#be a high ranking gang member

[peachdues]

we love ✨duality✨

[canisalbus]

i had a strange dream in which Vasco and Machete were both a) in a modern day gang and b) were based on real people that you, the artist, personally knew. Someone made a trivia post about your blog saying “Y’know how all 12 of the high ranking gang members in that canis albus webcomic wear necklaces with a die hanging from them? (Both Vasco and Machete had four sided dice btw) This is actually based on a real thing that the real people who are in the gang it’s based on wear.”

then someone reblogged it with “I didn’t believe this until I learned that Machete’s real life counterpart is the one that designed all of them, and has spares of them all for safe keeping. Supposedly, his most unique password is the one that protects the safe that the spares are in, which, in turn, is based on the canis albus blog!”

idk if or how you’d even interpret this as a drawing, but i kinda just wanted to let you know that i dreamt about your pups

.

[mariocki]

Alfred Burke puts on his best policing face as Parisian detective Inspector Maron, in Overseas Press Club - Exclusive!: The Billion Franc Mystery (1.6, ABPC, 1957)

[rosehippiefield]

Winner and potential leadership in Asunaro (this is more of a rant)

While the goal of Asunaro is still a bit unclear, there is a possibility that this game is deciding next leader of criminal organisation like in Hades incident. But why would kidnappers do this to people not in the know?

Candidates are very likely not just random people due to whole AI deal and percentages (though Joe has AI too, maybe every participant has). Plus, Gashu's hint at suspicious upbringing demonstrates that candidates are indeed special to Asunaro. Maybe they're all orphans adopted by Asunaro members. Yet, they clearly knew nothing. They have no criminal background (Alice's case doesn't count because he was framed, same with Keiji). They don't have a clue as to how Asunaro works. They weren't trained to become the head of it, even if some qualities were groomed by parents (like with Sara, who was taught to never hold back by her father).

Nearly ordinary people are put in death game where they form connections, get traumatised from seeing allies dead... And who is responsible for such horrors? All conflicts, all death are direct or indirect results of kidnappers' actions. Does Asunaro think winner is going to be loyal after this? This organisation made their life hell, no matter who we're talking about, everyone suffered.

The only two explanations are that winner is expected to be either completely broken or nearly heartless. It worked with Gashu, it worked with Miley (though she probably plots something against Asunaro). With AI data kidnappers surely know how everything is going to unfold, but... How else can winner be cooperative with Asunaro is beyond me. Maybe they won't become head of organisation, just another broken tool that is forced to be a member. Maybe all of it was experiment on good people before doing real death game with fellow criminals (which is still not logical because too much effort was made). Because making kind of random person a leader of organisation they have no positive attachment to is not logical.

Only if somebody in shadow needs a broken manipulatable pawn that is brainwashed to the point of silently following orders and believing Asunaro to be their god a-la Gashu Satou.

Maybe it's all about staying strong: almost all current members of Asunaro gave in (Miley is exception as she's probably planning something and Kai betraying Asunaro altogether), while all participants are trying their best to hope. Asunaro is used to seeing this hope abandoned, so the goal of participants is to be unpredictable with it and stay determined. But AI are supposed to accurate, not too much room for unexpected...

I really wonder what will happen to winner after the death game

[g1-skywarp]

bronze legion soldiers watching me kicking the living shit out of a navy crew in front of fort talos:

[ronmanmob]

truth serum ! - do you want to go best up alexs ex or are you going to send pat to do it? Or both? 🤣

Truth Serum Meme

"--Y'see luv-" Ron paused his usual work buffing the bar's mahogany top to lean in, a knowing quality to his gaze. "--Pat, 'ee wouldn't need no tellin'. 'N me?" A hundred things went wholly unsaid in the pause that followed; a hundred mentions of how much damage Ron and his Firm had personally inflicted upon men more and less deserving than Alex's ex Mr; of how Pat, who thought kindly of Alex, really would need no excuses to fetch up at this fella's door to joint him with his bare hands; and of how Ron, as a Face in London once upon a lifetime back, wouldn't be caught dead doing capital W Work on a mark unless that Work ended in disposal of a body.

In place of all this, he blinked himself out of what would've looked like a moment's reverie and said, "--S'only evah taken a request."

Duster in hand, Ron went back to work on the bar's lovingly kept expanse without elaborating. It needn't be common knowledge that, in that once upon a lifetime back, all it took to engage his services was a need expressed by someone needful.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Had a funny thought about you getting followed by high ranking members in the mafia… and they all keep giving you gifts and asking to court you.

They all act the exact same, same voice, same mannerisms…

So it’s revealed to be either one of two scenarios.

One, a mind controlling entity has been running the mafia from behind the scenes and using the members as puppets to interact with you.

Two, a shapeshifter has been using the forms of people they’ve recently killed to infiltrate the mafia and use its power and money to try and woo you.

Both are socially inept with no idea how humans work, they are just infatuated with you so it’s really scary having beings that are pretending to be human coming up to you and asking if you would mate with them……

With the first option, you end up getting gang banged by all of his puppets… but he gets tired of fucking you through the bodies of others… so he appears, massive and unsettling, ready to breed you properly.

For the second, he can shift into whatever you want, and BEGS for you to tell him to be whatever you want him to be. He gets flustered when you say you want him to be himself… and ends up putting you in the mating press…

[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[minniesmutt]

hai hai haii bangchan + mamacita 👀

﹙ 🪐 ﹚

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐚

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: MAFIA!AU, MAFIA BOSS! CHAN, MISOGYNY, GUNS, ORAL (F. REC), FACE RIDDING, UNPROTECTED SEX, ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.2K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: not me listening to MAMACITA when you sent that hbjad ☾ ━━━ send me Chase Atlantic songs and a member to write a blurb about ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     The only person Chan trusted more than his seven friends was his girlfriend. Especially when he needed to give people a little push. Maybe because she was just the right level of crazy to date— let alone join his gang— a mafia boss.

     He had her on his arm at a banquet for the underground world. Security was tight for the event and Chan knew coming in, he was fine if someone tried something. Y/n stuck close to him the whole time. Her arm wrapped with his while she held a glass of champagne in the other. He watched how many other men looked at her as they walked by. It boosted his ego more.

     “Mr. Bang! How nice to meet you finally!” Something he’d heard all night

     “Mr. Lee. It’s nice to meet you as well,” Chan greeted the target, being the cordial businessman he was.

     It wasn’t long before more men he’d spoken to over the phone had joined his conversation, including some sons who were due to take over their father’s spot. He’d proudly introduced Y/n as his girlfriend to the group when asked. Y/n smiled and gave a small wave to the group.

     “How do you manage to pick up such a pretty lady Mr. Bang?” One of the sons asked

     “Pure luck,” Chan answered

     “You have her well trained. Been quiet as a mouse all night.” Mr. Lee joked causing the other men to laugh

     “Maybe you’re just not worth speaking to Mr. Lee. Your fourth wife seems to think so at the moment,” Y/n smiled as she sipped her drink

     “Excuse me?” Mr. Lee looked shocked

     “Obviously not trained enough,” Another remarked

     “You let her speak this way, Mr. Bang?”

     “I prefer she does,” Chan smiled

     Chan didn’t worry about his girlfriend mouthing off. He’d thought it was attractive to watch her do it to others. It’s how things seemed to get done.

