily as I held it out to the client. “Do you want these? They laid them on the way here, though they don’t seem interested in caring for them.”

He was busy strapping the cage down. “No thanks! They’re not fertilized. Just toss ‘em in your bio-recycler or whatever. Have a great day!” A fresh wave of rain pounded down between us.

“All right, thank you!” I waved goodbye and stepped back inside the ship, closing the hatch. With the rain shut out, the silence felt loud.

“I’ll mop up the water,” Paint volunteered. She pointed at where a spray of raindrops had managed to blow in on the wind. “Watch your step.”

“Thanks.” I held the bowl of rolling eggs in one hand, and the payment tablet in the other. I stepped carefully.

“And make sure you sanitize that bowl!”

“Oh, I will,” I said. “But before I just throw these away, I think it’s time for a rousing game of ‘who thinks these are food?’”

Paint regarded me with a mix of skepticism and disgust. “Really?”

I grinned at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll have Eggskin scan them first.”

“You do that!”

Still grinning, I put away the tablet and did that. Eggskin was in the medical bay, which was next to the kitchen, which was convenient, because Eggskin was in charge of both. They were the most knowledgeable cook/medic I’d ever met.

They didn’t make any fun expressions when I handed over the bowl, not so much as lifting a scaly browridge. They just set to scanning and analyzing like the professional lizardy alien they were.

(I still haven’t told them that the color of their scales reminds me of boogers, and I don’t ever plan to.)

The machine dinged. Eggskin tapped a few buttons, cross-referencing something on the intelligent species database.

“You can’t eat these,” they declared.

“What? Why not?” I was honestly shocked. Humanity’s omnivorous nature had made me used to being the one who could eat everybody’s food.

“There is a significant level of a toxin that would cause vomiting and worse,” Eggskin informed me. “Looks like your people call it tremetol.”

That made a memory ding. “Wait, like the kind from white snakeroot? The kind cows eat, and gives people milk sickness?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Eggskin said drily. “In my personal opinion, all milk is likely to cause sickness, but you’re welcome to your mammal tendencies. Just don’t eat these.”

“Aw, man,” I said. “Is it poisonous to everybody?”

“Let me check.” Eggskin brought up another species. “Looks like Mesmers aren’t affected.”

A voice from the doorway asked, “By what?” and I realized the quiet clicking noises had been Zhee’s feet. His big bug eyes peered in with some very nosy curiosity for someone without a nose.

I said, “By a toxin in the eggs that our animal cargo laid.”

Zhee tilted his head. “Good to know that something I don’t plan to touch will not harm me.”

Eggskin said, “The conversation was about eating them.”

“Ew.” He tilted his head at a more extreme angle and raised his pincher arms as if in defense. “Why?”

I sighed. “Apparently they’re poisonous to some of us.”

“Oh no,” Zhee deadpanned. “What a loss.”

Eggskin asked, “Want me to dispose of them?”

“I guess so,” I said. “Looks like all they’re good for is egging houses. Or spaceships.” I paused to think. “I wonder if they’d do the same kind of damage to the exterior that they do to car paint. It’d get washed away by the rain today anyway.”

“Spaceships like a certain red piece of excrement?” Zhee angled his long body sideways to let someone pass. “The captain would likely deem that unwise.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Captain Sunlight beat me to it.

“Unwise is one word for it,” she said as she stepped into view and paused instead of passing. Her scaly yellow face wore a scowl. “But that’s the same egghole who nearly sideswiped Kamm’s ship last week; I just checked. Now, we’re about to take off, but if the door happens to open and close before we do, I will be conveniently looking the other way.” She made eye contact, then strolled off toward the cockpit.

Zhee and Eggskin looked at me. I looked at them. Then I grabbed the bowl of eggs and legged it toward the hatch.

As the crewmember with the best throwing arm, and the same species as the egghole in question, it was only fitting that I deliver the karma.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[bbsmuts]

Party In The Barracks ft. TWICE Chaeyoung A/N: This is an ask from a now deactivated account, so I’m doing my best with no more details than “Chaeyoung gangbanged by military cadet onces”. Enjoy!  -상훈

Length: 2.4k

It was a carefully planned operation. 

Chaeyoung and the rest of her squad were deployed to find and kill an international serial killer called Kyong Dong-min. He had been eluding the Korean military, even the ROK-SWC, for years, and this mission was to be the last time Kyong would see the light of day without being behind bars. Or from the end of a noose, hanging to death, Chaeyoung thought as she sat down in a chair in the meeting room.

The rest of the squad filed in silently, waiting for the squad leader to come in and go over the plan one more time before the perfect execution they had been plotting for weeks.  

Kyong was on a private boat out in the middle of the Sea of Japan, probably drinking and having a good time with some sluts he brought with him. The squad would be flown out by a stealth jet and parachute down to the boat, where they would locate and detain their target. The serial killer was currently holding hostage the daughter of a rich business executive, and reports said the girl was undergoing rape and torture. The situation could continue no longer.  

“So,” said the squad leader, snapping Chaeyoung out of her thoughts, “when that happens, Son, you’ll be where?”

“On the ground, ready to strike if needed,” Chaeyoung supplied tonelessly. They’d gone over the plan so many times, she could have recited every action in her sleep.

Preparations were made. Chaeyoung went with the rest of her squad to the barracks to get her things. Backpack, check. Bulletproof vest, check. Cargo pants, boots, gloves, belt, pistol with holster, fixed-blade knife with sheath, radio, elbow and knee pads, cuffs, escape tools, and M16 assault rifle with sling and spare mags. Check.  

Mind and body prepared, ready to kill if necessary. 

And thus, she found herself sitting in a seat in the hatch of a plane with a parachute strapped to her back, assault rifle in hand.  

The hatch opened at the captain’s command, and Chaeyoung took hold of a pole to stay in.  

“Jumping on five!” The squad leader shouted into his radio, for the benefit of the pilot and his squad.  

“One, two, three, four, NOW!”  

Next was the sensation of wind rushing past her ears as she leapt out of the plane.  

She waited. She had to reach 2000 altitude before deploying her parachute.  

“Deploying in five seconds,” the leader shouted into the radio, “Four, three, two, one, deploying now!”  

Chaeyoung pulled the ring on her parachute and it unfurled above her head, spreading out and slowing her momentum.  

Silently, the squad bore down on the boat like raining death and landed on the roof.  

“You three,” whispered the squad leader, pointing to Yang, Kim, and Jeon, “you go and make sure the hostage is safe. Do not engage enemies until my signal. Son,” he said, turning to Chaeyoung, “you go with Kwon and locate Kyong. Report back when you find him.”  

Chaeyoung led Choon-hee away from the leader, who was directing the other squad members in different directions.  

Black shapes moved in the darkness as the squad split up and headed out with their instructions. The bedrooms were near the front end of the boat, so Chaeyoung and Choon-hee sneaked towards the area. The cruiser was about two hundred feet long, and it didn’t take long to reach the front. Kyong’s window was facing them as they crouched on the bow, and Choon-hee took her AW50 sniper off her back.  

“Not yet,” Chaeyoung murmured, pushing the barrel of the gun away. “I’m going to go in. If he attacks, fire at will.”  

She got up and sneaked silently around to the door of the bedroom.” 

“We found the hostage,” her squadmate said on the radio. “I repeat, we found the hostage.”  

“Copy that.” Chaeyoung confirmed. “We’ve located Kyong, closing on his position.”  

“Affirmative.” Replied another squadmate.  

“Boss, a woman has entered the room,” Choon-hee said over the other radio channel. 

“Do not open fire yet. I’m heading in.”  

Chaeyoung kicked the door open, which swung right off its hinges, taking both people in the room by surprise.  

“Get down on the ground, now!” Chaeyoung yelled, aiming her gun at Kyong and pressing the stock to her shoulder, as the woman screamed.  

Kyong cursed loudly and flung himself to one side, diving for his pistol and pointing it at Chaeyoung.  

“Kwon!” Chaeyoung yelled into the radio, throwing herself out of the way. “Shoot now!” 

The sound of the first sniper round shooting through the window mixed with the sound of the pistol firing, and Chaeyoung flung herself away just in time. Kyong looked around for the sniper and then fled from the room.   

“Kyong is loose, fire on sight!” Chaeyoung told the squad, pursuing Kyong away from the room. He turned a corner and disappeared. Chaeyoung approached the corner, Yang covering her. She poked the barrel around the corner and then her head.   

“Kwon, where are you?” She asked into her radio.   

“Other side of the deck, boss. Kyong is up those stairs across from you.”   

Chaeyoung motioned for Yang to follow her.   

She climbed the stairs silently, waiting for any noise. A scuffling came from over head, and she clutched the grip on her gun tighter.   

“Keep him in your crosshairs, Kwon.”   

“He’s moving, boss. He’s approaching the stairs.”   

Chaeyoung pointed her gun at the head of the stairwell.  

“You’re surrounded, Mr. Kyong.” Chaeyoung said formally, carefully inching up the stairs. “Come out with your hands up, or I will come in there. Do not attempt anything, or I will shoot.”

