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bunnys-kisses · 29 days ago

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wrestling au 🤼 - starring task force 141!

simon 'ghost' riley -

oh, big scary ghost. the masked heel of the little association he was apart of. he took in the sounds of people's booing, and he fought without much remorse. he tried not to make it look too real, by that he meant not messing up his opponent too much. the last thing he wanted was to get his ear talked off by upper management. there was a routine to follow, even if it ended in bruising, simon still had to follow it. or else everything could be thrown off. his hulking size made him a wall of an opponent, and the story lines where he won were always a crowd favourite. he loved being the big baddie of the ring, he loved to be the monster they booed at. because no matter how loud they got, simon would always walk away with the title belt.

he fucked like an animal though. you were the daughter of his trainer and boy did he love to take you for a spin after he got nice and sweaty. when your father was in his office cashing the cheque for the monthly payment for his services, simon was servicing something else. your back on the wooden bench of the men's locker room. simon's cock splitting you. he used his size to his advantage, while he couldn't do too much damage in the ring. you sure as hell could take a sexual beating. the numerous amount of times, simon had you twisted up as he fucked you. in the locker room, in the back of his car, even that time over your father's desk when he had left early. you were good stress relief and even when the crowd booed him, you were in the back happily cheering for your big, beefy lover.

john price -

face turned heel, a seasoned veteran with the aches and pains to prove it. his knees cracked if he tried to go to low and it usually takes him an extra few days to recover from it all. when he was clean shaven and younger, he was the pretty boy from liverpool. now in the twilight years of his career, he loved to be big, bad, price. he was the kind to play 'dirty', the sort of wrestler to throw last ditch effort tricks to win the match. he got his fists bloodied. he laughed when the crowd booed him, he basked in the feeling of being the worst of the worst. alongside his right-hand man ghost, they were destined to take the title from the pretty faced good guys. he looked good in the books and the 'shorts'. anyone close enough to the ring could see price's bulge. it was the type of be circulated on social media. he was hairy, a little different than the normally smooth wrestler. he smoked on stage and antagonized the audience. he was a hefty man who loved to get his opponents down on the mat.

but even at his age, he likes to sink his teeth into the competition. and what's better than the fresh face they got in the women's division. oh, you look amazing under him. price got into the ring with you a few times, the he had you bent in certain was that made you blush. you almost moaned when he had you basically in a ball with his barely covered crotch up against your ass. he even barked the words, "guess it's time for me to find a missus! what do you think? could our new starlet be the wife of the big, bad price?" which only earned hollering from the crowd. he liked it rough outside the ring, when he had you pushed into storage closets. when he got to tear your underwear off of you and sink into his prize. that was his cunt, don't you forget. if he sees you talking to another male wrestler, then there would be hell to pay. you better pray that the pill works, or you'll be in the stands a lot sooner than you expected with price's hefty baby in your arms.

john 'soap' mactavish -

face, face, face! but the face you hate to love! his story lines are always so good. he was cocky, loud, his laughter was like a bark when he got the microphone. he was the good boy from glasgow, even had saint andrew's cross across the ass of his shorts. he was the most flexible, often having the heels of the organization bend him in ways that most others couldn't. while he wasn't the broadest (he was still fairly big), he made up for it in endurance. one time he was asked how he could keep up for so long even if he was bloodied and bruised, he simply laughed and said, "well, ya bed enough bonnies. you can keep goin' all day and all night with the likes of these guys. sadly, the girls tap out before i'm finished." he felt like he teetered between being a heel and a face, he only became more cocky when he won the title from price. when he got the older man on the mats. it was only right for a face to have the title, for a heel to have it was wrong. but yet, there was a cockiness to him. even was he stripped price of the belt and gave the shiny metal a heated kiss. the man from the highlands was on top!

but of course the man on top loves to have his woman on top. and who exactly was the lovely woman to be with mister mactavish? well, it was the ceo's daughter of course! and the stamina he had in the ring bled into your experiences with him in the bedroom. johnny was a cervix bruiser, the kind where you'd feel it for days afterwards. when you sat at lunch with your father, you'd wince and pray that no pained expression crossed your face. like price, johnny was a breeder. with a stamina like a rabbit, of course he was shooting loads into you on almost a daily basis. you'd lie to your father about you whereabouts, you said you were at the library studying for your upcoming final. meanwhile johnny was pouring shots of liquor down your throat then messing up your pretty face with his cum as you sucked him off behind the building. insatiable, with the title around his waist only making it worse. he had the title in his hands and the ceo's daughter's lips around his throbbing cock. but don't worry, johnny isn't the type to tap and leave. no, no, finishing in you is a promise. a promise that you'll be mrs. mactavish very soon. after all, his kids weren't going to have your father's last name.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

a very clearly a face. his gimmick is the sweetheart next door who can handle himself in the ring. a real knight in shining armor, it was hard when the story called for his defeat. but, in the end he always came back to secure his title. there was a bravado to him, and a real charmer. while some had a face that others wanted to hit, no one wanted to mess up that perfection that was kyle garrick. he did play it up a little bit, sauntering as he entered the ring, letting the crowd get excited for what was to come. he had more than a few fans, but he was always respectful. a real gentleman. he even had a trick where he'd give roses to female fans as he walked towards the ring. his smile gleaming under the bright lights.

of course, the sweetheart of the ring has the perfect love story. the woman who had been with him since his early days. while his fellow wrestlers got into all sorts of trouble, he enjoyed the company of his dear wife. but, don't get it wrong, your sex life was not boring. while price was screwing newbies, kyle was on his knees in the bathroom of the pub you all went to after the match. your back up against the sink of the single stall washroom. your pants around your knees and his large hands on your thighs. his tongue lapping at your pussy. your sweet, muffled moans kept kyle wanting more. his cock throbbed in his jeans, the rush of the match was still abuzz in his system. he loved the taste of his wife, how could he not? even after all these years together, tasting you was like biting into a ripe apple at the peak of its season. the kind of fruit that had a price tag that would make the average person shudder. you were the apple of his eye and the love of his life. of course he'd worship you. there was still an electricity between you two, a fire that couldn't be tamed. if he gave a rose to a fan as part of his gimmick, then you got a dozen. if roses made you allergies flare up, then he'd give you fake ones. so they'd never wilt, like his love for you.