     “And you’re the current head of the underworld bosses? Can’t believe you have such a mou—”

     “You can finish that sentence if you prefer glass in your throat,” Y/n interrupted

     The look in her eyes alone kept the men silent for a moment.

     “I believe the council will need to discuss our leadership now,” Mr. Lee said

     “You’re just looking for an excuse to take out Chan, Mr. Lee.”

     “I most certainly am not!”

     “It’s really amazing what a few high ranking members of your family will say with a good drink and a pretty face in front of them.”

     “I beg you’re pardon?”

     “Then get on your knees and beg.”

     Y/n watched as he reached behind and pulled out a gun. Point it at her, which just made security— all who worked for her boyfriend— pull theirs out and surround the group.

     “Thank you, for showing you’re true colors, Mr. Lee. If any of you would like to join Mr. Lee, please feel free too. But let this be a warning not to question my leadership.” Chan smiled

     One of the security guards grabbed the gun from the man while he was escorted to a different room.

     “You let yourself get—” one of the sons started speaking put was cut off by Y/n’s champagne flute colliding with his head

     “Deal with them,” Chan sighed and escorted his girlfriend out of the room. Bringing her back home and carrying her up to their room.

     “Chan!” Y/n squealed

     “What?” He laughed as he walked up the stairs

     “I can walk.”

     “Mm, but I know you’re feet hurt from those heels baby.”

     Chan opened their bedroom door before setting her on the bed and kneeling infront of her. He quickly slipped her heels off and set them in their closet. Y/n smiled as he turned back to her. “I’m so glad I get to call you mine,” Chan said as he crawled over her and pressed his lips to hers.

     Y/n moaned into his mouth and pushed his blazer off his shoulder. Their hands roamed the other’s body, pulling off the fabric of the clothing. Tossing them somewhere in the room for someone to deal with later. Y/n managed to get her boyfriend on his back as she grinded herself against him. 

     “Let me prep you baby girl,” Chan said as she kissed down his neck

     “Let me ride that pretty face tonight?” Y/n asked

     “Whenever. Get up here.”

     Y/n moved up his frame. Wet pussy hovering over his face before he pulled her down to his mouth. Tongue sliding into her and coating her walls with his saliva. Y/n grabbed onto their headboard. Rolling her hips against his face, nose hitting her clit while his hands gripped her ass. 

     Y/n moaned into the large room. The tip of his nose hitting her clit with each roll of her hips. “Channie.” 

     Chan moaned into her as his hands had migrated to her hips and helped her rock against him. Her moans were muffled from him by her thighs. Her legs got tighter around his head with each swip of his tongue and nose.

     “Need you inside, Channie,” Y/n moaned

     Y/n peered down at him. Eyes closed as he ate her out. Enjoying the taste of her to the fullest. Chan kept her flush against him as she whined. The knot in her stomach tightening with each motion. Y/n moved her hands to grip his wrists. Holding on to him as he orgasm washed over her. A loud moan ripping from her throat. 

     Chan helped her through the high he set off before letting her off his face. Y/n sat up a bit and caught her breath as he moved her back over his hard cock. Y/n lifted his leaky dick from his stomach, positioning his tip at her entrance, and slowly sinking down. Chan held her hips as she sat down on him. Watching her head roll back as she took his size. 

     “Such a good girl for me,” Chan praised her 

      “Only you,” Y/n hummed as she placed her hands on his chest. 

     Slowly she started bouncing along his shaft. Chan took in the sight of her. Just like he always did in bed. His hands caressed her sides as she squeezed him just right.

       His hands grabbed her hips again as she picked up her pace. Helping her bounce on him as her nails left crescents into the skin. Dragging her nails down his chest. Chan moaned under her as she smiled down at him. Dick twitching inside as she clenched around him for fun. Rolling against him as Chan tilted his head back into the pillow.

     “Fuck baby. ‘M close,” Chan moaned

     “Fill me up Channie. Pretty please.” Y/n begged 

     “Whatever you want.” Chan sat up and pressed his lips to hers.

     Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her tongue slipping into his mouth and playing with his tongue as his hands gripped her hips tighter. Burying himself inside her as his orgasm washed over him. Whimpering into her mouth as she tried rolling her hips against him.

     He flipped her onto her back, leaning down to her neck, “You’re turn baby.”

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[gremlingottoosilly]

Now, Fallout!AU for Raider!Konig and fem!Reader...

Konig as a raider. Your typical one - wall of meat, muscles, mean motherfucker who doesn't really care who to kill and who to fuck after. It might be from one of the less drug-addicted gangs, most of the shit never works on him anyway. Might be radiation, might be mild mutation - no one cares. He isn't a leader of the gang, never good at working with people and commanding them - but he is good at shooting people and taking their stuff. He is good at spotting and sniping, despite people around laughing at his huge form scrambling behind a stolen sniper riffle. This is how he spots you, actually. A vault dweller - this much is obvious. You can lead him to your stash, a can deep in the ground. Filled with people, vault-dwelling rats - the ones that are too fucking good for this place. Konig thinks he hates them - but honestly, half of the wasteland does. You do look good in that tight suit of yours. Bright blue on the dry yellow of the ground below. he wondered who designed the suits - if people knew that every dumb underground rat would be spotted from at least 3 kilometres away in that bright blue thing. Works for him, though. He flips off the guy who didn't want to spot for his position. His rank in the gang is high enough to just get a guy by his neck and force him on guard duty - all while he is getting ready to catch the little rat. It was a while since he saw someone so pretty - honestly, only Vault dwellers can be considered pretty at this point. Clean skin, moderately clean hair. He knows that if he gets to smell you, you'd have this awesome stench of cleanliness. Would be lovely to push his nose into your hair as he fucks you on his bunk. Might even clean his room a bit so the underworld princess won't be too disgusted at the perspective of being chained to his bunk. A prized property. Pretty helpless thing.

Konig drags you to the compound with ease. You're too startled at the sight of a giant hooded man approaching you with a very mean gun on his hip - not even in his hands, since he is confident he can snap your neck with just two fingers. You whine like a brain calf being split in two at some posh casino far in New Vegas - he brushes his hand over your ass, gripping it. Patting it. You do have a weapon - he disposes of it now, just getting it to his pocket. You freeze when he takes your pip-boy off, snapping it off your wrist with ease. You mouth a little plead with your lips. Konig laughs. You have a Vault location in here - it's funny how such a silly thing is going to be the doom of your people. The gang leader would probably be sad they didn't get to torture you for information, but Konig is making sure the whole gang will be satisfied hearing your moans and cries the whole night. Everyone knows that Konig is a beast - and that if they try to get the leftovers of a pretty Vault girl, they will be used as a target practice next. You do smell good. Konig takes note of breaking into some abandoned building and trying to fetch water and cleaning supplies so you could continue to smell nice. Wants to doll up his pretty Vault snatch - even finds some old, pre-war dresses. Plays house as long as gang allows it. Some of the younger members give you a pitied look, hearing your little sobs every time Konig forces you to move. Some of the older members know that the moans you're letting out aren't the ones of pain. Konig isn't the one to share and to talk, so he never even brags about his girl. Just has her attached to his hip, clinging to his armor since he is the only one who you know here. At least you know him, somehow. At least you know he likes his pretty Vault rat too much to let you get hurt. By anyone but him, that is.