Silence from upstairs. Chaeyoung moved a couple of steps further up the staircase. Still no noise came from the room, and she stepped up a couple more. 

“Come out with your hands up,” she repeated, “or I’m coming in there.” 

No response came. She stepped up the last stair and flung herself around the corner to see Kyong pointing a gun towards her head. 

“Get down!” She shouted at Yang, who had followed her. Kyong, in a last stand, had taken up his pistol and pointed it at her. “Kwon, shoot him!” 

Kyong’s head exploded as the sniper bullet blew it apart. Blood and brains splattered the walls and windows. 

“Well,” Chaeyoung said to the team over radio after a few moments of silence, “that could’ve gone a lot better.”

…

After returning to base and informing everyone of Kyong’s death, Chaeyoung and the squad went to the barracks to put their gear up. She stripped off her uniform and, after removing the badges, put it in the washing machine. Eyes followed her form as she walked back across the room. She was wearing nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties, but she didn’t really care.

Tension was in the air as they went to bed. It was the kind of tension Chaeyoung had come to know well over her years, that of sexual tension. The others in her squad were honorable, respectable men, but instinct was instinct. 

The lights were off and Chaeyoung was in bed when Choon-hee got out of her own bed and slid under Chaeyoung’s blankets, as planned.

“So,” she said briskly, rolling the edge of the blanket down past her bra. “You had to kill Kyong.”

“Yes, otherwise I and Yang would have been shot. I had to. Had it been up to me, he’d be behind prison bars right about now.”

“And how about what we discussed earlier, boss?” The younger girl asked, voice suddenly lower, quieter.

Chaeyoung remembered well what they had discussed earlier. That morning, before they’d been called to the conference room. The talk had turned very suggestive, as the two of them liked it. Choon-hee hadn’t been with her boyfriend in more than a year. Chaeyoung hadn’t been dating anyone, but was dirty minded anyway. So they liked to sprinkle the conversation with a little dirty talk. 

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” intoned Chaeyoung amusedly, “and I haven’t forgotten my promise, either.”

Choon-hee had never experienced sex with another girl, and Chaeyoung, however resignedly, had promised to show her. Very physically. 

“So?” Choon-hee said expectantly, “are we going to?”

Chaeyoung reached behind her colleague’s back and unhooked her bra, answering the question.

Eyes lit with excitement, Choon-hee slipped her panties down along her slender legs and off her feet, carelessly tossing them to one side. 

Chaeyoung, having experience in the area, brought her own face up to Choon-hee’s and pressed her lips against the younger girl’s. They both moaned into the kiss, and Choon-hee slid on top of Chaeyoung and straddled her. Chaeyoung could feel the heat emanating from her colleague’s pussy.

“Damn, you really wanted it that much?”

“Yeah,” Choon-hee replied, giving another moan as Chaeyoung reached up and squeezed her naked breasts. “I wanted it the whole time we were gone. You looked so sexy in your underwear, boss.”

Chaeyoung chuckled and unhooked her own bra, pulling off her panties as well. 

“Okay, so you want to move down.” She instructed, guiding Choon-hee down on the bed and positioning Choon-hee’s hips between her own, their pussies an inch from each other. 

But before either of them could do anything more, Chaeyoung felt her face being tilted back. Her jaw was pushed open and she willingly let the expected cock slide into her mouth. And the realization that she and her squadmate were surrounded by horny men who knew exactly what they were doing hit her. This was going to turn into a gangbang.

The cock in her mouth slid back and forth, poking the back of her throat. Choon-hee, having gotten the general idea, moved forward and started grinding her hips against Chaeyoung’s pussy. 

Moans left both of their mouths, but Chaeyoung’s was absorbed by the shaft of the man facefucking her, who groaned at the sensation. The men around her waited patiently, but after a minute or two removed Choon-hee from Chaeyoung’s bed to use her.

Immediately, two more cocks penetrated Chaeyoung, and another guy slid under her, his dick in her ass. She gave a cry into her facefucking as one man’s finger found her clit and toyed with it. Choon-hee was presumably being used similarly; moans, groans, and Choon-hee’s high pitched whines of pleasure sounded from Chaeyoung’s neighboring bed. 

It had probably been a while since any of them had been able to enjoy something like this, and they were living it up to the fullest. Chaeyoung found herself starting to feel an orgasm building already. So many nights she had tried and failed to masturbate to orgasm, and finally she would get the release she so desperately toiled for. Her continued moans were enough to set the man facefucking her off; he rammed himself deep down her throat and shot his cum in thick ropes into her stomach. His place was immediately taken by another, who wasted no time in shoving himself down her throat. She gagged and choked on the thick rod penetrating her throat.

One of them who was facefucking Choon-hee while she was being double stuffed in doggy also had his orgasm triggered. He buried himself in her throat and groaned loudly. 

“Oh god yes, it’s so good, I’m cumming!” Came the yell from next to her, followed by a splattering sound and several obscene wet claps of soaked skin on soaked skin.  

Chaeyoung held her pleasure in, waiting for the other men to cum first. The one fucking her ass did, and with a moan he gave a final thrust before cumming into her asshole. Shortly after the man fucking her pussy reached his peak, the overwhelming tightness proving to be too much. 

“Fuck!” He bellowed. Chaeyoung moaned at the sudden torrent of warmth flooding into her womb. The moan turned to a scream of pleasure as she lost control of her building orgasm and let it go, squirting on the two men on her.

A cacophony of pleasure sounds filled the room as various squad members achieved their climaxes. Chaeyoung and Choon-hee were the only two girls for a couple of miles around, and these men had been cut off from any kind of sexual contact for more than a year. They fucked the two girls with animalistic passion.

Everyone crashed onto the cots after they had all finished, spent for the day after the mission and their more recent activities. 

The others went back to their cots and collapsed for sleep, but Choon-hee was on the pill and not done yet. She silently approached and climbed back on top of Chaeyoung. They hadn’t had their fun with each other earlier, and Choon-hee wasn’t one to give up so easily.

Straddling Chaeyoung, Choon-hee mashed her lips against the former’s with passion and neediness, then moved down and copied the position Chaeyoung had shown her earlier. 

“Mmm,” Choon-hee moaned, rocking her hips against Chaeyoung. 

“You like that?” Chaeyoung whispered, still panting from the exertion of her orgasm. “Let me show you something else.”

She grabbed Choon-hee by the waist and moved her up until her pussy was hovering inches from Chaeyoung’s lips. Then she let go and started ferociously swiping at Choon-hee’s wet folds.

“Oh yes!” She cried, arching her back in pleasure, “Oh fuck yes, it feels so good! I’m cumming again!”

Her voice temporary failed her as she rode out the waves of pleasure emanating through her, the feeling too much for her to bear. 

Chaeyoung got up and made Choon-hee lay with her leg up in the air somewhere around her ear. She lowered her pussy to her squadmate’s and started ruthlessly bucking her hips against her. 

Choon-hee’s blissful moans turned to squeals and cries at the new sensation. 

“Fuck, this is so much better!” She tipped her head back and let out another cry as her clit was struck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Chaeyoung moaned, feeling the same sensation. “Oh, it’s coming, SHIT!”

They both came at the same time, and Chaeyoung slammed her hips down into Choon-hee as their gushes of cum met each other and splattered both of them.

Choon-hee let loose a helpless moan as she collapsed in a heaving, sweaty mess.

“That was so good,” she said breathlessly. “Imagine what would happen if we’d been caught.”

Chaeyoung laughed. “I’d prefer not to.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 31

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Your adrenaline slakes away and leaves you in a half-doze against the hatch. You twitch awake at every creak of the house, every howl of the wind. You’re trapped in a daze of disbelief. This can’t be happening.

As the window brightens with morning, you hear footsteps from below, weighed down by the residue of sleep. You put your eye to the crack, trying to see through. A yawn ripples in the air and sends a shiver down your spine.

“Cole?” You croak and tap on the hatch, “Cole!” You raise your voice and get to your knees, still bent over the floor, “hey, can you unlock the door?”

You get no answer. You hit the door again and holler. “Cole! Please! Can’t you hear me?”

He must. Last night, Beverly had a full conversation with you and never once did you strain to hear her. Why is he ignoring you?

“Cole,” you whine, scratching at the wood.

A door snaps shut and you wince. You sit up on your heels as your stomach twists painfully. What is happening? Why are they doing this to you? It’s like some horror movie. Well, you’re not the kind to give up in the first act… you hope.

You hear the pipes rumble as a toilet flushes. You get up to your feet. That can’t be the only way out. You search around for your clothes, they’re gone. You only have the stupid starched nightgown. You have bigger concerns.

You go to the window and flip back the lock at the top. You grip the bottom and lift. Nothing. You try again, grunting as you put all your strength into it. You turn the lock back, thinking you have it wrong, then you notice the nails hammered into the frame. Fuck!

You pinch the nailhead and try to wiggle it free. The iron only hurts your fingertips as it remains unmoved. You could break it and then… what?