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velvetures · 1 year ago

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Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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"India’s announcement that it aims to reach net zero emissions by 2070 and to meet fifty percent of its electricity requirements from renewable energy sources by 2030 is a hugely significant moment for the global fight against climate change. India is pioneering a new model of economic development that could avoid the carbon-intensive approaches that many countries have pursued in the past – and provide a blueprint for other developing economies.

The scale of transformation in India is stunning. Its economic growth has been among the highest in the world over the past two decades, lifting of millions of people out of poverty. Every year, India adds a city the size of London to its urban population, involving vast construction of new buildings, factories and transportation networks. Coal and oil have so far served as bedrocks of India’s industrial growth and modernisation, giving a rising number of Indian people access to modern energy services. This includes adding new electricity connections for 50 million citizens each year over the past decade.

The rapid growth in fossil energy consumption has also meant India’s annual CO2 emissions have risen to become the third highest in the world. However, India’s CO2 emissions per person put it near the bottom of the world’s emitters, and they are lower still if you consider historical emissions per person. The same is true of energy consumption: the average household in India consumes a tenth as much electricity as the average household in the United States.

India’s sheer size and its huge scope for growth means that its energy demand is set to grow by more than that of any other country in the coming decades. In a pathway to net zero emissions by 2070, we estimate that most of the growth in energy demand this decade would already have to be met with low-carbon energy sources. It therefore makes sense that Prime Minister Narendra Modi has announced more ambitious targets for 2030, including installing 500 gigawatts of renewable energy capacity, reducing the emissions intensity of its economy by 45%, and reducing a billion tonnes of CO2.

These targets are formidable, but the good news is that the clean energy transition in India is already well underway. It has overachieved its commitment made at COP 21- Paris Summit [a.k.a. 2015, at the same conference that produced the Paris Agreement] by already meeting 40% of its power capacity from non-fossil fuels- almost nine years ahead of its commitment, and the share of solar and wind in India’s energy mix have grown phenomenally. Owing to technological developments, steady policy support, and a vibrant private sector, solar power plants are cheaper to build than coal ones. Renewable electricity is growing at a faster rate in India than any other major economy, with new capacity additions on track to double by 2026...

Subsidies for petrol and diesel were removed in the early 2010s, and subsidies for electric vehicles were introduced in 2019. India’s robust energy efficiency programme has been successful in reducing energy use and emissions from buildings, transport and major industries. Government efforts to provide millions of households with fuel gas for cooking and heating are enabling a steady transition away from the use of traditional biomass such as burning wood. India is also laying the groundwork to scale up important emerging technologies such as hydrogen, battery storage, and low-carbon steel, cement and fertilisers..."

-via IEA (International Energy Agency), January 10, 2022

Note: And since that's a little old, here's an update to show that progress is still going strong:

-via Economic Times: EnergyWorld, March 10, 2023

#india #solar power #renewable energy #green energy #sustainability #wind power #population grown #economic growth #developing economies #renewable electricity #carbon emissions #good news #hope #hope posting

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niqhtlord01 · 3 days ago

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Humans are weird: Steve’s Station

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If you ever find yourself on the run from the more reputable institutions of the universe, you may be prevailed upon to make your way to a little known star base called ��Steve’s Station” in the Cambra system.

Designated as the haven of the underworld, Steve’s Station operates outside the boundaries of all official governing bodies and interplanetary enforcement organizations. It operates as a safe haven at one point or another for every criminal, terrorist, extremist, and other shadowy group that seeks to cause unlawful conduct across the universe.

Normally a station that housed so many unsavory characters would hardly survive a day given the tenacity for grudges its patrons held. It was only through the simple governing of the stations founder, a human known only as “Steve”, that the station was able to not only operate but actively thrive as a hub of underworld activity.

Originally founded some thirty years prior, the human Steve had saved up his life savings to by a third generation mobile station. With only four docking arms and two cargo holds, the third generation stations were largely overlooked as they were the smallest of mobile stations. What did make it more desirable was the fact that it’s smaller size allowed it to make system to system jumps. Even more beneficial was that its core housings could be upgraded and replaced to increase the size of the station if one had the credits.

With the majority of civilized systems already having an overflow of star bases and stations, cutting into the market there would neigh impossible. So Steve instead set course for the Cambra system; a little known and uncharted region of space that barely shows up on star charts save for a pair of skull and bones. This did not dissuade Steve however as he was always of the opportunistic nature.

Forty jumps later and Steve was setting up shop when his first customer came in.

A battered Benaren smuggler had just barely escaped from the authorities and made a blind jump. With his engines all but destroyed from the jump he would have been left to rot had it not been for Steve’s station.

Much to the surprise of the Benaren Steve asked no questions on how the damage came about so long as he followed the station rules.

1. Pay on time.

2. Keep your feuds at the door.

3. Don’t start trouble, lest you want troubles of your own.

Within a short while the smuggler’s ship was repaired and ready to go again. The Benaren paid in full for the repairs and went on their way.

Now that may of well had been the end of Steve’s story had it not been for how connected the criminal underworld was. Not more than three weeks later another group of wayward outcasts and lowlifes stop by the station for use of its quality services.

From there the station’s reputation became wildly known as every criminal, pirate, smuggler, rogue ai and wayward warlord found their way to Steve’s Station to call it home. The wealth being generated from the constant traffic of ships and cargo allowed the station to quickly grow in size as Steve was able to purchase more parts and modules to be included.

Within the first ten years it went it nearly doubled in size, and in another five it was the size of a first 7th generation star base complete with over fifty docking ports and repair bays, sixteen cargo holds for storage, two dozen habitability compartments for stores and clubs, and a fuel depot capable of supplying an entire fleet.

The sheer volume of different factions and cultures using the station facilities would have rapidly devolved into rampant infighting and destruction were it not for the quiet hand of Steve. Patrons kept their animosity at the door unless they wanted to lose access to the safe harbor Steve’s station held. Storage and repair bays were expensive to maintain and were often prime targets for rivals within their own territories, so they were more than happy to maintain a truce while on Steve Station for their own benefit.