[bitterbutblue]

interrogation - jane doe

just know you'll taste me too ☆ jane doe x fem!reader

~ THE JANE DOE TRAILER WAS SO FAN SERVICE BUT SORRY IT UNLOCKED SOMETHING IN ME... HOT RAT GIRL SAVE ME...

warning: SUGGESTIVE AND I SAY THE SEX WORD LIKE ONCE

song: taste - sabrina carpenter ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The first thing you took note of was how much your head hurt. An incessant pounding, each worse than the last. You take a deep breath in, feeling the cold air fill your lungs. It stings, breathing stings. It's like a blade dragging itself down your throat and it makes you feel like coughing. The second thing you take note of is the feeling of ropes digging into your skin around your wrists and ankles. You squirmed, trying to move but to no avail. You were tied down. The last thing you took note of was where you were. Your vision begins to clear itself after a couple blinks- you looked around, breathing shakily as you eyed the dark surroundings. Nothing but a single lamp light pointed down at you. Everything else was dark.

"Good morning~"

A sultry voice echoes through the room- low and smooth. The woman's voice wraps around your neck, her voice is your chokehold. You look around, eyes darting from left to right, up to down, as you try to find the source of the voice.

"Who- where the fuck am I?"

Your voice is hoarse, raspy. Your throat feels scratchy and speaking just dries it out even more. You wonder how long you've been knocked out for.

"You would want to know, wouldn't you?"

"Who the fuck wouldn't?"

You couldn't stop the retorts- yes you were about to possibly die but what fucking right does this woman have?

"Honestly, I don't think that matters too much. Also, watch your language- it's quite vulgar."

The figure steps out from the shadows, a blade in her hand. An all-too smug smirk on her face as she crouches down to your eye level. You would recognise that goddamn face from anywhere.

"Jane."

"Hi."

"Fuck you."

She just giggles.

"Glad to see you remember me."

Supposedly working for under the boss of your gang, but god knows better than that. You had your suspicions since the very first day and the day your gang got busted down. She had ran away- and the last thing you remember is a waft of smoke in front of your eyes and a wet towel with a foul odour over your nose and mouth.

"Bitch."

She narrows her eyes, standing up to move behind you. You hear her footsteps, soft but it still echoes in the hollows of this dark room. You gasp when you feel her lean over your shoulder, her hair tickling your neck as she smiles.

"Don't think I've forgotten our history, my dear."

Gay people always have some fucked up history with each other and this is more or less the proof. Having had sex with her on multiple occasions while she was working for your boss was probably not ideal for this situation too.

"Shame. I always wanted to see you tied down for me, just not under these circumstances."

You scoffed, looking away. You couldn't help the blush that had started creeping up from your neck and had now dusted your cheeks with a bright shade of pink. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some way out of the stupid ropes.

"What do you want."

You curse yourself for your shaky voice.

"I just have a few questions."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. It was always more than 'just a few questions'. It has never, and never will be, 'just a few questions' with Jane. She moves so that she's knelt between your thighs and in other circumstances this would've been incredibly hot (but truthfully told you couldn't help but swallow at the sight). Her tail wraps itself around your leg as she inches closer.

"How did he get away?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? You knocked me the fuck out!"

She rests a hand on your thigh and you physically shudder at the touch.

You feel pathetic.

"You were a high ranking member. Not as high ranking as me.. but-"

"Okay, no need to rub that in-"

"But. We had you all surrounded. There was no way a 7 foot giant of a man could've gotten away. How?"

Is she just bad at her job?

"Dude, how the fuck am I supposed to know? I'm a lower rank than you- you should've kidnapped someone else for fuck's sake!"

Jane just giggles as her fingers begin inching up higher and higher and the once icy cold room suddenly feels like it's burning hot. You squirm again, there has to be some fucking way out of these binds. Her tail unravels itself, moving up so that it caresses your face. You shiver at the touch- the cold, metallic blade just barely grazing your cheek.

"You had connections with him no one else had."

"Shut- what?"

"You were the most convenient one to grab... considering your long history with the boss I wouldn't be surprised if he was your uncle."

"He's not." You scowl, trying not to show her exactly how much her touch affects you. You feel the blade on her tail move down, now moving itself to graze your neck.

Why was that so hot?

"Hm, sure."

She just giggles again, this time moving off her knees and back onto her feet. She presses a hand against your chest, the other on the side of your thigh as she leans down so that her face was mere inches from yours and you can feel her breath fan against your face and you can feel her eyes boring into yours and-

Oh you're so gay.

"Just tell me where he went, and we can settle this nicely like before."

"What? Did you just want to fuck me one last time before I go to jail or something?"

"Maybe." She shrugs, hand trailing up so that it wrapped around your neck. You felt her squeeze gently, and your breath catches in your throat. The room is overheating. You're overheating.

"Just be a good girl for me and tell me the truth?"

That bitch.

You couldn't help but shudder but god you can't give in to her because you're horny and pathetic, that's so stupid!

"Fuck you."

She sighs.

"I knew this would take a while."

Her eyes dart up and down your body, taking in your restrained state with a small and satisfied smirk as her grasp around your throat softens. You catch your breath- only for it to be taken away when you feel her blade trail downwards.

"I don't mind staying."

[candycandy00]

Bad Boy - A Togame Jo x Reader Fanfic

Your town is controlled by two gangs: Shishitoren and Bofurin. With a taste for danger, you love to sneak over to the Shishitoren side, where you spot a handsome dark haired stranger rumored to be a violent and dangerous gang member. But he doesn’t seem so bad to you. 

Smut. 18+. Gang AU. Busty Fem Reader. Togame is in his mid 20’s. Bondage. Oral. Rough sex. Reader is sexually aggressive and a tease. Divider by @benkeibear.

You first met Togame at the festival being held on the temple grounds. You’d come from the other end of town to hang out with your friend, and you were carrying a frozen treat in a cup made of paper. You bumped into someone tall, and your frozen treat smashed into his chest. You apologized, he gave you a curt nod, and that was it. 

You turned and looked back at him as he walked over to a food stall to talk to the person running it. From the way he was dressed, you would assume that he worked at the temple. He had dark hair worn longer than most other men his age (early twenties if you were guessing) and striking green eyes. 

He was entirely your type.

“Don’t even think about it,” your friend said when she noticed you staring. 

You didn’t pry your eyes away even as you answered, “Why not?”

“His name’s Togame. He’s with the Shishitoren gang. Pretty high up in the ranks too. He’s well known for being violent, even with other members of the gang. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

You were still watching him as he left the stall and walked further away. “A bad boy, huh?”

Your friend grabbed your wrist to get your attention. “Hey, listen to me! You better stay away from him! They say he shows no mercy to his own guys. What do you think he would do to you if he knew you have ties to the Bofurin?”

You gave her a grin. “No idea, but you’ve got me curious now.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna end up dead one of these days. You take a huge risk every time you come to this side of town.”

Her voice kept going, but you were not really listening. She might think this Togame guy is a big scary gang member, but she didn’t see what you saw. She didn’t see his face flush pink when your body brushed against his. Something tells you he’d be very fun to play with. 