You look out over the roof and the treacherous slope. You’ll be lucky if you don’t tumble right over the eaves. Well, it’s preferable to whatever these people have planned.

You look around as the floor below continues to groan, the snap of cupboards, and the running of the sing thrumming in the walls. You grab the wooden chair from the desk and bring it close to the window. You pause and strip the pillow of its case.

You take a breath and lift the chair. Right, you can do this. You survived Johnny and Lloyd. You can survive this.

You swing the chair and legs crack the glass. You repeat the motion, nearly spinning off your feet as the wood shatters the window and the feet of the chair fall through the frame. You rip the chair away and drop it on the floor, swiping up the pillow and wrapping it around your hand. You use it to clear the remaining shards from the frame.

You hear the faucet below grind. Your breath hitches and you quickly shove your head through the window. You get your shoulders out and brace the roof tiles with your palms. You lift your knees onto the sill and wiggle as the nightgown catches beneath your legs.

You hear footsteps barrelling up the stairs and the thick churn of the lock. Shit. You turn and reach to grab onto the rain pipe, precariously pulling yourself out onto the steep roof. Before you can get your foot out, your ankle is caught and you’re lurched inwards. You yipe as you lose hold of the pipe.

“Ah, let me go!” You scream.

“If you insist,” you’re let go and feel yourself falling. Your back hits the rough tiles but before you can slide further your ankles are trapped again. “Really?”

You look up as Cole snarls down at you. You hang upside down as the nightgown rumbles above your knees. You pant and puff as your heart hammers with fear. He holds your life in his hands.

“I let you go, and you’re in trouble,” he sneers, “sweetie, we’re only trying to help.”

“What?” You hiss, “what are you doing?”

“Taking care of you,” he grunts and backs up through the window, hauling you up, dragging you as the fabric of the nightgown catches on the roof. He reaches down to grab your arm and sits you up on the sill, his other hand coming to your chin, “this is what you want. Trust me. All those years you’ve been taking care of the deadbeats and the losers. I just want to give you everything you need.”

“Cole,” you murmur, squirming in his grip, “we’re friends–”

He scoffs, “don’t do that. You’re not like the others. You’re the one.”

“The one?” You shudder.

“The mother of my children,” he snips and lurches you off the sill. He spins you and shoves you towards the bed. You stumble and land on your back, biting your tongue as you bounces on the mattress. “Me and dad are building a house, you won’t be stuck up here too long,” he swipes up the disposed pillowcase and twists it, “but we can’t have you jumping out the window.”

He approaches the bed and you push yourself away from him. He snatches your leg and wrestles you onto your stomach. You grasp at the top of the mattress as he straddles you. He pulls back your arms, bending them painfully before he winds the pillow cases over your forearms and wrists. He binds it tight so any attempt to free yourself aches in your shoulders.

He lifts himself off of you and takes the other pillow, stripping that one too. He uses that pillow case to secure your ankles and leaves you quivering on your side. He lingers behind you, breathing heavily as he floats a hand shakily over your thigh. He touches you, brushing up and down, then tugs your nightgown down.

“I gotta get to work,” he grumbles and jars the bed as he stands, “don’t give ma a hard time, okay?”

“Cole,” you whimper.

He rounds the bed and raises a finger at you, “I’m giving you good advice. She’s a stickler for the rules.”

He turns on his heel and swiftly descends through the hatch, slamming it shut over him as he leaves you in the echoing silence. This is deranged. Worse, no one knows you even came here. You’re not sure anyone even cares.

[theladyofbloodshed]

SJM Romance Week - Day 1 - First Date

@sjmromanceweek

With a fear of flying gripping her tight, Nesta just wants to be left alone to spiral in her panic - that is until a swaggering man holds her hand during take off.

The sweating had begun the second she reached the security line which was never a good sign. Nesta tried to act calm, tried not to keep glancing over her shoulders at the security agents as they scanned bags and bodies. Every damn time she made the machine bleep despite ensuring she had no metal on her, as if the machine knew she was panicking and wanted to enhance her worry. True to history, the machine went off and she stepped onto the painted feet for a guard to wave their wand over her. She didn’t know why she was so worried about the security part; Nesta wasn’t smuggling drugs.

Two hours of agony followed.

The duty-free shops didn’t hold her appeal although she’d toyed with buying alcohol to take the edge off things. She’d taken a Xanax already and mixing wouldn’t go well. A book. A new book to keep her occupied, that would do. She checked her gate, double checked it then triple checked it. Lurked near it way before it was boarding time with her new book clutched in her clammy hands. Nesta mentally catalogued her day. She’d watered the plants, Gwyn already had the spare key to water them when needed, she’d turned everything off, locked the door because she’d checked multiple times, had her travel documents on her phone and printed, had only taken hand luggage so it wouldn’t be lost. Everything would be fine. Of course it would be. She was a planner. But she couldn’t plan who was piloting the plane. Couldn’t plan the weather. Couldn’t plan if a freak bolt of lightning struck the plane and zapped them off the face of the earth. Nesta swigged down mouthfuls of sparkling water. She hated it but it made her burp and that alleviated her churning stomach.

When the agents called for boarding, Nesta was first in the queue. Priority boarding had been purchased so she could panic in her seat. Her legs trembled up the metal stairs to board the plane. Planes flew every day. Hundreds of them. All crisscrossing across the sky. And she’d be on the unlucky anomaly. Because of course she would. Nothing ever ran smoothly in her life.

With an eye mask on and a mindfulness podcast blaring in her ears, Nesta tried to block out the rest of the boarding. She was vaguely aware of bodies moving down the aisle or slipping into seats behind or in front of hers, the judder of chairs or slam of the overhead storage. When an elbow knocked into her to take the seat, she didn’t react, just kept listening to the soothing voice telling her to focus on her breathing.

Fingers tapped on her arm repeatedly until she peeled off her mask.

A man with dark-hair tugged into a loose bun at the nape of his neck was gesturing to her headphones. An air steward was watching, life jacket held aloft for the display. ‘Switch to airplane mode or turn off your devices for take off please.’

Nesta fumbled with her phone, hands trembling to change it. She listened to the safety warnings, terror soaking in.

‘Can we swap seats? I don’t want to look out of the window.’

‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to leg room in the aisle.’ The man gestured to his broad thighs and long, muscled legs.

Nesta knew well enough that if she even dreamed of closing the hatch on the window, a flight attendant would snap it back up so she could see just how high they were. Once the safety demo had finished, Nesta plugged back into her bubble. Her belt was on but what use was that against a plane crash?

As soon as she felt motion, Nesta was gripping her seat belt as if clinging onto it might save her. Her hands trembled, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth in her fear as the plane approached the runway.

Then a hand reached for hers. Calloused fingers slid against her own.

Nesta ripped her mask and headphones away in one fell swoop.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘You seemed nervous. Thought you’d want a hand to hold.’

The man’s hazel eyes fell to their hands, still entwined then Nesta yanked that away too.

And then the plane was barrelling along the runway, the force pinning her to her seat so she grasped for that hand again. He gave a low chuckle and cradled hers with both of his. Nesta screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to glimpse the moment they took flight or the way the land below would become more and more distant. At Emerie’s encouragement, she’d watched take offs on YouTube, had even tried to play a flight simulator but both of them had freaked her out just as much.

‘Is it just take off or landing too?’

Her words wouldn’t come out. The whole thing was traumatic. The only reason she was flying was because her sister was due to a drop a baby boy any day and Nesta had agreed to be there for the delivery and first couple of weeks of his life. Without a maternal figure, Feyre had decided that Nesta was the closest thing – ignoring the fact neither of them had a clue about babies.

‘What does that beeping mean?’ she hissed.

The man just brushed his thumb in a circle against the back of her hand. ‘It means we can take our seat belts off, sweetheart.’

Reluctantly, she forced open her eyes. People were already releasing their belts and heading to the bathroom. She had held her own urination on every flight. Only poor planners didn’t go before take-off. It would be just her luck that a plane would meet a fiery end whilst she was sat on the toilet.

He leaned over to slide the hatch down, hiding the outside world from view then his fingers headed towards her lap. Nesta was too stunned to react even as he undid her belt.

‘And what happens if this plane starts to plummet from the sky?’

‘I’m sure you can figure out how to put your belt back on,’ he replied, an easy grin on his face. At her terse look, he added, ‘Relax. This plane has never crashed before.’

Nesta busied herself with her book despite the undercurrent of fear threatening to drown her every time she thought too deeply about how the plane remained airborne. The man next to her read the in-flight magazine then began drumming on the fold-out table.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Have you got a request?’

Nesta’s brows drew together. ‘Stop drumming. It’s irritating.’

When the trolley of beverages was a few rows away, he turned to her. ‘What are you having?’

‘Nothing. If I drink, I will need the bathroom. I am not getting up or going there and tempting fate.’

He gave a bellow of a laugh. ‘You’ve thought of everything. You know if the plane crashes, it will make no difference if you’re sat by me or on the toilet.’

Her face must have paled because he added, ‘But it will fly safely to our destination.’