At least, that is what the smart ones were willing to abide by.

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

“Give us the access codes and this can all be over.”

The Jinari leaned down and grabbed hold of the human’s head. He lifted it up so the mauled human could see him through his one good eye as the other was well and good swollen shut from the beating his men had given him the moment prior.

Before them lay the one and only human “Steve”; founder of Steve station and currently their captive as they continued with their hostile takeover of the station. Jinari’s group had long wanted to make a name for themselves and by taking control of such a hub of underworld activity they could gain vast amounts of credits to finance their own operations.

It had been easy to breach the station’s control bridge as security was light. The guards had grown lax with the fear of Steve’s displeasure keeping many of the patron’s inline. They’d been dead in moments with the door breached not long after.

Steve had been understandably uncooperative with handing over his access codes that gave full control of the station; so Jinari’s men had proceed with some aggressive interrogation tactics to loosen him.

Steve looked up at Jinari; spitting out a glob of blood on to his shoe and grinned.

“It won’t do you any good you know.”

Jinari’s good mood quickly evaporated as he watched the human Steve begin to laugh.

“You broke the third rule,” he laughed, “you aren’t going to make it out of here alive.”

Before Jinari could ask what the human meant a loud bark of several weapons came from outside the control room followed. The rest of his crew turned their guns on the open doorway as the sound of several heavy footfalls began to draw closer.

“You’ve got one chance,” a deep rattling voice came from outside, “so I want you idiots in there to listen well.”

“Release. The. Human. Steve.” Another voice came in with thick robotic overtones.

“An jus may’be, we lets you go with your bits intact!” One more voice came with a throaty chuckle at the end.

The door to the control room was suddenly ripped open from its frame and the figures entered the room.

“That’s….you’re….” one of Jinari’s crew stammered as the first figure came into view. A towering mass of muscle and bone covered in thick black armor plating.

“Gur, leader of the Black Reavers.”

Gur grinned as his name was spoken with such fear.

Besides him stood an equally tall cybernetic body or polished metal and spikes. It was called “Cybrosis”, the rogue AI responsible for the collapse of three economic zones via hacking and alterations of monetary values.

On the opposite side of Gur stood a squat brutish Ularen decorated with skulls and bones of its victims. This unfortunate figure was Gobsnob, the assassin infamous for decapitating the Hybren prince during his own coronation then escaping with the severed head. Many believed one of the heads mounted on his armor was the prince’s head.

“Let Steve go, and we’ll let you live.” Gur spoke with a calm, collected voice.

Jinari’s eyes darted between the figures now blocking escape from the control room. There were even more waiting patiently in the outside hallway all armed to the teeth. In fear he drew his gun and pointed the muzzle at Steve’s head.

“What makes this flesh sack so special?” He shouted at the group. “It’s just one human! We don’t need him to run this place!”

“Correction.” Cybrosis remarked. “He. Is. The Only. One. Who Can. Run. This. Station.”

“WHY?!” Jianri demanded.

“He makes me laugh!” Gobsnob chuckled.

When the answer did not dissuade Jinari Gur spoke up and pointed at him.

“Deals changed. Whoever kills this stupid metal brain gets to walk free.”

Cybrosis turned to glare at Gur at the remark but said nothing. Jinari laughed and pushed the muzzle deeper against Steve’s head.

“You think my own crew would-“

The bark of an auto-blaster ran out and Jinari collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood and bone. His ribcage now cracked wide open from the blaster fire that tore into his back.

Those gathered turned to see one of Jinari’s crew holding the smoking gun before dropping it to the ground and raising their hands.

“I can go free now, yes?” they stammered.

Gur smiled and reached for something in his pocket. “Nah, I lied.”

Before any of Jinari’s crew could react Gur pulled out a thick barrel cannon from his coat and fired a slug at the thug closest to Steve. The barrel slug slammed the thug back into the wall with enough force to turn him into an art piece.

After that the station patrons who had been waiting outside stormed into the room and quickly subdued the rest of the thugs. They barely had time to get off a round before they were torn to pieces. In some cases quite literally as Gobsnob got ahold of one of them and began beating them to death with their own dismembered arm.

Gur slowly walked forward and helped Steve into the command chair at the center of the room.

“Glad you guys made it.” Steve laughed through bloody teeth. “Was starting to think you’d give me up to that nobhead.”

Gur shook his head. “They broke the rules.” He said calmly, wiping a stain of blood off his boot on Jinari’s twitching corpse. “And here you don’t last long if you break the rules.”

Steve smiled and switched on the com channel for station wide broadcast.

“Attention station,” Steve said calmly, “All possessions belonging to the former Jinari and his crew are now forfeited. Patrons may claim them as they wish for redistribution.”

A low rumble of cheers could be heard echoing down the halls as the denizens of the station began a free-for-all on the would-be takers belongings. Steve was not finished though.

“Additionally, a free month’s worth of supplies and repairs to the loveable bastards that came to my rescue.”

Even more cheers erupted from those gathered in the control room as they carried off Steve to the nearest bar for celebration.

#humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

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01zfan · 10 months ago

Text

savior | p. wb

(???)!wonbin x fem. reader | 5.2k words

the treacherous weather brings an someone to your churches doorstep. he thanks you for saving him in the only way he knows how.

contains: sex in the church, implied virginity loss, wonbin is either an angel or a succubus you decide.

sacrilegious masterlist

when it rained, it rained hard. thunderclaps boomed and lightening touched down somewhere near you. being surrounded by farmland only made everything worse, the smell of wet manure would settle over your village like a thick fog.

another strike of lightening caused the building you were in to shake. dust fell from the ceiling. a bucket that was collecting water droplets gave you an occasional sound. other than that it was quiet, everyone was long gone.

