#hot off the presses literally just finished editing

[lolitakirstein]

💦

I literally thought this up while i was meditating D:

Just thinking about where the aot men would finish

Cw: facial, creampie, blowjob, just porn basically, poorly edited

Reiner: he loovveesss to cum on your tits. He’ll be thrusting into you, fucking you through your third or fourth or maybe eighth orgasm you honestly lost count. You can always tell when he’s getting close. He’ll be grunting like an animal. “Gonna let me cum on those pretty tits,” he growls. You nod of course. Desperate to watch him lose himself all over you. He quickly removes his cock from your warmth. “Get down here then,” he demands and you scoot down the bed between his legs. He’s on his knees above you, his thick thighs on either side of you. “Push those tits together.” He pushes his cock in between your inviting breast, loving the heat that comes off of your body. He keeps titty fucking you, reaching down and pinching your tight nipples. “So fucking pretty for me,” he grunts as his hot cum shoots out, hitting your delicate neck and collarbone. You rake your nails up his strong thighs urging him to give you all of him. Finally spent, he looks down at the beautiful mess he made of you, watching you run your fingers through his cum, smearing it down your chest and across your tits. “You filthy goddess”

Eren: No surprise eren is a breeder and loves to fill you up. He loves cumming with you, feeling your warm walls flutter around him as he reaches his peak, painting your womb. “Love filling up this tight pussy, all mine, right? Is this mine?” he coos as he fucks both of you through your orgasms. You nod your head, words escaping you. “So pathetic you can’t even talk, my sweet girl.” He pulls out, spreading your legs further to watch your combined juices leak out of your gaping hole. “Look at you, my little cum slut” He will gather his cum that's leaked out of you and smear it around your sensitive clit. You gasp trying to close your legs. It’s too much. He loves watching you squirm

Levi: Being a neat freak Levi tends to take a more “cleaner” approach. He loves to fill your mouth with his hot cum. He’ll be fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillows, he will pull you up by your hair “Time to give me that bratty mouth,” he’ll command. Pushing your face back onto the bed as he pulls out. “Get on your back,” he says, spanking your ass. You turn over, Levi standing by the side of the bed so he can look at your whole sweaty and used body. “Open your mouth” he growls, gripping your jaw and causing your lips to part. You open your mouth for his throbbing cock. “Look at me and don’t you dare spill a drop,” he stutters as his cum spurts from his throbbing cockhead. Doing as told you stare up with your baby doll eyes and stick your tongue out catching as much of his cum as you can. “That's it, put that smart mouth to good use,” he pats your cheek when he finishes. The cum that dripped down your lips is quickly swept up by levis thumb, pushing it back into your warm mouth. “Show me, show me how you swallow me down.” you open your mouth, showing him the mess he left. “Mmmm go on.” you close your mouth, swallowing his load and showing him your pretty pink mouth, all clean and ready for more.

[cosmictyto]

💛⚔️ Villain Ambrosius AU - Tarnished Gold ⚔️🖤

I’ve listened to Will Wood’s “Vampire Culture” one too many times while stuck in the Nimona hyperfixation pit + after seeing some villain Amb fanart floating around, so enjoy these sloppy, partially finished mad ramblings edited/stylized a bit to (try and) make them a little more interesting to read. Also, you're all more than welcome to add on/ask any questions! I'll get to them when I can.

Just a heads up, this is looooong. Simply because ya girl’s a wordy bitch.

Basically, the point of this AU can be boiled down to “What if Ambrosius knew Ballister was innocent AND Nimona got to him first?” Kinda a role swap, but kinda its own thing at the same time? Idfk.

On the night of the knighting ceremony, as they’re both suiting up, Ballister verbally mentions his sword feeling off to Ambrosius. But neither of them have time to investigate that further.

The knighting ceremony goes just as horribly as it did in the movie. The queen is dead, Ballister’s lost his arm, and though they couldn’t exactly find Ballister’s body, he’s presumed dead. Lambasted as a traitor to the kingdom, but also treated as a sort of boogeyman since no one REALLY knows if he’s dead in that "I heard he's dead!" "Well, I heard he's still alive!" kind of way.

Ambrosius, meanwhile, is left completely crushed. Simultaneously being praised by some for “disarming the traitor” and mocked by others for being so close to that same traitor. For not recognizing the signs earlier. For not stopping him before their queen was killed. And though the Director reassures him that he’s done well as Gloreth’s descendant and that this will all fade as nothing more than a bad memory… he knows. Ballister didn’t do it. He KNEW something was wrong with his sword. And deep down he knew that his boyfriend was innocent. So he confronts the squire, sees the footage, and leaves with his whole world rocked.

Needless to say, the proof of ACTUAL INTENTIONAL regicide, treason, and corruption within the system, the same one he’s a literal living symbol of, isn’t on his mind at the moment. Just what he did to Bal. So full of regret and guilt. (At best, he mutilated the love of his life out of instinct which is still horrible!!) Normally when he wanted time alone to think he’d go to the top of the Glorodome. But, that spot hurt too much right now. That's where he and Bal first became friends. So, that same night, he went to the next-best place, Gloreth’s statue.

It’s late at night (he hasn’t been able to sleep much lately anyway,) and he’s sitting at the edge of that massive golden sword. Legs dangling as he stares at the ground. He’s normally not much of a drinker, usually too risky. But tonight he makes an exception. Before, everything felt manageable. The inherent weight he bore being Gloreth’s descendant, the press and citizenry looking up to him to be this bastion of goodness and pure heroism, internal familial pressures over how he should act, look, and think… with Bal at his back, he could handle it. But that stability’s gone now. And the only other person he could possibly lean on, the Director, was responsible for his lover’s death. Now, more than ever, he feels like he’s on the verge of collapsing under the weight this kingdom’s placed on his shoulders…

And then someone happens to come along.

Even despite everything, despite all the hurt this one person’s been responsible for… Nimona still carries fondness for Gloreth. And some nights, when she can’t sleep and she feels like howling at the moon, she’ll go to her old friend’s statue… tonight was one of those nights. And who does she happen to find? Her great-great-great-great… however many more, great grandkid. And he’s not looking too hot. A part of her knows she’s got no real obligation to help him, she's never talked to any of the Golden-groin brats before. But... she's had plenty of moments where she wished she had someone talk her down from doing something stupid, and she's feeling kinda sentimental n' sappy... so she strikes up a conversation.

He’s (reasonably) startled by this teen who just showed up out of nowhere. On a statue that requires a hoverbike to get to, no less. But he’s also drunk enough that he’s not as concerned as he maybe should be. One thing leads to another, and he just lets loose. Like, completely vents everything stored in him. (And, yes, “Arm chopping is not a love language!!!” Is thrown in there.)

Nims is just kinda in shock. In all those stupid commercials and interviews he seems so calm and put-together. Perfect, even. But, he's actually kind of a wreck. And now he’s unraveling real fast and is a bit too wobbly to be up this high- So she talks him down a bit. Calms him. Eventually asks, “If you never had any of this stupid “Gloreth” stuff pushed on you, who would you be? What’d you want to do?”

That legitimately stumps and breaks him. He’s thought about how nice it’d be to have this pressure off of his back. Where he could be his own person and not “the descendant of Gloreth.” But he never ONCE considered what a world like that would really look like. All he’s ever known was THIS. Being a knight, being a symbol and not a real person… there’s really only one thing he could actually say.

“Um… My hair wouldn’t be blond..? Y’know, it’s funny, this isn’t even my natural color. They make me bleach it so that I… that I can look more like her…”

And it’s at that point that Nimona decides right then and there, if she couldn’t get the kingdom to change its mind, she’ll at least get through to Gloreth's heir. Break at least one cycle. (And totally not because she feels the teensiest bit regretful he's been put in this position, naaah, nothing like that.~) She coaxes him down from that statue, and the two of them proceed to do nothing but get into mischief…

“~Blood… didn’t they want your blood? So why apologize for being blue and cold?~”

Specifically, the kind that you don’t remember until well after you wake up. All Ambrosius knows is that he’s in some strange dim dreary place and someone’s cooking something. Oh, it’s just Bal. He usually handles any meals since he doesn’t burn them like he does… but, as he’s snuggling back into the couch, he realizes there’s the sound of a girl humming? What? He sits up. Aaaand she’s there? The girl from the statue? He tries to blow some of his unkempt hair out of his face, and-... he freezes. Grabs his phone, ignores the many, many missed calls and news notifications, opens his camera app, and… black. His hair is black. Why is it black?! It’s not supposed to be-! He NEEDS to be blond! And-!

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty!~ Not gonna lie, never knew a fancy-pants knight like yourself could cut loose like that... Hm? Oh! Right, the hair! You were telling me all about how much you hated bleaching it last night. Sooo, we dyed it! Eventually, you can cut all the dyed stuff off and just leave it your real color if you want. But, for now? Bye-bye, blondie! Like it?~”

No. No he does not. He’s basically having an anxiety attack over the unsanctioned change. Then he gets a notification on his phone and starts reading the news articles. All about HIM, a “mystery girl,” and several animals going wild throughout the kingdom.

“Dude, chill. What’s done is done. We got a little crazy, you saw some pink elephants, and we dyed your hair. So what?”

“So what?! What do you MEAN “So what?!?” I’m a DESCENDANT of GLORETH! I-I can’t be doing things like that! Or be seen like this, or-!”

“Woah WOAH! Hey, look at me. Breathe. You wanna really know why you asked me to dye your hair? YOU said it was so you could be free."

“Free..?”

“Yeah! From now on? You don’t have to live by their stupid rules and expectations. You don't have to be like her, you can be YOU! You can do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want! Wanna change your name? Do it! Wanna go break stuff? Hell yeah! Want a piercing or tattoo? I can give you some. I know how! You wanna make those bastards pay for what they did to you and your boyfriend? I'm more than happy bring the matches and help you burn that bitch to the ground!~"

From that point, things just click. His whole life, the Director… no, the whole INSTITUTE forged him into nothing more than a gilded sword. One that they turned on the person he loved most. The ONE thing in his life that he chose and stuck by… and the system he was supposed to symbolize MADE him kill the love of his life… and he didn’t have to play by their rules anymore. Thus starting his fall into "Villainy."

“~Blood, didn’t they want your blood? So don’t apologize for being blue and cold…~”

Slight time skip!~

Truth was? Ballister was still alive. Heavily wounded, dazed and confused at how everything went so wrong, but alive...

Ballister's story continues as it did in the movie. Months later after the knighting, he's being hunted by the law with Sir Thoddeus Sureblade as the captain of the guard. In the meantime, he's built himself an arm and is still aiming to prove his innocence... Except his attempts to find Ambrosius, or convince the Director that he was set up, are a complete failure. Like in the movie, he's arrested and thrown in the dungeon... Except with no one to break him out. According to whispered gossip from the guards who bring him food, Ambrosius has been missing for a while, now. A fact that would not be revealed to the public anytime soon...

"It's only culture! It's only CULTURE!! It's only- Culture's not your friend..!"

At least, not until an individual in scuffed black-and-rose-gold colored armor (?) shows up with... a bear, or a tiger, and a wolf, and horse, and... even a rhinoceros?! The two of them running through the halls. Breaking things, lighting stuff on fire, and spraying paint on the walls (along with the floor, ceiling, and any statues,) and scrapping with any knights they come across. They'd already uploaded that clip of the Director swapping those swords. This? This was a diversion to keep the Institute from possibly removing or censoring that clip before the public got to see it. And Ambrosius LOVED it! He got to be loud! To make a mess! He finally got to punch Todd in his stupid dude-bro face! When you've kept someone shackled their whole lives, and then take those harnesses and leashes off? The freedom's enough to make ‘em go a just a teensy bit crazy. More than anything, since everything that happened the night of their knighting? He felt alive.

"Hey, fuck your culture! I ain't got no culture! It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you're of it!"

During the assault, just as things are starting to get dicey for Nims and Brose, they do something so that the power ends up cutting out. Freeing Ballister and giving him his chance to escape, and... for a moment Ballister sees him. His Rose, ebony-haired with cuffs and studs on his ears. Riding on the unsaddled back of a raspberry-pink horse. A can of neon spray-paint in one hand, a sword in the other, a whole squad of knights behind him… and for a moment they lock eyes. Ambrosius’ world just comes crashing down, trying to stop and turn Nims around (Who refuses. ‘Cause, y’know, the bunch of knights behind them?!) she shifts into an ostrich to get a boost of speed, and the two just ride off with Ambrosius staring wide-eyed… looking like he saw a ghost… meanwhile, Ballister’s wondering just what the hell’d happened since the ceremony, and just -what- his boyfriend’s been hanging out with.

From this point my plot-related notes are thinner/less thought out. But here they are anyway:

- Ballister’s still firmly stuck in the Institute’s brainwashing since he’s had absolutely no time hanging out with Nimona to influence that. He’s seen the footage, but still believes that the fault solely lies with the Director specifically. That the Institute as a concept can still be preserved. A part of him hopes that by capturing this pink monster he might be able to redeem himself in the eyes of the kingdom. Prove his loyalty as a knight. (And conveniently finally meet with his boyfriend who’s apparently lost his damn mind?! Or... or has been corrupted by this thing?) So, while on the run from Todd and the other knights, he’s also trying to track down Ambrosius + Nimona and stop them from inciting a rebellion. Because all he knows is that this isn’t the man he fell in love with. (I won't lie, the Ballister side of things feels pretty shaky. I need more time to sit and stew on it.)

- If we’re using D&D alignment charts as a reference, Ambrosius is basically going from lawful-good to chaotic-good. Identity crisis and shift to anarchy aside, he genuinely doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not the general populous. Yes, he happened to be raised to be a “hero of the realm” but, at his core, he’s still a good guy. Any acts of arson, destruction, or anything of the like are done with the knowledge that the spaces have been cleared out as best they can, first. And he doesn't even want to kill his fellow knights because he knows that, ultimately? They've all been forced through the same system. Children thrown into a mold to be forged into weapons. He’ll fight them. But, he doesn’t fight to kill… that being said, he doesn’t necessarily stray from violence, either.

- At some point I do see Ballister and Ambrosius getting into a fight. But, of course, Ballister’s the top of their class. No matter how hard they both sparred or competed against each other, Bal’d always managed to come out on top. In everything. So Rose is, of course, disarmed and thrown to the ground. A sword pointed at him as he looks up at the man he loves-.

“What, do you think this is some kind of a game?! You and that… that thing are tearing this kingdom apart! I… I don’t even recognize you anymore… what happened, Ambrosius?!”

“What happened? She set me free, Bal. And if you can’t see that this is who I really am, deep down..? Then you never really knew me at all…”

More miscellaneous/fun notes:

- It’s less boss/henchman in this AU. Instead, Rose and Nims 100% have a brother/sister dynamic. They bicker and tease when they’re together. But, the moment the other’s in trouble, it’s strict “No one messes with ‘em except me!” vibes. Who’s the older and who’s the younger sibling changes depending on the moment.

- Ambrosius always liked rock music. His parents and the Director always disapproved because it was “noise unbefitting of a Goldenloin” (ie. It wasn’t classical or opera therefore it was “wrong.”) but he always listened to it in private or with Ballister. So when Nims played some stuff and she caught Rose singing along to all the words? That earned instant respect points for him.

- These two also share one braincell between them at any given time. How they haven’t gotten caught is a damn miracle. Like, seriously, these two are goofballs. The moment he saw Nimona change into a shark? Oh, he totally stuck his head in her mouth. He never thought once about how “the wings” would be too noticeable. And when Nims brought up the plan to wreck the Institute? Eloquently putting it as: “We break-in, we break some stuff, smash some helmets, something-something-something, we win!~” He could only reply with a nod and, “Alright, sounds good!” And when they're playing a board game and she's going on some tangent? He's laughing his ass off. The only other person he's been this dorky around was Ballister.

- Once it clicked that he could swear?! And no one would get mad at him or clutch some pearls?! Nimona had to give him a crash-course because he was using it a bit too much. And it just kinda sounded ridiculous. Like giving a tween free rein to swear.

- He also went more crazy with his appearance. He was already used to the idea of makeup (Gloreth forbid her ancestors ever had *gasp* acne!!!) Eyes? Lined and smokey. Often with dark or fun colors. Nails? Painted. 24/7. Fingers adorned with a buncha rings. Lots of layered necklaces and bracelets. Plus silky black shirts with low necklines. And he did get his ears pierced. Both lobes, a couple in the helix of one ear, and one on an eyebrow. All of which was done courtesy of Nimona. (Needless to say, Ballister was shook the first time he got a good look at him.)

- He is still a Ballister Simp. Always gonna be his number one fan. At first, he tried to convince Ballister to join him and Nimona, but Bal wouldn’t listen. Their relationship doesn’t start to fracture until Ballister starts actively hunting them both down for the sake of capturing her. Because, while Ambrosius adores Ballister, and wants nothing more than to be with him… Nimona’s been the only one to help him see the truth. To help free him of all his expectations, she’s been there when he was at his lowest. She’s his friend. And he’s not willing to sacrifice her just so that he can go back to being the “Descendant of Gloreth” with Ballister. So, though it hurts, he still loves Bal. But he’s always waiting for the moment his lover admits he’s wrong about this.

- Speaking of Nimona’s and Ambrosius’ friendship… she’s in an awkward spot. Because, especially now with all those prissy-noble-layers stripped away… she sees so much of Gloreth in Ambrosius. In his smile, how confident every step is, that glimmer in his eye when he’s about to do something rebellious, even the way his eyes crinkle and his lips get tight when he’s mad. In so many ways he’s absolutely his own person… but it’s like she got her best friend back. And maybe that’s why she stayed and talked with him. Because she saw a chance to try again…

(Psst, you seriously read this far down? Thanks a ton! Have a cookie.~ 🍪 )

[saninthebuilding]

"i want to walk this path with you"

summary: in which you have reached your breaking point after one too many hits from the universe, and jungkook is there to help you get back up

wc: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, emotions, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of family issues, an allusion to su!c!d3, rough head-space, verbal abuse-ish, mentions of weight and self-image, best friends to lovers, jungkook is the best-friend-turned-boyfriend alive

a/n: honestly, it's a self-indulgent long fic that i wrote for myself because these days haven't been too good. the fact that he went live today really boosted my mood, and this fic really shows how much of a lifesaver he is for me. without him, i don't know what i'd do. my life literally revolves around him. he is everything to me.

a/n 2.0: edited and wc updated!

~

today was not a good day.

when i woke up this morning i could already tell something was off. as if the universe were a chess player looking down at my pawn on the board, contemplating whether or not they should knock me down today, only to cackle aloud and tip me over.

and i had been right.

nothing had seemed to go my way today. my insecurities surrounding my image finally resurfaced due to the ongoing conversations my friend group has been having about weight and eating habits and fashion trends. my parents had been making it worse for the past few weeks, one day berating me for eating too much and the next scolding me for eating too little.

or really just yelling at me for random stuff every now and then. it was as though the stress they were dealing with at work (and from my younger brother who made it his life mission to make everyone miserable on a daily basis) was being taken out on me all the time.

of course, i couldn't forget the overflow of assignments and classwork i had to finish on a daily basis. with little to no motivation, it was proving to be really hard to start one thing, let alone complete everything.

and then there was fact that i was starting to feel more out of place in my own skin as the days went by.

it was like everything was too fast and too loud and too bright, but at the same time too slow and too quiet and too dull. it was as if one second everything mattered a little too much, and then suddenly nothing mattered at all.

at least there was no one around to witness me crumbling. my parents had left for a business trip earlier, and my younger brother was out with his friends. being a senior in high school, they had deemed me capable of looking after him for a few days, not knowing it was only adding more strain on my shoulders.

soon, i could feel the build-up of the multiple things i had been facing start to erupt, so when i stepped into the kitchen to try and make myself a quick dinner, i wasn't too surprised to find out that me dropping my bowl of ramen on the floor was my last straw.

then again, i suppose it had been a little too hot.

staring down at the now shattered china, my eyes watered as i took in the noodles splattered across the tiled kitchen floor.

"at least i didn't put too much broth this time" i choke out in an attempt to make myself feel better in this empty house.

it didn't work.

i felt the tightness in my chest grow, fuled off all the emotions i had been hiding for weeks now, begging to be let out. the pinching in my throat was unbearable as i felt the unavoidable onslaught of tears blur my vision.

please.

i give in.

sinking down to my knees by the mess of noodles and broth and china, in the daunting quiet of this house that no longer felt like a home, i heaved a shuddering breath.

and i cried.

sobs racked through my body with uncontrollable force as my tears streamed down my cheeks and into my lap. my hands began to shake, and i pressed my palms to the tiles, taking advantage of their ice-cold feel. my chest hurt to the point where i couldn't breathe, and i wasn't sure why eveything sounded so loud all of a sudden.

a shrill buzz jolted me out of my daze, and i sniffled, turning my head in its direction.

my...phone?

half-crawling, half-dragging myself across the kitchen, i pulled my phone off the counter.

i let out another sob seeing the caller id.

kookie

it was as if he knew.

i pick up as i try to get my breathing under control.

"jungkook" i whisper, my voice coming out shaky and strained.

"y/n?"

i let out another sob hearing his voice, quiet and concerned and oh so soft.

"hey, hey, what's going on? are you alright? where are you right now?"

he's panicking, and i hear rustling from the other end which tells me he's throwing a hoodie on.

"...in my kitchen" i mumble, eyes going back to my now-unedible dinner.

"just wait for me," he breathes, "i'll be there in 5 minutes. i'm gonna stay on the line, but just wait for me, ok? can you do that for me?"

"mhm."

i hear a door slamming, and then heavy footsteps. 

suddenly i realize how late it is- around 11:30pm. the fact that jungkook is leaving when it's this dark, that also to come see me, starts to worry me.

"kook it's really late. what if-"

my anxiety must have been evident in my voice, because he's instantly calming me down.

"baby, i'm perfectly fine. i see your house ok. i'll just use the spare key in your garage. i'll be right there."

my heart skips a beat at the pet name he occasionally uses for me. i'm sure he means it as a term of endearment, but it's hard to control myself when i've had feelings for him since we were kids.

and to make my situation even better, he's my best friend.

i let out a choked laugh at how i was crying one second and smiling the next.

"what's wrong? are you ok?"

although his voice comes through the phone, i suddenly hear muffled jangling of keys from the other side of the door, and a lock clicks open. i lift my head to the entrance, and see jeon jungkook standing in my doorway.

he takes in my defeated state, and the hand clutching his phone slowly slips down from where he was holding it to his ear, arm hanging loosely at his side.

he's silent, and i stay where i am, still crouched on the cold tiled floor. my eyes drift to his flushed cheeks and heaving chest, before noticing that his hair looked fluffier due to having faced the wind on his way here.

he's so beautiful.

"oh y/n" he whispers, before kicking his shoes off and rushing towards me. he drops down to his knees in front of me, before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to his chest.

i cling onto him, biting on my bottom lip to keep my sobs under control as the tears start falling again. his hands are rubbing up and down my back, before he pulls back to hold my face in his hands.

"what happened?" he asks, voice shaky as i see his own eyes glistening. "who did this to you? what's wrong? talk to me, baby, i'm here now."

"i'm so tired jungkook" i whisper, the words twisting my gut. "i'm so fucking tired and i don't know how to fix it."

his fingers brush away the salt water streaming down my cheeks, and his face is mirroring the pain i feel in my heart.

"i've tried everything, i've done all i could for everyone in every possible way but it's never enough. nothing is enough, and it's only now that i realize that it will never be enough. i don't even know what they want from me anymore, jungkook, i-"

i let out a sob, and he instantly pulls me into his arms, rocking us gently. "shh y/n, i've got you."

"-and my parents keep yelling and my brother treats me like shit even though i try so hard to make sure he doesn't end up like me, and all anyone's talking about is their image and i'm so uncomfortable with myself, and then school is even more stressful-"

"hey, no no no, y/n, you're not-" jungkook tries to butt in, eyes wide and wet, but i just shake my head hard.

"it's too much jungkook" i plead, voice cracking, "it's too much and i don't know how much longer i can take it."

at this jungkook freezes, staring at me in what seems to be fear. a tear slips down his cheek, and i feel my heart break even more when i realize that i'm the reason he's crying.

"oh no, jungkook" i whisper, and this time it's me that wipes his tears, "please don't cry, i can't see you cry because of me."

he sniffles, rubbing a hand over his face and then over my own, before helping me stand up. holding my hand, he pulls me behind him as he grabs the broom, and keeps holding it as he shoves the mess on the floor into the dustpan and then the garbage. i grab the mop, still clutching his hand in mine, and swipe down the leftover broth that was still on the floor.

placing everything back, jungkook stands with me in the middle of the kitchen, quiet. i keep my gaze on our entwined fingers, unable to meet his gaze.

it's the first time i've broken down this bad in front of him, and i was afraid of what he would say next.

i don't know what i'd do if he walked away from me too.

eventually he breaks the silence.

"how long?" 

startled at the serious tone of his voice, i look up to see him staring at our hands. his jaw is clenched, and although his eyes are still shiny there's a sharpness in them.

"...a few weeks now" i whisper.

he's silent again, but this time when he looks at me his gaze is full of anger- for me.

"and your self-hate?"

i wince slightly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"...long before that. it kinda just overflowed today..."

"did i..." jungkook swallows hard, as though the question he were trying to ask was hurting him.

"did i make you feel like that?"

my eyes go wide- how could he even think that? i pull him to me, hands covering his own as i shake my head.

"what- no! no, never! kook, sweetheart, you-" i breath out, upset that he even thought he had hurt me.

"if anything you're the only thing that keeps me going."

as soon as i say this, it's as though something in his gaze changes. suddenly his hands are on my waist, and he's lifting me up like i weigh nothing. gently resting me on the kitchen's marble countertop, he placed both hands on either side of my hips, before shifting closer to stand between my legs. when he speaks his voice comes out strained, as his fingers grip the counter edge so hard his knuckles turn white. as if he's holding himself back.

"give me permission" he breathes, and as he tilts his head down to face me fully, i can feel my breath catch in my throat.

"give me permission, and i will make you forget every fucked up thing you ever heard and every cruel thing you ever faced."

the intensity with which he holds my gaze makes my heartbeat speed up, and i realize that there's an emotion in his eyes that wasn't there before.

he leans closer, gently pressing his forehead against mine and closing his eyes.

"give me permission, y/n and i will show you how much you mean to me."

i think back to all the times he was there for me, high or low, night or day. i remember how he didn't hesitate to drop everything and come over the moment he heard me crying on the phone. i take in the sincerity and love in his voice, the way he was so close yet still just far enough to ensure that i wasn't uncomfortable.

and the fact that i knew he would respect my space without a second thought if i said no.

"jungkook" i whisper, my voice coming out breathless.

slowly, i raise my hands to cup his face, and feel him tense under my touch, awaiting my next words.

it was him.

it had always been him.

and it will always be him.

because he is everything to me.

"kiss me."

jungkook opens his eyes, meeting my gaze as his fingers grip my chin before he turns his head sideways, leaning in.

i meet him in the middle.

his lips are soft against mine, his touch gentle, as though i were the most precious thing around. placing a hand on the small of my back, he pulls me closer so that i'm flush against his chest, the warmth radiating off of him calming me down.

he pulls away after a while but stays close enough so that we're still face to face.

"i love you so fucking much" he breathes, emotion dripping from his words and his touch and his gaze.

i wrap my arms around his upper body and hug him to me, burying my face into the crook of his neck. he instantly hugs me back, placing a soft kiss to my temple before resting his chin on top of my head.

"i love you, jungkook." 

~

[collabsfullfillment]

Snippet (read as: literally all I wrote) of a scenario where someone with the power to literally rewrite reality abuses this power to... give Sunshine an ideal belly rub.

⚠️ stuffing (retroactive?), belly kink, weird existential magic

Min0rs/pr0ship DNI! 18+ only! AGELESS BLOGS LIKING/REBLOGGING WILL BE BLOCKED!

"I can make this... more enjoyable for you, but..." The starry figure hesitates, and as Sunshine's curiosity is piqued, so is his concern.

"Hey," he says softly, "what's up? What is it?"

"It'd mean..." Its brows furrow. "It'd mean making an edit to your story, should you choose to accept my offer. Nothing major, nothing that would too greatly affect your life- but your recent memories will be slightly altered to accommodate."

That's... a little scary. Every time he's reminded this gentle being can literally rewrite reality, it gives Sunshine chills.

"...nothing bad?" he manages to venture.

"Nothing bad," it echoes, cradling his face with a soft smile. "Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn't hurt..."

...it trails off, looking guilty, then recollects itself. "All I want to do is make sure you had lunch before you dozed off."