A handsome, swaggering smile was offered to the air stewardess when she approached. ‘Two coffees, chips, M&Ms and whatever drink has the most sugar.’

There was a veritable feast laid out in front of him, but a coffee was placed on the little table that he unfolded at her seat. The M&M pouch was torn open and shook in front of her face.

‘Go on, treat yourself.’

‘Do you just fly around the country and trap women in airline seats so they can’t get away?’

He ran a hand against his black hair. ‘Should I have gotten the peanut ones?’

Nesta took a few and tipped them into her mouth.

‘Careful, sweetheart, you don’t want to choke while the plane is crashing.’

‘You are not funny,’ she complained.

‘When they need to identify your body, what name will go with it?’

This time, she nearly did choke on her handful of M&Ms. ‘Are you serious? Is that how you’re asking my name?’

He spread out his hands, evidently pleased with that terrible line, awaiting her answer.

‘Nesta.’

‘Cassian.’

They chatted as the plane continued on its journey, drinking their coffee and eating his snacks. They shared the can of coke, her inhabitations well and truly lowered by the Xanax if she was willing to swap saliva and drink from the same can as a stranger. At the first signs of turbulence, Cassian was there to hold her hands and murmur embarrassing stories about his friends to stop fear paralysing her.

Once the cabin crew had swept through to collect the final few items of rubbish on the short flight, Nesta was clamming up again. She knew what was to follow.

‘Cabin crew, prepare for landing.’

Clouds streamed past the window, adding to the turbulence. Nesta was too scared to even reach for her mask which had fallen on the floor.

Cassian wound his fingers into hers. ‘I’ve got you, sweetheart. It will be okay.’

Every bump had her gritting her teeth so hard, it was a wonder that one of her molars didn’t crack. Cassian just kept talking in a low voice about inane topics to try and shave the edges off of her fear. His arm wound around her shoulders, forehead touching her temple, whilst his other hand still held hers.

‘This is the nicest first date I’ve ever had.’

That snapped something in her. ‘This is not a date.’

The nose of the plane dipped and her stomach lurched from the motion.

‘We’ve had coffee and snacks. We’re holding hands. You’ve shared your deepest fears of dying in a blazing crash. To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.’

Nesta ground out, ‘I hate the Smiths.’

‘Everybody does,’ he said.

With a bump that made her squeeze Cassian tighter, the plane landed. It sped down the runway and Nesta kept her eyes firmly shut for the entire duration until Cassian murmured that they had stopped.

‘You see, a safe flight after all.’

‘Fortune was cruel enough to put me next to you. A crash would have really tipped it over the edge.’

Cassian lifted her bag down for her, his black t-shirt rising to expose a strip of his taut muscled stomach. His own was a well-used duffle which he slung over his shoulder.

They walked together towards the airport building.

‘Do I get your number then?’

Nesta cocked a brow at his boldness. ‘Absolutely not. I’d rather be the one that got away.’

‘Every flight I’ll think of you, wondering if you’re stealing another man’s snacks.’

Nesta pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss as they parted into two different lines at security.

The man had to be mad, she decided as she passed through passport control. No sane man would just start holding a stranger’s hand – and she was an idiot for reciprocating that touch. But it did sting a bit that he’d accepted her refusal so easily. After how tactile and caring he’d been, she thought maybe Cassian would have pestered her again for her number or her socials. Whatever. His loss.

Her fear of flying meant that she’d sweated through her deodorant so she hurried into the bathroom to change her top, clean her arm pits with a baby wipe then slather on more deodorant to appear a little less dishevelled. Nesta spotted Cassian waiting at the baggage carousal for more belongings to come rolling around so she scurried past, avoiding his attention. Fantasy was more fun than reality. Maybe he’d be her one that got away.

After passing through anything to declare, Feyre was waiting for her. The huge belly wasn’t a surprise but it was still a shock to see her little sister so heavily pregnant.

‘Wow, look at you!’

‘I am peeing every ten minutes,’ she replied, holding up her belly.

‘Hi, Rhys.’

‘Nesta,’ he said, swooping to press a kiss on her cheek.

They’d met once. And it had been awkward as hell when Nesta realised he was eight years older than her. He wasn’t the sort of man she’d ever choose, but Feyre seemed happy. They were on “Christmas Card closeness” usually so Feyre’s call asking her to come and be close for the birth had meant a lot. Meant enough that she was willing to fly two days later.

‘Where’s the rest of your luggage?’

‘I had it sent ahead.’

Feyre patted Rhys on the arm. ‘Nesta hates flying. Everything is planned to an inch of its life. No detours, no unnecessary waiting. On the plane, off the plane.’

Even being in an airport, with its constant business, had Nesta itchy. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Do you want to head to the car, ladies? I’m worried about you standing for so long, darling.’

Feyre shook her head, golden hair cascading from the motion. ‘I’m fine. Cassian won’t take that long.’

‘Cassian?’

Nesta could practically hear the alarm bells ringing in her head.

‘My brother,’ said Rhys.

‘He works on an oil rig but he’s home for a couple of months now so you two can argue over who is the best uncle or auntie,’ teased Feyre.

There he was, striding through the doors, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while pushing a cart loaded with three more bags. His eyes snapped straight to her, a slow grin spreading over his face.

They said their greetings, Nesta and Cassian pretending that she hadn’t just been clinging to him in terror on the flight here then they fell into step together, walking slightly behind Rhysand and Feyre.

‘Fortune favours you,’ he murmured.

‘Did you know who I am?’

Cassian gave a hearty laugh that had Rhys glancing his shoulder at them. ‘Not at first. You looked familiar then you said your name and I realised you were Feyre’s sister.’

‘Lucky me,’ she grumbled.

With one hand pushing the trolley, he slung the other arm around her shoulders. ‘So, about that second date.’

[antisocialbunnysims]

requested on youtube, someone was interested in the house I used in my new mods testing video (22 Bayside Lane). I threw in a bonus house that was nearby and had no one living in it so it was easy to package up as well (24 Bayside Lane). Both are unfurnished and under 20k. Pics and download under the cut!

here is the floorplan for 22 Bayside Lane and the clean installer screen showing the build cc that is included. The only thing I'm a little confused about is I'm not 100% sure I got the roof correct. I included what I THINK is the right roof recolor in the zip folder, but the description of the roof on the house is "metal roofing in evening blue by icad at mts." But as far as i can tell no such roof exists at mts, and the only metal roof by icad that I have that is blue is called "icad metalroofs bluegrey"..so i am not 100 if that is the right roof but i tried my best, someone lemme know if they know the right one. edit: also just realized there's no door to the master bedroom, just remembered there was a section in my mods video where I was confused why they wouldn't go to bed..there's no door im sorry, don't forget to add one lol

24 Bayside Lane is the bonus house, uses all the same CC and has a little like half wall open kitchen vibe thing. edit: omg i hate packaging lots so much. the half wall didn't package bc of course it didn't lol but this is the link to mts to download them. editedit: omg im sorry i didnt' realize the fence was a default replacement omg its by shasta download it here!! Why two bathrooms apparently in such a tiny house? I have no idea idk why i do the things i do the floorplan of this house is weird lol. roof recolor included in the folder.

DOWNLOAD FOLDER SFS

both lots have been cleaned with chris hatch's lot compressor. I use criquette's lush terrain defaults so if you don't use those the terrain paint is gonna look poo probably, but you can hold ctrl while using the terrain paint tool to erase any you don't like.

[carters-things]

Drive

Stiles Stilinski x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Stiles go wherever the Jeep will lead you.

Tags: Just a short fluffy blurb about the love of my life.

Masterlist

"I'm going to fall!" 

"You're fine! I've got you!" Stiles giggled as he helped shuffle you out the door. His hands covering your eyes but managing to almost knock you backwards with each step. 

"You never were graceful" you poked. As he jostled you down the last step, he positioned you in the driveway before running away. You can hear him trip over himself but stifle your laughter to not take away from his excitement. 

"Ok, now look!" His arms are wide open, presenting you with sight of the old, beat up, baby blue jeep he drove in high-school sitting in your yard, still wearing every dent and scratch from all of its adventures. 

"You're kidding! How did you get it back?!" 

"Pays to know the Sheriff." He smirked. The jeep was just as old and rickety as you remember. Broken seats, the door latch that used to stick still won't open, and the front headlight still has the crack from when Stiles bumped that pole at the gas station. He makes his way over to your side of the car and begins tugging on the door to pop it open for you, nearly knocking himself over when it finally lets go. 

"My hero." You kiss his cheek with a small giggle. You can feel the heat from embarrassment in Stiles’ face on your lips. You climb your way up into the jeep and settle down into the rundown interior. The rough fabric scratches the bottom of your thighs, as the sun from the open topped jeep warms the top of them. Stiles cranks the engine to start it, gears grinding and failing to start. After about the third or fourth try, and a few whispered frustrations, the car finally comes to a start. 

"Smooth as butter!" he exclaims as he pats the wheel. 