************************

When Togame found a couple of his guys cornering a college girl in an alley, he stopped to see what was going on. 

One of them turns to him. “She’s from the other side. Her cousin is in Bofurin!”

Togame wonders what could possess her to reveal such information, but the cat’s out of the bag now. She’s an intruder on their territory, and they can’t just let her go. 

“I’ll handle it,” he says, and the other two back away, revealing the hottest girl he’s ever seen. Everything from her shape to her hair to her eyes, to the way she stands there like a tasty lamb among wolves, draws his eye. Her skirt is way too short and her shirt, with tiny straps to hold it up, is way too tight. To his embarrassment, it’s very clear that she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Come with me,” he tells her, keeping his voice smooth and controlled. He’s silently praying she doesn’t resist. If he has to manhandle her, he’s going to end up humiliating himself by popping a boner. 

She looks up at him innocently. “Oh no, are you taking me captive?” 

Something about her voice makes him think she’s definitely not innocent. “I’ll take you back to our base. Then we can decide what to do with a Bofurin interloper.”

She purses her glossy lips in obviously fake concern. “I hope you’ll be gentle with me!”

He tries to ignore the way her huge tits strain against her shirt, the way her hard nipples protrude as one thin strap falls off her shoulder. 

“We’ll see,” he says, turning his back to her and walking toward the Ori, counting on her to follow. She clearly has some plan in mind, so he might as well see where this goes. 

No one else is there at this hour, but he still takes her into one of the small side rooms. It was probably a break room for employees at some point. There are a few small chairs and one table that looks like it could break at any moment. 

Just to be safe, he sits her in a chair and uses a discarded cord to tie her hands behind her. Whatever her game is, she’s definitely trouble, and he doesn’t need her slipping away to cause problems. 

She squirms a bit in the chair. “Did you bring me to this abandoned building so you could have your way with me?”

He blinks. “Uh, no?”

She’s actually pouting! She wiggles a bit, pretending to pull at the cord. “But I’m all tied up and so helpless! You could do anything you want to me and I couldn’t stop you.”

He sighs, already getting a headache. This has to be some kind of trap or trick. “Right now, all I want to do is talk,” he tells her. “Why did you come to this side of town? If your cousin is in Bofurin, you must know you’re in enemy territory.”

She smiles at him. “I’ve heard you’re really important over here,” she says, completely avoiding the question. “Apparently you’re a bad guy. Violent. Scary.”

He can’t really deny it. Those words could definitely describe him at times, when he has to step up and take care of unpleasant business. He doesn’t enjoy it, and would much rather live a peaceful life. But he has a talent for inflicting violence on others, and he’s had to put that talent to use many times while weeding out traitors to the gang or fighting their enemies. He’s well aware of the reputation he’s fostered in town, which is why most women avoid him. 

“And what if I am?” he asks the woman in front of him. 

Her eyes seem to light up with excitement, but she feigns fear again. “Then it looks like I’m in the lion’s den. Will you eat me alive?”

His eyes rove up and down her body, and he has to literally will himself not to blush. She’s certainly tantalizing. 

As she squirms around in the chair, her skirt slides up her thighs. She gasps in mock surprise. “Oh no, my skirt’s riding up! With my hands tied I can’t even pull it back down! This is so embarrassing, especially since I’ve misplaced my panties. If it rides up any more, you’ll see everything!”

If he’d been drinking anything, he would have comically spit it out. Instead, his eyes go wide and he swiftly turns his back to her before she can see how red his face is. 

He’s never even thought about tearing a woman’s clothes off and fucking her raw until she’s a crying mess before, but this woman is going to turn him into a beast. He has to get it together! 

Togame takes a moment to compose himself, to construct a calm and collected persona and keep it on. If there’s one thing he’s good at besides beating the shit out of people, it’s pretending to be something he’s not. 

He turns back around, and she’s looking at him with hungry eyes. Her legs are spread slightly apart, the fabric of her skirt just barely covering her. If it slides up even one more inch, he’ll get an eyeful. 

“Wow, I just noticed how tall you are,” she says. “With me being in this little chair, my face is at just the right height, huh?”

Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t had a whole lot of experience with women (and what little he had was back in high school), but he doesn’t realize what she means. “The right height for what?”

She giggles, probably amused by his naivety, and says, “For shoving your cock in my mouth.”

Ah, fuck, now that she’s said it, he can’t help picturing her plump, shiny lips stretched around the base of his cock as she chokes on it. He tries to clear his mind, to ignore all the lewd thoughts invading his brain, but they just keep marching in. And of course, he’s rapidly growing hard. His loose pants should keep it from being obvious though. He hopes. 

He decides to try a different tactic. Maybe she won’t be so coy if he intimidates her a little. 

Stepping right up to her, he looms over her bound form. Someone so much smaller than him should definitely be afraid. Especially someone aware of his reputation. He slams one hand down on the back of the chair, right beside her shoulder, and says in his most threatening tone, “Why did you come here? What game are you playing?”

She looks up at him, her skin flushed, her lips parted. Holy shit, she looks horny! Does she get off on danger or what? 

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, and for the first time her voice doesn’t have that phony damsel in distress tone. 

“Just tell me,” he says, still leaning over her. 

She hesitates, then takes a breath. “You probably don’t remember, but I bumped into you at the festival a few days ago. I got my ice cream all over you.”

He does remember, but he’d been so flustered by the feel of soft tits brushing against him that he hadn’t looked at the woman’s face. “That was you?”

She nods. “My friend told me about you, how you’re in Shishitoren and you’re so dangerous. I watched you for a little while and thought you were hot. So I started hanging around over here in the hopes that I could meet you.”

He feels himself getting red again, but he doesn’t turn around this time. “So you’ve met me. What do you want from me?”

She opens her legs a little more in the chair, her skirt edging up. Fuck, he really is going to see everything. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asks with a cat like grin. “I want you to wreck me.”

That’s it. He can’t take anymore. If she really wants him that badly, then he’ll fuck that smug grin right off her pretty face. 

Even if he’s blushing like a schoolboy while he does it. 

**************************

You know exactly what you’re doing. You had this all planned out after all. You want Togame, and you intend to have him. But even with that in mind, you’re still surprised when he suddenly pulls out a massive cock, already hard and leaking, and does exactly what you suggested earlier: shoves it into your hot wet mouth. 

He groans as he pushes it all the way in, gripping your hair for leverage, burying your nose in his soft, curly black pubic hair. Oh god, he’s so big, and so forceful, you’re already drenched. 

He’s halfway down your throat, making you gag and sputter around his cock, holding your head in place so you can’t pull back. Ahh, this is why you love bad guys. Tease them enough and they’ll fucking ruin you.  

But you’ve seen enough to realize Togame is not all that he seems. The way he reddens and gets flustered is just so cute! So when you look up at him, tears stinging your eyes, he quickly pulls back enough to let you breathe. There’s an unspoken apology on his face, but once you begin licking his shaft like a popsicle, all hesitation disappears from his expression. 

He fucks your mouth, not quite as roughly as you expected given his supposed violent tendencies, but hard enough to make you moan around his cock as you continue to make an absolute mess in the chair. 

The sound of him breathing hard turns you on even more, and you wish one of your hands was free so you could shove it under your skirt. 