He did drop off as soon as he got home earlier, didn't he. It's... a kind offer. Characteristic of this being. After a moment, he nods his assent.

When the god next speaks, its voice sounds... different. More authoritative, richer, expressive, like it's reading from a storybook. It's soothing to Sunshine- he hasn't been read to since he was a kid.

"When Sunshine came home from work just past noon, rest was the only thing on his mind. It had been a draining day."

He definitely recalls that much.

"He let his bag slip from his shoulders, paying no mind to it as it thudded to the floor. He shuffled for the couch like a zombie, ready to lose consciousness the second he was in a horizontal position...

"But then his stomach snarled, halting him in his tracks."

What? Sunshine blinks. That hadn't-

No. It had. He'd frozen in place as an almighty growl seemed to fill the room, and he realized all at once how starving he was. It had made him shudder, made his face feel strangely warm. A similar blush rises to his cheeks now.

"Shocked by its audacity, Sunshine pressed a paw to his empty belly, telling it to be at ease. Sleep could wait- he needed to eat first, or he'd be miserable later."

Sunshine's breathing quickens a little as the god continues.

"He had to wait for his food to cook, so as he was teased with the aroma of fresh hot rice, he soothed his complaining stomach with tender words and touches. Soon, he promised, soon."

Sunshine's face heats further as the memory of talking to his tummy is slotted in. It feels natural. It's entirely something he'd do, so long as he didn't have witnesses- and he hadn't, in that empty apartment. Hearing the starry god acknowledge that silly aspect of him so fondly is giving him butterflies, making his tail quiver.

"When the rice was finally done, he hastened to season and butter it after scooping it out of the cooker... but he hesitated. He was very, very hungry... surely, another serving could be in order?"

He groans. He doesn't know why he keeps making that mistake. He'll cook himself a second batch of rice when he feels particularly ravenous, then either can't finish it, or tries to and regrets it. And then he does the same thing a couple weeks later, not having learned his lesson at all.

"So he filled his rice maker up with a second serving, letting it cook while he scarfed down the first."

And suddenly, there's a warmth in Sunshine's belly.

He squeaks sharply as the faint ache of emptiness, too mild to care much about, evaporates on the spot. He squirms slightly, feels a little weight in his stomach- he's not full by any means, but he's been retroactively sated. Just like that.

It's... extraordinary.

The starry being beams at him. "Still okay? That's not too much?"

"Y- Yeah," he stammers, head spinning. "M'good. Great."

"You're doing wonderfully." Its touch, both warm and cool, smooths over his forehead. "Just a little more."

The words make his heart swell.

"Not long after he was scraping the bowl for the last grains, the cooker chimed again. He got up for a refill- he wasn't full yet. But, halfway through the second serving..."

Sunshine jerks as the warmth in his belly redoubles. Suddenly, he's comfortably full, even a little moreso. It makes him feel heavy and satisfied. This would be the point to stop, if there weren't food at risk of being wasted.

"...any more and his stomach wouldn't be happy with him." The god turns its shining eyes to Sunshine. "So... he had a choice to make."

"...me?" he squeaks, ears lifting.

"You," the god answers patiently. "You have the choice to push yourself- would you?"

He swallows as he considers his options. There's spice on his breath, and a grain of rice stuck behind one tooth that wasn't there a minute ago. He takes in the comfortable warmth currently in his belly, and thinks about how it would feel beneath those starry hands.

But then he considers the ache of overfullness, how he never hated it enough to avoid it the next time, how it sent confusing shivers up his spine that he can recognize now as arousal.

"I..." Sunshine gulps again. "I can take it. I'd do it."

He shudders as the god smooths a hand over his still-clothed belly. "Good," it says, "good boy. It's going to ache, so brace yourself."

Sunshine tenses as anticipation and arousal fill him from the words.

"After a moment's consideration, he kept going. He didn't want his cooking to go to waste."

A pang seizes Sunshine's middle. He gasps as his shirt slightly, but visibly tightens around his belly as it firms up. It lets out a displeased gurgle, one that sends lightning up his spine.

"He regretted it, of course," the god says gingerly, "but not enough to stop himself. And the ache felt good."

It did. It does. Sunshine moans.

"He wasn't sure how he found the strength to stand and put his dish in the sink- his exhaustion had crashed down upon him again, twofold with how overly full he was.

"But somehow, he managed. And even with the ache in his tummy, he was asleep the second he hit the cushions.

"...oh, sweetheart, are you okay?" The ethereal quality fades from his benefactor's voice altogether, its brows knitting with concern. "Did we overdo it...?"

His stomach cramps, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. But it's a good kind of ache. "No," he grits. "No, this- this is good..."

"Let me help you," the god offers, and reaches down to pluck his shirt open.

[ai-luni]

nsfw hcs for merrick? i absolutely l o v e your writing, its so crisp i am literally crushing it up and snorting it like coke rn. also my boy is so underappreciated🥲

HE IS!! YES!! Merrick is so underappreciated. I need edits of him, I need fics of him. Genuinely his voice does things to me, I’m so obsessed with how scratchy his voice is. 

It’s actually embarrassing how much I listen to the ghost’s voice lines. @lylesx got me so addicted to Rorke’s voiceline video and I kid you not, it’s an experience. Now that’s what I snort like coke. 

And I’m so glad somebody asked because this has been plaguing my mind forever. Most childish gambino songs remind me of Rorke. Les, heartbeat, me and your mama, the redbone x bonfire mashup.

Thomas Merrick NSFW Headcanons

Now, let’s begin. 

Save a ghost, ride a cowboy. This man can be damn rowdy if you want him to be. 

He’s hot headed, loves a good bar, a good game of pool, like a true yeehaw blooded american. So if you get him to wear a cowboy hat, you’re really in for it. 

Merrick is steadily approaching his older years now and having been around the block a couple times now, I think he’d definitely prefer a partner who knows what they want. That doesn’t mean you have to be experienced, he's just a little over the shyness of it all now. The man does not beat around the bush, he wouldn’t be a commander today if he wasn’t assertive.

Merrick’s not opposed to one night stands but he’s also started to make jokes that he’s ‘over his prime’. Unless you completely took charge and played all of your cards correctly, I don’t think he’d take home a woman in their 20’s. 

The whole ‘innocent young girl’ act just wouldn’t work on him, period. He would love the idea of having a daughter one day, even if he had to do it as a single father. I’m certain you can find the correlation there yourself. 

(On a different note, Merrick as a father - to a daughter especially - is incredibly protective. He’ll scare off any potential date until they find one he likes, he’ll be proactive if anyone was making fun of them in class and the house has many security systems built in. Not to mention the fact he’s a petty officer, so if his child doesn't do their chores on any given day, they’ll never live it down).

Merrick’s favourite thing to this date is shower sex. Warm water, a hot woman and all the time in the world. What more could he ever ask for?

Seriously though, he’s been a SEAL since he was 17. The man has spent his entire life tossed between aircrafts, navy carriers, land bases and raid sites. The most luxurious thing to him is a long, hot shower. 

When he’s home alone, he’ll get himself off in the shower (also because it feels more private to him and it’s an easy clean up overall). Water running down his spine, palmed braised on the tiled wall. He’ll let his head hang forward, eyelids clamped. If an incredibly undignified noise wants to leave his mouth, then is the only time he’ll let it slip. 

However, he’ll have you in any position imaginable that could fit in that shower. His absolute favourite is having a shower with a glass door facing the mirror above the vanity. He’ll press your chest up to the glass and watch as you struggle to find a comfortable way to rest your head. Eventually he’ll give in and yank your wet hair back to your chin and sit against the glass, leaving your throat on complete display just for him. Then there's your ass slapping against him, your curved spine shiny and wet. It’s not the best position to get the most of him in you and you’ll likely cramp up quicker, but if you can handle it, it’s the quickest position to get Merrick to finish. 

Circling back to the daughter thing: man has a breeding kink. He’ll take any chance he can to ask if he can make you a mummy. 

There was one time you were riding him, holding his hands out by his head. The sight of you alone taking what you need from him was enough to keep him hard long after release but then you started to talk to him. Tease him the best way you know how. 

“You wanna be a father hmm? I’m gonna make you a father” He’ll groan like he was in pain and you’ll feel it, his dick deep inside you just as restless as his hands were. “What will your kids call you? Dad, daddy, papa?” 

When he’s out on a mission, if he’s not thinking about the view of you in the shower, it’s your voice in his ear getting him off. And when you’re with him, then wrap your arms around his neck, let your hands roam his chest and whisper in his ear for only him to hear about how good of a father he’s going to be. He will follow you around like a lost puppy. 

You did it to him around the ghosts once and they kicked up a storm. What nasty, dirty thing could you have possibly said to make him completely melt in your hand like that. 

If it’s not a “mummy” kind of day, he’ll say “yes ma’am.” In or outside the bedroom, he’ll say “yes ma’am” and absolutely loves it when you run the show. He’s also an avid user of “that’s my woman” when you are doing something helpful or badass.

I don’t know about you but I am absolutely whipped for this man’s voice. He would be absolutely smitten if he found out what his voice did to you. Also another thing that should be talked about more here is that Merrick can speak spanish. 

So if you’re being cruel and teasing him, he’ll send it back ten fold (He’s a massive tease and would love a witty woman). He’ll whisper right back into your ear, telling you what he wants to do to you, how hot you look in that outfit and sprinkle in anything in Spanish, until you're a shameless, moaning mess in public. 

Merrick isn’t opposed to public sex depending on the situation. Mission are an absolute no and it’d be very unlikely he’d let go all the way when hiding out in a safe house. 

(If you were with the ghosts hiding at a safehouse, he’d honestly see it as a game of ‘who can last the longest’. Both of you so so stubborn that the game has only ever ended the lot of you going back into combat or with Rorke or even Elias saying they’ll clear the room just so he can fuck you already. The both of you get so tense and strict just because you’re holding out on each other and the others find it very. very. annoying). 

If you were at a bar or restaurant or cinema or even another ghost’s house, however, it’s fair game (granted you can actually find a spot you won’t get caught).

It all started in a movie once, only two other seats were filled out and both were on the other side of the room. You grabbed his hand, stuck it between your legs and started to grind against it. He may have given you the most unamused look but even when you finished, he wouldn’t let go of your pussy until the film was done. 

He can be quite loud in the bedroom. Most of the time, however, he’ll only grunt and groan. He’s gonna be really worked up or angry to get a yell out.

He finds the maintenance of his beard quite an intimate thing and as much as a middle aged man can, he gets quite giddy when you trim it for him. 

Having you sit on his lap in the bathroom with a comfortable silence. His hands instinctively roaming your back as you giggle. His smile makes it harder for you to be precise that eventually you hold his head still by the jaw. He wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you as concentrated on getting this right for him. He didn’t seem to care as much as you did and just brought you into a kiss. 

Usually if things escalate like that, you’d have to finish trimming his beard later in the night. 

Like mentioned before, Merrick’s been a SEAL for all of his adult life. He’s been a ghost since his early 20’s and has become most of his identity. Seeing you in his ghost mask could then draw two responses out of him depending on how he’s feeling.

On some days, he’d hate to see you wear the mask, see you be associated with any of the violence that that mask has seen.

On other days and more commonly however, seeing you wear his mask does something to him. Seeing you let this mask that has become a symbol of him wrap your face, so willing to be one with him. He wouldn’t make love to you in it but it would definitely instigate the evening. 

Besides he’s always thought the mask looked cool and you looking hot in it only confirms it. And then if the mask continued to smell like your perfume, even for a few days afterwards, he would be the happiest man alive. 

[soaps-hoe-141]

Gaymers Unite Again

I split Gaymers Unite into two parts cause I wanted to write the Drowning chapter before I finished this, so here's the rest. Also I didn't edit this one because I didn't feel like it, will probably edit later though if the urge strikes me. @itsagrimm You asked to be tagged if anyone used your German translations for Konig so here ya go :D

Pairing: Konig x OC!Transmasc (OC is Watcher there is lore on my pinned Masterlist)

WC: 4.4k

Synopsis: Just some more Konig smut, hope yall are feasting

Warnings: 18+ It's smut, literally just the end of a one shot

Ecstasy. That's what his mouth felt like. Well Watcher had never taken ecstasy before but this had to be pretty fucking close, right? Heat flooded every limb, white hot, and oh so close to release number whatever the hell it was. The Scotsman had lost count after the sixth time he'd clenched down around those fingers and that tongue and nearly suffocated Konig between his thighs. Icy eyes rolled back in his head as his thoughts seemed to find another plane of existence not a part of this world.

Huge arms wrapped around a pair of freckled and tattooed thighs, keeping his dripping and needy core right where he wanted it, continuing to press his tongue inside. Konig's chest rumbled greedily now, the vibrations of what could only be classified as a growl running straight through Fyn's needy core. His head shook back and forth vigorously, his nose rubbing over the head of Fyn's dick and causing the Scotsman’s head to fall back with a loud, unhindered moan into the air. The tall man smiled into the cunt he'd been devouring for the better part of an hour now.

The second the computer had shut down it was like Konig had found another gear. Standing up without even a warning, mouth still hungrily at work even when he'd laid Fyn down on his back on the bed, kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed himself. Thighs still draped over his shoulders and hanging limply against the broad expanse of his back. Now the little Scot was clutching at the sheets desperately trying to keep his head from drifting up into the clouds and failing miserably as Konig continued to work him closer and closer to yet another climax.

Whines rose into the air, the smaller man barely able to catch his breath now as his hips writhed and grinded hard against the delving tongue. And then he was trying to retreat, his hands attempting to push himself up and back him away from the overstimulation despite his ankles locking behind Konig's back in the middle of his shoulder blades. The tall man's words mumbled out against the throbbing core, "One more, Newt. Just one more, yes? Please," Fyn whined again, words escaping him as his head shook desperately which only elicited another growl from the man kneeling between his thighs. The only thing the ginger could do was plead helplessly for an end, with his fingers tangled into dark red locks and his thighs quivering once more at the nearly painful and heated pleasure that coursed through him. When he got that tall cunt out of his there was gonna be hell to pay.

Christ but not yet. “Ko,” it was the only syllable Watcher could whine out and it wasn’t even certain that was what he said seeing as it degraded quickly into another moan. The mouth left its prize once more, a few heavy pants coming from the German as the orgasm that had just been building began to slip away. Icy eyes flew open wide, his head lifting off the bed to look with wild eyes and down to the man still kneeling at the edge of the bed.

Konig’s face was covered in his apparent arousal, the dark red hairs along his chin dripping after spending so much time between Fyn’s thighs. “You said no-” The big man didn’t get the chance to finish his thoughts before the fingers that had been gripping at the bed sheets for dear life tangled instead into the man’s hair, dragging his face back down. A satisfied hum echoed from his mouth before his tongue returned to its good work. Lips attaching to the head of his dick and sucking hard.

“Koni,” a breathy sigh fell out just behind the word, Fyn’s hips lifting for just a moment into the pleasure of that sinful tongue. When one of the hands released his thigh, fingers unpeeling from the tattooed skin of his thigh, it was clear the ecstasy was only going to get ten times better. The tip of Konig’s tongue flicked rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves as fingers drug across the folds of his entrance once more. Teasing and enticing Watcher’s hips to inch closer in his desire for more.

And more Konig gave as the tips of his fingers drug through the slick arousal pooling at his entrance, coating them generously before slowly pressing inside. Sliding easily into the wet depths with an audible squelch. Pleasure coursed through Watcher's veins, his mind going empty of thought as he grinded down onto the fingers and sought more until there was nothing left for the long, thick fingers to give. Groans for more still left his pretty mouth though, fingers still tight in the wavy red locks as he kept Konig's mouth flush with his greedily sought after treasure.

It only took a few moments before his thick digits went to work, pressing deep inside his soft walls which only clenched around him with every thrust inside. Watcher was once more in a state of bliss, his eyes rolled back in his head and his every thought focused on one goal, finding his release. Finding those rolling waves of pleasure that he knew the huge man could provide. Every muscle seemed taut, every line of his lean physique outlined by the vines and roots that wound around his entire body. "Christ-" he cut himself off with another loud moan as his back arched off the bed.

Konig's fingers set a rough pace, curling up as they thrusted inside, brutal in their hard work. And yet they only had that fire burning brighter and deeper. The heat was beginning to seep throughout every limb as he grew closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure that awaited him for only God knew how many times this was. The ankles locked between those broad shoulder blades jerked, somehow managing to get him even closer, as the skilled fingers finally found their query. Curling into the soft spot inside of him that had Fyn crying out, "Oh fuck yeah, right there. Keep goin," even though Konig had zero intention of stopping now.

It took on a few hard thrusts and crooks of his fingers before that searing heat exploded into an inferno and Watcher was cumming on his fingers once more. His thighs shaking, his abdomen spasming as he tried to stop himself from jerking and grinding on the tall man's face. Konig was all too happy to keep lapping at his drooling cunt though, enjoying his feast even as he let go of his smaller waist. Feasting now with his eyes as well as his erection throbbed in the confines of his pants. That man was a beautiful sight, especially when he was in the midst of an orgasm he was struggling to come down from. And to know that it was his doing was sending Konig nearly completely out of his mind.

He reached a hand up to his face, still watching as the occasional spasm wracked Watcher's body and his hips jerked up in search of something more even though he didn't find it. Konig was sitting back on his heels now, one hand now using the bottom of his shirt to clean his face off and the other basically stroking himself through the thick fabric of his pants. His erection pulsing painfully now into the confines as he watched the little Scotsman slowly coming back to reality.

Sitting forward he braced himself against the edge of the bed, pushing himself up the length of Fyn's body until he could look down at him with a soft smile, "Are you okay, little Newt?" Ok? Was he ok? Fyn felt like he was on another plane of existence and Konig was wondering if he was ok? Reaching up his fingers wrapped into the collar of his shirt before he pulled the bigger man down, the huge body more than covering his own before his lips found the other's. He could taste himself there, it wasn't the first time and it was unlikely to be the last. Konig probably would have lived between his thighs if Watcher would have allowed it.

A short hum left the young man’s throat, his face turning up in a satisfied smirk as he felt the huge hips rutting against him. The fingers tangled into Konig’s shirt didn’t loosen as he only pulled the huge body further down onto his own, grinding his dripping depths against the front of the other’s jeans. A needy moan left the big man, his mouth falling open even as Watcher continued to press kisses to the line of his jaw. The German was nearly as far gone as Fyn had been moments before, his eyes shut tight as he continued to rut his clothed dick against the dripping depths and the swell of that freckled ass. “I think I should be the one askin if yer ok, Koni,” red painted the big man’s face, his mouth still open as he panted open mouthed a mere inch from the ginger’s face.

Konig forced his green eyes back open, taking a deep shaky breath before he whispered, “I’m so close.” A quiet mewl for more left him the moment Fyn’s hips stopped moving, a few curses falling out of his mouth as he tried to make up for it by rolling his own hips up against the ginger’s once more. The small man beneath him jolted back, his icy eyes opening in surprise at the force behind the needy thrust before Konig pushed himself up on one hand to stop himself from doing it again. His voice quieted as he whispered again, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

The smirk returned in a moment before the smaller man wrapped his legs around the other’s waist, pulling him back down with surprisingly strong legs. The second his clothed erection made contact with Fyn’s bare flesh he was moaning again, forehead falling forward to rest against the Scotsman’s shoulder as he panted with need. “Dinnae worry yersel, Koko,” soft lips pressed against the curve of his shoulder earning a breathy sigh from the other man. The German was sweaty underneath the confining fabric that still covered his body. His skin salty as the young man drug his mouth over what he could reach.

Hell was coming to repay the greedy man who had refused him a single moment of reprieve.

The legs wrapped around his waist loosened for just a moment, until his heel trailed down running over the curve of Konig’s ass. Wiry muscles pulled taut before Fyn’s whispering words fell over his ear in soft waves, “Ye gonnae cum? Huh? Dinnae even need tae get yer pants off?” There was a disapproving sound that came from the young man’s throat, earning another needy moan from Konig’s chest as he continued to grind helplessly against Watcher’s backside.

It didn’t take much for the Scot to flip them, especially not with the way the German couldn’t even keep his eyes open and the most his hands could manage doing was holding onto the thin waist now laying against his midsection. At least until Fyn’s lips pressed against the skin of his neck, sucking a purple mark into the thin skin along the underside of his jaw. “Ye cannae wait? Yer so needy, pretty boy.” The hands that encircled the small waist slid down slowly, heading for mounds of tattooed and bare flesh, at least until Watcher sat back up with a smile on his face. His hips grinding down to pull out another needy whine from the big man beneath him.

“Please Fyn, I need-” Plush lips fell to those that were more chapped and rough, still able to taste himself on Konig’s tongue though this time it was just a ploy to quiet the man who was nearly writhing beneath him. One hand wrapped around the underside of his jaw, keeping him still as Watcher slid his mouth down once more. Nibbling and kissing at what little skin was exposed to his eyes. Middle of summer and he’d still be wearing these long sleeved black shirts. He’d never understand how he did it.

In a quick movement Fyn was sliding back, escaping the big man’s grasp as he whined and tried to follow. Sitting up quickly before his chest ran into a surprisingly stiff hand and the dark green gaze lifted to find icy hues with a questioning look in those depths. Watcher was quick to answer that silent question, “Didnae say ye could move. Shirt off and lay back down, Koni,” the big man was eager and quick to comply.

Large fingers dug into the hem of his shirt as he hurriedly pulled it off over his head. Fyn however was busying himself with trying to figure out how to use those over complicated harnesses. They weren’t much different from the tactical harnesses they used in the field, actually, upon further inspection. Honestly they were both less complicated than their tactical harnesses. Watcher stepped into it quickly, pulling it up around his hips before tightening the straps and fingering them for a quick test.

Securing one of the dildos into the harness he looked down at himself, it was almost as long as his forearm and nearly as thick as well. Lifting his chin he turned towards where Konig was on the bed, a cheeky smile on his face as he stepped forward, “What ye think, Koko?” Fyn wasn’t destined to get an answer though as he turned to find the big man with his shirt and pants both thrown on the ground, his hand working desperately along his shaft.

Three long strides and the Scotsman was back to the bed and standing in front of the big man, looking down at the red haired man with a narrowed gaze. “Hey Ko,” there was a breathy sound that came from deep in the German’s chest, and it was the only answer that he was going to get it seemed. Konig’s hand was still working wildly, edging himself closer and closer to his own climax. “Jesus, mate, slow down,” Fyn reached a hand out, grasping his thick wrist in his own comparatively diminutive grasp.

Whines immediately flew from the other man’s throat, needy and breathy to find his finish. “Please, fuck me, please, please,” the man’s hips bucked up off the bed, searching for any kind of friction he could possibly find. Konig was out of his mind with need. There was no telling how long he’d spent between the Scotsman’s thighs, and it was evident in his leaking cock that was standing at attention. The tip was red and angry and mourning the loss of his hand. 

Fyn’s teeth drug across his bottom lip at the sight, eyes shutting for just a moment before he reached his fingers out to run gently up the length of the muscled thigh. Finally he answered with a bit of that cheekiness still hidden in his tone, “That’s what I’m tryin tae do if ye would stop tryin tae jerk yersel off before I git aroun to it.” The big man whined aloud again, his fingers digging into the sheets of the bed as he tried to thrust up into the hand running dangerously close to the proud erection on display.

A bit of spit on his fingers and the lithe fingers slid down to press teasingly at Konig’s entrance. It wasn’t the first time he’d worked the big man open, but it often was accompanied with a skilled mouth and a great deal more saliva. Now though there was the promise of more, of something more substantial splitting him open and driving him even closer to the edge of madness. A groan of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he canted his hips down into the gently probing fingers.

Walls clenched around him, his thoughts wandering to how it might have felt around his own cock. Meanwhile Konig was burn for more already, even as the long, lithe fingers sped up watching as the big man fucked himself onto the digits in time with his own thrusts. “Mehr, mehr, mehr Bitte,” the ginger didn’t recognize the words. Fyn knew only a little German himself but when a hand reached up to grasp at the back of his head, pulling him down to dive into a deep kiss, he was pretty sure he understood what the other had been trying to say.

Eyes shut tight, Watcher rutted up against the other man’s hips. Leaning over the edge of the bed and barely even able to reach Konig’s lips with his own. One hand behind his head the other was at his hip as Konig recognized the struggle on the Scots part, leaning up as he continued his hungry assault on the other’s mouth. Pulling his hips impossibly closer before the kiss broke and the big man let out a breathless groan. It took a moment to figure out what it was that had caused the little interruption until he felt the hand at his hip let go and grab at his own erection and the dildo as it ran over it.

Fyn smirked at the other man and shook his head, “Ye cannae just wait? Impatient ye are. I told ye tae just wait,” the huge hand fell away as he let out another whine, forehead once more falling forward to rest against the lithe shoulder. Konig was so far gone it was hard to even believe it now. Oh how the tables had turned.

Glancing down Watcher took hold of the throbbing erection, sliding achingly slow down the shaft before returning to the leaking head. “Ye weren’t lyin pretty boy, ye are close aren’t ye?” There was a vigorous nod from the older man who was bracing himself back on the bed now, trying his hand at patience now in an attempt to get what he so desired. There was a low hum from the young man as he leaned a bit closer, giving another slow pump of his hand before he whispered, “Ye wantin pumped then, aye?” Another nod, though this one more desperate, was all he received in response.

A strong shove backwards and Konig laid back appeasingly on the bed, another slow pump along his erection drawing out a short thrust of his hips up into the firm grasp. When his hips lifted Fyn smirked, biting at his bottom lip as he enjoyed the control, the dominance, of what he was able to do to the man in front of him. Taking hold of his cock he slid the tip down and over the diligently worked entrance. Konig’s hand shot down, fingers wrapping around the small bicep as the hand that had been around the leaking erection braced instead on the bed.

A bit of pain blossomed as the digits encircled his limb with anticipation. There would no doubt be a bruise there come morning. Anxiety grew in him for a moment. He’d never done this before and there was a bit of insecurity rising in his chest. “Say somethin if I’m doin it wrong, I dinnae want tae hurt ye,” Konig nodded once more, the grip on the small bicep loosening until his hand dropped to the bed once more and he hitched up a leg. Spreading himself before the young Scotsman, still attempting to keep himself from being as impatient he felt on the inside.

“Slow, go slow, it has been a while,” Fyn gave a quick nod as he pressed the head of his cock against the tight entrance again and began the slow push inside. Konig’s mouth opened, his eyes getting a bit wider as he took in a slow breath at the intrusion. He lifted his head, watching as the fake cock disappeared slowly inside of him. “Mein Gott, Fyn,” the breathless words escaped his open mouth as he continued to watch. His head fell back against the bed and his eyebrows quirked up on the inside corner, a low groan escaping his lips as Fyn bottomed out, his hips flush against Konig’s.

The leg he’d hitched up fell to the side, Fyn’s hands bracing on either side of the other’s hips. Ice blue eyes watched the chiseled face in front of him, head tilting as he watched the emotions dance over the other’s face. When he pulled back and canted his hips back into Konig's, the older man huffed out a breath of air, his eyes shutting as Fyn began to ease into his new role. It made his own core throb as he watched, the man beneath him letting out quiet moans and gasps as he began to pick up the pace. “Does that feel good, Koko? Are ye enjoyin it?” He nodded quickly in answer, letting out a quiet moan as their skin slapped together.

There was a quiet hum of pride from the young man before he reached between their bodies, taking hold of the bobbing erection. The big hips lifted in response before falling back to the bed, his back arching in response. There wasn’t as much of a buildup, Konig had already been close enough Fyn could have breathed on his poor, abused cock and he’d have came. A few quick pumps along his shaft in time with his thrusts and the big man’s voice sounded, “Ich komme gleich.”

Oh Fyn knew that phrase well, though it was usually whispered when Konig was deep inside him. Now though it was vice versa. A quiet whisper was all it took as Fyn said, “Go on then, guter Junger.” A high pitched moan left the German that he’d never heard before, and then ropes of white painted his small fist. His breath came in heavy gasps as he finished on his own stomach.

Pulling out slowly Fyn sat on the side of the bed, glancing down at the mess along his knuckles and wrist. Watcher glanced at the box of tissues beside the bed then, thankful that Konig typically kept himself well stocked on just about everything. He wiped himself off and then the stomach as well, short red curls rasping underneath the tissue as he cleaned them both up. And then he tossed the tissue onto the nightstand in favor of leaning back beside the tall man beside him.

Fyn leaned on his elbow, smiling as he watched Konig’s heaving chest begin to slow. It wasn’t until gentle fingers ran along his cheek that those green eyes opened once more and settled lazily on the pretty, freckled face a few inches away. The both of them stayed silent though even as Watcher leaned over, his nose nudging against the other’s cheek before he pressed a kiss to his cheek. A small arm draped over the broad chest as he settled against Konig’s side and nudged his face into the other’s chest, smiling against his skin.