You spend the next hour or so driving around town, back country roads, highways, and everywhere the jeep could take you. Your hand intertwines with Stiles’, resting on his lap; every so often a small kiss pressed sweetly to the back. Through the day both of you relive your high-school days and stories. Time is lost to you and before long you realize you don't know where you have even brought yourselves. The sun has almost set fully and the air is starting to get a bit cooler; the slight sunburn on your skin keeps you warm. As you turn down a road that Stiles swears will bring you right home you see a sign for a drive-in movie up ahead. 

Before you could even say anything Stiles was turning into the parking lot. The jeep bouncing you both almost out of the roof with each stone on the gravel driveway. You didn't even know what movie was playing but that didn't stop you both from getting tickets and parking in the most prime location. The field was only occupied by five or six other cars, the rest of the space flooding with fireflies. Stiles jumped out of the jeep, forgetting he was still holding your hand and almost pulling you out with him. He opened the back hatch and pulled out two blankets he must have stashed in there earlier today; or at least you sure hope he did and they weren’t the ones from school. You climbed your way through the seats into the bench in the back, Stiles scaling up the wheel and over the roll cage, settling himself right beside you. He draped one blanket around your shoulders and the other over both of your laps before he wiggled hand back into yours.

"Remember when we all came to the drive in after prom?" You rested your chin on his shoulder, looking up at his freckled face. The butterflies swarming your stomach when his gentle brown eyes locked into yours.

"Yeah, and Scott spent the whole movie trying to impress Allison with his Owen Wilson impression." The both of you laughed at the memories of you as young, dumb, lovestruck kids and the nostalgia of being back at the drive in. Being in the back seat of the jeep topping everything off. 

The movie started to play but between the comfort of Stiles' arms wrapped around you mixed with the steadiness of his breathing you didn't make it further than the opening credits. Your soft snores made Stiles chuckle gently, not enough to wake you. He kissed the top of your head and adjusted the blanket to keep you warm; resting his head on the back of the seat he just smiled. Smiled just as big tonight as he did when he held you in that seat back in high-school, and will only smile larger every day he holds you in the future.  

Taglist!

@commander-vas-normandy

@murrdxcks

[gh0stlyfixation]

A strong bond

Paring: ser Harwin Strong x fem!reader, ser Harwin strong x targaryen!reader

The quiet, perfect, and obedient princess rode Drogar, the cannibal. The deadliest of dragons, who just so happens to be your little snuggle bug. He hatched just days after your birth. You shared a crib with him and he grew quickly. His stubbornness matched yours.

You smiled as you lightly rubbed his face, “calm today isn’t he princess?” Harwin spoke from a distance. You looked up at him and chuckled.

“Love, you know he won’t hurt you. Just have to offer him some scratches.” You said. Drogar turned his head to Harwin and huffed, almost demanding him for the said scratches, “Gīda ilagon, Drogar.” Calm down.

Harwin came up to you, standing directly behind you, and gave him a quick scratch, “he hates me you know.” He spoke

“He hates everyone, but he knows my love for you. We are connected, he and our baby, are connected. One day our child will have a dragon, I hope it grows with it as I did with him.” You told Harwin, “Jikagon tymagon.” Go play. You told Drogar.

Drogar shifted, walking to an open area, and began running and flapping his large wings to fly in the sky. You turned around to face Harwin grabbing onto his leather straps, “I think I’m in labor.” You smiled. Harwin looked down at you with a confused look, you didn’t show any signs of discomfort. He looked down and saw a little wet puddle on the dirt of the dragon pit.

“Perhaps we should find a handmaiden?” He asked.

You were calm, you’ve seen a baby be born on a regular, and though it was your first baby, you knew the drill. You had a few hours before the pain would kick in. Perhaps have some dinner with your family before calling it a night, “I’ll let you know when it’s time. Let's have dinner. I heard father had requested pork with that amazing bread Kela makes” Harwin smiled and chuckled.

He too was calm. When he was around you he knew everything was okay. You were a quite girl, observant and because of this, you were knowledgeable. “I’d say I have three hours before the babe will cause a ruckus.”

——

You sat in the bed holding onto your little girl. She had a patch of fuzzy silver hair and a grip of steel. She was a Strong. The Queen, Alicent came to see you. Alicent had always adored you, maybe it was because of your obedience, but she did love you like her own.

“Perfect little angel.” She told you as she dabbed sweat off your forehead. The Harwin came in with little Aemond following closing. You had always adored Aemond, he followed in your shadows, always wanting to be like Harwin.

“Look we found the babe an egg. It’s the perfect one. Look at its purple tint! A perfect color for an heir.” He said with excitement.

“Thank you Aemond, you are too kind.” You spoke with sweetness. Harwin came to sit next to you, wrapping and arm around your shoulders pulling you in closely.

“A smooth labor I hope?” He asked.

“Did you hear Drogar screeching?” You asked him in return. He nodded, “it was painful, but she’s here.” You said. Alicent and Aemond walked out your doors leaving your new little family alone. Just then a large black figure landed on the roof next to your balcony, Drogar. His nose peaked into your room sniffing its air.

“I suppose nosey wants to smell her. Can you walk her to him?” You asked.

“Is it safe?” He asked, worried.

“He knows you. He trust you, now show him our little one.” You demanded. Harwin took your daughter up to Drogar. He sniffed a few times before flying away. You smiled.

Harwin could see the tiredness in your eyes, “go to sleep love. I have her.” He spoke as he sat back down next to you. You rest your head in his lap and sighed, “Avy jorrāelan,” I love you, you said quietly.

“Avy jorrāelan, my dear.” He whispered stroking your cheek.

[syndxlla]

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between both and totk

Chapter Six: This is Home

Read chapter five here

My masterlist

Song: Run To You by Leah Michele

Summary: Link is brought on to investigate a new strange monster plaguing the farmers in Hateno. He is faced with a new type of post-traumatic experience he doesn’t expect to have.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, suspense and horror, PTSD, squint and theres very base-line sexual content, GRAPHIC descriptions of animal mutilations!

Word Count: 3.5k words

Authors Note: I didn’t update for two and a half months and said “lemme give you guys the best chapter yet” (imo). Thank you for being patient with me. I restarted school, closed one musical, opened and closed a 30 performance long run of another musical and literally fell in love with a man 16-years-older than me in that time lol. Also I wrote this in one sitting and I’m starting chapter 7 now 🫡. Its unedited be nice.

Also please do not make fun of me for using a Leah Michele song for this chapter its so good and it works really good so just shut up. Kloveyoubye

The summer starts to get hotter. A week passes and nothing changes, neither of them ever address the hand holding, Link is fixing the hole in the roof and Zelda is reteaching herself how to fix a clock, an activity she originally learned at the age of seven. Everything is so normal, the sun starts to set a little later, and the fireflies have started hatching.

Link never really thought he would end up in a position to do housework. He tried to get Bolson to fix the hole before Link bought it, but it would take a certain number of wood piles and when Link went out to get them he got a little distracted. And by distracted he means ending the sandstorm in the desert caused by the Divine Beast. It just got put on the back burner, and now here he is, using basic tools to hammer in new shingles. He wipes his brow, his shirt off again. He takes a look at the hammer in his hand, thinking about the savage Lynel sword that same hand has swung.

The passage of time is weird.

Maybe he does want to go back to work. Going from Demon slayer to roof repairman in two and a half weeks is a little jarring.

He hears a groan of frustration from inside the house, and makes his way inside, where it's much cooler.

“Everything alright?” He asks, looking at the girl who’s hunched over the kitchen table.

“No, this is absurd.” She slams the machine on the kitchen table. “I can’t remember how to do the most basic thing in engineering ever.” She frowns.

Link chuckles and places a dirty hand on her shoulder as he walks past her. He moves to the water basin and wets a cloth that he wraps around his neck. “I don’t know the first thing about that stuff, so you have me beat.” He shrugs. “Man, what I would give for an hour at Lurelin right now. Or better yet a weekend at Tabantha. I bet the weather there is a comfortable 60 degrees.” He sighs. Trying to slyly put the worm in Zelda’s ear about a possible trip.

Zelda groans, “I agree. I don’t remember it getting this hot.”

“This is just the beginning, wait until it’s the midsummer festival.”

“A festival?” Zelda’s face lights up.

Link nods, “It’s something they started about thirty years ago. It’s right here in Hateno. People from all parts of the kingdom will travel for it.” Link drinks some water, leading against the counter at the hip. Zelda makes special effort not to admire how his obliques curved. “There’s music and dancing, it’s quite fun. I was invited last year as a special guest. The “chosen hero” or something like that.” Link shrugs.

At that moment they hear a sharp knock on their door. It startles both of them. Link moves to answer it, setting the rag and cup down.

“Dantz, what is it?” Link says as he opens the door to a distressed farmer.

“Master Link, so good to see you,” His voice is shaky, “I didn’t know who else to go to.” Link listens more intently, Zelda even stands. “Two more of my cattle have been killed. When I heard you were back in town I knew you could help me. I don’t know who—or what—is killing them, but it's not a moblin. It’s something darker.” He’s speaking a mile a minute.

“Slow down,” Link stops him, “When did this happen?”