You constrict your throat around him, loving the way it makes him grunt and pump in harder. And after several minutes of absolutely railing your mouth, you feel his cock twitch and slide out. He barely makes it past your lips before his cum shoots out in thick ropes across your face, plenty of it splattering your lips and sliding onto your tongue. 

He’s panting above you, looking a little embarrassed. Was he trying to pull out in time to avoid filling your mouth? How sweet. You’re starting to think he’s not such a bad boy after all. 

You lick your lips clean as he stares at you, catching his breath. “Sorry,” he mutters, moving to go behind you, probably to untie your hands so you can clean your face. 

“Don’t untie me yet,” you tell him.

He pauses and looks at you questioningly. 

You tilt your head, causing more of his cum to drip to the corner of your mouth so you can reach it with your tongue. Then, as he watches intently with a pink flush to his face, you open your legs widely. Your skirt bunches at your waist, and your dripping pussy is on full display. 

“Are you really going to leave me like this?”

You hear his breath hitch, and just like magic, his cock is getting hard again. He looks you in the eyes, as if wanting to be sure. In response, you slide your hips forward, through your own juices, spreading your thighs even wider. 

That did the trick. Suddenly he’s jerking you up from the chair, your hands still tied behind you, and shoving you face down on the rickety table, effectively bending you over. His knees prod your legs apart, and before you can react at all, he buries the entirety of his cock in your pussy, making you gasp. 

Holy fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, and you can’t help but whimper as your bound hands grasp at air. 

You feel him lean over you from behind, and then his smooth voice in your ear, “This is what you wanted, right?”

His thrusts are so rough, the table is nearly scooting across the floor. You’re going to be sore for days after this. But god it feels good! “Yes!” you cry, clenching around him. “Break me!”

One of his hands reaches around and slides under your shirt, squeezing your breast hard before pinching your nipple. You hiss from the sting of it, getting more and more worked up. He’s hitting you so deep, right in the spot that makes your toes curl. 

“Ahhh… f-fuck, you’re so big,” you breathe out, feeling like he might literally split you in two. 

“You’re just… too tight…!” he mutters back, not slowing his thrusts at all. 

Maybe you teased him a little too much, because it feels like he’s made it his personal mission to fuck you absolutely stupid. 

And you love every second of it. 

He hits a particularly deep and sensitive spot, over and over, and suddenly you’re cumming, screaming out his name and squirting all over the table. He fucks you through it, both his hands now gripping your waist so hard, you know the imprints of his fingers will be there for a long time. 

When you feel him twitch again inside you, you quickly say, “Don’t pull out! I’m on birth control!”

“Oh fuck,” he says, sounding almost intoxicated as he plunges in as deeply as he can and releases his seed. You savor the feel of it churning inside you, filling you up completely. 

When he finally pulls out, he stands there behind you for a moment, probably watching his cum drip out of you. Then he reaches down and unties your wrists.

You stand up, rubbing the raw, red circles on your skin where the cord was. You like how they look. 

He’s fixing his pants and looking a little awkward as you pull your skirt back down. “Is there a bathroom in here?” you ask casually. 

“Down the hall on the left. It’s not the cleanest one though,” he says. 

“That’s fine. But you guys should probably clean it up if you’re gonna bring girls here.”

He gives you an uneasy smile. “I doubt that’s going to happen often.”

You blink at him. “Really? So I’m not invited to come back?”

His eyes widen. “Oh… uh, if you want to…” he says, his hand ruffling the back of his hair. “You’re welcome anytime.”

You grin. “Does the rest of your gang know what a sweetheart you are?”

He blushes again, but is obviously trying to look stern. “You better keep quiet about that!”

You blow him a kiss before you leave. “Your secret’s safe with me!”

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 19: The Knightly Sea Prince

polo-drone-065 asked:

Would you do like a chav meets a posh boy

Ah, the UK, one of the longest running democracies still in existence, and yet still has a Royal Family. And it is an old one. Many treat the birth year of the British royals as 1066 when William I took control, but they go deeper being able to trace themselves back to Cerdic of Wessex. That meant that this land has been influenced by the progeny of one man for over 1500 years.

As such, England & Scotland would develop a quite rigid society on the social side of things. Your station was not determined by wealth or any actual contribution to society, but what family you are born into & who you marry with. This leads to the creation of the Nobility: scions of Kings & Queens who never took the throne, next the Aristocrats: people who got in the good graces of a monarch to receive a rank & title.

And then there was everyone else.

Unless one got into a royal government, moving up socially or economically was hard. And while the functions of everyday government was eventually handed over to the people, the previous system persisted. A stark reminder that no matter how high you climb, there is always a ceiling.

Despite the wide strides made within recent times, there are those who have yet to catch their lucky break. And within those groups is a section of of young men with poor prospects who have banded together for protection. They aren't gang members, but they are stereotyped as being socially uncouth & wearing sportswear.

Being treated as the rough unwanted members of British society has made them the perfect target. They spend a lot of time outdoors in the streets trying to find something to do between job interview or promotion failures, and with all of that untapped & unused testosterone concentrated in an given area with the masculine aspects of British culture: you get a lot physical violence. When compared to their much more pampered & curated preppy counter parts, these men tend to be more physically dominate, and without centuries of rigid structure imposed on their fighting ability like you would in say fencing, they are able to adjust better to changing conditions.

The aristocrats love this. Their society rules makes it hard to for them to have much in the way of street smarts, and the pampered lifestyle can induce other bad habits. And so untold numbers of these poor men have been captured & assimilated into the young heirs of these landed peoples.

Here is Peter Montague-Pandall:

Slated to be the 22nd Earl of Salcombe.

One wouldn't think that a small coastal resort town like Salcombe would have anyone struggling. But every place has someone who is struggling. With resort towns, most people not business owners are forced to either go into fishing, farming, or into a service role. And while there is a lot of money that flows through, the pay for onsite workers can be bad & the rich clientele are notorious bad tippers.

Most with no prospects outside of cleaning the poop deck, move out via university or the military, and this has kept the local population low. But there are some who don't even have the option.

For Peter he grew up here, his family has been here for centuries. Granted monopolies long ago for saving some medieval king in the heat of battle, their solider founder ancestor set them up for life through bravery.

But like many such families, they all, aside from those who kept a strong military service tradition, lose their edge.

The inbreeding & a couple generations of gambling addictions should have layed the Montague-Pandall's low like the Fulfords, but they were able to course correct early enough.

The Pandalls were connected enough to learn about how the nobility would occasionally assimilate the strongest palace servants or guards to strengthen the family while still keeping up the bad practices that they do. But, they did not have enough power to get one of these necklaces that facilitate this. The fountain that birthed the method in Greece was not infinite in its waters.

A new method was found among those families, and they made a plan. They would make sure that some in their respective towns & cities were kept poor & working class, and unable to move up the ladder. The strongest born of this would be used to strengthen their heirs when the time was needed.

The Pandalls had a tradition that each heir & one spare would be merged with one of these people. The end result of constantly bringing in new DNA, new ideas & perspectives, and new skills would create a long chain of Earls stronger than the last. One result of this is that the Pandalls gained an reputation for being rather hot among their peers. And on top of this, they were more liberal with who they married.