Nothing could break this peaceful, lazy moment…almost nothing anyway. A harsh vibrating came from the desk and drew Watcher’s icy, in more ways than one, gaze. He pulled himself up with a groan before he slid off the bed and stepped across the room to the desk. Fyn picked it up off the desk before he sighed at the name across the screen and made his way back to the bed with the call on speaker.

“Hello?” Fyn said into the phone as he laid back next to Konig once more. Setting the phone on his chest before lithe fingers ran over the broad chest and dug into the flesh as the young Scot draped himself over the big man. Konig seemed to enjoy the closeness just as much so there were certainly no complaints from him as their sweaty skin slid together.

A deep, gravelly voice finally came over the other line though as Price grumbled out, it sounded like he’d just been awoken from sleep himself, “Watcher, get to base. Team is getting called out.”

“Aye sir, I’ll be there.”

He reached a hand up about to end the call before Price grumbled out, “And see if you can get in touch with the Germ. He’s not answering his phone.”

Blue eyes slid up to find green before the young Scot answered, “Will do, sir.”

Price didn’t bother with more formalities as he stated simply, “See you soon, kid.” And the call ended as Watcher tossed the phone to the bed and rolled over to bury his face in Konig’s chest with a groan.

The last thing either of them wanted to do was go into work now, but it seemed they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. It was Konig who broke the silence this time, usually it would have been Fyn but there was a first for everything it seemed, “You know, Fyn, I am not actually German.” The ginger lifted his face to fix a look of confusion on him, his head tilting curiously. He didn’t have to wait for an answer though before Konig clarified, “I speak German, but I’m actually Austrian.”

Fyn laid his face back down against the broad chest before he finally swung his leg all the way over to straddle his waist and sit up, “What ye mean by that? They call ye Germ and yer not German?” Konig shook his head in answer and Watcher asked incredulously, “Why have ye no told them? You’ve been with 141 over two years now.” The heavy set of shoulders shrugged then before the ginger fixed him with a hard look.

Konig squirmed a bit underneath that gaze before he finally muttered, “It does not matter. I just wanted you to know, little Newt.” Watcher smirked and shook his head, laying back down and hugging himself as close as he could get to the big body beneath him.

With his face nestled in the crook of his shoulder and neck he breathed out a quiet sigh before giving a little nod, “Well now I know, Koko. I’ll never call ye Germ again, aye?” The big man smiled as he wrapped his arms around the freckled body laying over him. Both content to bask in the other’s presence while they still had the time too. Base wasn’t too far away from Konig’s apartment anyway at least.

[chanbig]

Heyo, saw your open for fanfic question and thought I might ask as well^^;

Do you have some wips you really love and that we can get a sneak peak of? No matter if you plan to write them, are writing them rn or just really love the scenes,^^

im always open for fic questions if you have something you'd like to ask!! or if you want to ask/chat about chanbig or another ship ive written for or whatever else 💗

I have like 48313004 WIPs I swear 😂 but the ones I have outlines for or are working on the most rn right now are:

post-canon chanbig joint vacation with big getting badly sunburned and chan helping him cool down and apply aloe vera and things um escalating from there (inspired by nodt's heatstroke photoshoot). very soft and smutty getting together fic, something emotionally easier than my last fic

chanbig grindr au based on that viral grindr convo - big just moved into a new building and he gets a grindr message from one of his neighbors (chan) asking to borrow a wrench/screwdriver and big offers to help fix the problem (even though he knows jack shit about plumbing) bc chan is like the hottest guy he's seen. feat. wet tshirts and much ogling

follow up to kitty!big fic where big tries to find out why/how he turns into a cat and he and Chan get closer as they share this secret and feelings develop

big coming to work for the theerapanyakuls and going through training and becoming something like friends or master/protégé with chan, covering from pre-canon to post-canon - told from chan's perspective, as he falls in love with big (and big?? well, after he gets over kinn... 😉). I had to stop myself from working on this right after posting my last fic because it's a big project and I need a break haha

ice skating au where big is an elite skater that has lost one of his jumps and his coach brings chan in as a specialist to help him get it back. feat. chan as a hot but hardline coach and a lot of up close and personal training

not chanbig but I am literally soooo soooooo close 🤏 to finishing a follow-up to my pike/boimler fic. boimler comes back to his time and cannot seem to sleep. and because it's trek there is questionable use of the holodeck and the implications/fallout of time travel. I'm literally like 200 words away from posting it and have been for the last six months lmaooo

there's a bunch more that are not even wips really but just ideas that will probably never become more but you never know!

ill put the excerpt from heatstroke!fic below the cut 💗 it hasn't been edited and I'm not anywhere close to done so it might differ from the final fic!

Big woke up to the cold touch of ice on his face. 

Heat surrounded him from all sides, pressing heavily into his limbs and holding him down on the lounge chair. Exhaustion from the sleepless night before and the comforting warmth made it impossible for him to open his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this relaxed, and he didn't want anything to disturb him from it. 

Flinching away from the strange, cold touch, he tried to turn over onto his side, when a familiar voice cut through his fading dream.

"Big, wake up." 

Big frowned, squinting one eye open. 

A shirtless Chan, his broad shoulders gleaming under the bright afternoon sunlight, was kneeling next to him in the sand. In his hands he held two colorful drinks, each with their own flower. A small grin pressed at the corners of his lips, like he was just barely holding back his amusement at something. His eyes were soft and focused right on Big. 

He looked, for lack of a better word, like a dream. Big's dream. 

Heat muddling his mind, Big felt his hand rising up to touch Chan's face, before his thoughts kicked back in. 

Both eyes flashing open, Big inhaled sharply and jerked back, the lounge chair creaking uncertainly underneath him. His heart leapt and set off racing under his skin. 

Immediately, Chan leaned back. The amusement dropped from his face, concern taking its place. 

"Big, it's okay," he said. "It's just me."

Big hurriedly sat up, burning embarrassment and remnants of strange arousal making a mess of his head. His vision blurred and refocused in a way that made him feel sick. He felt overly warm now, his skin prickling every time he moved. 

"We're in [location]," Chan continued. Though his low voice was nothing more than factual, as if he were speaking about the weather, it was soothing. "Nothing's wrong. You're safe." 

Big shook his head, trying to clear it. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, thirst drawing his throat tight. 

Vacation. The beach. Chan. Not a dream. 

The ideas coalesced into the present, reminding him of where he was and–crucially–that he was not allowed to touch Chan like that.

Like they were lovers. 

He ignored the sharp drop of his heart at the thought, a feeling that was already all-too-familiar. He should have been used to it, after months of this painful, deepening kind of yearning that had cropped up in the wake of their shared recovery. He should have been better than this. 

A cool hand wrapping around his wrist pulled him out of his thoughts, grounding him to the present. 

"Are you going to throw up?" Chan asked, dipping his head to catch Big's eye. 

Big's voice was strangely hoarse when he could finally make himself reply. "No."

"Good. Take a drink of this," Chan said, as he folded Big's hand around one of the brightly-colored drinks. 

Big was already lifting the straw to his lips on autopilot before the thought hit him and he paused. "Does this have alcohol?"

A grin tucked itself into the corner of Chan's lips and Big could have sworn he looked amused—and perhaps, proud. 

"No. But good on you for asking. Alcohol wouldn't be good for you if you were dehydrated." 

Big could have blamed the overwhelming sunlight for the heat that spread across his face at the softly-spoken compliment, but he knew it wasn't the source. It was Chan, so close, watching him carefully.

He couldn't return the gaze. Not with his thoughts like this.

Instead, Big turned away and sipped at the sweet, cool drink, trying to keep in mind the treatment rules for dehydration and heat exhaustion Chan had drilled into all the bodyguards' heads all those years ago. Even though the first taste made him want to chug the whole drink in one go, he made himself take small sips. The last thing he wanted was to actually throw up all over Chan. 

The relief was near-immediate. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly and trying to bring his heart rate back down. 

Chan didn't say anything, and didn't move, either, as Big continued to drink. Big tried not to think of how close Chan was, how intense his gaze would be if Big opened his eyes. 

"Big, did you put on sunscreen?" Chan asked.

Big opened his eyes, frowning. "Yeah. Why?"

He wasn't expecting the brush of Chan's hand along his collarbone. His skin was strangely sensitive, the touch ten times more intense than usual. Not that Chan touched him much outside of the occasional adjustment of his form while they trained, or a friendly-ish clap on the shoulder sometimes. 

But this was far different from those. Chan slipped his fingers under the strap of Big's tank top and slowly pulled it down over his shoulder, as if he were trying to undress Big. The tips of his fingers dragged against Big's skin, still cool from where they had held the iced drink, a small relief from the overwhelming heat. 

The visual of Chan undressing him was so shocking that at first Big didn't realize what was wrong.

It was only when Chan's thumb shifted over his skin and pressed that Big snapped out of it. Sharp, electric pain lanced across his skin from where Chan had pressed and Big jerked back automatically. 

"Ow, what–?" 

"That's a bad burn," Chan said, letting go of Big's shirt and finally lifting his hand away.

[deadratio]

Blackwood Ch. 7

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!Blackwood!Reader

Summary:  (Y/N) ‘Finch’ Blackwood had grown up her whole life without knowing the true identity of her father. She had always thought herself to be content without knowing who he was, but when her work crosses paths with his own, they both face challenges in trying to figure themselves out. Meanwhile, she doesn’t know that her childhood best friend has made his own way through the Navy, and will be joining them on their adventures.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! Panic!

A/N: Let me tell y'all...this has just taken forever to get out. Because I've been busy with finishing school and all that. I graduated, made the deans list and all! I have also been very busy with work, and doing other things that I enjoy doing, such as playing Disney Dream Light Valley and hanging out with friends. I appreciate y'all for waiting so patiently for this!

HUGE THANK YOU TO @callsignthirsty for beta'ing this and giving me suggestions/edits on my writing, I can't express how amazing they are! They are literally the best, and have some really amazing works of their own that you should check out! They have been a major help in getting this chapter edited and ready to go. Just in time for Christmas too! Happy Holidays and I hope you have a safe and happy start to the new year!

As always, please let me know what you think, and happy reading!

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Masterlist

Sunbeams filter through the blinds of Finch’s bedroom. The sheets are hot — almost to the point of being uncomfortable. It's not because of the Sun, though — Bradley is glued to her back, his arm draped over her hip. The amount of warmth he is radiating is ridiculous. Looking over her shoulder, Finch isn’t sure what to do. He seems so comfortable, but she knows that he has an early day and that he should probably leave soon so he can get to work on time.

She shuffles to face him, moving none too gently until they’re face to face and she stills. Caught off guard by Bradley’s peaceful expression as he sleeps. The stress from the previous day wiped from his features, leaving a gentle, sleep-slack canvas of soft skin sprinkled with freckles. Suddenly, she wishes she could keep him like this — carefree and cuddled, far away from Hangman’s snide remarks and the suicide mission and Maverick — but she’s too late. Bradley wrinkles his nose, coming out of his deep sleep with Finch’s stirring. He exhales deeply before cracking open his eyes, the bright glare of yellow light spilling from the window forcing him to shut and reopen them in a squint. A sweep of red darkens Finch’s cheeks when she realizes he’s woken up because of her fiddling. 

Bradley dips his head into the crook of her neck, relishing the feeling of being so close to her and hiding from the sun. He breathes her in, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to the spot beneath her ear. Finch leans into his touch, her body meshing with his. She could get used to waking up to Bradley Bradshaw next to her in bed, giving her peppery kisses and warm cuddles. 

They lay like this for a while, enjoying the comfort of each other’s bodies when Finch glances over to the clock above the door frame. Her eyes go wide. They’re cutting it way too close if they want Bradley to get to class on time. She moves away from him, flinging the blankets from her body as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Bradley, the time!” she exasperates, turning back to face him.

Bradley lets out a loud ‘fuck!’ as his eyes find the clock before he follows suit, the blankets a crumpled mess in the middle of the bed. He hurriedly puts on his shoes, looking up to find Finch standing in the doorway. She wishes she could be of more help — but none of her uniforms will fit him. The most she could offer him is a hot shower so he doesn’t smell a day old like his khakis. 

“I’m going to run back to my place, I should be able to make it in time,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. The golden-tinted curls are a mess, but it’s a sight that Finch wants implanted into her memory.

Standing out of his way, Finch watches as Bradley trails through the bedroom and into the living room on his way to the door. She hesitates at her next actions, but she doesn’t think she could live without kissing him again. His hand is on the door handle when she reaches him with long strides and pinches his shirt between her fingertips to get his attention.

Bradley turns to tell her he’s going to be late, but stops short to admire her rawness, the way Finch looks when she’s just woken up, her pajamas wrinkled. Finch trails her hand up his side to the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. She closes her eyes when she presses a warm kiss to his lips. Bradley’s mustache tickles her nose, his lips mingling with hers. He pulls away briefly before planting another kiss on her lips, this time gently dragging out her bottom lip. 

Finch opens her eyes to see the awestruck look in his own as they part ways. Bradley swipes his tongue over his lips, chasing the taste of her. He doesn’t want to leave her, but he knows that there’s more pressing matters to attend to. He could do this mission, whether Mav believed in him or not. He wouldn’t know what to do if Finch ever told him she didn’t believe in him, but he has no reason to doubt she doesn’t. 

Gently pressing her hand against his abdomen, Finch pushes Bradley towards the door. In his fervor to leave, he leans down to press another peck to her lips. Finch moves too quickly though, and his lips land on her nose. A laugh erupts from Finch, her head tilting back. “You better get your ass in motion before Cyclone comes for you himself!”

The grin on Bradley’s face is undeniably bright as he rushes down the sidewalk to his Bronco, looking back on Finch in the doorway. She lifts her hand in a short wave before turning to go back inside. 

Finch spends most of her morning cleaning her apartment. The to-go containers from the previous night are still on the counter and the plates in the sink have already crusted over by the time she gets to them. After the cleaning spree, she takes her usual spot on the sofa. Picking up her phone from the coffee table, she is met with the red notifications from Charlie’s texts and missed phone calls. 

A deep sigh vibrates through her chest at the thought of having to deal with her mother’s betrayal; it feels deeper than it looks. She reads through the messages, Charlie’s desperate tone clear even through the screen. Running a hand over her face, Finch gives up on trying to ignore her. Her finger hovers over the ‘call’ button, and all too quickly she’s pressed the phone to her ear, the dial tone humming.

"Finch?" Finch flinches when her mom answers the phone. "Honey, is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm– everything's fine. Just returning your calls."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I wasn't sure you would call me back."

Finch cringes. "Yeah. No. I just... got busy. You know how the Navy is."

Her mother sighs. "Honey, I know it's been difficult since I told you, but–"

"And him," Finch cut her off.

"What?"

"And him. Since you told both of us."

"Finch."

"Would you ever have even told us if we hadn't been stationed together?"

Silence, then: "I asked him not to mention anything to you."

You laugh into the phone. The audacity. "So that’s a no."

"Finch, honey–"

"Don't!" Finch bites into the speaker, seething but not loud. Mad and disappointed. "You knew what you were doing. You knew and you did it anyway. You had a million chances. You knew he was in contact with Carole. You knew where his next station was. You–" Finch cut herself off and took a steadying breath. "You could've done something about it, but you didn't."

"And I would." Charlie's voice comes across softer now, filled with remorse and unshed tears — "If I could go back I would, but I can't." — but it's not enough.

"Look," Finch sighs, her shoulders sagging as the phone call suddenly becomes too much. "I've gotta go. I need time to think about all this."

"How much?"

"I don't know." How much time does one even allocate to mending broken trust? "A lot, maybe. But I'll try to call you. Let you know I'm okay." Finch is angry, but she knows that her mom worries, and for good reason. She's lost many a friend to the Navy over the years.

"Thank you."

"Sure."

"And Finch? Thanks for calling. I'll be here when you need me." Finch nods even though she knows her mom can't see it through the phone. "I love you, a bushel and a peck."

"Yeah, mom. You too."

After they hang up, Finch is left with a gaping hole in her heart, but she knows that healing from this will take much longer than Charlie will be comfortable with. She throws her phone onto the sofa cushion, her hands coming up to rub her face.

__________________________________________

Several days later, and after much reflection on her situation, Finch decides she wants to return to the mission early. There’s only so much that can be accomplished while wallowing in self-pity, and frankly, she’s tired of it. She can figure out what she wants and how to get there after the mission. So long as nobody dies. After running a few errands, she heads over to base, the late afternoon sun just beginning to set on the horizon.

The halls of the building are silent, save for a few voices echoing in the distance. Finch heads directly to Cyclone’s office, her knuckles rapping on the door a few times. She releases a deep breath, stepping back from the entryway. The door swings open, revealing a very tired Admiral Simpson. “Lieutenant Blackwood. How can I help?”

“I was wondering if I might speak with you about coming back to the mission early, sir,” Finch says hopefully. Cyclone nods shortly, stepping back to allow Finch room to come in. Entering his office isn’t as nerve-wracking as it had been the last time, although she had admittedly been in an entire different state of duress.

There’s a brief silence before Finch continues with her request. “I believe I’ve had ample time to think over my situation. I’d like to continue working on the mission if you will have me, sir.” 

Cyclone doesn’t have to think too long on whether or not he wants to take Finch back early — she is, after all, integral to the detachment — no matter her relation to Captain Mitchell. “Of course, Lieutenant,” Cyclone assures, bringing his hands behind his back. “You’re welcome to come back at any time. Seeing as it’s the end of the week, you will resume your duties on Monday morning.”

Nodding, Finch gives the Air Boss a placid smile. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your flexibility with my request, and-” A distant shout from down the hall is enough to cut Finch off. She gives Cyclone a look before stepping towards the office door. With the door open, the commotion only grows more clear. It isn’t a single voice but multiple, and it sounds like they’re grappling with each other. Following the noise brings her to the classroom where she and Maverick usually host the aviators in. The sight that greets her isn’t something she expects.

Bradley is breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed pink and anger splashed across his face. Maverick, who she’d have thought Bradley would be going off on, seems to have shoved himself between Bradley and Hangman, exasperation etched into the lines of his face and his arms spread wide to create space between the two pilots. The cocky smirk that Seresin wears fills in the rest of blanks. He’s said something he knows he shouldn’t have. When Hangman finally makes his way out the door, it’s with a nod at Finch as he walks past. The others slowly follow after Maverick dismisses them for the day.

Bradley takes a moment to try and calm himself before he turns to leave, and stops when Maverick says something to him, but he doesn’t stay for long. His heart beats out of his chest when he spots Finch in the hallway, his breath still rigid from the altercation. Finch yearns to wrap her arms around him, hold him and tell him that no matter what Hangman said, everything will all be okay, like he did for her. She stops short of doing just that, remembering where they are.

Clearly on edge, Bradley pauses next to her. “Meet me at my place?” she whispers to him. It’s more a suggestion than a question. A curt nod from him tells her all she needs to know for the moment. Bradley continues past her, his boots echoing as he gets further away. 

Cyclone watches the squadron make their exit, a deep furrow etched into his brow. How the hell are they going to fly this mission if they can’t get their shit together and act like a team?

Finch gives the admiral an awkward look before entering the classroom. Maverick sits on the edge of one of the chairs near the window, his head in his hands. Finch’s steps are purposefully heavy so she doesn’t startle him as she takes the seat to his right. Maverick looks over at her, throwing out a meek smile before turning to look out the window. Finch can’t help but wish that she understood the situation better. Maybe then, she’d be able to help.

“I don’t know if those two will ever get along.” There’s a hint of laughter in her tone, but Maverick doesn’t reciprocate. His eyes are focused at a point beyond the window and the tarmac beyond. Finch’s lips turn down. What had Hangman said that could affect both Bradley and Maverick? But she doesn’t ask and Maverick’s too swept up in thoughts about the past to try and explain it to her any time soon.

Accepting that Maverick isn’t in the right headspace for conversation, Finch pats his shoulder gently. There’s nothing she can do for him now, although she’s sure that will change in the future.

Standing from her seat, Finch walks out of the classroom. Cyclone has already returned to his office, and by the hushed quiet of the halls, she can only assume he’s having the time of his life trying to figure out what to do to turn their situation around and salvage the mission. 

When she returns to her apartment, Bradley is sitting on the steps in a similar position to how she found Maverick. He hadn’t even changed out of his flight suit before coming over. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about?” she asks, standing above him, arms folded across her chest.

Looking up at her, Bradley feels compelled to tell her something, but he doesn’t exactly want to tell her that his dad was killed in an accident that involved Maverick. It isn’t a secret. It isn’t even classified information. He’s never even blamed Maverick for the accident, but a heavy sigh pulses through Bradley’s chest at the thought of telling her. So instead, he tells her a half-truth: “Hangman just doesn’t know how to mind his fucking business.” It’s a statement, surely one Finch already knows all too well. 

But Finch can, apparently, see right through him. “The truth, Bradshaw. And not the abbreviated version, either.” It’s a demand, and he knows that she’s not going to take any shit from him.

She steps past him, keys jiggling as she unlocks the door. His boots scrape against the concrete when he stands, his sweat-slick palms wiping against the fabric of his flight suit. Once they’re inside, they find their spots next to each other on the couch. Finch slides over to be directly next to him, leaning some of her weight into his bicep. It’s meant to be a comfort to him, but the feeling flows both ways. “Bradley, you know I’m here for you.” Her hand moves from her side to slip their fingers together. “You’ve been here for me, and I want you to know that you don’t have to go through whatever this is alone.”

He nods, eyes fixed to where their fingers are twined and squeezing her hand in his. “Well, I guess I should give you some context,” There’s a nervous shake in his voice, but he can’t keep this from her. “You know how I told you that my dad and Mav were best friends?”

Finch is touched that Bradley feels comfortable enough to share more about his past with her, but she can’t help the chill that takes her at the same time. Because she knows he’d have come out with it if it were something easy.  Finch nods, looking at him expectantly. “My dad was Mav’s RIO. Iceman and Mav were the class’ biggest competition. During a training exercise, Mav and my dad accidentally got caught in Ice’s jet-wash,” Bradley’s voice is thick, his mouth coated in a thick saliva from the emotions rising to the top.

“Mav couldn’t correct the spinning, so they ejected. When they did–” He has to fight back a sudden sob. It still hurts him to this day to talk about his dad’s death. “My dad hit his head on the canopy. It snapped his neck. He was dead before he even hit the water.”

Finch lurches toward him, her arms wrapping tightly around his broad shoulders. Bradley holds her to him, burying his face into the crook of her shoulder. Slowly, the scene from the classroom starts to make more sense. Hangman must have dug up some old bones. Finch’s hand rubs gentle circles into Bradley’s shoulder blades as they stay in this position for a moment. 

“And Hangman decided to be a dick about it?” She hazards a guess. Bradley nods, face staying put in the crook of her neck, his hot breath making Finch’s skin warm. “I’m sorry you have to deal with him, Brad-Brad,” she murmurs, carding a hand soothingly through his curls. “But you’ll get through this. He can’t keep you down.” 

When Bradley pulls away and sees the genuine apology in her eyes, he can’t help but press a kiss to her forehead, then to the top of her head. His stomach twists at the smile that blooms across her face and finds himself smiling back, though somberly.

“How about I order pizza and we can watch whatever the hell is on TV?” Finch offers and chuckling, Bradley agrees. They spend the rest of the evening chatting about life, getting to know each other, and divulging some secrets they swear not to tell another soul. 

The following Monday, Finch is glad to be back at her regular post. Being back to work means that she has less time to think about all of the other things going on in her life, even if they include her coworkers, and now her biological father. 

The atmosphere of the office changes throughout the day. The aviators are all still working on their dogfighting skills, and it’s obvious that despite his best efforts, Maverick hasn’t been able to teach the Daggers how to fly the mission successfully. Cyclone grumbles as much during her meeting with him that morning, and it’s clear to Finch that Cyclone’s distaste for the dark-haired captain is ever-growing. 

During her late lunch break, Finch listens to the comms with Hondo and the rest of the strike team. Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote are all up with Maverick this time, and it seems to be going well so far. Tuning it out a bit, Finch turns her attention to Hondo. 

“So, where'd you disappear to last week?” Hondo inquires, shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth.

Finch shrugs, shuffling her cauliflower and chicken around in the bowl. “I had to take care of a few things that came up. I couldn’t wait to address them.”

Nodding, Hondo doesn’t ask any other questions about it. That’s something that Finch always respected about him, he always allowed her the space she needed, and she never felt pressured into telling him anything she didn’t want to. Her attention is caught momentarily by Rooster, who joins the two of them with his own lunch in hand. 

Suddenly, there’s a ruckus over the comms. At first, Finch can’t quite make out what’s being said, but feels a wave of relief come over her when Maverick tells them that it’s enough for the day and to return to base. Finch could only assume that they had failed to shoot him down again, or there had been some sort of emergency in the air. She hopes it was the former.

Then, before she’s able to return to her lunch, the words any aviator would dread come from Bob. “Bird strike!”

Finch’s heart drops to the bottom of her feet, wide eyes meeting Hondo’s. Bird strikes are never good. The three voices of Maverick, Phoenix, and Bob are fighting for airspace over the comm, and Finch’s blood begins to turn cold. Silence consumes the break room, the sounds of forks clicking against tupperware and plates missing. 

Hearing Maverick shout “Eject! Eject! Eject!” has Finch sitting at the edge of her seat. Everyone’s faces have gone pale, eyeing each other. Hondo moves from his seat and exits the break room, his lunch forgotten. When she can tear her eyes from the radio, Finch’s gaze flicks to Rooster only to find him gone. In the commotion, she must have missed him as he left.

Taking a shaky deep breath, Finch fumbles to place the lid back on her lunch container. The air in the room has become stale, thick with anticipation and anxiety. Moving from her seat, she quickly makes her way to the fridge, hastily opening it and placing her container wherever there’s an open spot. There’s no time to concern herself with labels.

Before she steps out into the hall, she hears Coyote’s voice come through over the radio to state that both parachutes had opened. A flood of temporary relief comes over Finch. That they had ejected, at the very least, was good to know. But she needs to find Rooster. Now. Knowing what she does now about what happened to his dad, Finch is sure that Rooster isn’t in the greatest of headspaces. 

Hearing a commotion, Finch rushes down a hallway and around a corner only to stop just short of slamming into Cyclone and Warlock. Momentarily taken aback by her sudden appearance, Cyclone motions for Finch to come with them. Heart sinking into her stomach, Finch obeys. She yearns to be there for Bradley, but at the same time she knows work has to be her priority right now, and that whatever the Admirals need her to take care of in regard to this incident is more pressing than making sure Bradley, a grown man, is okay. 

As they walk towards the hangar, Warlock talks through an action plan for the Daggers once they return to class the next day, but the details fall on deaf ears. Though Finch is walking in-step with the admirals, her mind is consumed by thoughts of Phoenix and Bob. They’re going to be okay, Coyote said that their parachutes deployed. They’re going to be okay, they’re going to be okay. 

Before she knows it, Finch is sitting in a small-to-mid-size conference room with personnel of all ranks and positions, discussing the best path forward now that they’re out for a day because of the bird strike. The faces almost blend in, and Finch knows she’s in for a long-haul.

Hours later, Finch stands in front of a mirror in the bathroom, having just splashed cold water over her warm skin. In the middle of the meeting they had confirmed that both Phoenix and Bob were alive, and had also taken Coyote in for examination because of his G-Loc incident. 

Despite knowing all of this, Finch’s hands shake. She can still hear the frantic chatter in the silent Ready Room, and doesn’t know how Bradley is handling all of it. Hasn’t seen him since his disappearing act and hasn’t heard from him either.

Stepping into the hallway, a light in the common room catches her attention. The Sun had set at least an hour ago, and with the personnel from the impromptu meeting filing their way out of the building, nobody should’ve been on base to need the light on.

She pauses when she finally sees who is in the room. Through the small window in the door, she can make out Bradley’s figure leaned against a desk, his back to the door. It’s been hours since the incident, but his flight suit is still tied around his waist, black t-shirt soft against his muscled back. Finch catches her bottom lip between her teeth before hesitantly knocking on the door and turning the knob.

Bradley inhales deeply when he turns and sees Finch slowly making her way over to him, and it’s as if some of the tension of the day evaporates as soon as Bradley pulls her into his arms. He buries his head into the stiff fabric of her khakis as Finch runs her fingers through his curled locks and massages gently. 

Words are not necessary between the two of them. They both understand that today could have turned out very differently, and that it very well could’ve been him up there instead of Phoenix and Bob or Coyote. Leaning down, Finch chances a tender kiss to the top of Bradley’s head to remind herself that he’s real. She knows that there’s nothing she can say to change how he’s feeling right now, so she holds him instead.