“In the night, I came here as soon as I could. They were covered in something… unnatural. Please, Link.”

Link turns back to look at Zelda. “Stay here.”

“What? No. I’ll come with you!” She moves to him and Link stops her. If this is anything like what Cado saw at the castle, he didn’t want her to be anywhere near it.

Link completely turns around and puts his hands on her shoulders, “Zelda, you cannot.” He stays sternly.

“Why? You don’t have to baby me. I can help you.”

“Zel-“

“I’m better! Please don’t leave me-“ Before she finishes the sentence she’s falling back down, like she was going to faint again. She had gotten herself worked up and now her heart was weary again. Link catches her before she falls, her knees knocking together.

“Oh, Goddess.” Dantz says. “Should I help?” He asks and Link snaps, telling him ‘no’ a little too forcefully.

“Zel, come on, let's get you to bed.” He wraps her arm around his shoulder. “Dantz, I’ll be there within the hour. I’m sorry.” Link says in a calmer tone.

“I understand, Link.” He nods and turns to leave.

Zelda can’t get up the stairs and Link picks her up, carrying her up to her room. He places her in bed as she starts to cry.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” He brushes her hair out of her face. She takes his hand.

“No. It’s not.” She replies. “Stop telling me it’s okay.” She groans. “It’s ridiculous that I can’t do anything without this happening.” It was the second time this week.

“I have to go help them.” His hand is held back by her, but she eventually lets it go.

He turns to leave her, pulling his green tunic over his messy hair, and getting ready for combat. He isn’t even anticipating a fight, but he wants to be ready. He puts his gloves on, and straps both his sword and shield to his back. He even gets his bow ready because he has no idea what it might be. It sounds serious.

It’s the first time he’s been entirely suited-up since the castle. He forgot how natural it feels. He forgot how much he felt like himself.

Zelda has gotten up and stands at the railing of the loft. “Be careful.” She says in a weak voice.

Link looks up at her, he wants to stay here with her and hold her and let her know that it's going to be okay. “Please rest.”

He walks out the door.

The cattle are lying dead in the corner of the pasture. Flies buzz around them. Dantz and Link examine the scene, a pit in both their stomachs.

“What could it be?” Dantz asks.

Link crouches down, getting a closer look. The gunk is a deep maroon color, almost like malice but thinner, almost like a glossy serum as opposed to a thick slime. Link takes a risk and touches a bit of it that was strewn across the grass, rubbing it between his fingers. It didn’t seem to hurt him the way malice did. He sniffs it, it’s rotten and foul. He gags almost immediately. Link wipes his hand off in the grass.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” He admits. “And I’ve seen a lot.” This was only confirming his worst fears.

“The other ones that were killed were left like this too.” Dantz explains, “There isn’t even any meat taken out of them, only their eyes are gouged out.” He points out.

“Whatever is killing them is doing it for sport.” Link stands back up and folds his arms. “This is bizarre, I must say.” It was starting to be late afternoon, he still had a few hours of sunlight. “What did you do with the other ones that were killed?” Link asks.

“We tried to clean them up and butcher them for food. But the meat inside was rotten, like it was poisoned under the skin.”

Link hears a giggle from behind them and turns around to see the two daughters of the rancher watching them from behind a post. When he catches them staring they both hide.

“How old are your girls?” He asks.

“Siva is eighteen and Catli is sixteen.” Dantz replies. “They are my pride and joy, I can’t let anything bad happen to them.”

Link advances towards them, “Girls.” He smiles, charming as ever. They both sneak out from behind the post, sheepish and giddy. The older steps forward.

“You’re the hero.” She puts her hands behind her back. Link nods.

“Can you girls show me the edge of your property?” He asks, wanting to test a theory. They both happily nod and start to lead him, he notices especially how Siva looks at him as she walks by. She was very agreeable: long, dark and curly hair and alluring eyes. He follows them. They take him past the fence and through the forest, the younger chatting and asking questions about his quests and whatnot. He just smiles and nods, answering with basic “yes’” or “no’s”.

Link’s theory starts to prove right, he sees a set of two acorns on the ground, then a pair of two foot tracks, and eventually, at the end of the property, where two songbirds lay dead at the bottom of a tree, both covered in the same strange goop. Whatever this is, it’s looking for things in pairs. Like two sisters.

Link would never imagine putting these girls in danger, and would send them home in about an hour or two when it started to get dark, he just wanted to lure out whatever was killing with a pair.

He sat down at the base of a tree, and listened as the girls talked themselves up, clearly competing with one another for who can be the most impressive to the hero. Link decides to let them have their fun, it’s not like he was getting this attention from Zelda.

Zelda.

She’s all he could think about. He listens to the girls for a full hour, but doesn’t comprehend a word they’re saying because all he can do is think about the woman he left at home. He wishes he hadn’t left her home, she’s probably sad and lonely. Or maybe she isn’t, perhaps she’s enjoying some alone time. He doubted it, though. He was sure she was fuming at him for just leaving her, for going in such a rush. Proximity can cause problems, maybe this was good for them.

Link must have zoned out because all of a sudden the younger sister was gone, and he was left alone with Siva. This was dangerous territory.

“Where did your sister go?” He asks, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I told her to go get her tapestry to show you! Of course.” Siva says in a tone that was a little too flirty for Link’s liking. She sits next to him, facing him. Link knew the look on her face, and he knew he should stand up and put an end to whatever was about to happen. “Because you know… now we’re alone.” She sighs and leans in.

Stop. Stop. Stop. He tells himself but doesn’t move, he lets her place her lips on his.

Link is not an experienced kisser. He’s had a few drunken nights in the last three years where he ended up in a Gerudo’s bedchamber or a stable-workers hideout, and while those were all agreeable experiences, he’s never actively sought them out. It was always nice to get the tension from his journey off, though.

Link makes the mistake of kissing her back, and she’s sighing into his touch and he’s pulling her in. Being alone with a woman he’s been in love with for three years and not being able to touch her or talk to her the way he wants to has left him with a lot of pent up energy, it felt good to get it out.

Link puts his fingers through her hair, and starts to kiss down her jawline and neck and she’s letting out the prettiest little sounds.

And then he starts to think about Zelda. The sounds Zelda would make, the feeling of her hair intertwined in his fingers, how her lips would feel against his…

Zelda.

Zelda.

“Zelda.” He sighs, and then Savi is pulling away.

“Hm?” She asks, and Link is dazed and confused, thinking with anything other than his brain. He doesn’t know how long they were kissing because suddenly it's much darker outside, and if Dantz caught them like this, Link would be the one hunted down and killed, not whatever monster is out there.

Link immediately feels stupid, this was a rookie mistake. He shouldn’t have let it happen.

“What?” He responds to her, and then out of the corner of his eye, he sees something run behind the tree. “Shit.” He jumps up. “You need to go. Right now.” He pushes her back towards the house. It wasn’t far, she’d be okay. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

She nods, also remembering their reason for being out here. She runs back home and Link shakes his head, trying to refocus. He sees it again, it’s fast, moving from tree to tree, but further away. Link grunts and starts to slowly follow it. He isn’t sure if it saw him. It’s tall, and it’s dark. He would guess it’s a Moblin by its size but it's much too fast to be a moblin. Perhaps a wizzrobe? But he could hear its feet on the grass. Link starts the stalk, prowling towards it like a predator.

He doesn’t think it knows he’s following, because he’s able to follow it halfway up Madorna Mountain before he accidentally steps on a branch that snaps loudly. Again, a rookie mistake. Link was out of practice, rusty. He silently curses himself for that. The beast turns around to look at Link, but he’s able to hide behind an oak tree. It was still a little light out, and the lights from down were getting smaller and smaller as they worked their way up the mountain.

Link stayed vigilant. It’s been a long time since he’s had to fight a new enemy, and he wasn’t sure how powerful this was going to be. It gets quiet, he doesn’t hear it move. Even with Link’s impaired hearing, he had a knack for the details, but not today, not now. A cricket chirps but it’s silenced halfway through its sound. The wind goes still. A cloud covers the moon.

He girds up, and moves from behind the tree to keep following it, but he’s met with a horrific sight.

The creature is standing there, about six feet away from Link.

It startles him. He’s met with a feeling of dread.

It’s tall, probably seven feet. It’s hunched down, a humanoid-sort of beast that looks like a shadow covered in the same maroon gloop as the animals.

Link freezes up, he is paralyzed with fear because he knows exactly what it is.

He knows who it is.

It opens its eyes, those awful, yellow, glowing eyes. He chuckles at Link and it fills his skull. It wasn’t quite human, like it was a pile of goo that was regaining its strength and slowly rebuilding itself into a human. Into a phantom.

They stare at one another, his laughter taunts Link. Link can hear his heartbeat in his ears. His palms start to sweat. He is met with the images of three weeks ago. The battle, the castle, the evil.

Ganon.

Or at least some form of him.

He doesn’t move, he just laughs at Link. The boy swallows, and he wants to run, but he rolls his shoulders back.

“Courage and Bravery are two different things.” Zelda’s words ring in his memory.

He grabs his sword.