you had become the keeper of the church house. it was something like a family heirloom, passing down from generations. the man of the church would become the pastor, leading sermons and sunday service. the women would become the keeper of the church. making sure the church remains in good condition. over generations your building had become rundown. it was smaller compared to other churches. the sanctuary was half the size of the church one town over. the sanctuary could only fit two rows of pews with four pews in each row. your loyal congregation sat shoulder to shoulder on sunday’s, fanning themselves with the weekly programs. the kitchen was so small it barely fit the oven and fridge. many parishioners cooked food and brought it from home, trying to get a anything cooked in the kitchen was useless.ww the children’s prayer room could barely first ten people. because of limited space kids were moved from youth group constantly. when someone in the congregation would have a child someone from youth group would “graduate” to join the older people in the sanctuary.

besides the sanctuary, kitchen, and youth group room there was the closet that doubled as your makeshift bedroom. you didn’t usually sleep in the church, preferring the comfort of your own bed. but the rain came suddenly while you were closing up and trying to find your way back home in this weather was a safety hazard. you didn’t mind, you liked hearing the rain beat down against the walls of the church. you remember the story of the tornado that caused destruction across your town but the church remained intact. you feel safer here than you did at home. this place was protected, and by extension so were you.

you wandered between the pews looking for trash. you also sometimes considered sleeping on the polished wood of the pews, just to have a change of scenery. the time you spent in the church let you know the oratory like the back of your hand. after eating some food left over in the fridge you eventually settled into the storage room. you put out your wicker lamp and put it on the drawer next to your setup. you changed into your white nightgown and laid on your cot, pulled the blanket up to your chin and fell asleep to the sound of rain falling and lightening strikes.

you don’t know how long you were asleep when you heard banging on the door. it started off as something you heard in your subconscious, far away from the plane of sleeping that your mind was in. like an alarm, the pounding on the door became louder and more constant. you sat up in bed, heart beating fast. you weren’t sure if your groggy mind was playing tricks on you but when you heard three more knocks you knew it wasn’t your imagination. you carefully pulled yourself out of bed, grabbing the wicker lamp that had been put out. you turned the dial on the kerosine, making a low flame illuminate the space in front of you.

you slowly opened the creaky door of the storage room. you tiptoed through the rooms of the church, trying to figure out where the banging was coming from. any other time you would’ve ignored it, but the inclement weather made you compassionate. if someone was looking for refuge from the rain, they had come to the right place. you look through the tiny peephole of the door. the door knocker had been broken a long time ago, so you see the man through the peephole bang on the door again. the vibration from the knock pushes you back but once he is done you go back to look at him through the peephole.

the man looks like he is a far from home. you know everyone in your small township, many of them you have known since you were a child. you did not recognize the mans face. you would’ve remembered seeing a face like his. he looked serene even drenched in rain. his long wet hair was pushed back, uncut but proper like he was royalty. someone as beautiful as him didn’t belong in a wretched place like your home. he knocked again, pulling you back into the current situation. you cleared your throat, trying to sound domineering.

“who goes there?” you say.

your voice echoes inside of the church, but the man on the other side can barely hear you.

“i seek refuge from the rain.” he yelled through the door.

his voice was almost carried away by the wind. you pressed your ear to the crack in the door.

“where do you come from?” you yell back.

“i come from two towns over.” he yells.

the rain only picks up, and you can hear a thunderclap in the distance.

“what business do you have here?” you say.

your heart pounds in your chest. although you do want to give one of god’s men refuge from the rain, being alone with a stranger wasn’t safe.

“i came to retrieve cattle but i got lost in the rain. i was able to find a stable for my horses but i have nowhere to lay my head tonight.” he talks to you in a normal volume, almost pressing his lips against the door so you can hear his voice.

silence follows his answer. your blood pumps in your ears. you look directly behind you down the righteous path and look at the statue of jesus christ that stands behind the podium. you look to it for an answer as another bolt of lightening touches down.

“do you fear god?” you ask finally.

a god-fearing man would never cause harm to the keeper of the church, or lie in the presence of god.

he says nothing on the other end of the door. all you can hear is rain beating down on the old wood floors, the dripping water in the bucket behind you.

“i am a god fearing man of flesh and blood.” he says finally.

you free the doors of its large bolt. the old door hesitates and you have to pull harder than usual. the door suddenly swings open from the wind, you use all your strength to hold it. the man stands before you, drenched with a smile on his face. he bows his head to you, a sign of gratitude for taking mercy on him. you can’t help but stare at the man. he says the rain took him by surprise but he looks like he’s in control of the situation.

“come in. the rain still falls” you say hiding behind the open door. the man walks in, wet clothes dripping water all over the floor. he continues to walk in as you close the door behind him, returning the rusting bolt to its place. you are careful to avoid his wet footsteps, making the floorboard creak underneath the fraying rugs.

you still hold the wicker lamp and it illuminates the man in front of you. he appeared to be the same age as you, the typical age for errand boys. you don’t doubt his story, cattle trade was something your village was known for. the rain confused him from his path and the wind brought him to your doorstep. you can’t deny a man with his face asylum. he seems to know it, oozing confidence that makes you believe he has been here before. you hold the wicker lamp to his face to see if you recognize him from anywhere.

“what is your name, god fearing man of flesh and blood?” you ask.

“wonbin,” he says. even his name is something you’ve never heard before. he says it like it’s a holy name borrowed from the bible itself. “thank you for letting me in.”

“do you know of this church?” you ask him.

you can feel his gaze over your body. you had forgotten to put on an extra layer of clothes in your haste. you were free of your usual wrapping, only having your thin white night gown in your sleep. you shake the wicker lamp and he returns his gaze to your face.

“how did you know to come here?” you rephrase the question.

“older townships stick to the old ways.” he says. he’s referring to the practice of the church keeper. “did i wake you?”

you nod. “it’s closer to first light than it is to last.” you say.

“i was wandering for what seemed like ages. i could barely see what was in front of me, then i appeared in front of this oratory.” wonbin says, motioning to the interior of the building.

you’re suddenly embarrassed of a place you’ve always called your second home. people in your parish understand your church and all its ailments. they don’t mind the leaking ceilings and the frayed carpet. they don’t spare a second glance to the chipping paint or the piano missing keys. now there’s a stranger in your presence, a beautiful stranger who appeared before you. he stands by the aged door and you want to apologize profusely that the building isn’t up to your standards, that it’s a family heirloom older than the ground it stands on.