As Bradley goes to pull away, footsteps can be heard in the doorway. Bradley goes to say something, but snaps his mouth shut as the door swings open.  Finch turns her head to the door to find Maverick looking between the two of them. Bradley doesn’t dare look at Finch, instead opting to stare coldly at Maverick.

Maverick’s eyes flit between the two of them one more time before he clears his throat. “They’ll keep Phoenix and Bob overnight for observation. They’re gonna be okay.” The news does little to settle Bradley who appears more than a little suspicious of his presence. 

Finch, however, is appreciative that Maverick has chosen not to mention how close she and Rooster had been when he first entered the room. “That’s amazing,” she says as if she hadn’t received that same news in her earlier meeting and takes a calculated step away from Bradley. 

“That’s good,” Bradley chokes out, averting his gaze. “I’ve never lost a wingman.”

The air in the room has suddenly grown chilly, and Finch doesn't know whether she needs to be on edge or high alert.

Maverick eyes lock on Bradley as if he’s the only other person in the room “You’re lucky. Fly long enough, it’ll happen,” He sighs before continuing. “There will be others.”

Before Finch can make any argument as to what was wrong with that statement, Bradley turns back to Maverick. “That’s easy for you to say,” he spits. Venom dripping from each word as he says: “No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.”

Maverick sucks in a breath as Rooster’s words hit their mark. But his gaze immediately focuses on Finch. And, looking to Bradley, Finch wonders how deep that comment hits.

“Go home. Get some sleep.” It’s all Maverick says as he turns to leave. 

But Bradley’s anger bubbles over in an instant and suddenly he’s ready for a fight. Unwilling to let Maverick walk away. “Why’d you pull my papers at the academy?” He steps between Finch and Maverick. “Why did you stand in my way?”

Maverick’s expression changes to something stoic in the face of Bradley’s outburst. “You weren’t ready,” he says like it’s fact.

“Ready for what?” Bradley moves closer to Maverick, practically standing in his face. “Huh? Ready to fly like you?” 

The tension between the two grows and Finch worries that she should do something to get between Bradley and his superior officer, but she’s also not entirely sure she should interfere. “To forget the book,” Maverick responds, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Trust your instincts. Don’t think, just do. You think up there, you’re dead. Believe me.” 

Finch knows that it’s not the right thing to say to Bradley, and she feels inclined to step in. “That’s not always true,” Finch says because she knows that’s the wrong thing to say to Bradley, but both men ignore her, too wrapped up in their faceoff to acknowledge she’s said anything at all.

“My dad believed in you,” Bradley bites, out for blood and digging the proverbial knife deeper into Maverick’s chest. “I won’t make the same mistake.”

The oxygen leaves the room, Maverick’s face dropping and Finch’s heart beating wildly in her throat until she feels sick with it.

Then, the door swings open, and that should give them all a chance to breathe, but it doesn’t. 

“Maverick.” Warlock’s baritone has never felt more ominous than it does in that moment. Finch gasps for breath, but comes up dry.

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[kimtranssexler]

Ok I finished trigun stampede an few hours ago and um my review of the show overall: quite a few epic moments, the last episode was mostly epicness with not too many complaints, it was fun to watch. However overall the way the plot is told is needlessly packed…. we need some time to breathe! I feel like I just watched 8 season finales in a row. It just KEEPS pressing on.

Just….there’s no TIME for anything! I feel like I would not have gotten attached to the characters of Meryl and Wolfwood at ALL if I did not know them prior. I certainly did not have time to get attached to Roberto, and I feel like his screen time is basically the same as Meryl’s. Like, there’s just major event-after-major event and absolutely no time for us to get attached to characters, because almost every single one of their interactions happens when they’re under pressure, which simply doesn’t give us a well-rounded impression of them.

+ Plus points for Vash’s Stampede redesign; he looks the least like his manga counterpart but I actually think he retains his energy the most out of all the characters. It’s cute!

+ Plus points for Meryl, I liked Meryl and I can’t wait to see her in s2. She didn’t do much in this season but I think most of her scenes were really fun and actually showed a lot of character when compared to Wolfwood. Maybe that’s just me ?

- Minus points for Elendira being a child!!! And…I think not trans? Why are you nerfing one of like three women in this season AND the only LGBTQ character in the entire series!!!

* Neutral points for Brad being an adult, it was actually kinda cute bc in the manga Vash is the one who’s like “aww look how much you’ve grown ☺️”.

+ Plus points for the Vash backstory at his “Home” overall, I thought that was a real nice touch, I enjoy how they expanded on it and showed his life after the fall but before he became “the Stampede.”

- Minus points for Wolfwood bc who is that. That’s not Wolfwood that’s Dogbark. He’s just edgy and nothing else, like I’m sorry but he’s boring. In the manga he’s fun bc he’s dark but the fun from his banter doesn’t just come straight from edge, he’s a little silly and it plays off Vash. And his “edginess” is actually sensical nihilism and not Hot Topic teenage angst, as it is in Stampede.

- Also ik Nightow himself not have the greatest consistency when coloring his skin but Studio Orange you could have made him slightly visibly darker. Literally I’m pretty sure even ‘98 anime was better and his shading flip flopped a LOT in that one. Also give him his nose back! No excuses.

- Basically NO reason to introduce Livio this early on, especially since we see them for ONE episode. Like you’re just cluttering the show by introducing all the cool stuff all at once. He’s completely forgettable, simply because SO much shit happens in this show! STOP IT!!!! STOP! PLEASE! JUST GIVE US! A FUCKING! MINUTE! TO! CATCH! UP!!!!!!!!!

+ However shifting the timeline around for CERTAIN things was done well (eg Vash losing his arm at that one place instead of July). Like I’m actually pretty impressed w how they recontexualized certain things to rewrite the plot as a backstory while still maintaining cohesion.

+ I love Zazie the beast! I’m glad we see a lot of them! Plus points!

* Neutral points for making Knives the twin with more Plant powers? Like where he doesn’t eat? I have no opinions on it, just wondering why they chose to do that.

+ I like Knives bubble wrap cloak a lot! I also like the piano thing, it’s really cool.

Ummmmm ya that’s my critique. Epic stuff happens but like it’s just all epic stuff. And epic stuff with no substance is worse than no epicness at all. I would maybe say the problem is that it’s all fanservice. But idk which fan this is servicing lol. It’s like….almost like MCU? Maybe it’s Marvelization. Maybe that’s what I’m looking for. Too much cool stuff. Just show me the fucking cat or something. Give me 1 (one) funny moment. Idk.

Edit: wait one more thing. I’m sad that they didn’t make baby Knives the more outgoing/hopeful one. I really enjoyed that in the manga, bc I thought it added so much to his character.

[sesshy380]

Rain, Sun, and Rainbow

You didn't specify which WiP, so I hope you don't mind me defaulting to longfic.

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

I written quite a few, but out of all that have made it to final draft, I would have to go with the upcoming chapter 91.

Now, if you are including original drafts that didn't make it into the final cut, the original version of chapter 26. I couldn't even go back over it for edits without crying, then I got the call that my grandfather passed. I literally rewrote the whole chapter and deleted the original (on of the few original drafts I actually deleted instead of saving in case I wanted to use something from it for later).

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

I have a lot of favorite parts, but I still absolutely love the dream sequence at the beginning of chapter 5. It was one of those scenes that was just so clear to me and it flowed right out. I actually had it written before I finished the prior chapter (and that was back when I was posting hot-off-the-press).

🌈 Rainbow - What do you think makes your story unique / stand out?

The fact that it's like some of the OC fics from the early days where the AU and canon are so intricately woven together that it becomes it's own thing while still holding elements of the core source (at least that's how I've had it described in a few comments lol).

I mean, I think it's unique. I haven't really seen anything like it. I've seen several elements of it in various fics, but not combined like how I've done it.

Weather Ask game here

[rjalker]

Okay I haven't finished reading this one yet but it starts out really well so I'm gonna post it here.

You have my sincerest apoogies if it goes off the deep end into horrific levels of racism or misogyny further than I've read so far.

Originally posted in November 1930, in the science fiction magazine Astounding Stories of Super-Science.

You can read the November edition on Project Gutenberg here.

You can find all the editions of the magazine on Project Gutenberg here.

You can read the properly formatted version of this story here on the web archive. You'll be able to read it directly on the web archive, as well as download it as a PDF or ePub and other formats.

Written by Harold Vincent Schoepflin, and published under the penname Harl Vincent.

This story is public domain, meaning you can do anything you want with it. It belongs to no one and everyone. You could make it into a movie, or rewrite it into a full-length novel, or turn it into a musical or a play, you can literally do whatever you want.

===

Vagabonds of Space

A Complete Novelette

By Harl Vincent

From the depths of the Sargasso Sea of Space came the thought-warning, "Turn back!" But Carr and his Martian friend found it was too late!

===

CHAPTER I

The Nomad

Gathered around a long table in a luxuriously furnished director's room, a group of men listened in astonishment to the rapid and forceful speech of one of their number.

"I tell you I'm through, gentlemen," averred the speaker. "I'm fed up with the job, that's all. Since 2317 you've had me sitting at the helm of International Airways and I've worked my fool head off for you. Now—get someone else!"

"Made plenty of money yourself, didn't you, Carr?" asked one of the directors, a corpulent man with a self-satisfied countenance.

"Sure I did. That's not the point. I've done all the work. There's not another executive in the outfit whose job is more than a title, and you know it. I want a change and a rest. Going to take it, too. So, go ahead with your election of officers and leave me out."

"Your stock?" Courtney Davis, chairman of the board, sensed that Carr Parker meant what he said.

"I'll hold it. The rest of you can vote it as you choose: divide the proxies pro rata, based on your individual holdings. But I reserve the right to dump it all on the market at the first sign of shady dealings. That suit you?"

The recalcitrant young President of International Airways had risen from the table. The chairman attempted to restrain him.

"Come on now, Carr, let's reason this out. Perhaps if you just took a leave of absence—"

"Call it anything you want. I'm done right now."

Carr Parker stalked from the room, leaving eleven perspiring capitalists to argue over his action.

He rushed to the corridor and nervously pressed the call button of the elevators. A minute later he emerged upon the roof of the Airways building, one of the tallest of New York's mid-town sky-scrapers. The air here, fifteen hundred feet above the hot street, was cool and fresh. He walked across the great flat surface of the landing stage to inspect a tiny helicopter which had just settled to a landing. Angered as he was, he still could not resist the attraction these trim little craft had always held for him. The feeling was in his blood.

His interest, however, was short lived and he strolled to the observation aisle along the edge of the landing stage. He stared moodily into the heavens where thousands of aircraft of all descriptions sped hither and yon. A huge liner of the Martian route was dropping from the skies and drifting toward her cradle on Long Island. He looked out over the city to the north: fifty miles of it he knew stretched along the east shore of the Hudson. Greatest of the cities of the world, it housed a fifth of the population of the United States of North America; a third of the wealth.

Cities! The entire world lived in them! Civilization was too highly developed nowadays. Adventure was a thing of the past. Of course there were the other planets, Mars and Venus, but they were as bad. At least he had found them so on his every business trip. He wished he had lived a couple of centuries ago, when the first space-ships ventured forth from the earth. Those were days of excitement and daring enterprise. Then a man could find ways of getting away from things—next to nature—out into the forests; hunting; fishing. But the forests were gone, the streams enslaved by the power monopolies. There were only the cities—and barren plains. Everything in life was made by man, artificial.

Something drew his eyes upward and he spotted an unusual object in the heavens, a mere speck as yet but drawing swiftly in from the upper air lanes. But this ship, small though it appeared, stood out from amongst its fellows for some reason. Carr rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. Was it? Yes—it was—surrounded by a luminous haze. Notwithstanding the brilliance of the afternoon sun, this haze was clearly visible. A silver shimmering that was not like anything he had seen on Earth. The ship swung in toward the city and was losing altitude rapidly. Its silvery aura deserted it and the vessel was revealed as a sleek, tapered cylinder with no wings, rudders or helicopter screws. Like the giant liners of the Interplanetary Service it displayed no visible means of support or propulsion. This was no ordinary vessel.

Carr watched in extreme interest as it circled the city in a huge spiral, settling lower at each turn. It seemed that the pilot was searching for a definite landing stage. Then suddenly it swooped with a rush. Straight for the stage of the Airways building! The strange aura reappeared and the little vessel halted in mid-air, poised a moment, then dropped gracefully and lightly as a feather to the level surface not a hundred feet from where he stood. He hurried to the spot to examine the strange craft.

"Mado!" he exclaimed in surprise as a husky, bronzed Martian squeezed through the quickly opened manhole and clambered heavily to the platform. Mado of Canax—an old friend!

"Devils of Terra!" gasped the Martian, his knees giving way, "—your murderous gravity! Here, help me. I've forgotten the energizing switch."

Carr laughed as he fumbled with a mechanism that was strapped to the Martian's back. Mado, who tipped the scales at over two hundred pounds on his own planet, weighed nearly six hundred here. His legs simply couldn't carry the load!

"There you are, old man." Parker had located the switch and a musical purr came from the black box between the Martian's broad shoulders. "Now stand up and tell me what you're doing here. And what's the idea of the private ship? Come all the way from home in it?"

His friend struggled to his feet with an effort, for the field emanating from the black box required a few seconds to reach the intensity necessary to counteract two-thirds of the earth's gravity.

"Thanks Carr," he grinned. "Yes, I came all the way in that bus. Alone, too—and she's mine! What do you think of her?"

"A peach, from what I can see. But how come? Not using a private space-flier on your business trips, are you?"

"Not on your life! I've retired. Going to play around for a few years. That's why I bought the Nomad."

"Retired! Why Mado, I just did the same thing."

"Great stuff! They've worked you to death. What are you figuring on doing with yourself?"

Carr shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "Usual thing, I suppose. Travel aimlessly, and bore myself into old age. Nothing else to do. No kick out of life these days at all, Mado, even in chasing around from planet to planet. They're all the same."

The Martian looked keenly at his friend. "Oh, is that so?" he said. "No kick, eh? Well, let me tell you, Carr Parker, you come with me and we'll find something you'll get a kick out of. Ever seen the Sargasso Sea of the solar system? Ever been on one of the asteroids? Ever seen the other side of the Moon—Uranus—Neptune—Planet 9, the farthest out from the sun?"

"No-o." Carr's eyes brightened somewhat.

"Then you haven't seen anything or been anywhere. Trouble with you is you've been in the rut too long. Thinking there's nothing left in the universe but the commonplace. Right, too, if you stick to the regular routes of travel. But the Nomad's different. I'm just a rover when I'm at her controls, a vagabond in space—free as the ether that surrounds her air-tight hull. And, take it from me, there's something to see and do out there in space. Off the usual lanes, perhaps, but it's there."

"You've been out—how long?" Carr hesitated.

"Eighty Martian days. Seen plenty too." He waved his arm in a gesture that seemed to take in the entire universe.

"Why come here, with so much to be seen out there?"

"Came to visit you, old stick-in-the-mud," grinned Mado, "and to try and persuade you to join me. I find you footloose already. You're itching for adventure; excitement. Will you come?"

Carr listened spellbound. "Right now?" he asked.

"This very minute. Come on."

"My bag," objected Carr, "it must be packed. I'll need funds too."

"Bag! What for? Plenty of duds on the Nomad—for any old climate. And money—don't make me laugh! Vagabonds need money?" He backed toward the open manhole of the Nomad, still grinning.

Carr hesitated, resisting the impulse to take Mado at his word. He looked around. The landing stage had been deserted, but people now were approaching. People not to be tolerated at the moment. He saw Courtney Davis, grim and determined. There'd be more arguments, useless but aggravating. Well, why not go? He'd decided to break away. What better chance? Suddenly he dived for the manhole of Mado's vessel; wriggled his way to the padded interior of the air-lock. He heard the clang of the circular cover. Mado was clamping it to its gasketed seat.

"Let's go!" he shouted.

CHAPTER II

Into the Heavens

The directors of International Airways stared foolishly when they saw Carr Parker and the giant Martian enter the mysterious ship which was a trespasser on their landing stage. They gazed incredulously as the gleaming torpedo-shaped vessel arose majestically from its position. There was no evidence of motive power other than a sudden radiation from its hull plates of faintly crackling streamers of silvery light. They fell back in alarm as it pointed its nose skyward and accelerated with incredible rapidity, the silver energy bathing them in its blinding luminescence. They burst forth in excited recrimination when it vanished into the blue. Courtney Davis shook his fist after the departing vessel and swore mightily.

Carr Parker forgot them entirely when he clambered into the bucket seat beside Mado, who sat at the Nomad's controls. He was free at last: free to probe the mysteries of outer space, to roam the skies with this Martian he had admired since boyhood.

"Glad you came?" Mado asked his Terrestrial friend.

"You bet. But tell me about yourself. How you've been and how come you've rebelled, too? I haven't seen you for a long time, you know. Why, it's been years!"

"Oh, I'm all right. Guess I got fed up with things about the same way you did. Knew last time I saw you that you were feeling as I did. That's why I came after you."

"But this vessel, the Nomad. I didn't know such a thing was in existence. How does it operate? It seems quite different from the usual ether-liners."

“It's a mystery ship. Invented and built by Thrygis, a discredited scientist of my country. Spent a fortune on it and then went broke and killed himself. I bought it from the executors for a song. They thought it was a pile of junk. But the plans and notes of the inventor were there and I studied 'em well. The ship is a marvel, Carr. Utilizes gravitational attraction and reversal as a propelling force and can go like the Old Boy himself. I've hit two thousand miles a second with her."

"A second! Why, that's ten times as fast as the regular liners! Must use a whale of a lot of fuel. And where do you keep it? The fuel, I mean."

"Make it right on board. I'm telling you Carr, the Nomad has no equal. She's a corker."

"I'll say she is. But what do you mean—make the fuel?"

"Cosmic rays. Everywhere in space you know. Seems they are the result of violent concentrations of energy that cause the birth of atoms. Thrygis doped out a collector of these rays that takes 'em from their paths and concentrates 'em in a retort where there's a spongy metal catalyst that never deteriorates. Here there is a reaction to the original action out in space and new atoms are born, simple ones of hydrogen. But what could be sweeter for use in one of our regular atomic motors? The energy of disintegration is used to drive the generators of the artificial gravity field, and there you are. Sounds complicated, but really isn't. And nothing to get out of whack either."

“Beats the rocket motors and bulky fuel of the regular liners a mile, doesn't it? But since when are you a navigator, Mado?"

"Don't need to be a navigator with the Nomad. She's automatic, once the controls are set. Say we wish to visit Venus. The telescope is sighted on that body and the gravity forces adjusted so we'll be attracted in that direction and repelled in the opposite direction. Then we can go to bed and forget it. The movement of the body in its orbit makes no difference because the force follows wherever it goes. See? The speed increases until the opposing forces are equal, when deceleration commences and we gradually slow down until within ten thousand miles of the body, when the Nomad automatically stops. Doesn't move either, until we awaken to take the controls. How's that for simple?"

"Good enough. But suppose a wandering meteor or a tiny asteroid gets in the way? At our speed it wouldn't have to be as big as your fist to go through us like a shot."

"All taken care of, my dear Carr. I told you Thrygis was a wiz. Such a happenstance would disturb the delicate balance of the energy compensators and the course of the Nomad would instantly alter to dodge the foreign object. Once passed by, the course would again be resumed."

"Some ship, the Nomad!" Carr was delighted with the explanations. "I'm sold on her and on the trip. Where are we now and where bound?"

Mado glanced at the instrument board. "Nearly a million miles out and headed for that Sargasso Sea I told you about," he said. "It isn't visible in the telescope, but I've got it marked by the stars. Out between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, a quarter of a billion miles away. But we'll average better than a thousand miles a second. Be there in three days of your time."

"How can there be a sea out there in space?"

"Oh, that's just my name for it. Most peculiar thing, though. There's a vast, billowy sort of a cloud. Twists and weaves around as if alive. Looks like seaweed or something; and Carr, I swear there are things floating around in it. Wrecks. Something damn peculiar, anyway. I vow I saw a signal. People marooned there or something. Sorta scared me and I didn't stay around for long as there was an awful pull from the mass. Had to use full reversal of the gravity force to get away."

"Now why didn't you tell me that before? That's something to think about. Like the ancient days of ocean-going ships on Earth."

"Tell you? How could I tell you? You've been questioning me ever since I first saw you and I've been busy every minute answering you."

Carr laughed and slid from his seat to the floor. He felt curiously light and loose-jointed. A single step carried him to one of the stanchions of the control cabin and he clung to it for a moment to regain his equilibrium.

"What's wrong?" he demanded. "No internal gravity mechanism on the Nomad?"

"Sure is. But it's adjusted for Martian gravity. You'll get along, but it wouldn't be so easy for me with Earth gravity. I'd have to wear the portable G-ray all the time, and that's not so comfortable. All right with you?"

"Oh, certainly. I didn't understand."

Carr saw that his friend had unstrapped the black box from his shoulders. He didn't blame him. Glad he wasn't a Martian. It was mighty inconvenient for them on Venus or Terra. Their bodies, large and of double the specific gravity, were not easily handled where gravity was nearly three times their own. The Venusians and Terrestrials were more fortunate when on Mars, for they could become accustomed to the altered conditions. Only had to be careful they didn't overdo. He remembered vividly a quick move he had made on his first visit to Mars. Carried him twenty feet to slam against a granite pedestal. Bad cut that gave him, and the exertion in the rarefied atmosphere had him gasping painfully.

He walked to one of the ports and peered through its thick window. Mado was fussing with the controls. The velvety blackness of the heavens; the myriad diamond points of clear brilliance. Cold, too, it looked out there, and awesomely vast. The sun and Earth had been left behind and could not be seen. But Carr didn't care. The heavens were marvelous when viewed without the obstruction of an atmosphere. But he'd seen them often enough on his many business trips to Mars and Venus.

"Ready for bed?" Mado startled him with a tap on the shoulder.

"Why—if you say so. But you haven't shown me through the Nomad yet."

"All the time in the universe for that. Man, don't you realize you're free? Come, let's grab some sleep. Need it out here. The ship'll be here when we wake up. She's flying herself right now. Fast, too."

Carr looked at the velocity indicator. Seven hundred miles a second and still accelerating! He felt suddenly tired and when Mado opened the door of a sleeping cabin its spotless bunk looked very inviting. He turned in without protest.

CHAPTER III

A Message

The days passed quickly, whether measured by the Martian chronometer aboard the Nomad or by Carr's watch, which he was regulating to match the slightly longer day of the red planet. He was becoming proficient in the operation of all mechanisms of the ship and had developed a fondness for its every appointment.

Behind them the sun was losing much of its blinding magnificence as it receded into the ebon background of the firmament. The Earth was but one of the countless worlds visible through the stern ports, distinguishable by its slightly greenish tinge. They had reached the vicinity of the phenomenon of space Mado had previously discovered. Carr found himself seething with excitement as the Nomad was brought to a drifting speed.

Mado, who had disclaimed all knowledge of navigation, was busy in the turret with a sextant. He made rapid calculations based on its indications and hurried to the controls.

"Find it?" Carr asked.

"Yep. Be there in a half hour."

The nose of the vessel swung around and Mado adjusted the gravity energy carefully. Carr glued his eye to the telescope.

"See anything?" inquired Mado.

"About a million stars, that's all."

"Funny. Should be close by."

Then: "Yes! Yes! I see it!" Carr exulted. "A milky cloud. Transparent almost. To the right a little more!"

The mysterious cloud rushed to meet them and soon was visible to the naked eye through the forward port. Their speed increased alarmingly and Mado cut off the energy.

"What's that?" Mado stared white-faced at his friend.

"A voice! You hear it too?"

"Yes. Listen!"

Amazed, they gazed at each other. It was a voice; yet not a sound came to their ears. The voice was in their own consciousness. A mental message! Yet each heard and understood. There were no words, but clear mental images.

"Beware!" it seemed to warn. "Come not closer, travelers from afar. There is danger in the milky fleece before you!"

Mado pulled frantically at the energy reverse control. The force was now fully repelling. Still the billowing whiteness drew nearer. It boiled and bubbled with the ferocity of one of the hot lava cauldrons of Mercury. Changing shape rapidly, it threw out long streamers that writhed and twisted like the arms of an octopus. Reaching. Searching for victims!

"God!" whispered Carr. "What is it?"

"Take warning," continued the voice that was not a voice. "A great ship, a royal ship from a world unknown to you, now is caught in the grip of this mighty monster. We can not escape, and death draws quickly near. But we can warn others and ask that our fate be reported to our home body."

A sudden upheaval of the monstrous mass spewed forth an object that bounced a moment on the rippling surface and then was lost to view. A sphere, glinting golden against the white of its awful captor.

"The space-ship!" gasped Mado. "It's vanished again!"

They hurtled madly in the direction of this monster of the heavens, their reverse energy useless.

"We're lost, Mado." Carr was calm now. This was excitement with a vengeance. He'd wished for it and here it was. But he'd much rather have a chance to fight for his life. Fine ending to his dreams!

"Imps of the canals! The thing's alive!" Mado hurled himself at the controls as a huge blob of the horrible whiteness broke loose from the main body and wobbled uncertainly toward them. A long feeler reached forth and grasped the errant portion, returning it with a vicious jerk.

"Turn back! Turn back!" came the eery warning from the golden sphere. "All is over for us. Our hull is crushed. The air is pouring from our last compartment. Already we find breathing difficult. Turn back! The third satellite of the fifth planet is our home. Visit it, we beseech you, and report the manner of our going. This vile creature of space has power to draw you to its breast, to crush you as we are crushed."

The Nomad lurched and shuddered, drawn ever closer to the horrid mass of the thing. A gigantic jellyfish, that's what it was, a hundred miles across! Carr shivered in disgust as it throbbed anew, sending out those grasping streamers of its mysterious material. As the Nomad plunged to its doom with increasing speed, Mado tried to locate some spot in the universe where an extreme effect could be obtained from the full force of the attracting or repulsive energies. They darted this way and that but always found themselves closer to the milky billows that now were pulsating in seeming eagerness to engulf the new victim.

Once more came the telepathic warning, "Delay no longer. It is high time you turned back. You must escape to warn our people and yours. Even now the awful creature has us in its vitals, its tentacles reaching through our shattered walls, creeping and twining through the passages of our vessel. Crushing floors and walls, its demoniac energies heating our compartment beyond belief. We can hold out no longer. Go! Go quickly. Remember—the third satellite of the fifth planet—to the city of golden domes. Tell of our fate. Our people will understand. You—"

The voice was stilled. Mado groaned as if in pain and Carr saw in that instant that each knob and lever on the control panel glowed with an unearthly brush discharge. Not violet as of high frequency electricity, but red. Cherry red as of heated metal. The emanations of the cosmic monster were at work on the Nomad. A glance through the forward port showed they had but a few miles to go. They'd be in the clutches of the horror in minutes, seconds, at the rate they were traveling. Mado slumped in his seat, his proud head rolling grotesquely on his breast. He slid to the floor, helpless.

Carr went mad with fury. It couldn't be! This thing of doom was a creature of his imagination! But no—there it was, looming close in his vision. By God, he'd leave the mark of the Nomad on the vicious thing! He remembered the ray with which the vessel was armed. He was in the pilot's seat, fingering controls that blistered his hands and cramped his arms with an unnameable force. He'd fight the brute! Full energy—head on—that was the way to meet it. Why bother with the reversal? It was no use.

A blood-red veil obscured his vision. He felt for the release of the ray; pulled the gravity energy control to full power forward. In a daze, groping blindly for support, he waited for the shock of impact. The mass of that monstrosity must be terrific, else why had it such a power of attraction for other bodies? Or was it that the thing radiated energies unknown to science? Whatever it was, the thing would know the sting of the Nomad's ray. Whatever its nature, animate or inanimate, it was matter. The ray destroyed matter. Obliterated it utterly. Tore the atoms asunder, whirling their electrons from their orbits with terrific velocity. There'd be some effect, that was certain! No great use perhaps. But a crater would mark the last resting place of the Nomad; a huge crater. Perhaps the misty whiteness would close in over them later. But there'd be less of the creature's bulk to menace other travelers in space.

His head ached miserably; his body was shot through and through with cramping agonies. The very blood in his veins was liquid fire, searing his veins and arteries with pulsing awfulness. He staggered from the control cabin; threw himself on his bunk. The covers were electrified and clung to him like tissue to rubbed amber. The wall of the sleeping cabin vibrated with a screeching note. The floors trembled. Madness! That's all it was! He'd awaken in a moment. Find himself in his own bed at home. He'd dreamed of adventures before now. But never of such as this! It just couldn't happen! A nightmare—fantasy of an over-tired brain—it was.