Peter was not only the top of his school's social circle due to his family, but due to his good looks. What the average person didn't know is that untold numbers of people were absorbed into his male ancestors to create this town's Adonis. And if the traditions held, his sons would be born with similar physical gifts.

The Pandells were careful on who they selected, but they eventually paired Peter up with someone.

Here is Jaxon:

He has dreams of leaving his hometown for something different. He likes to go to the beach and stare out west towards America. A land said to be of much better opportunity. But it is a land where you can also fall harder.

But Jaxon is a bit more upright about his future. He is best friends with Peter, son of the Mayor, scion of the richest family within the area.

While they don't help his family with things like bills or food, they have always made sure he was clothed. And so for among his sports clothing wearing brethren, he always had the highest quality. This of course caused conflict. His peers were jealous of this, and so he got into a lot of fights growing up. And that constant fighting forged him into a warrior.

It was the summer after graduation. Jaxon was going to join the Royal Navy. Peter was bound for Cambridge University.

Jaxon & Peter were inside Peter's bedroom. From what Jaxon understood, Peter had a graduation & parting gift for him.

Peter was at the entrance facing the door staring at the door knob. He knew what he had to do. His father did this at his age, so did his grandfather and so forth. But he liked Jaxon. Did he really have to assimilate him. He tried to persuade his father to chose someone else. Someone with no personal history.

He locked the door & turned to Jaxon who was sitting in a desk chair.

"I love you," Jaxon said. Jaxon was always straight to the point. Trying to weasel yourself out of a situation in the streets would get your teeth knocked out too often.

Peter, who was walking towards Jaxon, paused. Did he just confess to Peter.

"I do too, like a brother of course," Peter responded.

Jaxon stood up & gave Peter a hard expression that softened a little.

"I like you a bit more than that," Jaxon said.

Peter took out a small rounded cylindrical vial that contained a yellow fluid.

The fluid was how the aristocratic families without a necklace merged with others. It took some research, firstly by going to the source, and doing decades if not a century more of alchemical, and then chemistry related research. As it turned out, human to human fusion was one of the secret goals of alchemy.

Peter quickly opened the vial and swallowed the liquid.

"What is that," Jaxon asked.

"Liquid luck after what I just walked myself into," Peter said.

"Why are you confessing to me now," he asked.

"You saw how every girl in our school wanted to climb me, and yet I never responded," Jaxon replied.

"I thought being near me was enough to not get you to end up in paternity court," Peter said.

"I would gladly go to court if you were the other parent. I wanted you climb and explore me so badly, but I know someone in your position would never be able to act if you felt the same way," Jaxon said.

"You could have as-"

"Shut up my Sea Prince, I am not done. I am telling you now, because I am leaving this place. Your dad gave me the funds to travel to go to basic training. I am going to see the world, meet new people, and maybe fall in love again. Next time, with someone who isn't so blind. But I wanted to let you know that I no matter what happens after I leave town, that you will always be my first love," Jaxon said.

A silence fell the room.

"That's a lot of words coming from you," Peter said.

Peter started walking towards Jaxon. He soon face to face with Jaxon. Or he would be. Peter was 6'1. Jaxon was 6'5.

"I guess you are influencing me a little bit," Jaxon said.

This was it, maybe he could answer Jaxon's feelings through what he was about to do.

Jaxon closed his eyes & moved to kiss Peter. He was forceful about it, pressed too hard. Peter backed up a little bit, but stayed connected. Jaxon then moved to hold and caress Peter's forearms. This eventually moved into a full embrace. For Jaxon this was the first & last time he would embrace his first true love.

He let go, or tried to. His mouth wouldn't come unstuck and his hands started to sink into Peter's back. He opened his eyes quickly. He knew what Peter was trying to do. But rather than fight back, he gave in.

Peter was scared, he couldn't get a full look at Jaxon's face given his physical position relative to Jaxon's, but the eyes told all. A fierce anger like a Tiger fully committed to killing its prey after said prey tried to fight back in vain was shone through his eyes. Peter fully expected Jaxon to pull back violently and physically rip their faces, but the opposite happened.

Jaxon pushed in. It felt good too. As Jaxon moved into Peter's body, a wave of ecstasy filled his body, but that was mixed with fear. It was only a few minutes, but 60% of Jaxon was mixed into Peter. Jaxon sank more and Peter felt bloated. Their skulls had merged, and Peter lost his facial features. He was a blank skin colored canvas.

All that was left of Jaxon on the outside was his shoulders, chest, abs, & back. Peter tried moving, but it was hard. Each step pulled Jaxon in more & more. The shoulders were gone. More steps. The abs and lower back. He was now in front of his bed and as he reached it, all of Jaxon was consumed.

Peter felt weird. He didn't just feel bloated, he felt Jaxon's mass move inside him. Constantly swirling & flowing, like a river without end.

And then it happened.

Peter's body mass quickly shrunk away. Ribs sticking out, skin hanging off the bones of his arms & legs. Abs gave way to the general shape of his spine. He was like a skeleton draped in skin, but no facial features.

Peter woke up in a completely white space. He was laying on a nice sofa and he was in his fully healthy body again. He quickly undid his shirt, and his muscles were all there.

Was what just happened a dream? A nightmare? But no, he doesn't know of rooms where the area was an featureless white void. He thought about it again. Based on what he was taught by his family both directly & in his records, he was in his mind space. It dawned on him.

He really tried to assimilate his best friend & would be lover Jaxon.

Peter got out of his thoughts when he remembered Jaxon. He knew what was going on; the mental merge. Where was Jaxon?

"I AM RIGHT HERE YOU PAMPERED DONKEY OF A MAN," Jaxon yelled:

Jaxon was now visible to him. Why was he in his boxer briefs? Peter wondered.

"I had an idea of what you money grubbing, self important monsters were doing. I know of a couple of mates who disappeared, all who had help from you lot like...like," he said in an angry & then confused tone.

He couldn't remember exactly who got assimilated. As he thought harder, his memories of them faded away, moving further out of reach. This was by design. The one assimilated would face some form of historical erasure. Some completely, others had aspects of their history smashed into the intended beneficiary.

"Wait, I didn't want to do this-"

"Why didn't you just choose someone else. Pick someone else with nothing to look forward to. I had an option, your family gave it to me," Jaxon roared.

"You know how set in their ways my family can be," Peter said.

"All the help, the great treatment when I came around, and putting ideas into my head. I was just a pig for the slaughter. Tell me, my fate was sealed the moment we met wasn't it," Jaxon asked.

Peter darted his eyes away from Jaxon.

"Yes," he said sadly.

"DONT LOOK AWAY FROM ME, THAT IS NOT THE MAN I LOVE, NOT THE PERSON WORTHY OF BEING ONE WITH ME," Jaxon screamed.

Peter looked back at Jaxon. He noticed that his mental space had changed. It was now a luxury hotel. He realized what had happened.

His father set him up.

He started to become aware of his body in the real world. The emaciated look was due to Jaxon fighting back so strongly on a mental level. The process didn't know which way to go. Not until they resolved who would dominate.

Peter pulled himself together.

"Listen, I know you want to beat me to a pulp, but let me explain. We are giving you a chance," Peter said.

"If that was the case, we would be taking each other's cherries on your bed right now, but instead you tried to use me like meal supplement," Jaxon said. He was much calmer. He wanted to know of this "chance".