“you came to the right place, traveler.” you hand him the wicker lamp.

he takes it and holds it at his side. the change in light illuminates the space behind him and you look at the statue of christ. all of the statue is illuminated except for a shadow casting over its face. you can almost make out something you have never seen in the darkness, something that sens shivers up your spine. wonbin clears his throat.

“is there a chance i can borrow spare clothes? i fear the weather might cast a cold on me if i don’t warm up soon.” he says. his wet clothes stick to him like a second skin. he drips water on the carpet he stands on. you look at the water that falls from his hair and lands on his shoulder. everything about him is otherwordly. you clear your throat.

“my apologies. follow me.” you say.

you lead wonbin to the storage closet, where there’s a crate of clothes. he doesn’t come all the way into the room, you’re not sure he could fit anyway. as you look through the crate for clothes that would fit him you can see the wicker lamp light up your room. you’re sure wonbin sees the simple mattress you sleep on. you’re sure he’s used to sleeping on covers stuffed with wool and pillows filled with downy feathers. the man shouldn’t be sleeping on anything less.

you pull out the clothes and set them on top of your bare mattress. you hold your breath, hoping the clothes would be to wonbin’s liking.

“thank you.” he says. in front of you he begins to take off his clothes and you avert your gaze.

“are you hungry?” you ask. your eyes follow the cracks in the floor. you examine every plank on the floor, too scared to look up at the man getting undressed in front of you.

“i’ve already eaten.” wonbin says. you can hear the smile on his lips as you fumble with your words and pinch the fabric of your nightgown.

“i will be in the sanctuary.” you say before you excuse yourself. he watches you with a smirk as you leave, closing the door partially behind you.

as you sit on a pew in the sanctuary, you look towards the storage room. you wonder what wonbin does in there, if he is fully naked in the same room where you sleep at night. men don’t usually have this effect on you. you had never wanted to see a man more than you wanted to see wonbin. you were regarded as a beauty in your village and held in high regard as someone who guards the place of worship. you weren’t caught off guard by men staring or trying to court you. no man wowed you, until you saw the being that washed up on your doorstep. he was beauty like you had never seen, lovely beyond imagination. he was a prepossessing sight, the way his hair framed his face and how his lips were shaped like the heart that beats inside of you. you found yourself trying to take a peak at him through the crack you left in the door. you leaned back and forth in the pew subtly, trying to get a view of him.

just as you were about to give up, you saw his bare chest first. you would’ve never thought underneath those clothes he was hiding even more beauty. his stature matched his body, pretty and smooth. wonbin’s chest was broad and his body was lithe. he had a slender sleek muscle to him, unlike the larger boys in your village. they had built up muscle over the years of doing farm work and hard labor. next to them wonbin was different. there was no doubt in your mind they would mock him and call him things like a pretty boy, or wannabe royalty. you didn’t see it as an insult and you hope wonbin didn’t either. he was beauty and grace; fully on display just for you.

his skin had a glow, probably from the rain outside reflecting off the light coming from the wicker lamp. regardless, it made his skin look supple and soft. it was like he had gold hiding underneath his skin, causing him to radiate a gold tan. you thought about how he could’ve managed to keep his body so toned and even. nothing looked out of place on him, everything intentional. you saw the outline of wonbin’s back as he turned. you tried to look away but you were drawn in as the man was seemingly posing for you. his slender muscles rippled underneath the skin of his back. you couldn’t stop your eyes from sinfully dragging down his body.

you were shaken to your core seeing his manhood. it bobbed in the blessed air of your bedroom. it wasn’t scary, the type of manhood that enticed you. the shadow his dick casted overtook all your feelings, all your teachings. you could write your own bible about the body you saw through the crack of the door. it was like the garden of eve, you don’t know if you could resist taking a bite.

when you dragged you gaze back up you saw the man looking at you. you were basked in the shadows, hidden in the dark of night but you found his gaze to be piercing and direct. you immediately turned your body to look away, instead looking straight forward down the pews at the pastor’s podium. you could hear the door of your bedroom shut.

maybe it would be better if wonbin never came out, if you didn’t see him until the rain stopped and you bid him farewell and good tides on the rest of his journey. temptation came to your door wearing soaking wet clothes and you let him inside of your church. what were you going to do?

you had moved to the center of the santuary. maybe if you stood in the same place the pastor walked down to give his sermon you can fin the answer to resisting temptation. as you stood in between the back row of pews, temptation cam out of your bedroom. he comes out looking like royalty in the tattered clothes of a peasant. the aged clothes had turned an almost disgusting shade of off-white, but on wonbin it complemented his skin. you begin reciting bible verses about temptation, trying to dull the ache you felt in the pit of your stomach. you stand from the pew to welcome back your guest. no words come out of your mouth, the only sound is the occasional water droplet caught in the bucket by the podium.

“the clothes fit nicely.” you say.

no one undergoing a trial should say, ‘i am being tempted by god,’ since god is not tempted by the devil, and he himself doesn’t attempt anyone. but each person is tempted when he is drawn away and enticed by his own evil desire.

wonbin takes a step towards you down the carpeted path towards the podium. the wicker lamp is held in his hand, he looks otherworldly with the shadows casted over his face. you take a step backwards.

and do not bring us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one

you take another step back. with each one you take, wonbin takes one in a longer stride. he’s getting closer and closer to you. you feel drawn to him but you try your hardest to fight it.

watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

you are a weak woman. the daughter of the priest who is straying the furthest from god in the house he built. you thought praying would keep temptation away, but maybe you were praying for him the whole time. the way he came towards you made you feel like you were being hunted. another about to fall prey to him. you wanted it to happen. was it so bad to be wanted? the way wonbin looked at you had to be something out of the bible. if it wasn’t why did it feel so good. you almost trip over a snag in the carpet as you take another step back.

“i am writing these things so you may not sin…”

your back hits the podium.