There came a violent wrench that must have torn the hull plates from their bracings. The ship seemed to close in on him and crush him. A terrific concussion flattened him to the bunk. Then all was still. Carr Parker's thoughts broke short abruptly. He had slipped into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER IV

Europa

When Carr opened his eyes it was to the normal lighting of his own sleeping cabin. The Nomad was intact, though an odor of scorched varnish permeated the air. They were unharmed—as yet. He turned on his side and saw that Mado was moving about at the side of his couch. Good old Mado! With a basin of water in his hand and a cloth. He'd been bathing his face. Brought him to. He sat up just as Mado turned to apply the cloth anew.

"Good boy, Carr! All right?" smiled the Martian.

"Little dizzy. But I'm okay." Carr sprang to his feet where he wabbled uncertainly for a moment. "But the Nomad?" he asked. "Is she—are we safe?"

"Never safer. What in the name of Saturn did you do?"

Carr passed his hand across his eyes, trying to remember. "The D-ray," he said. "I turned it on and dived into the thing with full attraction. Then—I forget. Where is it—the thing, I mean?"

"Look!" Mado drew him to the stern compartment.

Far behind them there shone a misty wreath, a ring of drifting matter that writhed and twisted as if in mortal agony.

"Is that it?"

"What's left of it. You shot your way through it; through and out of its influence. D-ray must have devitalized the thing as it bored through. Killed its energies—for the time, at least."

Already, the thing was closing in. Soon there would be a solid mass as before. But the Nomad was saved.

"How about yourself?" asked Carr anxiously. "Last time I saw you you were flat on the floor."

"Nothing wrong with me now. A bit stiff and sore, that's all. When I came to I put all the controls in neutral and came looking for you. I was scared, but the thing's all over now, so let's go."

"Where?"

"Europa."

"Where's that?"

"Don't you remember? The third satellite of the fifth planet. That's Europa, third in distance from Jupiter, the fifth planet. It is about the size of Terra's satellite—your Moon. We'll find the city of the golden domes."

Carr's eyes renewed their sparkle. "Right!" he exclaimed. "I forgot the mental message. Poor devils! All over for them now. But we'll carry their message. How far is it?"

"Don't know yet till I determine our position and the position of Jupiter. But it's quite a way. Jupiter's 483 million miles from the Sun, you know."

"We're more than half way, then."

"Not necessarily. Perhaps we're on the opposite side of the sun from Jupiter's present position. Then we'd have a real trip."

"Let's figure it out." Carr was anxious to be off.

Luck was with them, as they found after some observations from the turret. Jupiter lay off their original course by not more than fifteen degrees. It was but four days' journey.

Again they were on their way and the two men, Martian and Terrestrial, made good use of the time in renewing their old friendship and in the study of astronomy as they had done during the first leg of their journey. Though of widely differing build and nature, the two found a close bond in their similar inclinations. The library of the Nomad was an excellent one. Thrygis had seen to that, all of the voice-vision reels being recorded in Cos, the interplanetary language, with its standardized units of weight and measurement.

The supplies on board the Nomad were ample. Synthetic foods there were for at least a hundred Martian days. The supply of oxygen and water was inexhaustible, these essential items being produced in automatic retorts where disassembled electrons from their cosmic-ray hydrogen were reassembled in the proper structure to produce atoms of any desired element. Their supply of synthetic food could be replenished in like manner when necessity arose. Thrygis had forgotten nothing.

"How do you suppose we'll make ourselves understood to the people of Europa?" asked Carr, when they had swung around the great orb of Jupiter and were headed toward the satellite.

"Shouldn't have any trouble, Carr. Believe me, to a people who have progressed to the point of sending mental messages over five hundred miles of space, it'll be a cinch, understanding our simple mental processes. Bet they'll read our every thought."

"That's right. But the language. Proper names and all that. Can't get those over with thought waves."

"No, but I'll bet they'll have some way of solving that too. You wait and see."

Carr lighted a cigar and inhaled deeply as he gazed from one of the ports. He'd never felt better in his life. Always had liked Martian tobacco, too. Wondered what they'd do when the supply ran out. One thing they couldn't produce synthetically. The disc of the satellite loomed near and it shone with a warmly inviting light. Almost red, like the color of Mars, it was. Sort of golden, rather. Anyway, he wondered what awaited them there. This was a great life, this roaming in space, unhampered by laws or conventions. The Nomad was well named.

"Wonder what they'll think of our yarn," he said.

"And me. I wonder, too, what that ungodly thing was back there. The thing that is now the grave of some of their people. And what the golden sphere was doing so far from home. It's a mystery."

They had gone over the same ground a hundred times and had not reached a satisfactory conclusion. But perhaps they'd learn more in the city of golden domes.

"Another thing," said Carr, "that's puzzled me. Why is it that Europa has not been discovered before this; that it's inhabited, I mean?"

"Rocket ships couldn't carry enough fuel. Besides, our astronomers've always told us that the outer planets were too cold; too far from the sun."

"That is something to think about. Maybe we'll not be able to stand the low temperature; thin atmosphere; low surface gravity."

"We've our insulated suits and the oxygen helmets for the first two objections. The G-rays'll hold us down in any gravity. But we'll see mighty soon. We're here."

They had entered the atmosphere as they talked and the Nomad was approaching the surface in a long glide with repulsion full on. It was daytime on the side they neared. Pale daylight, but revealing. The great ball that was Jupiter hung low on the horizon, its misty outline faintly visible against the deep green of the sky.

The surface over which they skimmed was patchworked with farm-lands and crisscrossed by gleaming ribbons. Roadways! It was like the voice-vision records of the ancient days on Mars and Terra before their peoples had taken to the air. Here was a body where a person could get out in the open; next to nature. They crossed a lake of calm green water fringed by golden sands. At its far side a village spread out beneath them and was gone; a village of broad pavements and circular dwellings with flat rooms, each with its square of ground. A golden, mountain range loomed in the background; vanished beneath them. More fields and roads. Everywhere there were yellows and reds and the silver sheen of the roads. No green save that of the darkening sky and the waters of the streams and ponds. It was a most inviting panorama.

Occasionally they passed a vessel of the air—strange flapping-winged craft that soared and darted like huge birds. Once one of them approached so closely they could see its occupants, seemingly a people similar to the Venusians, small of stature and slender.

"How in time are we to find this city of golden domes?" Carr ejaculated.

As if in answer to his question there came a startling command, another of the mental messages.

"Halt!" it conveyed to their mind. "Continue not into our country until we have communed with you."

Obediently Mado brought up the nose of the Nomad and slowed her down to a gradual stop. They hovered at an altitude of about four thousand feet, both straining their ears as if listening for actual speech.

"It is well," continued the message. "Your thoughts are good. You come from afar seeking the city of golden domes. Proceed now and a fleet of our vessels will meet you and guide you to our city."

"Now wouldn't that jar you?" whispered Carr. "Just try to get away with anything on this world."

Mado laughed as he started the generators of the propelling energy. "I'd hate to have a wife of Europa," he commented. "No sitting-up-with-sick-friend story could get by with her!"

CHAPTER V

The City of Golden Domes

With the Nomad cruising slowly over the surface of the peaceful satellite, Mado sampled the atmosphere through a tube which was provided for that purpose. The pressure was low, as they had expected; about twenty inches of mercury in the altitude at which they drifted. But the oxygen content was fairly high and the impurities negligible. A strange element was somewhat in evidence, though Mado's analysis showed this to be present in but minute quantity. They opened the ports and drew their first breath of the atmosphere of Europa.

"Good air, Carr." Mado was sniffing at one of the ports. "A bit rare for you, but I think you'll get along with it. Temperature of forty-five degrees. That's not so bad. The strangest thing is the gravity. This body isn't much more than two thousand miles in diameter, yet its gravity is about the same as on Venus—seven eighths of that of Terra. Must have a huge nickel-iron core."

"Yes. It'll be a cinch for me. But you, you big lummox—it's the G-ray for you as long as we're here."

"Uh-huh. You get all the breaks, don't you?"

Carr laughed. He was becoming anxious to land. "What sort of a reception do you suppose we'll get?" he said.

"Not bad, from the tone of that last message. And here they come, Carr. Look—a dozen of them. A royal reception, so far."

Suddenly they were in the midst of a flock of great birds; birds that flapped their golden wings to rise, then soared and circled like the gulls of the terrestrial oceans. And these mechanical birds were fast. Carr and Mado watched in fascination as they strung out in V formation and led the way in the direction of the setting sun. Six, seven hundred miles an hour the Nomad's indicator showed, as they swung in behind these ships of Europa.

They crossed a large body of water, a lake of fully five hundred miles in width. More country then, hardly populated now and with but few of the gleaming roadways. The sun had set, but there was scarcely any diminution of the light for the great ball that was Jupiter reflected a brilliance of far greater intensity than that of the full Moon on a clear Terrestrial night. A marvelous sight the gigantic body presented, with its alternate belts of gray-blue and red and dazzling white. And it hung so low and huge in the heavens that it seemed one had but to stretch forth a hand to touch its bright surface.

Another mountain range loomed close and was gone. On its far side there stretched the desolate wastes of a desert, a barren plain that extended in all directions to the horizon. Wind-swept, it was and menacing beneath them. Europa was not all as they had first seen it.

A glimmer of brightness appeared at the horizon. The fleet was reducing speed and soon they saw that their journey was nearly over. At the far edge of the desert the bright spot resolved itself into the outlines of a city, the city of golden domes. Cones they looked like, rather, with rounded tops and fluted walls. The mental message had conveyed the most fitting description possible without words or picture.

The landing was over so quickly that they had but confused impressions of their reception. A great square in the heart of the city, crowded with people. Swooping maneuvers of hundreds of the bird-like ships. An open space for their arrival. The platform where a committee awaited them. The king, or at least he seemed to be king. The sea of upturned faces, staring eyes.

Mado fidgeted and opened his mouth to voice a protest but Carr nudged him into silence. The king had risen from his seat in the circle on the platform and was about to address them. There was no repetition of the telepathic means of communication.

"Welcome, travelers from the inner planets," said the king. He spoke Cos perfectly! "Cardos, emperor of the body you call Europa, salutes you. Our scientists have recorded your thoughts with their psycho-ray apparatus and have learned that you have a message for us, a message we fear is not pleasant. Am I correct?"

Carr stared at the soft-voiced monarch of this remarkable land. It was incredible that he spoke in the universal language of the inner planets!

"Your Highness," he replied, "is correct. We have a message. But it amazes us that you are familiar with our language."

"That we shall explain later. Meanwhile—the message!"

"The message," Carr said, "is not pleasant. A golden sphere out in space. Helpless in the clutches of a nameless monster, a vast creature of jellylike substance but possessed of enormous destructive energy. A mental message to our vessel warning us away and bidding us to come here; to tell you of their fate. We escaped and here we are."

The face of Cardos paled. He reached for an egg-shaped crystal that reposed on the table; spoke rapidly into its shimmering depths. Hidden amplifiers carried his voice throughout the square in booming tones. It was a strange tongue he spoke, with many gutturals and sibilants. A groan came up from the assembled multitude.

Cardos tossed the crystal to the table with a resigned gesture, then tottered and swayed. Instant confusion reigned in the square and the emperor was assisted from the platform by two of his retainers. They never saw him again.

One of the counsellors, a middle-aged man with graying russet hair and large gray eyes set in a perfectly smooth countenance, stepped from the platform and grasped the two adventurers as the confusion in the square increased to an uproar.

"Come," he whispered, in excellent Cos; "I'll explain all to you in the quiet of my own apartments. I am Detis, a scientist, and my home is close by."

Gently he clung to them as the larger men forced their way between the milling groups of excited Europans. No one gave them much attention. All seemed to be overcome with grief. A terrible disaster, this loss of the golden sphere must be!

They were out of the square and in one of the broad streets. The fluted sides of the unpointed cones shone softly golden on all sides. Alike in every respect were these dwellings of the people of Europa, and strangely attractive in the light of the mother planet.

Not a word was spoken when they reached the abode of their guide. They entered an elaborate hall and were whisked upward in an automatic elevator. Detis ushered them into his apartment when they alighted. He smiled gravely at their looks of wonder as they cast eyes on the maze of apparatus before them. It was a laboratory rather than a living room in which they stood.

Detis led them to an adjoining room where he bid them be seated. They exchanged wondering glances as their host paced the floor vigorously before speaking further.

"Friends," he finally blurted, "I hope you'll excuse my emotion but the news you brought is a terrible blow to me as to all Europa. Carli, our prince, beloved son of Cardos, was commander of the ship you reported lost. We deeply mourn his loss."

Carr and Mado waited in respectful silence while their host made effort to control his feelings.

"Now," he said, after a moment, "I can talk. You have many questions to ask, I know. So have I. But first I must tell you that Carli's was an expedition to your own worlds. A grave danger hangs over them and he was sent to warn them. He has been lost. Our only space-ship capable of making the journey also is lost. Six Martian years were required to build it, so I fear the warning will never reach your people. Already the time draws near."

"A grave danger?" asked Mado. "What sort of a danger?"

"War! Utter destruction! Conquest by the most warlike and ambitious people in the solar system."

"Not the people of Europa?" asked Carr.

"Indeed not. There is another inhabited satellite of Jupiter, next farthest from the mother planet. Ganymede, you call it. It is from there that these conquerors are to set forth."

"Many of them?" inquired Mado.

"Two million or so. They're prepared to send an army of more than a tenth of that number on the first expedition."

"A mere handful!" Carr was contemptuous.

"True, but they are armed with the most terrible of weapons. Your people are utterly unprepared and, unless warned, will be driven from their cities and left in the deserts to perish of hunger and exposure. This is a real danger."

"Something in it, Carr, if what he says is true. We've no arms nor warriors. Haven't had for two centuries. You know it as well as I do."

"Bah! Overnight we could have a million armed and ready to fight them off."

Detis raised his hand. "You offend me," he said gravely. "I have told you this in good faith and you reward me with disbelief and boastful talk. Your enemies are more powerful than you think, and your own people utterly defenceless against them."

"I'm sorry," Carr apologized, "and I'll listen to all you have to say. Surely your prince has not given his life in vain." He was ashamed before this scientist of Europa.

A tinkling feminine voice from the next room called something in the Europan tongue.

Detis raised his head proudly and his frown softened at the sound of dainty footsteps. His voice was a caress as he replied.

A vision of feminine loveliness stood framed in the doorway and the visitors rose hastily from their seats. Carr gazed into eyes of the deepest blue he had ever seen. Small in stature though this girl of Europa was—not more than five feet tall—she had the form of a goddess and the face of an angel. He was flushing to the roots of his hair. Could feel it spread. What an ass he was anyway! Anyone'd think he'd never seen a woman in all his thirty-five years!

"My daughter, Ora, gentlemen," said Detis.

The girl's eyes had widened as she looked at the huge Martian with the funny black box on his back. They dropped demurely when turned to those of the handsome Terrestrial.

"Oh," she said, in Cos, "I didn't know you had callers."

CHAPTER VI

Vlor-urdin

The time passed quickly in Pala-dar, city of the golden domes. Detis spent many hours in the laboratory with his two visitors and the fair Ora was usually at his side. She was an efficient helper to her father and a gracious hostess to the guests.

The amazement of the visitors grew apace as the wonders of Europan science were revealed to them. They sat by the hour at the illuminated screen of the rulden, that remarkable astronomical instrument which brought the surfaces of distant celestial bodies within a few feet of their eyes, and the sounds of the streets and the jungles to their ears. It was no longer a mystery how the language of Cos had become so familiar to these people.

They learned of the origin of the races that inhabited Europa and Ganymede. Ages before, it was necessary for the peoples of the then thickly populated Jupiter to cast about for new homes due to the cooling of the surface of that planet. Life was becoming unbearable. In those days there were two dominant races on the mother body, a gentle and peaceful people of great scientific accomplishment and a race of savage brutes who, while very clever with their hands, were of lesser mental strength and of a quarrelsome and fighting disposition.

Toward the last the population of both main countries was reduced to but a few survivors, and the intelligent race had discovered a means of traversing space and was prepared to leave the planet for the more livable satellite—Europa. Learning of these plans, the others made a treaty of perpetual peace as a price for their passage to another satellite—Ganymede. The migration began and the two satellites were settled by the separate bands of pioneers and their new lives begun.

The perpetual treaty had not been broken since, but the energies of the warlike descendants of those first settlers of Ganymede were expended in casting about for new fields to conquer. Through the ages they cast increasingly covetous eyes on those inner planets, Mars, Terra and Venus. Not having the advantage of the Rulden, they knew of these bodies only what could be seen through their own crude optical instruments and what they had learned by word of mouth from certain renegade Europans they were able to bribe.

While their neighbors of the smaller satellite were engaged in peaceful pursuits, tilling the soil and making excellent homes for themselves, the dwellers on Ganymede were fashioning instruments of warfare and building a fleet of space-ships to carry them to their intended victims. It was a religion with them; they could think of nothing else. An unscrupulous scientist of Europa sold himself to them several generations previously and it was this scientist who had made the plans for their space-fliers and had contrived the deadly weapons with which they were armed. He likewise taught them the language of Cos and it now was spoken universally throughout Ganymede in anticipation of the glorious days of conquest.

"You honestly believe them able to do this?" asked Carr, still skeptical after two days of discussion.

"I know it as a certainty," Detis replied solemnly. "It is only during the past generation we have learned of the completeness and awfulness of their preparations. Your people can not combat their sound-ray. With it they can remain outside the vision of those on the surface and set the tall buildings of your cities in harmonic vibrations that will bring them down in ruins about the ears of the populace."

There'll be nothing left for them to take if they destroy all our cities: nowhere for them to live. I don't get it."

"Only a few will be destroyed completely, to terrify the rest of the inhabitants of your worlds. Others will be depopulated by means of vibrations that will kill off the citizens without harming the cities themselves—vibrations which are capable of blanketing a large area and raising the body temperature of all living things therein to a point where death will ensue in a very few minutes. Other vibrations will paralyze all electrical equipment on the planet and make it impossible for your ships of the air to set out to give battle, even were they properly armed."

"Looks bad, Carr," said Mado glumly.

"It does that. We've got to go back and carry the warning."

"I fear it is too late," said Detis. "Much time will be needed in which to develop a defense and surely it can not be done within the three isini before they set forth—about four of your days."

"They leave that soon?" Carr was taken aback.

"Yes, with their one hundred and twenty vessels; forty to each of your three planets; seventeen hundred men to a vessel."

Carr jumped to his feet. "By the heat devils of Mercury!" he roared, "well go to their lousy little satellite and find a way to prevent it!"

Ora gazed at his flushed face with unconcealed admiration.

"You're crazy!" exploded Mado. "What can we do with the Nomad?"

"Her D-ray can do plenty of damage."

"Yes, but they'd have us down before we could account for five of their vessels. It's no use, I tell you."

But Carr was stubborn. "We'll pay them a call anyway. I'll bet we can dope out some way of putting it over on them. Are you game?"

"Of course I'm game. I'll go anywhere you will. But it's a fool idea just the same."

"Maybe so. Maybe not. Anyway—let's go."

"Just a moment, gentlemen," Detis interposed. "How about me?"

Carr stared at him and saw that his eyes shone with excitement. "Why, I believe you'd like to go with us!" he exclaimed admiringly.

"I would, indeed."

"Come on then. We're off." He was impatient to be gone.

Detis busied himself with a small apparatus that folded into a compact case, explaining that it was one that might prove useful. Ora left the room but quickly returned. She too carried a small case, and she had donned a snug fitting leather garment that covered her from neck to knees.

"What's this?" demanded Carr. "Surely Miss Ora does not intend to come with us?"

"She never leaves my side," said Detis proudly.

"Nothing doing!" Carr stated emphatically. "There'll be plenty of danger on this trip. Well have no woman along—least of all your charming daughter."

Mado was leaving everything to his friend, but he grinned in anticipation when he saw the look of anger on the girl's face.

She stamped her little foot and faced Carr valiantly. "See here, Mr. Carr Parker!" she stormed. "I'm no weakling. I'm the daughter of my father and where he goes I go. You'll take me or I'll never speak to you again."

Carr flushed. He was accustomed to his own way in most things and entirely unused to the ways of the gentler sex. He could have shaken the little vixen! But now she was standing before him and there was something in those great blue eyes besides anger; something that set his heart pounding madly.

"All right!" he agreed desperately, "have your own way."

He turned on his heel and strode to the door. Giving in to this slip of a girl! What a fool he was! But it would be great at that to have her along in the Nomad.

They found the public square deserted, the gilded dwellings hung with somber colors in mourning for Carli. Ora and Detis were very quiet and preoccupied when they entered the Nomad. The five isini of lamentation for the young prince had not yet passed.

The two Europans were delighted with the appointments and mechanisms of the little vessel from Mars. They investigated every nook and cranny of its interior during the journey and were voluble in their praise of its inventor and builder. Neither had ever set foot in a space-flier and each was seized with a longing to explore space with these two strangers from the inner planets. They would make a couple of good vagabonds along with Mado and himself, Carr thought as they expressed their feelings. But there was more serious business at hand. They were nearing Ganymede.

"Where'll we land, Detis?" Mado called from the control cabin.

"Vlor-urdin. That is their chief city. I'll guide you to the location."

They took up their places at the ports and scanned the surface of the satellite as Mado dropped the ship into its atmosphere. A far different scene was presented than on Europa. The land was seamed and scarred, the colors of the foliage somber. Grays and browns predominated and the jungles seemed impenetrable. A river swung into view and its waters were black as the deepest night, its flow sluggish. A rank mist hung over the surface.

"The river of Charis!" exclaimed Detis. "Follow it, Mado. No, the other direction. There! It leads directly to Vlor-urdin."

By good chance they had entered the atmosphere at a point not far from their destination. In less than an hour by the Nomad's chronometer the towers of Vlor-urdin were sighted.

It was a larger city than Pala-dar and of vastly different appearance. A hollow square of squat buildings enclosed the vast workshops and storage space of the fleet of war vessels. Their huge spherical bulks rose from their cradles in tier after tier that stretched as far as the eye could reach when the Nomad had dropped to a level but slightly above the tips of the highest spires. The spires were everywhere, decorative towers at the corners of the squat buildings. Everything was black, the vessels of the fleet, the squat buildings and the spires of Vlor-urdin. Death was in the air. Rank vapor drifted in through the opened ports. There was silence in the city below them and silence in the Nomad.

Ora shuddered and drew closer to him. Carr was aware of her nearness and a lump rose in his throat. A horrible fear assailed him. Fear for the safety of the dainty Europan at his side. He found her hand; covered it protectingly with his own.

CHAPTER VII

Rapaju

Detis was setting up and adjusting the complicated mechanisms of his little black case. A dozen vacuum tubes lighted, and a murmur of throbbing energy came from a helix of shining metallic ribbon that topped the whole. Flexible cables led to a cap-like contrivance which Detis placed on his head. He frowned in concentration.

"The psycho-ray apparatus." Ora explained. "He's sending a message to the city."

Evidently the influence of the ray was directive. They had no inkling of the thoughts transmitted from the alert brain of the scientist but, from the look of satisfaction on his face, they could see that he was obtaining the desired contact.

"Rapaju," he exclaimed, switching off the power of his instrument, "commander of the fleet of the Llotta. I have advised him of our arrival. Told him that a Martian and a Terrestrial wish to treat with him concerning the proposed invasion of their planets. His answering thought first was of fiercest rage, then conciliatory in nature. He'll receive you and listen to your arguments, though he promises nothing. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes." Carr and Mado were agreed. At least it would give them a chance to look over the ground and to make plans, should any occur to them.

The Nomad circled over the heart of the city and soon Mado saw a suitable landing space. They settled gracefully in an open area close by the building indicated by Detis as that of the administration officials of the city.

A group of squat, sullen Llotta awaited them and, without speaking a word either of hatred or welcome, led them into the forbidding entrance of the building. Close-set, beady eyes; unbelievably flat features of chalky whiteness; chunky bowed legs, bare and hairy; long arms with huge dangling paws—these were the outstanding characteristics of the Llotta. Mado stared straight before him, refusing to display any great interest in the loathsome creatures, but Carr was frankly curious and as frankly disapproving.

Rapaju leered maliciously when the four voyagers stood before him. He looked the incarnation of all that was evil and vile, a monster among monsters. Sensing him to be the more aggressive of the two visitors from doomed planets, he addressed his remarks to Carr.

"You come to plead with Rapaju," he sneered, his Cos tinged with an outlandish accent, "to beg for the worthless lives of your compatriots; for the wealth of your cities?"

"We come to reason with you," replied Carr haughtily, "if you are capable of reasoning. What is this incredible thing you are planning?"

Mado gasped at the effrontery of his friend. But Carr was oblivious of the warning looks cast in his direction.

"Enough of that!" snapped Rapaju. "I'll do the talking—you the reasoning. I've a proposition to make to you, and if you know what's best, you'll agree. Otherwise you'll be first of the Terrestrials to die. Is that clear?"

"Clear enough, all right," growled Carr. "What do you mean—a proposition?"

"Ha! I thought you'd listen. My offer is the lives of you and your companion in exchange for your assistance in guiding my fleet to the capital cities of your countries. Not that our plans will be changed if you refuse, but that much time will be saved in this manner and quick victory made certain without undue sacrifice of valuable property."

"You—you—!" Carr stammered in anger. But there was no use in raising a rumpus—now. They'd only kill him. Something might be accomplished if he pretended to accede. "Go on with your story," he finished lamely.

"In addition to sparing your lives I'll place you both in high position after we seize your respective planets. Make you chief officers in the prison lands we intend to establish for your countrymen. What do you say?"

"Will you give us time to talk it over and think about it?"

"Until the hour of departure, if you wish."

Carr bowed, avoiding Mado's questioning eyes. He looked at Ora where she stood at the side of Detis. She flashed him a guarded smile. He knew that she understood.

Rapaju relaxed. He was confident he could bribe these puerile foreigners to help him in the great venture. And sadly he needed such help. The Llotta were not navigators. Their knowledge of the heavens was sadly incomplete. They had no maps of the surfaces of the planets to be visited. Their simultaneous blows would be far more effective and the campaign much shorter if they could choose the most vital centers for the initial attacks.

"Now," he said, "that we understand one another, let us talk further of the plans. Then you will be able to consider carefully before making your decision."

Rapaju could be diplomatic when he wished. Carr longed to sink his fingers in the hairy throat. But he smiled hypocritically and found an opportunity to wink meaningly at Mado. This was going to be good! And who knew?—perhaps they might find some way to outwit these mad savages. To think of them in control of the inner planets was revolting.

They retired to a small room with Rapaju and four of his lieutenants, Detis and Ora accompanying them. Ora sat close to Carr at the circular table in Rapaju's council. Carr thought grimly of the board meetings in far away New York.

Rapaju talked. He told of the armament of his vessels, painting vivid pictures of the destruction to be wrought in the cities of Terra, of Mars and Venus. His great hairy paws clutched at imaginary riches when he spoke glowingly of the plundering to follow. He spoke of the women of the inner planets and Carr half rose from his seat when he observed the lecherous glitter in his beady eyes. Ora! Great God, was she safe here? He stole a glance at the girl and a recurrence of the awful fear surged through him. In her leather garment, close fitting and severe, she looked like a boy. Perhaps they would not know. Besides, there was the perpetual treaty with Europa. It always had been observed, Detis said.

As Rapaju expanded upon the glories to come he told perforce of many of the details of the plans. One thing stood out in Carr's mind: the vessels of the Llotta were not equal to the Nomad in many respects. They must carry their entire supply of fuel from the starting point and this was calculated as but a small percentage in excess of that required to carry them to their destinations. Their speed was not as great as the Nomad's by at least a third. If the Nomad led the fleet from Ganymede they might be able to get them off their course; cause them to run out of fuel out in the vacuum and absolute zero of space. He kicked Mado under the table and arose to ask a few leading questions.

Ora was whispering to her father and he nodded his head as if in complete agreement with what she was saying. These two were not deceived by his apparent traitorous talk, but Mado was aghast. Carr wondered if Rapaju believed him as did his friend.

"We'll do it, Rapaju," he stated finally. "In our ship, the Nomad, we'll guide you across the trackless wastes of the heavens. We'll take you to our capital cities; point out to you the richest of the industrial centers. We have no love for our own worlds. Mado and I deserted them for a life of vagabondage amongst the stars. We ask no reward other than that we be permitted to leave once more on our travels, to roam space as we choose."