"Normally, people who are chosen to be assimilated are knocked out cold, chemically or physically, and then given further drugs to weaken their mental fortitude," Peter said.

"Why," Jaxon asked.

"You had a glimpse of my world, do any of the stuck up pricks I am forced to hang out with seem to have the mental strength or personality to take you guys over fairly," Peter said.

"Absolutely not, you over patted sheep break down at the simplest of inconveniences. Why wasn't this done to me? As you can see, you are doing a bad job of dominating me," Jaxon asked.

"My father probably set this up. My guess is that he wants me to earn this new me. Perhaps due to the subtle influence of whoever he absorbed. Their own way of giving you a fighting chance when they didn't," Peter said.

Peter was fully committed to letting Jaxon take over. His form of apology.

Peter got up, ready to get pummeled and be an aspect of Jaxon.

Jaxon was soon right up to Peter's face.

Those eyes were full of anger, but they soon softened into Jaxon's normal stoic face, but they were a little tinged with worry.

"You knucklehead," Jaxon said. Before Peter could respond, Jaxon kissed him again in their mental space. Unlike the last time, there was no mixing of bodies. They were soon in an embrace. They slowly fell back into the couch and made love. In each thrust from Jaxon, Peter could feel Jaxon's emotions flow into him. His love, his worry, his anger, his confusion, and his acceptance. Mentally, this lasted for hours. In the real world a few seconds.

"Did we just..., bang mentally," Peter asked.

"Another round? Want to try being the top this time," Jaxon said confidently.

Surprisingly, they did it again, but in the way Jaxon suggested.

The couch that hosted this activity twice was in shambles. Peter looked back at the mess and was blushing. He didn't know he had that DAWG in him.

"What do we do now," Jaxon asked.

"Go through that door and live your life. Don't worry about me, I will gladly sacrifice myself so that you can see the world," Peter said.

Jaxon took Peter's hand & made the rest of him follow. Before Peter could protest, they both were a few feet from the door.

"What are you doing," Peter asked.

"I am not going to do to you what you just tried to do to me my Sea Prince. Since we can't come unstuck, let's walk this new us together as equals," Jaxon said.

Peter teared up and then wiped his eyes.

"You would agree to something like that after everything," Peter asked.

"Yes, outside from trying to eat me, everything you did for me made my life more bearable. Even if I had to fight more because it made me stick out more in streets," Jaxon said.

"Your father was right in picking me, you would be useless out there without me guiding you. But once we step through this together, we will be guiding each other, or guiding the new us," Jaxon said.

Peter let out a deep breath.

They both walked through the door.

Peter didn't dominate Jaxon, and Jaxon didn't dominate Peter. This meant that they would be reborn a new person.

The mass that was Peter began to show signs of life again.

It was no longer Peter though. Peter & Jaxon decided to walk the earth as equals. It was still deciding on its name though.

A liquid flowed through it's heavily constricted veins. It was DNA. Peter & Jaxon's DNA had broke down & mixed into a new structure. This new structure was being distributed throughout its soon to be new body.

Though it had no mouth yet, it moaned.

Starting with his feet, then his legs, chest, shoulders, arms, hands, and neck loud pops could be heard in that order. Immediately following the large pops in each body part, muscle exploded in those areas.

As the buttocks grew, you could hear the noise of stretched rubber, and its jewels were big like Jaxon's, but long & girthy like Peter's. Hair grew around the base.

Its stomach expanded in waves, doubling in mass each time. Soon it stopped growing after the third wave and began to restrict. An eight pack was forming with boulders for abdominal stones.

As the skin in the stomach restricted, the rest of the body followed, the result was a more vascular body than what Jaxon had.

Jaxon & Peter were quite compatible and this resulted in a new wave of muscle growth all over that made him more massive than Jaxon as well.

The formless face began to have features again. He had Jaxon's eyes, but softer. Jaxon's skull shape, but rounder. Peter's mouth, but more flush with pink. He had a combination of their noses & eyebrows. Jaxon's chin, Peter's ears. His hair texture & color were from Peter. but the volume was from Jaxon.

He let out a loud yell like a roar.

He was breathing heavily. Then he opened his eyes. It was time to meet his father.

He busted into his father's study unannounced.

"Hello son. Which one are you. Jaxon or Peter," he asked in a monotone manner. He also took a quick glance at the hinges of the door that guard his private study. They were bent at different angles. He was belated; he had strength beyond reasoning.

"I am both. I am Owen Montague-Pandall," Owen responded.

".... Good," the father said.

"You knew, you knew they wouldn't dominate each other," Owen said.

"It was obvious that Jaxon was in love with Peter when they turned 13. The boy was stealing too many glances at Peter once puberty kicked in. I figured they would mutually...mix. A reward for both. Jaxon can live his life with Peter as one, and hopefully you will do your duty and engender the next generation in the future. Tell me, do you like girls or boys," the father asked.

Owen mused for a bit.

"Both," Owen answered. Owen turned to leave.

Good enough the father thought.

"A reward for what though," Owen asked.

"I am aware that Jaxon would defend & protect Peter when he couldn't. Peter was good with a fencing blade, but everyday street fights were not his foray. Jaxon was his knight,' the father said.

Owen continued his walk out of the room.

"Are you not going to knock me out? You sure did a number on my door. I hated that door," the father said.

Owen turned his head.

"Like you said, they found a way to make this crap sandwich into one hiding gold. I can tell you, they are humming happily deep in my subconscious," Owen said.

"Your plans for the future," the father asked.

Owen smiled and walked away. He didn't utter a word.

Owen went to Cambridge like Peter was planning to:

He would spend enough time there & then go join the navy like Jaxon wanted. He would finish school through the methods that the military allowed him to. He would be both scholar & warrior. And like Jaxon, he would get to travel the world.

He would need to. Jaxon & Peter found the easy way out by merging, but now Owen would have to find his first true love, and not try to devour them this time.

Plenty of fish, in the Navy.

He also made sure that Jaxon's original family was taken care of. No more getting eaten by some elitist idiot.

[whereserpentswalk]

There have been countless debates on if cloned soldiers count as human or not. Biologically they're completely human, occasionally they modify them to have red eyes, or sharp teeth, or other intimidating features, but they're still basically human. However, there's been almost no evidence that they can be rehabilitated to become anything other then living weapons.

It's kind of horrifying to countries that don't use cloned soldiers to see them. The idea that something human shaped could be basically a living weapon for its entire life. They had no families, no parents, they were never even children. Countries who had moral objections to cloned soldiers tried to rehabilitate captured ones, but it rarely worked well. Some were put in asylums, but no amount of medication or what basically amounted to human dog training made them think of themselves as humans and not weapons, even after the most intense schedules of social scientists experimenting on them. Others were put in prison, but it didn't reform them either, they just rioted, or escaped, or became high ranking members in prison gangs.

After all attempts at rehabilitation failed, almost every country that opposed making cloned soldiers, either kills them when captured, or forces them to join their army. Some would call it hypocritical to force closed soldiers to join you after denouncing them as a violation of human rights, but they sold it as making them repay their debt to society.

There is one case of cloned soldier being reformed though. One who had crash landed on a primitive planet, a human colony who had lost space travel due to an apocalyptic event centuries ago. The cloned soldier was surrounded by people who didn't know what she was. She ended up wandering into a large city, and being taken in by the temple of one of the local gods.