“but if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the father—jesus christ.” wonbin says.

you felt the air around you freeze. even the rain falling from the ceiling seems to halt. you stood before the man in front of you, doubting if he was of flesh and blood. no person could read your thoughts, no man ever knew what you were thinking. so why did wonbin have a smile on his face reciting part of the verse you had started. he closed the space between you two, putting a soft hand on your chest. your skin was covered with your night gown, but his touch seeped through like rain. it was almost as if he was holding you, smiling at you expectantly to keep talking.

“he himself is the atoning sacrifice for our sins.” you say.

“and not only ours.” wonbin says.

he puts your hands that rest on the podium behind you on his body. you suddenly feel possessed with the strength to rip his shirt open. you want to hear the buttons pop all over the floor, hear the sound of fabric tearing. your focused on the bare chest you saw in your room, rippling muscle and soft skin. wonbin uses his other hand underneath your chin, slowly bringing your gaze up to meet his piercing stare.

“but for those of the whole world.” you say, finishing the bible verse.

wonbin slowly starts working on the buttons of your night gown. you check to see if he’s real, touching his face. you press the pad on your fingers to his lips, plush and rosy. he licks your thumb and you let out a shaky exhale.

“thank you for opening your doors for me.”

you nod your head in acknowledgement, throat too dry to speak. wonbin takes your hand that touched his lips and slowly guided it under the waistband of his pants. you grazed his manhood, thick and solid. it twitched underneath your touch.

“can you feel my gratitude?” he asks.

you nod and take all of him in your hand, wrapping around his shaft. wonbin lets out a breath and you feel emboldened to squeeze. a sound escapes his lips and you suck in the air around you both like you are trying to catch the sound.

“i can feel it.” you whisper.

your night gown has only a few more buttons left. you can feel the draft in the church come through the open buttons. you don’t know if it’s the cold air or wonbin’s lips that cause goosebumps to erupt over your flesh.

“what will you do with it?” wonbin asks.

you can feel his lips move to your neck. he takes your earlobe into his mouth. it’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. you squeeze his shaft again. this time wonbin lets out a moan right in your ear. it’s beautiful and it makes you pump him in your fist. you don’t know what you’re doing besides going against god’s every word. so blasphemous in front of the podium where you have addressed your parish. you wish you could say it was nausea you felt. that it was bile raising in your stomach instead of white-hot excitement. the adrenaline rushed through your body the same way blood rushed to wonbin’s shaft. you had picked up the speed like something took over you. wonbin takes his head from his neck and looks down. you look down, too and the embodiment of sin.

your hand is in wonbin’s trousers working at an insane pace. your gown is fully unbuttoned now, chest exposed for wonbin to see. he watches your breasts move from the way you’re pumping his dick. your supple flesh jumps slightly, nipples hard from the cold air. wonbin doesn’t stop himself from taking your chest into his hands. kneading the skin. he looks at you in the eyes and you do not falter. you fully embrace what you are doing. it wasn’t hard to think that wonbin was an angel sent to your doorstep to seek refuge from the rain. the rain made it so he couldn’t fly back home to heavens gates. you fully accepted that this was god’s gift to you for showing compassion towards one of his disciples. you let wonbin kiss you as he guides your night gown off your body.

when it drops, wonbin breaks away from your lips. you stand naked in front of this man but you are not shy. you reach for his clothes and he responds quickly, bring his shirt over his head and his pants down to his ankles. he steps out and returns to your lips. you don’t go back to his manhood, instead letting your hands roam his body. was he made by god or was he god himself? it was hard to tell when he guided you to the floor and let your back rest against the podium.

“have you ever tasted someone else before?” wonbin asked.

you shook your head. wonbin touched the tip of his penis and brought it to your lips. his finger was glistening in the light of the wicker lamp. you carefully took his finger into your mouth, tasting him. it’s salty and you can’t get enough of it. wonbin watches you with hooded eyes as he takes his finger out of your mouth. you think that wonbin will take a finger back to his manhood, but instead he presses it and another one into your glistening slit. you gasp and he does the same thing you did, taking his finger into his mouth. you watched as his pink tongue comes out of his mouth only for a moment. you are so engrossed in his finger, reading his expressions and studying everything about wonbin the same way you did hymns.

you don’t know what to do next when wonbin takes his fingers from his mouth. he pulls you in with a wet hand and kisses your lips. you feel the same tongue that just tasted you graze over your teeth. it is nasty but feels so good, especially when he pulls you in closer.

“have you ever let anyone inside of you before?” wonbin asked.

you shake your head. he takes your head in his hands, not letting you look away.

“the job of a church keeper is a lifelong dedication.” you whisper.

“i bet men and women alike have attempted to court you.” wonbin whispers, looking at your lips.

you don’t respond to him, only lean in so he gets the hint to keep kissing you. you let your hips move towards his manhood and he grabs himself in his hand. his other hand moves you slightly and you become putty in his hand. he pulled your hips closer.

you looked at him as he lined himself up at your entrance. you looked down the row of pews in this sacred place. you would never forget this moment for all the future services to come. when your time comes to confront god you will fall to your knees and beg him for forgiveness. that you were a weak girl who fell into temptations trap. but right here, right now, all that mattered was feeling his tip prod your entrance. your gaze from where you two are almost meeting lifts up to look wonbin. he looks at you with a smirk on his lips.

“isn’t it tempting?” he says, sliding his dick up and down your slit.

the sound is wet and sinful. you nod your head, anything to get him to fuck you.

wonbin slides into you without resistance. you swallow him up whole, both of you moaning with your foreheads touching. you look down at him inside of you. he slowly pulls out and goes right back into you. your squeaks are high pitched and whiny as he takes his time with you.

“so sinful,” wonbin said. he pushed your thighs further apart to hit deeper. “my savior, tempted so easily. are you really a woman of god?”

“y-yes.” you stuttered out in between thrusts.

“it’s okay. i’ll give you what you want. what you need.” wonbin said, picking up his thrusts.

the podium started shaking from the force, your boobs jerking up and down. the wicker lamp on the podium quaked, you were sure it was going to fall down. if the kerosine from the lamp ignited the building it wouldn’t raged half as much as the fire in the pit of your belly. it was like molten lava, spreading from head to toe.