Mado attempted to voice an objection but Carr's hand was heavy on his shoulder. "Shut up, you fool!" he hissed in his ear. "Can't you trust me?"

Rapaju's eyes seemed to draw closer together as he returned Carr's unflinching stare. He walked around the table and stood at the side of the tall Terrestrial. Suddenly he grasped Ora's jacket, tore it open at the throat. He ran his hairy fingers over the bare shoulder of the shrinking girl and gurgled his delight at the velvet smoothness of her skin.

With a roar like a wild animal Carr was upon him, bearing him to the floor. His fingers were in that hairy throat, where they had itched to twine.

"Dirty, filthy beast!" he was snarling. "Lay your foul hands on Ora, will you? Say your prayers, if you know any, you swine!"

Then his muscles went limp and he was jerked to his feet by a terrible force, a force that sent him reeling and gasping against the wall. One of Rapaju's lieutenants stood before him with a tiny weapon in his hand, the weapon which had released the paralyzing gas he breathed. He was choking; suffocating. A black mist rose before him. He felt his knees give way. Dimly, as in a dream, he saw that Ora was in Detis' arms. Rapaju was on his feet, fingering his neck and laughing horribly.

"The treaty, Rapaju!" Detis was shouting.

Ora was sobbing. Mado was in the hands of two of the vile Llotta, struggling wildly to free himself. The Martian's eyes accused him. He shut his own and groaned. Opened them again. But it was no use. Everything in the room was whirling now, crazily. He fought to regain his senses, crawled weakly toward the squat figure of Rapaju where it swayed and twisted and spun around. Then all was darkness. The gas had taken its toll.

CHAPTER VIII

The Expedition

Carr awakened to a sense of wordless disgust. Fool that he was to spill the beans as he had! All set to put one over on the leader of the Llotta, then to come a cropper like this! He knew he had been spared for a purpose. The gas was not intended to kill, only to render him helpless for a time. He opened his eyes to the light of a familiar room. He had awakened before in this bed. It was his own cabin on board the Nomad. What had happened? Had he dreamed it all. Europa, Ora, Rapaju—all of it? He sat up and felt of his aching head.

"Oh, are you awake?" a soft voice greeted him.

"Ora!" he exclaimed. It was indeed she, beautiful as ever.

"Sh-h," she warned, placing the tip of a finger to his lips. "They'll hear us."

"Who?" he whispered.

"Rapaju—his two guards. They're in the control cabin with father and Mado."

"What? They've taken the Nomad?"

"Yes. We're under way. They've forced Mado to guide them but do not trust him. Rapaju spared you as he believes you more capable. He'll hold you to your word."

"Lord! But what are you doing here?"

Ora dropped her eyes. "He—Rapaju—" she said, "inferred from your action in assaulting him that you were very fond of me. He holds me as a hostage for your good behavior. Father volunteered to come along. He persuaded Rapaju to allow it. Swore allegiance to his cause. Of course he wouldn't leave me."

Carr gazed at her in admiration of her courage. She had been nursing him, too! What a girl she was!

"Ora," he said huskily, "Rapaju was right. I am fond of you. More than fond: I love you. I never knew I could feel this way."

"Oh Carr, you mustn't!" She drew back as he scrambled to his feet. "They'll find us. We must not show that we care. Rapaju is a beast. He wants me for himself and is delaying the time only until you have brought the fleet safely to the inner planets and to their great cities. He—"

"The skunk! Wants you himself, does he? Why, why didn't I kill him? But Ora, you said—you do care—"

"Ha! I thought so!" Rapaju stood in the doorway, grinning mockingly at the pair. "The impetuous Terrestrial is up and about. Back at his old game!"

"Please, please, for my sake, Carr!" Ora pressed him back as he tensed his muscles for a spring.

"Sorry I was so slow," Carr grated, over her shoulder. "Another five seconds, Rapaju, and I'd have had your windpipe out by the roots."

Rapaju scowled darkly and fingered his throat. "But, my dear Carr, you were too slow," he said, "and I live—and shall live—while you shall die. Meanwhile you'll carry out your agreement. Come, Ora."

The girl hesitated a moment, then with a pleading glance at Carr stepped from the room.

"All right now, Parker," snapped Rapaju. "Into your clothes and into the pilot's seat. You'll stay there, too, till the journey's over. Get busy!"

One of his guards had appeared in the doorway. Carr knew that resistance was useless. Besides, seated at those controls, he might think of something. Rapaju'd never get Ora if he could help it!

Mado's shoulders drooped and his face was haggard and drawn, but he summoned a smile when he saw Carr.

"Hello, Carr," he said. "You all right?"

"Sure. Rapaju says I've got to take the controls."

"Very well." Mado shrugged his broad shoulders and slipped from the pilot's seat. Two ugly Llotta guards were watching, ray-pistols in hand. "The chart is corrected, Carr, and—"

"Never mind the conversation!" Rapaju snarled. "There'll be no talk between you at all. Beat it to your cabin, Mado."

The Martian glowered and made as if to retort hotly.

"But Rapaju," Detis interposed, speaking from his position at one of the ports, "they'll have to consult regarding the course of the vessel. Mado is more familiar than Carr with the navigation of space."

"Shut up!" roared Rapaju. "I know what I am doing. And, what's more, you'll not converse with them, either! I'm running this expedition, and I'm not taking any chances."

Detis subsided and followed Mado through the passage to the sleeping cabins.

The ensuing silence was ominous. Carr could feel the eyes of the Llotta upon him as he examined the adjustments of the controls and peeped through the telescope. A glance at the velocity indicator showed him they were traveling at a rate of eight hundred miles a second. He studied the chart and soon made out their position. Jupiter was a hundred million miles behind them and they were heading almost due sunward. The automatic control mechanism was not functioning. Evidently Mado had kept this a secret—and for a purpose. He wished he could talk with his friend. They'd plan something.

"Like your job?" Rapaju was gloating over this Terrestrial who had dared to lay hands upon him.

"Yes, but not the company." Carr was disdainful.

"You'll like it less before I've finished with you. And get this straight. You think we're dependent on you to guide us to the inner planets, and that we'll not harm any of you until they are reached. Don't fool yourself! I've watched Mado and I've spent much time in the excellent library of the Nomad. I've learned plenty about the navigation of space and can reach those planets as quickly and directly as you. But it pleases me to see you work, so work you shall. I'll check you carefully, and don't think you can deceive me. Don't try to depart from the true course. The sun is my check as it is yours, and I'll keep constant tab on our position. Get it?"

"A rather long speech, Rapaju." Carr grinned into the evil face of the commander.

"Still defiant, eh? Suits me, Carr Parker. We'll have some nice talks here, and then—when it pleases me—you'll suffer. You shall live to see your home city crash in utter ruin; your people slain, starved, beaten. And, above all, there's Ora—"

"Don't defile her name in your ugly mouth, you—!"

Carr bit his tongue to keep back the torrent of invectives that sprang to his lips. This would never do! He'd get himself bumped off before they were well started. And while there was life there was hope. He'd stick to his guns and think; think and plan. If only he could have a few words with Mado. They must get out of this mess. There must be a way! There must!

Rapaju was laughing in triumph. Thought he had cowed him, did he? Boastful savage! If he could navigate the Nomad himself, why didn't he? Liar! He and Mado were godsends to him, and he knew it! His speech at the council table had been the real truth.

Foreign thoughts entered his mind. Detis, good old Detis, was using his thought apparatus in his own cabin! He paid no attention to the words of Rapaju when he left the control room. Detis was on the job! Between them they'd outwit this devil of Ganymede.

"Keep your courage," came the message. "I've read the thoughts of Mado and he bids you examine the chart carefully. He's made some notations in the ancient language of Mars. The automatic control of the Nomad can be used when necessary. He has not advised Rapaju of its existence."

Carr was encouraged and he concentrated on a suitable reply. But, though he did not consciously will it, his thoughts were of Ora.

Instantly there came the reassurance of her father. "Ora is not in immediate danger. Rapaju is saving her for his revenge on you. And I'm watching her constantly. A ray-pistol is concealed in my clothing, its charge ready for the foul creature in case he should lay hands on her. But you must plan an escape, and salvation for your worlds. Examine the chart at once."

He looked from the corner of his eye and saw that one of the Llotta guards was watching intently. He peered into the eye-piece of the telescope; made an inconsequential change in one of the adjustments. The guard stirred but did not arise. He looked at the chart with new interest, scanned its markings carefully. What had Mado marked for his attention? There were hundreds of notations, some in Cos and a few in the ancient Martian, all in Mado's painstaking chirography.

Ah, there it was! A tiny spot almost on their course, with Mado's minute notation. Sargasso Sea! What did it mean? Did Mado intend to lead the fleet into the embrace of that dreadful monster they had so fortunately escaped? An excellent idea to save the inner planets. But suicide for them! He'd do it though, if it weren't for Ora. She was so sweet and innocent. She must not die; must not suffer. Another way must be found. He groaned aloud as he realized that her predicament was the result of his own bullheadedness. If only he hadn't insisted on the trip to Ganymede. But then there was the problem of preserving the civilization of the inner planets. It had to be met.

There was a commotion behind him; a feminine shriek from the after cabins; loud shoutings from the beast called Rapaju. Carr's heart skipped a beat. He was paralyzed with fear. But only for an instant. With a bellow of rage he whirled around and started for the door, charging the two guards with head down and arms flailing.

CHAPTER IX

Nemesis

The Llotta did not use their ray-pistols. They were too busy attempting to elude the mad rushes of the powerful Terrestrial. Besides, there were good reasons they should not kill him—yet. Carr drove one of them halfway down the passageway with a well-planted punch. The other was on his back, hairy legs twined around his waist, an arm under his chin, drawing his head back with a steady and terrible pressure. He whirled around, trying to shake off his beastly antagonist.

But these powerful legs and arms held fast. He tore at the hairy ankles where they crossed in the pit of his stomach; wrenched them free. Still the creature clung to him, twisting his head until it seemed his neck must break. He found a waving foot with his right hand; wrenched it mightily. There was a sharp snap and the foot dangled limp in his fingers. He had broken the ankle. With a howl of pain his assailant let go and dropped to the floor to crawl away like a whipped cur.

In a flash Carr saw that the brute was reaching for his ray-pistol where it had dropped during the encounter. He kicked it from the reach of that hairy paw and sprang after it. With one of those little weapons in his hands the odds would change! His fingers closed on its grip just as Ora rushed into the room, closely followed by Rapaju, whose distorted features were terrible to behold. The cabin was full of them now; the guard he had first knocked down; the lust-crazed commander—the one with the broken ankle. All but Detis and Mado. Carr faced them alone.

So close was Rapaju to the girl that he dared not use the pistol, and now the uninjured guard was circling him, trying to get in a position where he could use his ray-pistol without endangering his commander. Carr fumbled for the release of the weapon he held in his hand; found it. The guard threw himself to the floor when he saw it raised; shouted a warning. But it was too late. The deadly ray had sped on its mission of death; struck him full in the middle. The twisted body lay still a moment and then collapsed like a punctured balloon, leaving his scant clothing in a limp heap—empty. A worthy miniature of the D-ray, this little weapon!

He turned to face Rapaju and saw that he was shielding himself with Ora's body. She had fainted and now hung drooping in the arms of the beast. Where was Mado? Detis? Good God—he'd killed them! Carr thought of that little spot on the chart. Must be very close now. They'd pass so near there'd be no escape. But he could not reach the controls without taking his eyes from Rapaju. That would have to wait.

Rapaju was backing toward the door, still holding the limp figure of the girl before him. The injured guard lay moaning on the floor.

"Drop her, you devil!" Carr shouted desperately as he saw that Rapaju soon would reach the passageway.

Then suddenly he reached for the controls and pushed the energy lever to full speed forward. He braced himself for the shock of acceleration and saw Rapaju and Ora thrown backward into the passageway, the girl's body cushioned by that of her captor as they were flung violently to the floor. Madly he rushed to the narrow entrance and tore at the hairy arms that encircled the slender waist of the girl. He jerked the snarling commander of the Llotta expedition to his feet and slammed him against the metal wall.

"Now, you damn pig," he grunted, "I'll finish the job. Dirty scum of a rotten world!"

He dragged his victim into the control cabin and threw him to the floor. But Rapaju was like an eel. He wriggled from under him and snatched from the heap of clothing the ray-pistol of the disintegrated guard. With a yelp of triumph he rose to his knees and leveled the weapon.

A well placed kick sent it spinning and Carr was upon him. He snapped back the head with a terrible punch; then lifted the dazed creature to his feet and stepped back.

"Stand up and take it like a man!" he roared.

Rapaju shook his head to clear it and rushed in with a bellow of rage. Just what Carr wanted! Starting almost from the floor, his right came up to meet the vicious jaw with a crack that told of the terrific power behind it. Lifted from his feet and hurled half way across the room by the impact, Rapaju lay motionless where he fell.

Carr was at the telescope. Their speed was close to fifteen hundred miles a second. The monstrous mass of Mado's Sargasso Sea loomed close in his vision. Off their course by a hundred miles or more. They'd miss it all right. He had the situation in hand now on board the Nomad. But how about the fleet behind them? He thought fast and furiously. Another two minutes and they'd pass the thing; the inexplicable horror which had accounted for the golden sphere of the Europans. Could he use it? Suppose the fleet of the enemy—

The idea was full of possibilities.

He rushed to the stern compartment, and scanned the heavens for the massed body of spheres he knew would be the fleet of the Llotta. At this speed they must have fallen far behind. Yes, there they were. Not so far behind at that. The battle in the control room must have been a shorter one than it had seemed. He returned quickly to the controls and reversed the energy, to give the fleet a chance to catch up to him.

Closer came that mass of whitish jelly. And now it was much larger than before. The terrible creature, for living matter it was, beyond doubt, was growing with the rapidity of a rising flood. Great tentacles of its horrid translucent substance reached in all directions for possible victims. He sickened at the sight. But what a fate for the fleet of the Llotta! If only he could maneuver them into its influence.

He changed his course slightly and headed directly for the monster, again increasing speed. Perhaps—if he calculated the forces correctly—he could dive through it again with the D-ray to clear a path. But no. It was a miracle they had escaped before, and now the vicious thing was more than double its previous size. Once more he altered his course. He'd cross in front of the thing; skim it as close as he dared and shoot from its influence on the far side. The greater mass of the enemy vessels and their lack of a quick-acting repulsive force would prove their undoing.

Full speed ahead. A rapid mental calculation—an educated guess, rather—and he set the automatic control. Turning around to start for the stern compartment, he saw that Ora had recovered from her swoon and now stood swaying weakly in the passageway.

"Ora!" he exclaimed delightedly. He rushed to her side and supported her in a tender embrace.

"Rapaju?" she questioned with horror in her eyes.

"Won't bother you for a while, dear. But your father—Mado?"

"He gassed them. They'll recover." The brave girl had regained her composure.

"Good! But, come! Time's short." He half carried her to the rear, berating himself the while for his inability to pay her closer attention. With arms still around her he placed her at one of the stern ports.

"What is it, Carr?" She sensed his excitement.

"The fleet—see! We'll destroy them."

The spherical vessels were close behind, huddled together in mass formation and following the Nomad blindly.

"How, Carr?"

"Lead them into it. Wait tall you see! There's a—"

The Nomad lurched, and changed direction. Cold fear clutched at his throat. That devil of a guard! Why hadn't he killed him? He dashed through the passage, Ora at his heels.

Sure enough, the crippled guard had dragged himself to the controls; was manipulating the energy director as he had seen Mado do. They were heading directly for the terrible monster of the heavens!

No need now to peer through the telescope. The thing was visible to the naked eye. No power could save them! Carr hurled himself at the guard and tore at the hairy paw which gripped the lever. The throbbing of strange energies filled the air of the room, and Carr's brain pulsed with the maddening rhythm. The red discharge appeared at the projections of the control panels. He forgot the fleet of the Llotta, forgot the menace to his own world. Only Ora mattered now, and he had not the power to save her!

As in a daze he knew he was wrenching mightily at the body of the powerful minion of Rapaju. His fingers encountered heated metal—one of the ray-pistols. He felt the intense vibration of the weapon as its charge was released. But he still lived. The beast who held it had missed! Dimly he was conscious of the screams of Ora; of the yielding of the creature who fought him. An animal cry registered on his consciousness and he shook the suddenly limp Llotta from him. He knew somehow that his last enemy was gone.

A quick glance showed him that Ora was still on her feet, braced against the wall. The red veil was before his eyes. He grasped the controls, and fought desperately to keep his strength and senses. A streamer of horrid whiteness swung across his vision; slithered clammily over the glass of one of the forward ports. They were into the thing! It was the end! He groaned aloud as he fumbled with the mechanisms and strove to formulate a plan of escape.

The fleet, he knew, was just behind. An enormous mass. The repulsive energy astern would be terrific. He turned it full on. The whiteness obscured his vision. Then it was gone once more. A single streamer waved before him and encompassed them. The movement of these members must be inconceivably rapid, else they'd be invisible at the speed the Nomad was traveling. Full speed ahead. The repulsion full on in the direction of the center of the mass as well as astern. The framework of the Nomad creaked protestingly from the terrific forces that tore at her vitals.

Then suddenly they were released. The Nomad was shooting off into space. The resultant of those combined forces had done the trick. Only the edge of that devil-fish of space, had they touched. Free—they were free of the monster! The red veil lifted. He rushed to Ora's side. She was kneeling at one of the floor ports, breathing heavily but unharmed.

Below them they saw the swiftly receding mass: the fleet of the Llotta diving headlong, drawn inexorably into the rapacious embrace of the vile creature of the heavens. An instant the awful whiteness of the thing closed in greedily about the many spheres of the fleet; swallowed them from sight and contorted madly and with seeming glee over the triumph. Then, in a burst of blinding incandescence, it was gone. The monster, the fleet—everything—blasted into nothingness. The fuel storage compartments of the vessels of Ganymede had exploded! The heavens were rid of the inexplicable growing menace; the inner planets were saved from a terrible invasion. And the Nomad was safe. Ora, Detis, Mado—all were safe!

At his side Ora was trembling. Gently he raised her to her feet, and took her into his arms.

CHAPTER X

Vagabonds All

Together they cared for Detis and Mado; made them comfortable in their bunks until the time when the effects of the gas would wear off. Lucky it was that Rapaju had used the gas pistol rather than the ray. Perhaps it had been a mistake. Or perhaps he had needed the scientific knowledge of Detis, the familiarity with the inner planets that was Mado's. At any rate, they had no delusions regarding his designs on Ora or his hatred of Carr. By his own passions had the commander of the fleet been led to the error that cost him his life and made possible the destruction of his fleet.

Carr was torn by conflicting emotions. The delectable little Europan was most disturbing. He'd never had much use for the other sex—on Earth. Too dominating, most of them. And always thrown at his head by designing parents for his money. But Ora was different! Her very nearness set his pulses racing. And he knew that she cared for him as he did for her. Those moments in the control cabin after the explosion! But something had come over him since he cut loose from the old life. Wanderlust—that was it. He'd never go back. Neither would he be content to settle down to a domestic life in Pala-dar. Wanted to be up and going somewhere.

"Oh, Carr, Carr!" Ora's voice called to him. "Mado is awake. He wants you."

Good old Mado! Why couldn't they just continue on their way as they had started out? Roaming the universe in search of other adventures! But the silvery tinkle of Ora's laughter reached his ears. She was irresistible! He forgot his doubts as he hurried to his friend's cabin.

Mado was staring at the Europan maiden with a ludicrous expression of astonishment—gawping, Carr called it. And Ora was laughing at him.

"Your friend," she gurgled, "doesn't believe he's alive, or that I am, or you. Tell him we are."

Carr grinned. Mado did look funny at that. "Hello, old sock," he said, "had a bad dream?"

"Did I? Oh boy!" Mado rocked to and fro, his head in his hands. Then he displayed sudden intense interest. "Rapaju?" he asked. "His guards—the fleet—what's happened?"

"Ah ha! Now you know you're alive!" Carr laughed. "But the others are dead and gone. The fleet's gone to smash—and how!"

"But Carr. How did you do it? Tell me!"

Mado threw off his covers and clapped his friend on the back, a resounding thump that brought a gasp from Ora.

"Your Sargasso Sea did it. And it's a thing of the past, too. Wait till I tell you about it!"

Ora tripped from the room as Carr sat on the edge of the bunk to spin his yarn.

"But man alive!" Mado exclaimed when the story was finished. "Don't you know you've done a miraculous thing? I'd never have had the nerve. That damn creature out there had more than four times its former attracting energy. That's what made it impossible for the fleet to get away. And you—you lucky devil—you just doped it out right. The fleet of the Llotta gave you a tremendous push from astern when you used the repulsive energy. If they hadn't been there with their enormous mass to react against we'd all have been mincemeat now along with the Llotta. You Terrestrials sure can think fast! Me, now—Lord, if it had been me, I'd have thought of it after my spirit had departed to its reward—or punishment. Glory be! It's the greatest thing I ever heard of."

"Rats! You'd have done the same as I did. Probably would have missed it a mile instead of nearly getting caught as I did. A good thing the fleet's gone, though. Mars and Terra—Venus, too—they'll never know how close it was for them. Wouldn't have sense enough to appreciate it, anyway."

"They would if they ever got a taste of what the Llotta planned. But what's wrong with you Carr? You act sore. Want to go home?"

"Me? Don't be like that. No—I'd like to carry on as we planned. There's Saturn, Uranus and Neptune yet; Planet 9; a flock of satellites and asteroids. Oh, dammit!"

Mado looked his amazement. "Well, what's to prevent it?" he demanded. "The Nomad's still here, and so are we. I'm just as anxious to keep going as you are. Why not?"

But Carr did not reply. Why not, indeed? He strode from the cabin and into the control room. The Nomad was drifting in space, subject only to natural forces that swung it in a vast orbit around the sun. He started the generators and drove the vessel from her temporary orbit with rapid acceleration. Out—out into the jeweled blackness of the heavens. There was Jupiter out there, a bright orb that came suddenly very near when he centered it on the cross-hairs of the telescope.

The excited voices of Ora and Detis came to his ears. The booming speech of Mado. Why couldn't he be sensible and companionable as they were? But a perverse demon kept him at the controls. They'd think him a grouch. Well, maybe he was! But the vastness of the universe beckoned. New worlds to explore; mysteries to be solved; a life of countless new experiences! Anyone'd think he was the owner of the Nomad, the way he planned for the future.

They were in the control cabin now—Mado and Detis and Ora. A moment he hesitated, eyes glued to the telescope. Then, with a petulant gesture, he reached for the automatic control; locked it. Shouldn't be this way. They'd think him an awful cad. And they'd be right! He whirled to face them.

Detis was smiling. Mado gazed owlishly solemn. Ora clung to the arm of her father, and her long lashes hid the blue eyes that had played such havoc with the emotions of the Terrestrial.

"Carr," said Detis, gently, "we must thank you. You saved our lives, you know."

"Aw, forget it. Saved my own, too, didn't I? By a lucky break."

"It wasn't luck, Carr." Detis was gripping his hand now. "It was sheer grit and brains. You had them both. If you hadn't used them we'd all be corpses—or disintegrated—excepting Ora, perhaps. And you know the fate that awaited her. Instead, we are alive and well. The fleet is gone. Rapaju's body and that of his guard drift nameless in space where you disposed of them through the air-lock of the Nomad. The inner planets need fear no future invasion, for the resources of Ganymede have been expended in the one huge enterprise that has failed. All through your quick wit and bravery. No, it wasn't luck."

"Nonsense, Detis." Carr returned the pressure of the scientist's hand, smiling sheepishly. He pushed him away after a moment. He didn't want their gratitude or praise. Didn't know what he wanted. Ora still avoided meeting his gaze. "Nonsense," he repeated. "And now, please leave me. You, Detis. Mado, too. I'd like to be alone for a while—with Ora. Mind?"

Mado's owlish look broadened to a knowing grin as he backed into the passageway. Detis collided with the huge Martian in his eagerness to be out of the room. They were alone and Carr was on his feet. Nothing mattered now—excepting Ora. Suddenly she was in his arms, the fragrance of her hair in his nostrils.

Star gazing, the two of them. It was ridiculous! But the wonders of the universe held a new beauty now for Carr. The distant suns had taken on added brilliance. Still they beckoned.

"Carr," the girl whispered, after a time, "where are we going?"

"To Europa. Your home."

"To—to stay?"

"No." Carr was suddenly confident; determined. "We'll stop there to break the news. Then we'll be wedded, you and I, according to the custom of your people. Our honeymoon—years of it—will be spent in the Nomad, roving the universe. Mado'll agree, I know. Wanderers of the heavens we'll be, Ora. But we'll have each other; and when we've—you've—had enough of it, I'll be ready to settle down. Anywhere you say. Are you game?"

"Oh, Carr! How did you guess? It's just as we'd planned. Father and Mado and I. Didn't think I'd go, did you, you stupid old dear?"

"Why—why Ora." Carr was stammering now. He'd thought he was being masterful—making the plans himself. But she'd beat him to it, the adorable little minx! "I was a bit afraid," he admitted; "and I still can't believe that it's actually true. You're sure you want to?"

"Positive. Why Carr, I've always been a vagabond at heart. And now that I've found you we'll just be vagabonds together. Father and Mado will leave us very much to each other. Their scientific leanings, you know. And—oh—it'll just be wonderful!"

"It's you that'll make it wonderful, sweetheart."

Carr drew her close. The stars shone still more brightly and beckoned anew. Vagabonds, all of them! Like the gypsies of old, but with vastly more territory to roam. The humdrum routine of his old life seemed very far behind. He wondered what Courtney Davis would say if he could see him now. Wordless happiness had come to him, and he let his thoughts wander out into the limitless expanse of the heavens. Star gazing still—just he and Ora.

[isolavirtuosa]

Starting Over (For Real?) 49-50 (complete)

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Read the previous parts here.  This is it, thanks for reading!

- 49 -

  “Okay, well that’s a God Tree,” Sai observed, looking up at the huge tree looming over us that had grown up through the kazekage’s office.

I picked up Naruto’s forehead protector from the ground.  Rather, my old forehead protector.  My sharingan flashed, looking around everywhere.

He wasn’t here.

“I’ve seen you before.”

Orochimaru’s brother was.

Sai took a defensive position.

Kamenosuke floated down to the ground in front of us.  “I think we’re here for the same purpose.”

This man was still an anomaly.  I knew that he was half-noble and half-ninja, and that Orochimaru had forced him to eat the chakra fruit against his will as part of an experiment.  He seemed to want to destroy the God Trees and those who allowed them to flourish, and that was probably what we were here to do as well.  “That depends.”

“Then maybe I should take care of you,” he said, raising his finger.

“We’re here to destroy that,” Sai interjected, pointing to the God Tree.

Kamenosuke looked us both over slowly, like he was a man who had nothing to fear from two known assassins staring him down.  “Very well.”

There were several pods dangling from the tree.  “I’m cutting them down,” I said, nodding my head towards them.  I felt like I was asking permission, which pissed me off to no end.

“I’ll take out the seed,” he said.

“Okay then,” I said.

We looked at each other, then we both moved off to our tasks.

“Uchiha, what is a seed?” Sai whispered.

“I have no fucking idea,” I whispered back, cutting down the first pod.

“I thought Orochimaru told you everything.”

“Orochimaru told me everything that was convenient for him to tell me.”

“You’re not whispering as quietly as you think you are,” Kamenosuke said, suddenly right behind us.

“We don’t have any secrets to keep,” I said, continuing on to the next branch and cutting down another pod.

“You’re talking about the man I’m going to kill like you’re awfully intimate,” he said, not moving any closer but following me with his eyes.

“I’m the only person who has ever almost killed Orochimaru, so…” I trailed off, cutting down the last of the pods.

“So you’re Uchiha Sasuke.”

I dropped down to the ground and sheathed my sword.  “Correct.”

“You know what he’s doing, then?” he asked.  “Creating these God Trees?  Sowing chaos for the sake of his experiments?”

“I do.”

“And you are… opposed to it?”

“I am.”

Kamenosuke dropped to the ground and approached the trunk of the tree.  Then he smashed his fist through the wood and pulled out a… person…?  “I’m not sure that I believe you.”

Sai shifted beside me.  His face was blank, but I could feel the slight increase in his pulse.

“Did he send you here to find me?” Kamenosuke asked.

“Not explicitly, but seeing as how we’re meeting here right after I spoke with him, it’s probably not a coincidence,” I said evenly.

“And what did you talk about with my sicko brother?”

“He told me his plans for world domination and tried to steal my body for his vessel as per usual,” I said with a shrug.  I hoped my sociopathic honesty was winning him over.

“And what did he say about me?”