The Master Sword unsheathes with a light ring, and it glows in the darkness.

In an instant, the monster is screeching and howling like a Lynel and melting away from the light of the sword. The pure power of the holy blade made the beast slowly melt into the ground, like an ice cube in the desert. It covered its eyes, and screlted into the forest, echoing no doubt into town.

Link walked closer to it, waving the blade, spinning it in his hand until the creature was completely put away.

Whatever that was, it isn’t very strong. It will surely get stronger, though. Link had a feeling this was not the end of it. It left behind a puddle of goop. Link’s stomach dropped when he realized why it was killing for sport and in pairs of two. It was probably seeking Him and Zelda. Unable to differentiate what living things were hylian and what was cattle or animals. The stealing of the eyes surely had something to do with it regaining its strength, but what?

How did it know to come look in Hateno already?

After sheathing the sword and thanking the Goddess, Link took a moment to bury the secretment. He still felt sick to his stomach. Why did he freeze up like that?

Maybe that final battle had more of an effect on him than he thought.

He heads home, explaining to Dantz what had happened and what he saw, sugar-coating it a little and just saying it was a ghost. Link wasn’t sure how long it would stay away for, but hopefully long enough he could talk to Impa about it. Clearly the Master Sword was protecting him. He made a special effort to avoid Savi.

When he gets home, he drops his equipment off, pulling his gloves and boots off and leaving it all in his little corner downstairs. He pulls his shirt off. He would sleep out with Epona again tonight, he would need to to avoid the nightmares. His Mare had that effect on him. The feeling of safety and home.

Zelda was asleep, snoring lightly in her bed. He stayed quiet and went to sit at the table, grabbing a baked apple to silence his rumbling stomach. Guilt washed over him as he remembered what he did today. Savi came onto him, but he knows he shouldn’t have let that happen. He was ashamed of his conduct.

The laughter of the phantom rang in his ears. Flashes of its grin and glowing eyes projected in his mind. He felt ill.

Link disassociated. He sat at the table for three hours and it went by in minutes.

What snaps him out of it are the screams of terror he hears from upstairs.

His mind immediately jumps to the worst possible situation. He grabs the master sword and sprints upstairs. He sees nothing but a scared girl, crying from a nightmare.

“Zelda, what is it?” He asks, setting the sword town and running to her. He kneels by her bed and takes her hand. “I’m here, what’s wrong.” He whispers.

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“B-but. The guardian, it got you. It killed-”

“It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real.” Link reassures her. “I’m here, breathing, alive as ever.”

Zelda shakes her head, she’s clearly so traumatized that she cannot differentiate dream from reality anymore, she probably thinks him saying that is the dream.

“Here, feel.” He grabs her hand and places it against his chest where his heart is. “Feel that?” He asks, “Bum-bum. Bum-bum.” He whispers. “That’s my heart. Its pumping, it's beating.” Zelda sobs and he pulls her into his chest. “It’s okay, I got you. I’m here.”

He holds her for a moment and then stands up, “I’ll get the stool if it will help you sleep.” He turns to go.

“Stay with me.” She asks, tears wetting his collarbone.

“I’ll be right here, I’ll grab the stool.” He says.

“No, stay with me.” She says, and gestures to the bed.

“What?”

“Please. I cannot sleep without you by my side. I’m too afraid I’m going to lose you again.” She sniffles.

“Zelda I can’t-“

“Why?” She asks. “Because of decorum? Because I’m royal? Because you don't want to get caught?” She picks up her hands ‘None of that matters anymore’ she signs.

Link nods, “Are you sure?”

“Please.” She pleads.

Link moves back to her, trying to control his racing heart. Zelda scoots over to she’s closer to the wall, and Link carefully crawls into the covers of the bed. There wasn’t a ton of room, there would be no way for them to lay in the bed without being in full contact. “Is this okay?” He asks as he pulls the covers up.

She nods.

“Hold me?” She asks.

Link looks at her and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to kiss her. He nods and lays his head down, his chest facing up. He pulls her into his chest, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders and his right arm over his stomach to her waist. She tries to control her breathing, and it gets easier as their hearts begin to sync up.

Link wants to cry too, because this is the safest he has felt in a hundred and three years. This is the most at home he has ever been. He mentally-pinches himself because he’s sure he’s dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up, in fact, he starts to fall into the deepest sleep he’s ever had.

Every muscle in his body starts to relax, his eyes get heavy, and the scent of the girl on his chest fills his dreams with images of fairy forests and gentle ocean waves and the time of day when the sun moves into twilight.

This is home.

[upontherisers]

in this room 'til we die

a/n: it has been ages, truly ages since i posted my work on here and, well, mota has given me brainrot. this tumbled out of me between midnight and 2:00 am and i'm happy to share it with you. title is from 'The Elevator' off of lizzy mcalpine's newest album. meet lieutenant vera west, bombardier

She’s trying to remember the feeling of it as she lies on the floor behind her seat. The moonlight flowing in from the nose dome brightens the space just enough to remind her where she is, but keeps the details hidden. Good. The thing she’s here for is in her mind. The rest is set dressing.

She closes her eyes and pushes her shoulder blades into the bottom of the machine below her. She’d melt herself into the floor if she could, mix with the metal until there’s no difference between person and plane. She’d become the bird herself. The belly of the plane pushes back at her and the pain activates her heart, which activates her instinct. She can do this. She can do this. 

Pilot to bombardier—Ginny’s voice washes over her—the plane is yours.

She knows what to do next, easy as breathing. Get the target in her bomb sight, give the crew the count down, hit the release, and bombs away. Bombardier to pilot, the plane is yours. I’m giving it to you, Ginny! The plane is yours. Do you hear me? You can come back, the plane is yours. They shake and jolt through flak as behind her, Knick Knack shouts the new heading to the pilots. All Vera can do is get back on her turret and pray that they make it through. 

They get hit. She knows they get hit from the monstrous boom on their left side and the sudden lurch the plane takes. There’s barely enough time to grab her chute as she’s screaming for everyone to bail, do it! do it now! But the bell doesn’t ring. Knick Knack keeps giving their bearings and Ginny keeps her steady. Can’t you hear me? Get out! Get out! It all goes black.

She gasps back into her body with a shout, the dark flooding her eyes. The shaking in her hands is back and she curses herself. Do the damn job. Her hands shaking could be—no—would be the difference between someone’s life and death, and she could not bear another nine on her conscience. She’ll run it until her hands stop shaking. If it takes all night and all of the next day and all of the next war. She has a job to do and she will not fail. Not again.

One measured breath, then another up into the roof of the nose, then she closes her eyes again, hears Ginny’s voice. Pilot to bombardier, the plane is yours.

The hatch to the nose opens but she ignores it. There’s a job to do. Give the crew the countdown. Bomb bay doors opening. Hit the release. Bombardier to pilot, the plane is yours. Ginny doesn’t answer. Bombardier to pilot, like being louder would do anything, the plane is yours. The plane is—

“It’s late.”

Benny DeMarco climbs into the nose, brushing his shoulder with hers as he lies down next to her. 

She doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m tryna fly.”

“That’s my job.”

The Ginny in her head goes silent and Vera sighs, opening her eyes. The roof of Our Baby is too obscured in shadow to make out much, but she can see the dents and dings she knows are there. How many more could it take? How many more Luftwaffe shells could find their way inside before they’re careening out of the sky, too? What would it feel like as the bottom drops out? She wishes Ginny or Tanner or Knick Knack were here to tell her. But they aren’t and she is with her shaking hands and racing heart and fear of flying or falling and she wasn’t sure which it was. 

“Hey, hey, now.”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Benny sits up to brush at her cheeks with a gentle thumb. She lets him and tries to stop more tears from welling up at his sincerity. There’s no judgment in him as he holds her face, only that soft, knowing smile and those bright eyes, the light in them not gone yet. Thank God for you, Benny Demarco. 

He doesn’t say anything once he withdraws his hand, tucking his knees to his chest and laying his elbows out so that he could rest his head in the crook of his shoulder while looking around, arched brows giving away his curiosity. His genuine inquisitiveness makes her sniffle a giggle, and he nudges her with his foot. “What?”

“You look like you’ve never seen the nose before.”

He shrugs. “I’m never in here.”

“You should stop by more often, see what a real job looks like.” 

He jabs at her this time, and she really laughs. “Hey!”

“I didn’t come here to get razzed.”

“Then why’d you come at all?”

“Got back from the pub, saw your bed was empty,” he says, and he’s looking around again. She wonders why. “Buck wanted a head count. I had a feeling I knew where you’d be.”

“So you’re here for Buck.” She doesn’t know why she says it. He’s doing a nice thing for her as a friend—in his Army issued tank-top under his leather jacket, no cap, hair slipping out of its pomade. He should be in bed but he’s not, he’s here with her and she’s too stuffed up with her grief, her anger to thank him like she should.

He looks at her again and gives her a rueful half smile. “I’m here for you.”