“i’ve never felt like this before.” you said. each word was accentuated with a hard thrust against the podium.

“god doesn’t fill you with this same feeling?” wonbin tutts at you.

“no,” you moan. “please go faster. i need it.”

you are crying when wonbin speeds up, you can hear the lamp surrounded the wicker break as it hits the floor. you mindlessly reach for the becket of collected rain water and let it spill when you think the lamp has fallen. as soon as you do that, the problem is solved. you get tunnel vision, locked in on the feeling of wonbin’s hand on your thighs and the feeling of him inside of you.

you’re sure wonbin knows how to describe what you’re feeling right now. that’s why his thrusts get harder and you convulse around him a little faster. you don’t know what you’re doing but you hitch a leg to rest on his shoulder. wonbin kisses your calf, pulls back hit the spot that has you yelling his name.

“let my gratitude fill you up.”

his pace quickened and you felt the whole church close in on you. his stutters faltered and you felt him finish inside of you. his hold on you tightened and you used the time he slowed down to catch your breath. it didn’t last long until wonbin got his second wind, fucking you with a vigor he didn’t have before. the podium was the only thing keeping you upright. your head lulled over to the side of the podium, leaning back and wonbin fucked you. you saw the statue of christ upside down, looking at you.

“wanna go to heaven?” wonbin said in between each thrust.

“yes.” you moaned looking at the statue as he looked down at you.

“let me take you there.” wonbin said before he attached his lips to your neck.

you listened to him. as wonbin fucked you into the holy furniture you were transported to a place filled with the color white and and make you feel warm. you convulsed around him, bringing him in an embrace as you rode your high out. wonbin still fucked you, and sobs wracked through your body. when he pulled out you still held him in your touch. he was hot and sweaty, sticking to your skin. the more you pulled him in the more the feeling was fleeting. one moment you felt his arms wrap around you the next you felt nothing in your grasp.

you wake up from pain in your neck. just for a moment you see the sun coming through the window next to wear you sleep. your eyes adjust to the light, feeling a little bit of pain as you cover your eyes. when you wake up, a second later the memories of the night flood your mind. you shoot up from your sleeping position on the bed, looking around you. the wicker lamp next to your bed is right where you left it, you don’t remember ever finding your way back to this room. your nightgown is on you, only ruffled from your hectic sleep position. you nearly launch yourself out of bed, hastily putting on your slippers as you open the door to go into the sanctuary.

you scour the every room for your visitor. you look over each pew, under each pew and in every room. the church is so small, there is no way he would be able to hide from you here. the bolt on the front door is locked, something that can only be done from the inside or with the large rusted key that is at your home. you don’t know where he could be, you yell his name and it echoes off the walls. evidence of him is gone, like he disappeared without a trace. the clothes he borrowed are still in the crate, hidden deep inside where you found them the first time. his wet boots didn’t leave marks on the carpet. you feel yourself going crazy, wondering around the oratory for a man that seems like he didn’t exist.

it isn’t until you walk down to the podium and kneel before the statue of god that you see the spilled rainwater behind the podium. you crawl from your knees to the crime scene, tapping the puddle to make sure it’s real. the bucket stands upright and is nearly empty. you remember it being knocked down, and you try to remember seeing the soft hands that made you sin try and clean up the mess.

you look to the statue again, looking into its eyes like you are expecting it to speak and tell you what happened. whatever perspired between these four walls is between you, god, and the man that may not have been of flesh and blood.

#01zfan: wonbin #seriez: sacrilegious #riize smut #wonbin smut

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deathworlders-of-e24 · 1 month ago

Text

Thomas, Engineer

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching Tranquility Base drift away as the Noah launched on its maiden voyage from Earth’s moon left Thomas Hibbs with an odd feeling of deja vu. He’d worked on dozens of ships, but always in the engineering decks where the only windows were peering into the mechanical arrays. Peering out into the void of space was…actually pretty damn cool in Thomas’s opinion.

I wonder if this thing has a VR Grid, he thought.

In the 50 years since humanity had joined the GAIL, it hadn’t been all space hoppers and life saving medical breakthroughs, the entertainment industry had made huge jumps in realism and simulated realities. One species in particular, the machine people known as the Padrino, had such a realistic virtual reality environment code that practically every other species in the assembly paid top dollar for a copy of it. Thought most used it for information storage and practical exploits, Humans were the first to turn it into a hyper advanced game simulation. The Padrino weren’t exactly pleased to learn the code they used to store their memories and experiences was being used to fight monsters with supernatural powers at weekend game tournaments on Earth, but they didn’t complain that much. Thomas had the idea to upload a compatible version of an old game called PAC-MAN where you’re your own avatar running the mazes into the ships computers. He couldn’t wait to get that high score again.

The engineering deck was right below the science labs, and Thomas saw one of the 3 other humans on board with him. He thought her name was Liz or something, but didn’t stop to say hi. She looked preoccupied with something, and talking to people was hard. Machines were good listeners. Thomas could talk for hours to machines while he worked, even if they weren’t the kind that could talk back, thought this ship did have those. Maybe here he could meet some people who get him.

The engineering deck was all catwalks and overhead piping, service lights and ventilation ducts. Computer terminals threw blue light against the opposite wall as Thomas made his way to the Engineer ‘locker’ room. Thomas figured that’s what it was, given the cubbies for the crew’s personal items and racks and shelves of tools and equipment for the ‘fixers’ to use.

There were about two dozen people moving around the room, none of them human, several of which were non biological as well. 2 Padrino were there, speaking their machine language while they sorted tools across a long workbench against the far wall. There were several other species as well that Thomas didn’t recognize, lots of different shapes and sizes. He felt a little insecure, being just the basic human he was.

Thomas found his name on the cubby wall and stuff his own tool bag in there, as well as a change of clothes and safety gear. Then he very carefully hid a hand held game pad under his spare jumpsuit, for emergencies. He’d been stuck in an air duct once before for hours twiddling his thumbs. Never again.