“That you were an experiment in how consuming a chakra fruit would affect a person of noble and ninja blood.”

“And…?”

I looked him in the eye.  “That’s all.”

Kamenosuke pushed his fist into the shriveled white body’s chest cavity and pulled out… a chakra fruit?  “Maybe you should think a little more carefully about who you spend your time with.”

I continued to meet his gaze.

“This is how he makes the God Trees,” he said, throwing the body at me.

I dodged it, landing on one of the branches of the withering tree.

“I won’t be next,” he informed me, swallowing the chakra fruit whole and then disappearing.

Sai breathed out heavily.

“Were you scared?” I teased him.

“Fucking yes I was scared,” he growled.  “Did you feel his power?  I spend all day around you and Naruto’s monstrous chakra, and you two are nothing compared to him.”

“No need to exaggerate,” I said, dropping down beside him.

Sai looked at me.

He wasn’t exaggerating.

I inspected the ‘seed’ that Kamenosuke had thrown at me.  There was no life left in what had once been a man’s body.  “Let’s finish this and find Naruto,” I said, cutting open the first pod.  Not that I was worried about what I would find inside.

It was the Council.

“Looks like you really can’t trust the enemy of your enemy,” Sai commented as he opened the last one.  “We can just leave them here, right?”

“Obviously,” I said.

“So we don’t need to…?” he said, drawing a finger across his neck.

“They’ll die of old age soon enough,” I said.

Sai smiled at that, wide and genuine.

I wasn’t sure if he liked the joke or he liked the fact that we’d both agreed not to assassinate our enemies.  “This way,” I said, nodding my head in the direction where I could feel Naruto’s chakra.

Suna, one of the last bastions of civilization, was a mess.  The God Tree had wreaked havoc on the buildings nearby, and there had clearly been another bombing attack since the one before we left.

And then there was the battle raging outside of the walls.

Non-ninjas, armed with muskets, bow and fire arrows, and explosives were trying to fight an army of ninjas.  They were holding their own more than I would like to admit.

“Fucking normals,” I muttered, throwing up Susanoo.

Sai flew along beside me.  “It’s very convenient when looking for your boyfriend that he glows like a Christmas tree,” he commented.

“It is very convenient,” I agreed, watching my glowing boyfriend leading the charge.

“Are you going to turn away from genocidal rage and not raze those hapless mortals?” Sai asked.  “We’re following the path of non-violence?”

“Oh, no, we’re very violent,” I said.  “We don’t need to kill the morons, though.  Just rough them up a bit.”

“And what exactly brought about this beneficent change of attitude?”

I ignored him and plowed into battle.

It wasn’t what I expected.

“It’s a coalition,” Temari said, riding up beside me on her weird weasel-looking summon.  “The daimyo’s of the Five Countries roused up anti-ninja sentiment and built an army.”

“So they’re blaming us for the destruction from the God Tree?”

“Yes.”

“The famine?”

“Definitely.”

“Anything else?”

“They seem to think that we’re the ones subjugating them into their peasant lifestyles.”

“Certainly not the lavishly-living daimyos.”

“Certainly not.”

“Okay then,” I said, diving back into the fray.

They were better equipped and holding up better against our jutsu than I expected, but as soon as Naruto was next to me, our fingers linked, it was all over.

We put every single one of them to sleep.

Hopefully.

“It worked, right?” Naruto said, tilting his head to the side nervously.

“They’re still breathing,” Ino called up to us.

“It worked!” Naruto said, turning to me happily.

“Of course it worked,” I said, like an untested mass jutsu would surely never fail.

“Hi,” he said, bumping my forehead with his.

“Hi,” I said, almost smiling.  “You dropped this,” I added, pulling out his forehead protector and smacking him with it.

“I was fleeing a God Tree,” he protested, taking it and sheepishly tying it back on.

“So what are we supposed to do with them?” Shikamaru called, gesturing to the hundreds of passed out people.

“Uhh, we didn’t get that far,” Naruto offered with a shrug.  “And they’re probably going to be awake in less than five minutes.”

There was a scramble to collect their weapons, then we went back behind the wall and locked the gate.

“Just let me talk to them and I’ll make them understand,” Naruto said.

“No,” I said flatly.  “We need to get out of here.”

“But I mean, if we can end this nonsense with one of Naruto’s stupid speeches…” Temari interjected.

“They’re not stupid!” Naruto cried, aghast.

Everyone looked away.

“Dammit, I have speechified all of you to a better life, and this is what I get in return?!”

“We need to go,” I repeated.

“But everything here is… and they’re out there all confused and…” Naruto said, looking around frantically.

“You did what you could,” I said.  “This isn’t your mess anymore.”

It took more persuading than I thought was necessary, but it was finally decided that Temari would go meet with the Council and officially break ties with Suna, and we would all set out for…

We didn’t really know where we were going.  All we knew was that we weren’t going to be a part of the hidden villages anymore.

“You know that army is still out there,” Ino pointed out as we moved towards the gate.

“Okay, but they don’t have any weapons so what can they even do?” I scoffed.

“I’ll make them understand that we’re not enemies, that we’re on the same side!” Naruto said determinedly.

About thirty seconds into his attempt to win over the non-ninjas, they started throwing sand in our eyes.

Various animals were summoned, transport jutsus were performed, and we all left Suna behind in a cloud of dust.

“My speech failed…” Naruto muttered, lost in a fog of depression as we set up our tent for a night of camping in the desert.

“They weren’t ready to hear it,” I offered.

He gave me a pathetic look.

I chucked him in the arm.  “Man up.  You’re the leader now.”

“It’s very manly to make speeches and express your emotions openly.”

I looked at him.  “Fine,” I said, which was as close as I was getting to agreeing to that kind of statement.

“Naruto-san, can you help us with this?” some ninja I’d never seen before called out.

“Sure,” he said, smiling easily and going over to him.

I looked around the camp that we had set up.  There was well over a hundred ninjas here, from all the major villages.

Revolution.

I put the word out of my head and climbed into the tent, rolling out our sleeping bags.

Naruto came back after a while, yawning and rubbing the back of his neck.

I was running on empty, already curled up in my sleeping bag and half-asleep.

Naruto settled in beside me, then held his arm out, looking hopeful.

I grumbled and rolled into him.

He sighed contentedly as he snuggled me close.

“So what happened?” I asked, eyes closed as I listened to the steady thumping of his heart.

“Exactly what you think happened,” he said ruefully.

“The Council let the normals in to make those attacks against us, then the normals turned on them and planted a God Tree in the middle of the fucking kazekage’s office?”

“Yep.”

“But you stayed and helped them calm the chaos of the mess they made for themselves?”

“You could put it that way.”

I was quiet, splaying my hand over his chest.  Everywhere we touched felt like an anchor.

He brushed my bangs away from my forehead and pressed a lingering kiss there.  “This is the right thing to do.”

“Wow, you’ve just decided it’s the right thing without second-guessing it every five seconds?” I teased.

“Yep, I’m a confident man sure in his convictions,” he informed me, tucking my head under his chin.

“So even though we have an army of ninjas with no food and nowhere to go…?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“And the daimyos have convinced all the normals that ninjas are a danger to society?”

“We can change their minds.”

“And all the establishment ninjas want us dead…?”

“We’re stronger than them.”

I shifted to look up at him, unable to hide my smile.  “You seem different.”

“Good different?” he asked, smiling back.

“Good different,” I agreed.  “You’re in control,” I said, letting my hand slide up to cup his cheek.

He smiled back at me, covering my hand with his own.  “I know what’s right and I know what’s wrong, so I’m just going to keep doing the right thing no matter what it costs.”

Fuck, I loved this man and it was destroying me.

“What’s this?” he asked, poking at the wrinkle in my brow.

I looked at him.  “And what if…?”

He waited.

“What if I’m what’s wrong?”

He didn’t even hesitate.  “Then I’ll make you right.”

I let my head drop back to his chest.  “You seem confident that you could actually do that.”

“Of course I could,” he said.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

I wished he wouldn’t answer me so readily.  I needed time to think, to gather my thoughts.

Or maybe I just didn’t need to think at all.

I told him what happened at Orochimaru’s.  Every last detail of it.

“I think I might want that,” I said quietly.  “I might want to take a chakra fruit from him, no matter what I have to pay him in return.  I want that power.  I hate knowing that there is someone out there who’s stronger than me, I hate it.  I…”

Naruto sat up suddenly, taking me with him.  He wrapped himself around me and it felt like he was sheltering me from the world.  “We’ll figure it out,” he promised gently.

“I’m toxic, Naruto,” I whispered to him.  “I’m your Achilles heel.  I’ll destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build just for more power.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeated more firmly.  He didn’t deny anything I’d said, but it seemed like he really thought that we could overcome it, that we could overcome anything.

“You can’t trust me,” I whispered, feeling small and fragile.

“Of course I can,” he said, holding me tighter.  “You don’t keep things from me anymore.”

I swallowed.  Didn’t I keep things from him?  Didn’t I lie to him?

But if I really thought about it, he was right.  I didn’t do that anymore.  If he asked me anything right now, I’d answer him as truthfully as I could.  I’d always have my pride and I might not express myself clearly, but I wouldn’t lie.  Not to Naruto.

I realized that I trusted him.  Completely.

I’d chosen to trust him.

I’d chosen him, I’d chosen this life, and for better or for worse I was going to see it through.

“Okay,” I said.

He rubbed his hand up and down my back, firm but soothing.  “Okay, what, love?”

“Just okay,” I said.

He sighed and agreed, “Okay.”

And then I cried.

Naruto got us settled back into our sleeping bags, keeping me close and murmuring soothing nonsense at me.

I wanted to stop.  I didn’t want to reveal my last card to him.  That I was a broken a little boy who was nothing but weak and useless.  That every last part of me was calculated to hide what I really was.  That I was scared.  That I was fragile.  That one word from someone I loved could destroy me.

But Naruto already knew.

Maybe in some ways, he was the same.

But he’d figured it out.  He’d made it his strength.

I was exhausted.

“Hey, Sasuke?” he said quietly.

“Mm?” I asked, almost asleep.

“I know where we’re going to go.”

And somehow it seemed like as long as Naruto had a plan, everything would be all right.

 - 50 -

  “Why does it always have to be a fucking boat?” I muttered, watching as our merry band of misfits boarded the ship we’d found on the coast of Hot Water.

“How else do we get to an island?” Sai asked cheerfully.

“I’m with Uchiha, fuck boats,” Ino said, draping her arm over my shoulder.

I glared at the offending appendage.  We were definitely not close enough for physical proximity.

She just grinned at me.

Sakura came up on my other side, slinging her arm around me as well.  “Let’s get a move on.”

Why weren’t girls scared of me anymore?  It was so irritating.

We boarded the crowded boat, and I took up my usual position beside Naruto.

He flashed me a grin before climbing onto the rails and turning to address the crowd.  “Hey, everyone!”

Voices slowly quieted as everyone turned their attention to him.

“So I just wanted to thank you all for your patience and your commitment,” he said.  “It hasn’t been easy the last few months, moving from village to village, being constantly hunted.  It would be easy to give up.  It would be easy to just give in to the status quo and go back to mindlessly following the orders of the kages and the daimyos.”

“Fuck Hyuuga!” someone yelled, and I couldn’t hold back my smirk.  Hyuuga Hiashi had to be the shittiest hokage that Konoha had ever chosen, and they had chosen some pretty shitty hokages.

“So,” Naruto continued, shooting me a look, “I just want you to know that your sacrifices haven’t gone unnoticed.  And I can’t promise you that it will be all good times from here.  But we have a home now.  Temari and her team have been working tirelessly to make sure we have food and shelter when we arrive there.  This isn’t going to be easy, and anyone who wants to leave needs to know that they can, at anytime, with no repercussions.  What we’re building here is a village where everyone can live freely.  It’s about choices.  It’s about transparency.  It’s about doing the right thing.  If you think that’s what the future of the world should be, then let’s set sail!”

I rolled my eyes at his corniness and offered him my hand to jump back down to the deck.

He grinned at me.

“Uzukage!” someone called out, and it quickly became a chant that the entire crowd took up.  “Uzukage!  Uzukage!”

“Guys, cut it out!” Naruto protested, embarrassed.  “No more kages, right?”

“No more shitty kages!” someone offered, which was met with a chorus of laughter.

Naruto turned his head away, looking out to the open sea.

I could see the tears pricking at his eyelids.

He swallowed them back, and turned to face the crowd again.  “This is the start of something new, okay?  To the Land of Whirlpools!”

“To the Land of Whirlpools!” the crowd echoed, and the boat started to move.

Naruto rested his arms on the railing, watched the horizon.

“So we’re finally doing this,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his eyes faraway.

I pressed my side to his subtly.

He pressed back, his expression softening.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  “This wouldn’t be happening without you.”

“It wouldn’t be happening without you,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I guess we come in set.”

I shook my head and tried to not be embarrassed by his lameness.

“Hey, bromos, what are you doing?” Sai asked, inserting himself between us.

“Having a nice moment, ruined by you,” Naruto said, elbowing Sai in the side.

“What?” Sai said with fake shock.  “But Best Friend Naruto, how could any moment be ruined by the inclusion of a trusted friend and confidant?”

“Really, Sai?” Naruto asked exasperatedly.  “Because if I have to tell you again how incredibly wrong your insistence on calling us your ‘bromos’ is…”

“Sasuke, you are needed below deck,” Juugo said as he approached.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Suigetsu and Karin have gotten into another… altercation.”

I frowned.  “I thought you could handle them.”

He gave me a pained look.  “I’ve done my best.”

“I know,” I said, taking pity on him.  “Okay, let’s go.”

He nodded, leading the way to my obnoxious team.

Everything wasn’t perfect, but I’d never felt more sure that this was the life I was supposed to be living.  It was the life I had chosen.

It was the dream that I had chosen.

I glanced over my shoulder before descending below deck.  The moon had risen early, a jagged white rock in the sky with no traces of the Infinite Tsukuyomi.

I knew there wouldn’t be, because I didn’t want there to be.

This was my dream now.

[leossmoonn]

Ready

masterlist

pairing - lucas scott x fem!reader

type - smut, 16+

summary - you have you first time with lucas

warnings / includes - language, hand job, fingering and oral (f receiving), p in v sex. not edited lol

————

*gif isn’t mine*

Lucas pins you up against the wall, both hands on your waist as he kisses you fervently. Your hands are raking through his hair, your chest pressing up against his as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

“Mm, Luke,” you hum as his hands grab at your ass. You begin to walk him backwards to the bed, setting your hands on his chest and shoving him down on the mattress. You grin down at him as he laughs breathily.

“Why you gotta be so pushy?” He reaches his hands up to the back of your thighs and feeling over the curve of your ass.

“Because I wanna,” you reply, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap. You press yourself up against the tent in his jeans, capturing his lips in a slow and wet kiss. You pull his bottom lip out between your teeth and suck on the soft flesh, eliciting a quiet moan from him.

“Well, I definitely am not complaining,” he says as you pull away.

You smile as you look into his pretty blue eyes. “I love you, Lucas Scott.”

“And I love you, Y/n L/n. Is there a reason why you’re being so sweet?” He asks.

“I can’t be nice to my sexy boyfriend?” You scoff. He chuckles, “you were just yelling at me for buying the wrong kind of cheese.”

“And it ended in a hot make-out session, no?” You hum.

“I guess that’s a plus,” he nods. “I think so, too. Now shut up and take off your shirt. Let me see that great basketball physique,” you demand.

“As long as you do the same,” he says. “Already one step ahead of you.” You get off of his lap, slipping off your blouse and shimmying out of your jeans.

Lucas stops unbuttoning his shirt, his jaw dropping and eyes going wide as his eyes roam your figure. You make his mouth water, literally. You’re wearing blue panties with a matching bra.

“Clothes Over Bros, huh? I’ve never heard of it before.” Lucas says as his eyes roam over the logo that’s on your hip.

“Well, now you have. How do you like it?” You put your hands in your hips, posing for him.

He licks his lips slowly, his eyes flickering up and down your body multiple times before settling on your face. “Oh, I love it.” He’s needy as he grabs your hips and pulls you on top of him. You giggle as he throws you on the bed, towering over you. You finish unbuttoning his shirt, shoving it off of his arms and tossing it to the side.

“Mmm, and I love this.” You say as you run your hands down his toned chest and muscular arms. You stop at his belt, looking at him through your lashes with a coy smile. You palm him in his jeans, squeezing lightly. “Oh, he’s awake.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, “shut up.” You giggle and undo his belt, slipping your hand into his boxers. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting the warm pre cum on your thumb. You bring your hand up to your lips, sucking on your thumb and looking at Lucas in the eyes.

“You’re really hot, you know that?” He asks. You grin, “I know.” You reach your hand back down his underwear, pumping him in your hand. He screws his eye shut, a shaky breath leaving his throat.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans.

You squeeze the head of his dick, pulling his neck down to kiss you. Butterflies shoot down your belly as he moans on your mouth. Your kiss swallows his sounds as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You begin to move your hand faster, causing him to lose his composure. He catches himself on his elbow, awkwardly laughing.

“Sorry,” he groans. “All good, baby. Here, switch positions,” you suggest.

He nods and he lays on his back. You settle in between his legs, keeping your hand around his cock as you press wet kisses down his chest. You nibble harshly on his v-line, licking a trail down his lower stomach to the base of his dick. You maintain eye contact as you lick the bulging vein on the side of his dick, pressing down and flicking the tip with your tongue.

“Fuck,” Lucas groans.

You smile at him, giving him a wink as you slip him into your mouth. His eyes flutter and he softly groans as the feeling. One of his hands grip the sheets as the other rests on your neck, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin. You begin to suck, hallowing your cheeks and applying pressure with your lips.

You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes as you Bob your head back and forth. You send a thrill up his spine and he lets out a husky groan, lustful eyes watching your movements. You move so fluidly. There’s no hesitation or breaks in the way you take him.

“God, you’re so amazing,” he grunts.

He twitches inside of your mouth, and you can tell that he’s close. You move off of him, causing him to sit up.

“What’s the matter? Are you getting tired?” He asks.

“Not exactly,” you shake your head. “Does your mouth hurt?” He questions.

You giggle, putting your hand on his. “I’m okay, Luke. I… I want to do something else:”

“Okay,” he nods. “Go ahead and lay on your back, I —”

“No, I-I mean, something new.”

Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he racks his brain for what you could be talking about. You get off the bed and strip naked.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“You don’t like the view?” You tilt your head to the side, pouting slightly.

He chuckles, “you know I love the view. But I don’t understand. What is this new thing you want to do?”

“I want to have sex,” you say.

It takes him a few moments for your words to register.

“R-Really?” He stammers. You smile and nod as you climb back into the bed. You make your way into his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I’m ready. I want this. I want this with you.”

His heart warms at your words. He snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. “Are you sure?” He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, “I am. And if I’m not, I’ll tell you.”

“Please do,” he agrees. “Do… Do you want to do this?” You ask, your heart beginning to race at the thought of him not wanting you in this way.

“Oh, of course I do. You really have no idea,” he answers.

“Good,” you giggle. “Um, so… what do we do now?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t know what to do? Man, I would think this was your first time,” Lucas smirks.

You roll your eyes and smack his shoulder. “Shut up. Do you want to be inside of me or not?”

“I definitely do,” he nods eagerly. He flips you two over in one fluid motion. His hands roam your body slowly and his eyes stare into yours. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

You smile shyly. “Thank you.”

“And that smile.” He hums, bringing one of his hands up to your face. He traces along your jaw, cupping your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch, biting your lip as you gaze into his eyes.

“So pretty,” he hums. He brings his hand down to your lips, kissing them lovingly. His hand that’s on your waist plays with the hem of your panties. His fingertips brush over your slit, causing you to shiver.

“Why are these damp, huh?” He whispers against your lips as he feels over the front of your underwear.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I’m making out with my really hot boyfriend,” you breathe out.

He smirks while he kisses you, hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down. You can’t help but buck your hips to Lucas’s waist.

“Patience. I wanna do this right,” he says. You smile up at him. “You’re so sweet, Luke. But I am so horny.”

His fingers roam your upper-thighs, spreading them apart. “Then allow me to do this.” He slips his third finger into you. You let out a low hum, “feels good.”

“And what about this?” He slips another finger inside of you, curling the two and flicking them inside of you. He hits your g-spot expertly, reaching his thumb up to circle your clit.

“Ah, Luke,” you groan, arching your back.

His other hand reaches up to your bra, unclipping it and letting the straps fall down your shoulders. He gropes your left breast, tweaking your nipple in-between his thumb and third finger. Your hands find their way to his shoulders and you hook your arms around his neck, burying your fingers into his dirty blonde locks.

“Feels good, baby?” He asks. You nod fervently, bringing his head down and locking lips with him. You kiss him lazily, finding it hard to multitask with him fingering you. You moan into his mouth, causing him to smile and butterflies to shoot down his stomach.

“Luke, I’m gonna come,” you whine, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. “Let go for me,” he whispers against your cheek.

You collapse on the bed as you reach your high, your limbs going limp as you relax. Lucas slowly pulls his fingers out of you and kisses the top of your head, sucking off your juices.

“Still want to…?” Lucas asks. You nod, “yes, please.” Your hands reach down to his boxers, sliding them down. You plant kisses along his jaw, licking your way down to his earlobe. “I need you, Lucas. I need you so bad.”

“I need you, too,” he groans huskily. He helps you with taking his underwear off as you throw your bra to the floor. He leans over the nightstand and grabs a condom, rolling it on. He settles back between your legs, resting his hands on your waist.

“You still want to do this?” He asks. You smile, “yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright. On the count of three, okay? And if it hurts, just say stop and I’ll stop. Or just push me off if you can’t speak, okay?”

You giggle, “I don’t think I’ll have to push you off, but will do.”

He smiles and kisses you sweetly. He fists his dick, slowly slipping his tip into you. You wince at the stretch, tears clouding your eyes. Lucas watches your expression, stopping immediately as he sees you shed a tear. He slips back out.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head.

He wipes your tears away with his thumb. “I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“I was gonna cry either way. I know the first time isn’t the most enjoyable,” you chuckle.

“But I want it to be enjoyable for you.”

“It will be,” you assure him. You cup his face with your hands, bringing his forehead to rest upon yours. “Let’s try again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Lucas. And just stop once you get to the same point, but don’t slip in further. Let me adjust.”

He nods and slips into you slower than before. You take a deep breath as his head pokes your entrance, stretching you out once again. He stops and looks to you, studying your eyes. You wiggle under him, attempting to make yourself more acquainted.

“Feels better?” He asks. “Slightly,” you nod. “Okay, go a little further.”

He does so and he stops after you say so. This cycle continues until he’s halfway inside of you.

“I-I don’t think I can take anymore. I’m sorry.” Your lip quivers as you begin to feel bad, and from the pain.

“No, no, please, it’s okay. This feels amazing as it is. I’m more than happy to continue like this. This is all I need.”

“Are you sure?” You sniffle. He nods and pecks your nose. “I promise.”

“Okay. Next time we can try to go a little further.”

“Whatever you need, honey.”

“Okay. Just go ahead and move, yeah? Do whatever it is you do.”

He laughs softly, kissing your tears away. He moves out of you before going back in.

“Feels okay?” He questions.

“Yes, just keep going,” you confirm.

He moves inside of you slowly. With each time, it began to feel better. The pain slowly diminished and you began to feel that pleasure you heard about. You stopped crying and began moaning, your nails scrapping down down his back. Lucas holds himself up with one hand, his face buried into your neck. You press your chest up against his and your heels dig into the mattress.

The stretch is incredible. He hits your sweet spot perfectly, causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head as your body rocks back and forth on the mattress.

“Luke,” you whimper as you feel yourself become close.

“Me, too,” he breathes out. His voice his hoarse and breathing is ragged against your skin. His free hand reaches between you two, his thumb circling your clit. His thrusts become sloppy as he’s about to come.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans, his top teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Your nails dig into the nape of his neck, your hips bucking up and causing him to go a little deeper than usual. That’s all it took. You let out a strangled moan as you come.

Lucas slips out of you, collapsing next to you. He ties off the condom and throws it into the trash can. He faces you, slinging his arm around your belly and kissing your temple.

“How do you feel?”

“Not like a virgin,” you remark. He chuckles, “is that a good thing?”

“Yes,” you nod and face him. “It was amazing. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You’re the one made this all possible,” he grins.

You giggle, “I am the best, aren’t I?”

He nods and kisses your lips lovingly. “You are. I love you, Y/n L/n.”

You smile into the kiss, hugging him close to you. “I love you, Lucas Scott.”

————

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@arkofblake @murdockcastleslut @hizziestial @lmaoidekanymore6

[fayesrossua]

PORCO GALLIARD: MAKE ME

MINORS DNI. 18+ CONTENT, NSFW

Prompt: You’ve had a long work day at Liberio’s Market today and you need to unwind. Thankfully you have Porco.

WC: 2.5K (This seems to be my sweet spot, I hardly go below or above this word count)

Warnings/Tags: controlling Porco, very horny, needy and confident reader. Established relationship. Kissing, fondling, groping, dry humping, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), making reader talk during oral sex, oral sex (f receiving), kitchen sex, counter sex, semi rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, cream pie, dirty talk, mention of “using” Porco.

Notes: it’s literally 8 am when I’m posting this and I spent my entire commute to school editing porn on the sky train 😭

Your walk home couldn’t feel any longer. There were so many people, so many interruptions as you were speed-walking home. It was a long day at the Liberio market, and you were just done for the day.

All you wanted was to be home with Porco. Your calves burned as you finally reached your neighbourhood, taking out your keys and unlocking the door.

As soon as you were inside, you dropped your bag, slipping off your shoes and unbuttoning your shirt. You slipped into the bathroom, washing your hands and face. Outside you could hear shuffling, and footsteps coming nearer.

By the sound of it, you knew it was Porco and your heart fluttered excitedly as he pushed the door open. You pat your face dry, dabbing some moisturizer on.

“Hey baby,” he said, and you turned to him,

“Hey how’re you?” You ask,

“Good that you’re home now.” He looked at you mindlessly running cream into your skin, “Long day at work?” Porco asked, noticing how tired and haggard you looked. He leant against the door and crossing his arms. You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head.

“You bet,” you put away the face cream taking a few steps forward, and wrapping your arms around Porco’s neck. His strong and steady embrace allowing you to go limp in his arms. He chuckles, keeping you up with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You hold each other still for a moment before he pulls away slightly, cupping your face and kissing your lips greedily. You sigh into his kiss, having waited for this moment all day. You woke up insatiably horny this morning, and Porco was already gone for the day. He occupied every inch of your mind, causing you to be distracted as you dealt with customers all day.

Porco takes no time deepening the kiss, holding you by the neck as he swirls his tongue in your mouth — a string of spit acting as a bridge between your lips.

You run your hands up his sides, tracing the soft fabric of his shirt before reaching down and rubbing his growing cock through his pants. “Hmm-“ Porco sighed, “you want me that bad, baby? How much do you want me?” He whispers into your mouth, his fingers applying just a tiny bit of pressure around your neck.

“I need you to fuck me,” you reply plainly, your eyes stare aimlessly at the space between his eyes.

Porco’s lips part in awe, trying to think of something to say as he looked into your lustful, serious eyes. A rush of blood circulates to his cock. He chuckled into your mouth, planting a wet kiss on your lips before reaching down, squeezing your ass. “We’ll see about that,” He says, gripping onto you right as he stumbles backwards into the kitchen area.

He sat down onto the chair, spreading his legs wide open for you to sit. You sit on one of his thighs, shivering at how his muscles press up against your pussy. Porco pulled you in close, his arms locking you in as he went back in to kiss you.

“Use me, baby.” Porco said, his own desire for you consuming him. You start grinding your hips on Porco’s leg, sloppily kissing him. His hands roam all along your body, finishing off the buttons on your shirt and leaving you in your tank top. You felt hot fluids start leaking into your underwear, and tension coiled in your stomach as you heard Porco’s encouraging coo’s. “Keep grinding on me. Maybe I’ll let you ride my cock like that later. Wouldn’t you like that?”, he whispered lewdly in your ear, grunting as he palmed himself through his pants. You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes screwed shut as you focus on what you’re feeling. With each pass of your hips, you fled an increasingly intense feeling of euphoria washing over you. Your breathing becomes unsteady — airy moans escaping your lips. Porco’s hands land on your hips, grabbing belt loops of your pants and forcing your pace to quicken. “Come for me, show me how much of a needy little slut you are,” Porco said, smirking at your whimper in response. He knew the right strings to pull. You grind your hips back and forth, feeling the steady pressure build, and build. He doesn’t stop pushing you back and forth — not until you’re grasping onto him, using him as your toy as you feel yourself come.