That sits painfully on her heart. That’s not right—it’s the other way around. He’s the pilot and she’s the bombardier; it’s her job to get past herself and do her duty. Benny gets them through the flak and firestorms and all she has to do is drop the bombs. It isn’t so difficult and yet she nearly failed him the last two times they were in the air, with her shaky hands and Ginny in her head and Buck having to bellow over them both in order for her to drop. 

Her face burns with shame as tears bubble up again. She’s a coward, plain and simple, and she knows it. Everyone else can move on, get into the air again and complete the mission without being paralyzed, stuck between flying and falling, but she’s here night after night, begging her hands to steady just enough not to stutter on the release hatch. 

She thinks of the girl she was when she landed in England, bursting at the seams with fight and fervor, unstoppable, hungry to get up there. That girl trusted herself and her hands and her crew… her crew, the women who’d lived in her head as much as she lived in theirs. The women who’d made flying as easy as breathing. Her sisters in arms, the other parts of her brain, the reasons she couldn’t think straight anymore. She calls out into the blue once more—bombardier to pilot, the plane is yours—but it’s silent across the sky.

She wants to scream, she wants to throw something, she wants to kick and break and howl like the boys get to do but instead, all she can do is cry, and Benny is right there when she does, gathering her in his arms and cooing into her hair. “I know, I know.”

It takes a while for her to stop, longer than she’d like to admit, but he’s with her the whole time, patient as a saint. She holds on for dear life; there is no other option. There’s falling or flying or him, and he’s the only place that feels safe. His arms are warm as he tucks her into his chest and his legs bracket hers, holding her anguish, not letting it drop to the floor. He smells of cigarettes and his whiskey of choice and the sweet, spicy cologne he puts on when they’re on a stand down the next day. He smells of himself as she forgets what her girls smelled like—Ginny’s orangy perfume and Tanner’s hot comb oil that lingered after doing half the hair on base. 

You’re all I have now, Benny. And what if I lose you, too?

The thought redoubles her grief and her breath eludes her until she’s heaving.

He sits her up. “In and out, West, c’mon.” In and out. That’s usually Buck’s line, reserved for getting her out of her stupor and back on her gun after the bomb bay doors close. Benny says it with none of the major’s disappointment and all of his own kindness.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually croaks, trying to smooth out the wrinkles her fists put in his shirt. 

A comforting hand runs up her back, between her nightshirt and jacket. “Don’t be.”

Silence falls.

It’s quiet on the hard stand, a rare night when the ground crews aren’t hammering away until dawn. From the dome, she can see straight down the runways and out into the fields of East Anglia. The town’s lights are low in the far distance. It’s quiet for them, too.

The entire base has tomorrow off, which would normally mean raucousness to the nth degree, but things haven’t been the same since they came back from Algeria. Well, maybe John Egan’s the same, but the rest of them, the rest of them can’t stomach it like they used to—the empty beds in the barracks, the new crews that only last a few weeks, the war of attrition in the air, the sawmill, the fact that there’s no end in sight. They’re going up again in two days, to heaven or hellfire. 

She shudders and asks her hands to steady, if not for her then for Benny and the rest of the fort.

He pulls her into him again, murmuring into her hair. “You’ve been scaring us, Vee.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know, but you do.” 

“I just,” she starts without knowing where she’s going, “I just—” I’m drowning in the air, the floor’s out from under me and there’s nothing but sky above. “I miss my crew,” she settles on. 

He scoffs. “You have a crew.”

“No, I have a bunch of guys that let a basket case sit at the front of their fort—”

“Hey.” A hand cups her jaw, tilting it so that she looks him in the eyes. She’s never known brown to shine like that, in the light or in the dark. “I’d take a bullet for you, so would everyone else.”

Ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard? That there’s another nine willing to leave her all alone with no thought to how it’d make her feel. No one’s ever the poor sap they tell stories about—the only paratrooper that survived the jump, the last woman standing out of three platoons, a lone P-40 fighting its way home, all that’s left of a mighty squadron. No one’s ever the poor sap until they are, and then they’re just another story to tell. I know a bombardier who took some flak to the chest, had to be grounded for a few days. The day before she’s discharged, her whole crew goes up without her and ends up crashing, no chutes. They’d just beaten the odds, too, flew twelve missions, went down on thirteen.

Then she becomes another superstition to add to salt and mirrors. Make sure your crew’s together for your thirteenth, never go up without your original bombardier. She’s a walking ghost story, the frequent recipient of poorly concealed pointed fingers and whispers behind hands. She’s not a hero who landed a bird on one engine and three dead crew. She’s the left behind, the abandoned, she should’ve gone down with her ship. No one wants to be her. 

Some days, she thinks that’s a fate worse than death. 

Benny can’t understand that and she doesn’t want him to, but he’s searching her face for an answer nonetheless. She reaches up and holds his cheek. He leans into her touch and she’s proud that her hand doesn’t shake, that he takes a breath for himself as she brushes her thumb over his soft, warm skin, touching that darling beauty mark that she finds so charming.

“Vera,” he whispers. 

That’s not enough, because he doesn’t get it yet. I can’t lose you. She lifts her other hand, cradles his face, and beholds—really looks—as if her gaze would be enough to protect him. He’s always been good to the girls, always quick to check a man who was out of line, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on, and since her girls went down, a genuine friend, careful and brash with her, keeping her feet on the ground. 

I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you. All the quiet meals in the mess, the long walks with Meatball when she needs to get out of the barracks, all the nights in the nose spent talking her back into bed when she insists on one more practice run. I can’t lose you. A lump forms in her throat and her eyes burn. She scrunches up her nose to stop herself from crying again and furiously swipes at her eyes. There’s been enough tears tonight.

He laughs, bright and brassy, and sits back as she sits up.

“What?”

“You’re the toughest bombardier I’ve ever met.”

It’s her turn to kick at him but he grabs her ankle. “I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious, Benny.”

There’s that smile that picks her spirits up.

She sighs and lies back down, wiggling as flat as she can. He takes the place next to her and it’s quiet except for the sounds of their breathing just above their faces. The floor is cool and he’s warm, and she wants to practice some more, but maybe she could rest for a bit. 

He nudges her arm after a few moments. “Can’t sleep here.”

“'M tryna fly.”

“Enough trying. You fly, you’re a flyer. You need to sleep.”

She doesn’t do that much these days and she tells him such. 

“I’ll let you take Meatball tonight.”

She opens one eye. “Yeah?” Meatball has a bed at the foot of Benny’s, but occasionally he parts with him long enough to let her have a night of snuggles with her favorite canine. 

“Sure, if you promise to stay in bed until reveille.”

Now that’s tempting.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Heinkel Kabine 154, 1956. The "up-market" microcar had 4 wheels (the rear two were side by side) and a 204cc single cylinder 4 stroke engine though for insurance reasons the engine was reduced to 198cc. Incidentally, the fabric sun roof worked as an escape hatch in the event the front-opening door became jammed in a collision.

[murderbot-fanimation-project]

SPOTLIGHT ON: Murderbot Fanimation Project Backgrounds!

(Part 3 of 3) (Jump to part [1] [2])

They may be the literal background of the finished product, but the backgrounds done for the Murderbot Diaries Fanimation Project deserve their time in the spotlight!

Part of what makes the Fanimation stand out as much as it does is the love, care, and attention to detail that the artists poured into the backgrounds. The team stuck closely to the source texts when designing the spaces, producing some beautiful pieces of art that deserve appreciation on their own.

You can watch the Murderbot Diaries Fanimation Project here.

In this final part, we look at some of the backgrounds that we animated to give them that extra wow factor. Some of the shots in the Murderbot Fanimation have backgrounds completely made in 3D - the opening shot and the post-credits scene, for example. But the shots in this post are mostly 2D imagery, with some 3D components and clever editing that bring them to life.

Deltfall Habitat - Background art and motion editing by @broken-risk-assessment-module , habitat model created by TechnicalToad and rendered by @theash0

"I climbed the ladder up to the roof hatch and popped it. The armor’s boots have magnetized climbing clamps, and I used them to cross over the curving roofs to the third habitat and then around to the second."

Milu Storm - 3D model of the corridor by TechnicalToad, storm effect created by @theash0 using, among many other elements, an effect created by @chimaerakitten

"Swirling, towering clouds, filled with electrical discharges, obscured any view of the surface. [...] It was immense, and wrong, and terrible and beautiful all at the same time. I stood there for what I later clocked as twenty-two seconds, just staring."

Docking Bay Door - Background, foreground, and door textures illustrated by Vanessa. 3D door composited and animated by @theash0

"Gurathin knelt beside an open maintenance floor panel next to the gate, tools scattered around, and Ratthi held a light for him. The panel was painted with an emergency feed marker label that in a selection of different languages read 'Manual Release.'"

Docking Bay Corridor - Illustrated by @nirelaz , motion editing by @theash0

"Our shuttle slot was six locks down, glowing emergency lighting showing me Mensah standing beside it holding a small energy weapon."

Bonus higher-quality stills of those last two to appreciate the detail:

(Docking Bay Door by Vanessa)

(Docking Bay Corridor by @nirelaz - you can find more of the backgrounds Nirelaz did for this project here)