Just as he finished stuffing away his gear, something small bumped against his boot. He looked down, and saw a small robot waiting patiently for him to lift his foot. Apparently he’d been trailing confetti from the launch ceremony around the ship the whole time because these droids weren’t supposed to be down here in engineering. It had probably been following him since he’d walked in. The little guy had a cylinder torso, no real neck but his head looked like it turned in circles with two tiny exhaust pipes sticking out the top. Two ‘eyes’, or sensors with aesthetics, were all that made up the face. His little feet reminded Thomas of a chicken’s, and he had two little arms with tiny hands on each.

“Oh my god you’re so cute I love you,” Thomas half squealed as he picked the little robot up like a baby. “Have you been following me this whole time? Doing such a good job, keeping the ship clean. Did you get lost? Do you need help?”

The little machine just looked at him and wiggled its legs, probably the gyroscope trying to compensate for the sudden shift in balance.

One of the other engineers laughed.

“It’s just a service drone, it can’t actually understand you. It probably just followed your trail of waste and its sensors can’t get it back to the upper decks anymore.”

Thomas looked up from the tiny robot to see a fair number of his co workers looking at him, some trying to hide smiles, some not bothering being so polite. He felt his face begin to burn as a blush came to his cheeks and surged down his neck.

Oh my god I can’t believe I did that but it’s so freaking cute how can I not how can they not love it maybe there’s more on the ship this cute, his brain might implode at the rate it was going. The service drone continued to wiggle in his grip. To Thomas it was almost the size of a toy, maybe a solid 4 inches tall. It stopped squirming and looked up at his face, its tiny head whirring and clicking as gears shifted inside its chassis. It reached out one of its tiny hands and poked his thumb.

“Beep.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped. How could a machine with no higher functioning AI be this adorable?

“I’m gonna call you Roomba.”

“That’s just its service alarm. It’s processing an inability to perform its tasks so it thinks it’s stuck somewhere, ergo it’s alerting other drones to come assist it. It probably thinks you’re rectifying the obstacle.”

There were some snickers, a few openly laughed, but Thomas couldn’t care about them right now. The little droid was so adorable in Thomas’s eyes it was like looking at puppies.

He did, however, notice the 2 Padrino staring at him, motionless. For a moment he worried he’d maybe offended them by gushing over the little toy like robot. One of them approached. The Padrino had a clearly mechanical body with chrome plating encasing its joints and limbs. Its torso was thin but solid, whirring quietly as it walked over. Its head had a single antenna with a tinted face plate, which Thomas figured just was it’s ‘face’.

“It has been observed that Humans form an emotional bond to many different species and objects. Is this what is occurring, Human Thomas?”

Gauging the inflections of their voice was difficult, they didn’t have any kind of body language and the voice itself was entirely synthesized, adding layers of difficulty. Thomas thought for a moment, then just shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene in here, I just got excited. It’s small and kinda cute so I just lost control for a moment.”

“Apologizing is unnecessary. We’d simply like to understand how Humans function to better improve the efficiency of this division.”

“Beep.”

The service drone wiggled in his hand again.

“It appears the small droid is out of range of its directive. It is asking for assistance with a new objective to replace its task queue.”

“Wait, you can understand it?”

“Yes, the alert sound is not a language. It’s sending out a very short range signal burst with information embedded in it, which I can receive with internal sensors. It’s AI is crude and simple, but it does have the basic functionality to form an artificial language. You’ve replaced its designation D7 with the name Roomba.”

Thomas looked from the Padrino to the little droid and back again.

“Does it like the name?”

“Beep.”

“It says it is a sufficient new designation and is awaiting a new task queue.”

“Oh good, I’m not good at naming stuff so I was worried-”

“Since the ship has launched, the service drones have gone inactive due to safety features. Since this one, new designation Roomba, was here on the engineering deck, it was outside the proximity of the ship’s AI core transmissions. It has exhausted its task queue and requests a new one.”

“Beep.”

“It is repeating the request.”

“Yeah, yes, got that, thank you. Okay, and I can just give it something to do?”

“That is correct.”

“Beep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Roomba, can you hand me another bolt please?”

“Beep.”

[Primary task in the queue has not been completed: obtain high score]

“I know buddy, but you can pause it with that little button on the side there. I need that bolt real quick.”

Roomba looked where Thomas was pointing on the game pad. The pad itself was bigger than the drone, by a good half inch, so it was like Roomba was standing on a flat screen built into the floor, or playing one of those retro dance machine games from way back.

“Beep.”

[Acknowledged]

The Padrino had been kind enough to give Thomas’s ear piece translator an quick upgrade, so now he was able to receive Roomba’s signal burst data and understand what he was ‘saying’. They’d even given Roomba’s AI a little tune up so he could understand more complex tasks and ideas. Roomba had disconnected from the ship’s core code when he’d gone to the engineering deck so Thomas figured it’d be fine, the little guy could hang out with him now.

It took Roomba’s whole hand to get the game pad to register the pressed button and pause PAC-MAN, which was cute. And what was even cuter was the bolt Thomas needed was half the little robots size so it struggled just a little to bring it over the few feet to him.

“Good job buddy, thank you,” Thomas said, grinning.

“Beep.”

[Acknowledged. Returning to primary task]

“You do that. Good luck Roomba.”

At the time, the only thing the Padrino had asked for in return for their help and upgrades was the chance to observe biological lifeforms and their tendencies to ‘bond’ with others. The Padrino were a sort of hive mind it seemed, each unit being just an interface with the main AI back on their home planet. When units were out of range of communication with the home office, the main AI base code was copied into the machines and split off to collect information. When they got home, they dumped the data into the main computers and integrated back into the main AI core.

Thomas thought they were the coolest people he’d ever met. He’d said ‘sure, observe all you want, I just wanna thank you guys for your help.’

The game pad trilled, a little tune to congratulate moving up a level.

“Beep.”

[Update: progress has been made. Continuing primary task: obtain high score]

“Good work Roomba. You keep at it buddy, you’ll get there.”

From down the hall the 2 Padrino watched the strange little robot ‘playing video games’ next to the human doing an actually productive task.

“More data must be collected. The human, a deathworlder, has bonded to the drone.”

“We will continue to observe.”

“Agreed.”

#deathworlders of e24 #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are strange #humans are weird

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