A guttural moan escapes your lip — followed by a burning sensation running up to your eyes and brain. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your movements become jerky, feeling a tsunami of pleasure consume you. Your pussy ached, beating against Porco’s leg as you clenched with each wave of pleasure.

Porco’s cock is rock solid. He loves seeing you so needy, and ready to fuck whatever he lays out for you. His leg, his hand, his mouth — he loves knowing you don’t even need his cock to cum. You’re willing to take what you can get and the sight of you rolling your hips on him, your head locked in the crook of his neck, and hearing your adorable little whines, it was enough to drive him up the wall with lust.

He caresses your hair, giving you a minute to grind out the last bits of your orgasm before grabbing your chin and making you look at him. His pupils were blown out, and his grasp on your chin tightened as a mischievous smile grew on his lips. “Open up,” he said quietly.

You opened your mouth, and Porco rolled a ball of saliva in his mouth before spitting it into your mouth. You swallowed it without hesitation, looking back at him with excited eyes. You needed more. You needed him to be inside you. “Are you going to be a good girl for me tonight?” He asks lowly.

“Yes.” You reply, running your hand greedily over the hard bulge in his pants. You reach for his zipper, before getting your hand swiped away.

“Stand up.” Porco said. You stood, and Porco pulled you toward him, resting one of his hands on the small of your back while the other roamed down to your soaking pussy. His fingers ran up the wet seam of your pants before landing on your pant zipper. He unzipped your pants, shuffling them down your legs and sliding your panties off too. “I want to taste you, baby,” he says, looking up at you as he swipes his long, thick fingers across your slick folds. A shiver went up your spine, looking at Porco below you. He pressed his lips against your lower stomach, rubbing circles on your clit. “I’m only going to fuck you if I think you really deserve it. You took forever getting home today,” he whispers against your stomach.

“I’m sorry-“ you moan, almost smiling at how far Porco is willing to go. You wondered whah he was going do to you - how long would he last. His cock was straining against his pants, surely making it uncomfortable for him to still be clothed. “Shop was busy today, customers wouldn’t leave,” you muse, closing your eyes and leaning against Porco’s shoulder.

Porco hummed, his fingers flexing in and out of you, dragging themselves into your hole and stretching you out. You stiffen at his sudden entrance, and Porco continues, “Hmm tell me about the rest of your day.” In your head you smirk, fucker, you thought. So this is what he was going to do. You think for a moment and Porco lowers his head, tilting his head and teasing you with his tongue. “Tell me about your day.” He grumbles, finality in his voice.

“Well, we got a delivery today. All the spring fruits came in — people go crazy when they arrive every year,” You say, faltering as Porco abruptly stands up, pushing you against the kitchen counter and getting down on his knees. “It’s like they forget that nectarines exist, and then—“ Porco wraps his hands on your thighs, placing himself right underneath you and start licking and swirling his tongue on your wet cunt. You shutter at how fast he’s going, in tandem with his fingers curving into you. You want to close your eyes and let him eat you out. But you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. “And then — Pieck came by. She—“ you moan out, stopping mid sentence as you almost double over. Porco pushes you up with his hand, his tongue and fingers continue to ravage you.

Droplets of sweat percolated on your brow, building in the crevice of your knees and on your back. “She uhh got some stuff. Told me to say hello by the way.” You finish your sentence, panting as you feel your body come alive with the tightening feeling in your stomach again. Your skin feels like it’s on fire.

“Hi Pieck,” Porco mumbles, before bringing his lips down onto your clit, sucking on your excited nerves. “Keep talking, pretend I’m not even here, you little slut.” He loves the way you taste, the way you grind on him every time he made you feel good. He loved seeing the momentarily hurt, and turned on look on your face as he called you his little slut. He loved demanding that you use him.

You wince, feeling the waves of a second orgasm coming. “It got really hot outside, I’m going to need to pull out my summer clothes soo— Porco!” You gasp, bringing your hands down and into Porco’s hair. He’s bringing you so close, and he groans at you tugging at his hair. He indulges you, fucking you with everything but what you truly want. And right as you feel it coming, he pulls away, looking up at you with a smirk.

“Sit up on the counter.” He says plainly. You whimper, using your palms to hoist yourself up. The cold counter tops shock your warm body, Porco steps close to you, using his hand to open your legs. He leans in, and you want to cry out as he reaches for your face, kissing you softly.

You want to be fucked.

You need to be fucked.

“Please fuck me, please,” you plead pathetically into his lips. Porco’s lips form a smile, and he pulls away from you, staring lovingly into your eyes. “Fuck me.”

“Make me.“ Porco says, challenging you. He grabs your throat, and leans into your ear. A wave of butterflies erupts in your pussy as he squeezes gently, coaxing you with his words as he eggs you on. “Show me how desperate you are for me. Take off my pants, and use me then,”

“I know you better than that, baby.” You say, “you want to fuck me so bad, I know it.” Porco scoffs at your remark, but says nothing as you reach down for his zipper, carelessly shuffling his underwear down and feeling his cock whip out, hitting your inner thigh. “Once you’re inside me — you’re going to want to control. You’ll have no choice but to fuck me.” You say, bringing one leg up onto the counter, taking Porco’s dick and positioning it up to your entrance.

Porco hissed at your touch, his facade struggling to remain intact as you tease yourself with him.

So badly, Porco wants to take off your hands, push himself inside you and fuck you relentlessly, watching you become a rag doll before his eyes. But he held still, letting you pull him into you. He felt every ridge of your pussy suck in him, pulling him in until he was fully inside you.

You bit your lip, adjusting to Porco’s cock filling you up. You rolled your hips on the counter, flexing your cunt and gripping around him tighter as he began to stroke his cock inside you. “Baby, stop clenching around me-“ he says gruffly. His movements were slow, but you felt him lose all will power to keep up the act. He was shuttering with each pulsate, each stroke set his entire body on fire.

“I’m sorry .. Daddy.” You say, a slight moan working it’s way into your tone. You feel Porco stiffen, and he grabs your face with the ferocity you love. Daddy. The word he never thought you would say. It struck you as gross and weird. But right now, you’d say anything to get what you wanted.

“You were holding out on that one weren’t you?” Porco said, laughing, and leaning in to kiss you before he decides to let loose finally. You hummed against his lips in response and without a second to spare, Porco grabbed both of your legs and pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. “My smart baby girl, I love you so fucking much.” He says, as he begins picking up the pace.

A smile grows on your lips, “I love you too.” You reply, being jostled back and forth as Porco slams his cock into you — each stroke sitting deep inside you. Porco hooks your legs on his shoulders, leaning in closer and ripping his cock in and out of you with unforgiving speed. He loves how much deeper he can go when you’re bent like this. “Making me feel so good, Daddy.” You whine, your forehead pressing against Porco’s moans at your words. His body covered in a thin layer of sweat as he pumps into you. He kisses you roughly, massaging his tongue around your mouth. Your tongue meets his, dancing with his messily. You could taste the tangy residue of your cum.

“Then come for me, baby. Come all over me.” The sound of slapping skin and heavily breathing filled the air and the angle that Porco was fucking you from was bringing you closer and closer to climax. You could feel Porco’s determination as he fucked your pussy with a pace that’s bound to bruise. For a moment, he slowed, standing up on his toes and plunging himself down into you before continuing to fuck you on the counter. That single stroke struck a row of nerves deep inside you, and you gasped. Porco’s eyes were looking at his cock going in and out of your hole, watching how your fluids coat him. “I’m going to cum inside you — I’m going to fill you up. So come for me, baby.” He whispered into your ear.

You focus on each syllable, letting the image of him cumming inside you, broken kisses filled with moans and whimpers, his movements becoming jerky occupy your visuals. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside you. To feel his warmth all over you.

Porco’s fingers found their way back to your clit, and he began stimulating those sensitive buds, rendering you stiff as your second orgasm came. “Porco!” You scream out, moaning as your hips stuttered, fluid leaking down your pussy and onto the counter. Porco doesn’t stop fucking you as you’re collapsing beneath him. His own orgasm comes in quick succession.

“I’m coming—“ Porco breaths out, stroking inside you once — twice more before bottoming out, resting his head on the crook of your neck as his cum shoots into you, coating your walls. After he catches his breath, he pulls himself out, carefully letting your legs down.

You lay down on the counter, opening your legs so you didn’t feel the hot fluids stick to your thighs. You rest your hands on your inner thighs, gripping your skin as you sigh, trying to steady your breath.

Porco strokes this thumb across your hole, looking down at your cum filled pussy. His eyes trail up your body, to your eyes and he smiles at your loopy expression, dizzy from pleasure. He comes around the corner of the counter, and kisses you.

“I could go for another round honestly.” You muse.

Porco’s eyes glaze over you, heavy with lust and love. “Let’s go shower first, make some dinner and then I’ll fuck you again.”

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

shrapnel

Pairing : Jason Todd x Male reader Tags: Hurt/ comfort, getting back together Established relationship, hurt reader Word count: 1127 Edited : 30/09/24

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air as Jason gripped Y/N's shoulder, his fingers trembling with a mixture of tension and fear. His heart raced, a cacophony of emotions swirling within him, while unshed tears threatened to spill from his hazel eyes. He turned his head away, unable to watch as Dick expertly removed the shrapnel embedded deep in Y/N's abdomen. A quiet whimper escaped Y/N's lips, piercing the heavy silence in the room.

“You’re okay,” Dick attempted to reassure, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own doubts.

“Dick, you’re literally inside me; I don’t think I’m fucking okay!” Y/N gasped, his voice tight with pain, every word a struggle as he bit down to suppress another moan.

Jason stole a glance back, his heart breaking at the panicked expression etched across Y/N's face. Tears trailed down his cheeks, glistening in the fluorescent lights, but Jason chose to remain silent about them. “It’s not that bad; you’re just being a baby,” he said, trying to mask his own anxiety with bravado, his voice forced and shaky.

Y/N snorted in a way that echoed defiance but moaned in discomfort as he shifted. “I’m pretty sure your brother just went to first base with my spleen,” he retorted, a weak attempt at humor punctuated by a grimace.

With a look of horror, Jason leaned closer, his stomach flipping at the sight of crimson blood pooling around the gruesome injury. Shaking his head, he leaned back, forcing a false smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he lied, brushing the sweaty hair from Y/N's forehead before leaning down to press a tender kiss there.

“Oh god, I’m dying, aren’t I? You’re never this nice,” Y/N whispered, finding comfort in the touch as he leaned into Jason's warmth.

“You’re a dick, even when you’re bleeding out,” Jason shot back, a small smirk breaking through his worry.

“Of course, I am.” But just as Jason opened his mouth to respond, a soft chuckle from Y/N morphed into a choked sob.

“I know it hurts, but you’re doing great,” Dick interjected, keeping his focus on the task at hand to mask the fear for his brother’s ex-boyfriend. “You’re going to be fine. Just hang in there; after this, you can sleep for a month. Stay awake for me, okay?”

Y/N nodded weakly, squeezing his eyes shut, allowing hot tears to cascade down his cheeks before falling into silence. Jason cupped Y/N’s face gently, searching for signs of life. When he received no response, panic surged through him. “Y/N! Babe! Dick, how much longer?”

“They should be here by now,” Dick muttered, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well, they're not, are they? I knew we should have taken him ourselves!” Jason's voice was laced with frustration just as the distant wail of sirens pierced through the air, flashing lights finally illuminating their anxious faces.

Time passed in a haze of uncertainty, and Jason found himself pacing the dimly lit hospital corridor, each step a restless reflection of his anxiety. His brother’s sympathetic glances gnawed at him, an irritation he was unwilling to acknowledge.

“Jason, sit down before you pass out,” Dick urged, concern lacing his voice.

“I’m fine,” Jason snapped, quickening his pace.

“Jay, I kno—”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Dick,” Jason's whisper was heavy with emotion, his eyes glued to the sterile white floor, as if it held the answers he desperately sought. Dick noticed the slight quiver of Jason’s shoulders, lingering in the silence, waiting for him to speak.

“It’s my fault,” Jason finally confessed, voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his guilt palpable.

Dick sighed, standing and walking over to his younger brother. He placed a reassuring hand on Jason’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Jason.”

Before Dick could finish, Jason shrugged him off, turning away. “Yes, it is, Dick. It was my fight. He shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.”

“You know Y/N,” Dick said gently.

Jason let out a bitter laugh, bitterness clouding his features. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t change anything.”

“Jason, Y/N loves you. Even after everything that’s happened, do you really think he’s going to give up trying to get you back?”

Torn between the reality of his choices and the depth of his feelings, Jason swallowed hard. “Dick, I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, almost pleading. “I tried to stay away from him so he wouldn’t get hurt... but he did anyway.”

“Talk to him before it’s too late—” Dick's words were cut short as the door swung open, a doctor stepping out. A reassuring smile graced her lips as she regarded the two young vigilantes still clad in their costumes, dirt and blood smudged across their bodies.

“You can see him now,” she said, leading them down the quiet corridor to a private room.

“Bruce?” Jason asked, scanning the sterility of the space with unease.

“Definitely,” the doctor replied, pausing outside the door. “He’s still sleeping, but his surgery went well. He should make a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Doctor...?”

“Whitlock,” she answered kindly.

Dick smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Whitlock.”

“Yo—”

“Stop flirting; it’s embarrassing,” Jason interjected, pushing past his brother to open the door. He made a beeline for Y/N’s bedside.

Dick lingered in the doorway, his heart heavy as he watched Jason grasp Y/N’s hand gently, kissing the back of it in a tender moment that felt sacred. He turned away, feeling like an intruder on a moment that was never meant for him. He stepped into the corridor and closed the door quietly behind him, ensuring Jason and Y/N had their privacy.

Just before departing, Dr. Whitlock turned back. “Mr. Wayne sent clean clothes for both of you. They’re in the restroom down the hall if you need to freshen up,” she relayed, her voice trailing as she left them alone.

Jason held Y/N’s hand delicately, mindful of the various wires and cables attached to him. Y/N’s face was pale yet peaceful; no longer marred by grime and dried blood, he looked as if he had merely drifted off to sleep, just like those nights when they patrolled the streets together. Except they weren’t perched atop a rooftop watching foolish criminals; they were within the confines of a sterile hospital room, one barely escaped death, the other ready to follow if necessary.

“When you wake up,” Jason murmured, voice thick with emotion, “I’m taking you out on that date I promised before all of this. Before Red Hood and before I messed everything up. I swear I’m going to make it up to you.”

Eventually, Dick found him asleep, head resting against the hospital mattress, fingers still entwined with Y/N’s lifeless hand. A blanket lay folded on the small sofa, and with a soft smile, he carried it over, draping it gently over Jason—a silent promise that everything would be alright in the end.

Tag list : @cedricmason @spnfanboy777 @livingyetnotbreathing @n-e-o-w-r-i-t-e-s @karleetakeenan @goldfox388 @djmalik52 @carkybook @alylp @evalynanne @mrsstrugglebarnes @mhagirlswife @neupzthedoor @the-waters-ember @pr0miscu01s @itsoneloafofbreadareyoukiddingme @kerotheology @sillylandtoadbailiff @devilslilbandit @myybebe @obi-ani @pppowerkiller @simpin4grayson @kawaiishipperforlife @ventxi @sandy-gay-potato-head @cherrypossum @buzzybeethings @neadoesstuff @rainbowglitter @bratty1boy @thefirstdirector @wow-its-that-weird-gay-kid @s-r-amikaelson @cascadingbliss @rei-themotherfucker @wolf-knights @reallyhi @idiotussupremus @instantsharkskeletonpizza

[satinsumu]

first. || suna r.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: MINORS DNI, f!reader, slight slight angst but mostly fluff, language, unprotected sex, fingering, virginity loss, dirty talk, praise, creampie, soft suna is romantic, shy baby’s first time ❤️ 

summary: it’s hard not to get self-conscious being intimate with suna for the first time, especially when he’s far more experienced than you are—but your boyfriend is sure to remind you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

a/n: what did i say about loving the first time trope lol. also didn’t proofread bc that’s how we do it here (edit: this was so much longer than i’d intended and i ended up getting so much more attached than i’d intended lmfao i want a suna in my life Right Now)

a tingle travels throughout your body as your bare back touches the soft sheets of suna’s bed, your boyfriend’s hands gently moving from your shoulders down to your knees.

he lifts one of your legs up, slender fingers rubbing small circles against your skin, before bending down to press a small kiss to your inner thigh. his greyish, golden eyes—half-lidded and slowly growing darker with desire—flick up to meet yours with such tender intensity that it takes your breath away.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly at your silence, carefully setting your leg back down against the mattress as he leans over you, one hand planted beside your head. 

“yeah,” you reassure him. the reply comes out a bit weaker than you’d intended.

“we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” suna murmurs, lowering himself to give you a small kiss, right at edge of your mouth. his lips are warm. gentle.

“i do, i’m just—” you quickly answer, but look away with slight embarrassment. “just a little nervous, that’s all... don’t know if i’ll be good.”

the second half of your sentence is just barely above a whisper, and suna’s expression softens.

“don’t worry about that,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your forehead, before slowly moving further down your neck and chest. “just want you to be comfortable.”

you feel him stop just above your left breast, the ghost of his breath lingering on your flesh. a sudden, warm sensation washes over you as suna takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks, his hot, wet tongue swirling circles around the bud. you gasp at the feeling and squeeze your eyes shut while his other hand slides down your stomach, hovering just above the thin, silky fabric of your underwear.

suna releases your nipple from his mouth as he pushes himself back up, licking his lips while studying your expression.

“you’re so warm down here,” he says with a small smile. his finger draws a long, slow stripe along your folds, the pressure through your panties just enough to send another tingle traveling all over your body. “can i take these off?”

you nod and grant him permission, shyness burning in your cheeks at how exposed and vulnerable you feel, but also at how careful suna is being. he smooths his palm against your hip bone and drags the garment of clothing down your legs before it comes back up, teasingly squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh. 

“good girl,” suna hums, straightening himself to pull his own shirt over his head. the words make your heart pound violently in your chest.

without another word, he takes your other breast in his large hand, groping and kneading the flesh while his opposite hand begins to make work of your sex. he presses two fingers against your folds and slowly rubs circles against the skin as you feel your clit grow more and more sensitive to the pseudo-contact. 

you tilt your head back, dipping further into the sheets, while a shaky sigh escapes your lips. a small smile rests on suna’s face at the sight—you seem to be feeling good, and he intends on keeping it that way. 

his movements are growing faster now. you can feel your arousal growing wetter, and you know suna can feel it too, with the way his fingertips are coated with your slick. he takes this as a safe indication to finally slip a digit into you—god knows how fucking badly he wishes it were his cock instead—and the little squeak that rolls off your tongue is like music to his ears.

“so tight, baby,” he murmurs, elated at the sight of you clenching around him while trying to keep his composure. how did he get so lucky? “but you’re taking my fingers so well.”

there’s so much going on.

you can feel your boyfriend watching you, but you’re too distracted to think about how your face must look right now. especially when he’s still squeezing your tits, focusing on your pleasure as he continues pumping his finger in and out of your tiny hole. then he adds another, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, surprised that suna’s hands are moving with so much ease and also how good it feels. even more so when his thumb continues to rub at your clit in tandem with his other fingers.

soft, lewd squelching noises can be heard in the quiet of his room as both you and suna realize that this won’t be enough. you need more. your pussy is practically begging for it, even if your mouth isn’t.

“think you’re ready, sweetheart,” suna breathes, willing himself to pull his fingers out of your cunt.

you nod coyly in response, slightly irritated at yourself for feeling uneasy in front of your boyfriend; he’s being so good to you, so patient, but you’ve just never done anything so lewd befo—

your brain short-circuits as you watch suna look you dead in the eye before putting two glistening fingers, still covered in your juices, into his mouth. he slowly pulls out, soft pink lips wrapped around them, tongue lapping shamelessly at whatever he missed on his thumb.

he gives you an alluring smirk, and your hands instinctively fly up to cover your flustered face. your cheeks are burning with both desire and embarrassment, but suna grips your wrist and slowly pulls it away.

“look at me, baby,” he says, his body hovering closely above yours. “nothing to be embarrassed about.”

god, you look so fucking cute, he really doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“can i...?” suna trails off, the hardness in his pants growing more and more difficult to ignore by the second as it presses against your leg.

“p-please, rin,” you whisper. the way your innocent, nervous eyes are asking him to fuck you is honestly enough to make him jizz in his pants. 

without another word, suna pushes himself back up, unzipping his pants so that his erect member can finally spring free. he barely has to give it a few impatient strokes—a trait you rarely see in your boyfriend—before it’s fully hard. the sheer size of his cock causes you to gulp, the tiny beads of precum already leaking out from its tip.

suna takes it in his hand, smearing his own arousal over the head before bending over to rub its heaviness over your folds. your clit is already puffy and sensitive from his fingers earlier, and it feels like it’s twitching in pleasure from the contact. 

“o-oh,” you gasp, and suna smiles at the sound, his eyes glossing over your body like he simply can’t get enough. he slowly moves his cock downwards, using all his self-restraint to ignore the throbbing, aching desire in it to just fuck your brains out already.

lining it up with your entrance, he murmurs, “i’m gonna put it in.”

“okay,” you exhale, chest heaving in anticipation.

your hands travel up beside your head to grip the pillow as a means to brace yourself, and you finally feel suna slide into you with surprising ease. every inch of his cock drags along your walls in slow motion, and you’ve never been so physically close to him before. there’s a soft ache—barely noticeable—but it’s not painful... and yet, it’s not pleasurable either.

an unprecedented panic creeps its way into your head at the realization.

what if this doesn’t end up feeling good? what if he doesn’t end up feeling good? oh god, what if he doesn’t even finish? surely, you’d be the only girl he’ll have slept with that could fuck up this bad—who knows how many girls have come before you? (literally.) what if—

“what’s wrong?” suna’s gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his tone tinged with a slight worry. 

“n-nothing,” you shake your head quickly. ugh, you feel like such... a loser. an idiot, really.

“talk to me, sweetheart,” suna murmurs, towering over you as he’s still balls deep inside your cunt. “does it hurt?”

he wants to pull out in case that’s the problem, but also doesn’t want to make any sudden moves, for fear of hurting you.

“no, i’m okay,” you insist in an attempt to reassure him. “i just, i don’t know, i’m being stupid.”

suna’s expression softens, but before he can say anything, you’re already babbling on again, and you can’t even stop.

“what if you don’t end up feeling good?” you quiver, the question more so directed at yourself than at your boyfriend. “what if you don’t even finish because of how much i suck? i-i don’t want to be the only person you’ve been with who’s bad at sex—”

your heart is racing now and the words are tumbling out of your mouth helplessly. you feel so bad for dumping this on him, and your frustration towards yourself brings small tears to the corners of your eyes—

“baby, listen to me,” suna says quietly but firmly, one hand cupping your cheek and turning your face towards him so that you’re no longer avoiding eye contact. his thumb gently brushes away the dampness at the edge of your lower lashline before he continues,

“first of all, there’s no such thing as being bad at sex—and you’re doing great,” he murmurs, planting a quick kiss to your lips. “you’re the only person i want to do this with, and as long as it’s with you, i’m happy.”

you sniffle a little bit, but your heart soars at his words, the tension in your chest slowly easing.

“second of all, don’t worry about me,” he says gently, his eyes filled with a tender adoration as he gazes at you. “it’s really sweet that you’re thinking of me, but i want you to feel good.”

a warmth blooms in your cheeks. 

“and besides, you’re fucking beautiful,” suna continues, leaning down again to press his lips against your bare shoulder. “i could cum just from the sight of you, but i’m trying to hold back because i want you to finish first.”

the bluntness of his words causes you to look away shyly, and suna smiles down at you. 

“so,” he begins again, before giving you a small suck on your jaw. “can you let me make you feel good?”

you nod slowly, and bring your arms up to wrap them around his neck.

“sorry,” you manage a small giggle at the feeling of his dick still inside you—you really have terrible timing, that much you’ll admit.

“it’s okay,” suna murmurs, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “i love you, you know that.”

he’s said those words before, but the way he’s uttering them into your ear right now, in the quiet intimacy that only you two share, makes your heart race and your head spin.

“just let me know if you want me to stop,” he says, before finally, gradually pulling himself out.

suna slides his cock back into you with ease, your juices still coating his member. he repeats the motion a few more times, each time just a little bit more fluidly and rapidly than the last, until you’ve fully adjusted to his size. the sensation is still foreign, but no longer uncomfortable.

he finally reaches a pace where he thrusts himself into you for the first time with a low grunt, the rough penetration catching you off guard. a small “mmf!” escapes your mouth as you bite your lip, embarrassed at hearing the sound of your own voice.

“don’t hold those precious noises back, sweetheart,” suna breathes seductively into your skin, his low voice causing you to clench harder around him. “wanna hear how good i make you feel. the louder the better.”

you nod at his encouragement as small beads of sweat form along your temple.

he gives you another sharp thrust, followed by another, and then another, until he’s steadily rocking into you as the bed creaks with every movement. this time, you can’t help the wanton moans of his name that fill the air, each one prompting him to continue.

“a-ah!” you cry at a particularly harsh snap of his hips, your cunt sucking him back in every time he pulls out of you. “r-rin! rin! rin!”

suna’s never been one to have a big head or a large ego, but the way you’re chanting his name like a mantra makes pride swell in his chest. you look so angelic, eyes fluttered shut with every time he fucks into you, nipples moving up and down with your breasts, hair splayed out against his bedsheets, sopping wet pussy clamping around his cock as your very first time. how could he not be in love with you?

“f-feeling good, baby?” he pants, trying to hold it together. 

“yes,” you gasp as a small dribble of drool leaks out of the corner of your mouth. but you don’t care. you want him. more of him, more, more, more. “want you so bad.”

suna thinks he’s going to lose his damn mind.

“you like that?” his voice borders on a growl, and his strong arms snake beneath you to pull you into a hug before one of them props his body up against the mattress so he can angle himself into you with even more intensity. lord help him, he wants to cum so fucking bad with how hot you look, your nails digging into his skin as he fucks you into tomorrow.

“n-ngh!” you groan, tossing your head back at the way suna is driving himself in and out of you as his eyes flit down to your heaving chest. “i-i think ‘m c-close...”

that was all suna needed to hear as he laid you back down, flat against the bed as one hand travels urgently down to your heat. he takes two fingers and begins rubbing your folds again, one dipping past them to play with your clit, the stimulation causing you to see stars. suna presses an open mouthed kiss against your lips at the sight of them parting, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue across yours.

he picks up the speed of his thrusts again, his other hand now preoccupied with kneading your breasts and pinching your nipple as you cry out for him, and only him.

“r-rin!” your voice rings in his head, your gasps broken up into needy pants. 

“doin’ so good, angel,” he mutters against your lips, still mercilessly slamming his cock into you. “taking my cock so—ngh!—well, wanna keep this pussy all to myself.”

you don’t even have time to process the lewdness of his words before your back is arching, suna’s fingers rubbing your clit at an unbelievable pace as he simultaneously slides himself in and out of you, the slapping sounds amplified by your juices.

“cum for me sweetheart, you can do it,” suna urges, his eyes fixated on your face. “show me just how good i make you feel—”

a sudden wave of bliss floods over you as you feel the tension in your body release, your clit throbbing with pleasure at the sensation. suna’s eyes widen at the way your jaw grows slack, trying not to cum at the mere sight of your fucked out expression while he helps you ride out your orgasm.

“h-hah,” you gasp, still chasing your climax while suna continues thrusting into your cunt, his cock twitching with arousal. after a few seconds, he picks up his own pace, chasing his own high with your body.

“god, you feel so good around me,” he mutters, clenching his teeth at the way your walls continue to suck him in. 

“want you to cum inside, r-rin,” you whine into his ear, the syllables broken up by how hard he’s fucking you as your whole being practically bounces around his cock, his balls clapping with wet slapping sounds against your ass. “f-fill m-me up?”

you don’t need to say anything else as suna finally snaps, pushing himself so deep into you with an almost primal urge as cum shoots out of his cock. you can feel the warmth all the way in your belly as you look up at your boyfriend, sweaty and out of breath, panting into your neck before finally pulling himself out of you.

he catches your lips with his as he gives you a long, passionate kiss, before breaking away and giving you a quick peck on both cheeks, then your nose, then your forehead.

“you did so good, baby,” he murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, that had found its way to stick to your face. an affectionate warmth brings a small smile to your lips as you nuzzle your cheek into suna’s palm, and he feels himself lose his breath at the sight of you.

“be good and stay here, okay?” he mumbles, reluctantly pulling himself off of you. he could stare at you forever. “i’ll go get a towel and clean you up. i love you.”