The high priest of the temple had never seen a cloned soldier before, so he didn't know to be afraid of her or to treat her poorly. He just thought she was a traveler who had fallen on hard times. So the temple took her in, and gave her things that she had never had before in her life, they gave her her own room with a comfortable bed, unlike the masses of bunk beds she would have slept in all her life. For the first time she tasted warm meals, with meat and cheese and milk and real coffee unlike the bland rations she would have had her whole life. And for the first time she was allowed privacy, allowed to dress and bathe on her own, and for the first time she was allowed to wear clothing she picked out. And for the first time nobody told her what to do, she was free to spend her days as she pleased. So many things she never experienced as a cloned soldier, and likewise things she never would have experienced in an asylum or a prison.

Nobody in the temple knew how terrifying cloned soldiers were, so they treated her differently then a more technologically advanced civilization would have. She wasn't a prisoner, there were no restrictions on her. Instead of telling her she was a monster and needed to be redeemed, they assumed her belief that she was a living weapon was from some sort of trauma so they treated it like a trauma, they told her that the gods made everyone to be free to enjoy the pleasures of the world, that nobody was created to be a tool for another human to use. And when she had violent urges they let her go out hunting, or fight people in an arena, it's not something a professional would let her do, but it helped calm her down.

They were concerned for her more then anything else. At first because of the freedom she was given she just lay down in her bed, and they were worried she would die. They sung her songs and read to her while she was like that. She seemed to just need a lot of rest after the life she had. Eventually she started interacting with people in the temple more, she took up drawing and gardening when given time. Not knowing how dangerous she was, they let her interact with the general population in the temple and the people in the surrounding city, with enough time she started making freinds. After five years on a primitive planet she was able to live on her own, working as a professional artist, eventually having married one of the temple priestesses.

Social scientists are still trying to understand why the cloned soldier taken in by the temple was able to be reformed when no other cloned soldiers have been. It's impossible for a prison or asylum to create conditions similar to that temple, so the case of the temple will forever be written off as an unexplainable fluke. Perhaps given enough time, they'll be able to deny it entirely.

[bones4thecats]

Hiii omg could u write these tokrev hcs for chifuyu, smiley, mitsuya and angry catching the eye of a fem reader during the valhalla vs toman fight? She's there as a spectator with some of her subordinates (also something you don't have to necessarily add: she is tall and elegant, like a rose amongst thorns;)

Catching the Attention of Valhalla! S/O

Type of Writing: Request Character: Chifuyu Matsuno, Nahoya Kawata, Takashi Mitsuya, and Souya Kawata Name: Catching the Attention of Valhalla! S/O Requester: Anonymous

A/N: Not me listening to hot edit audios while writing this :p

P.S: These are shorter than my normal pieces, my ideas are just super low right now

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💘 Chifuyu did not want to see his friends being beaten, but he had no choice, these members of Valhalla are so brutal with their beatings

💘 When he finally knocked one member down, he heard a wolf-whistle and looked behind him to see a small, yet decently sized group of Valhalla members

💘 But the member highest up caught his attention the most, it was you...

💘 Your eyes were trained upon the male, never loosing contact, you were very shameless when it came to your interests. To the point where your followers were kind of uncomfortable underneath your stare

" Well Boss, whatcha think of that little runt? "

💘 You blinked slowly, analyzing the guy standing there and dodging the many fists of your subordinates being thrown at him

" He'd be a good addition to our forces. But- " " Ha! I doubt he'll even try joining our ranks, damn Toman loyalty. " " Let me finish. "

💘 Your right-hand froze in fear as you grabbed their hair and pulled them back, smashing their head against one of the many car hoods

" S-sorry, Boss. " " BUT. The way that he has been around their rankings, despite Baji joining our side is quite alarming. After all, many trade sides with those they deem worthy, or close. "

💘 Chifuyu was by far one of the most interesting members of Toman, you'd have to keep an eye on the male from now on

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☀️ As a high-ranking member of Valhalla, you were forced into observing the match between the gangs Toman and Valhalla

☀️ You just sat there with a small majority of your group, only sending those out if needed

☀️ It was during your many gazes across the large battle where you saw a large puff of orange hair with a bright smile washing around, whooping the asses of your followers

☀️ Your right-hand looked back at you and flinched before asking;

" Uh... Boss? Are ya' alright? " " Yes, why? " " You just seem upset. " " Why wouldn't I be? That orange-haired one is sending my members to hell with his minor punches! " " I'll go down and teach him a lesson! " " Sit your ass down, Haruto. "

☀️ This guy was proving to be a problem, if you kept losing your members, Valhalla would be in deep shit, as your's were by far some of the strongest fighters in the gang

☀️ The guy, whom you learned by a fallen comrade was nicknamed 'Smiley', due to his smile he always wore, even during fights

" Smiley? Oh! That guy! His real name's Nahoya Kawata, the twin brother to Souya, y'know that blue-haired boy that would come into my store a lot growing up. " " Hm. Interesting, I must keep an eye on this Nahoya from now on. We mustn't have him interfere with any future plans. "

☀️ Maybe if you could motivate him enough, you could put this guy to his max potential...

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🪡 You had heard many stories about the short-purple-haired fighter from Toman from your old allies Baji and Kazutora

🪡 And all of those stories ended in how much he stood out against other members of Toman, since he had a love for sewing and being quite calm

🪡 At the moment, you were thinking about those stories while searching for the young male that the two men had spoke of on multiple occasions, only stopping once you saw him

🪡 You narrowed your eyes in interest, he did seem to be a good fighter like they said

" Boss? Who are ya' watching over? Kazutora? " " I think they're watching over Baji. " " Shut it you two, Y/N doesn't have to explain their-self to your low-life selves. "

🪡 Rolling your eyes at your followers actions, you saw how this Mitsuya had looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows, he obviously was frustrated at the fact that you just watched this bloodshed without a care in the world

🪡 As he began to focus back on the oncoming members of Valhalla, you turned to look at your most informational follower and called his name

" Find as much information as you can on Mitsuya Takashi. And deliver it all to me as soon as possible. " " Why him? He's a pathetic fighter compared to other members of Toman- " " Just do it. " " Yes, Boss... "

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💢 God, your followers were getting more and more pathetic

💢 Every time you sent out one, they would get tossed off to the side by a member of Toman like a baby tossing around a ragdoll

💢 It was starting to piss you off...

" Y/N? I think we need to send out another round of fighters. " " Then do it. " " 18 through 28, deploy! "

💢 Watching them carefully, you noticed they had gone straight to hitting and kicking without remorse, didn't you teach them how to use their brains and not just their fists?

💢 It was during your overview of those meatheads that you saw a matching pair of hair, one orange and one blue poke out from the mass of blacks and yellows

" Souya and Nahoya? " " You know those two? " " Uh, yeah. They were my old classmates in elementary before I dropped out a few months into middle school. "

💢 Your third ally looked at you in confusion as you narrowed your eyes at the younger Kawata boy and smirked; he would be a good addition to your main squad

" Boss? What are you thinking? " " Nothing. Send out the next battalion, they need as much help as they can get. " " Understood. "