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romana-after-dark · 2 months

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Room's on Fire: 6. End of the Innocence

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

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Summery: Madonna wins over Frankie, but in the mean times upsets Jonah and Pope

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: spit kink, non consensual voyerism, physical violence.

3.6k words

A/N: Some madonna POV, but we also get Jonah, Santi, and Frankie

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"Oh, but I know a place where we can go Still untouched by men We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by And the tall grass waves in the wind You can lay your head back on the ground And let your hair fall all around me Offer up your best defense But this is the end This is the end of the innocence" ~End of the Innocence, Don Henley

“Fuck, Madonna…” Francisco moaned under you, his massive cock filling you up again and again as you bounced on him. You had undone his belt and pant button, keeping his pants on but pulled his cock out. With your panties pulled off, you had sat on lap with his member stuffed inside you as you made out with him. Francisco was a tender, passionate lover, kissing you with all the love you’d been missing since Pope stopped kissing you at all.

“I love you, Francisco…” You whisper to him, clutching his body to yours in desperation. You needed him to know how much he was adored and appreciated. He is your husband just as much as the others are, even if he ignored you for so long. You card your fingers through his hair and nibble on his lips, sucking the pouty lower one into your mouth and pulling. “My handsome man…”

Hands on his chest, you kiss him down, letting his head fall back on the grass and your hair cascade down around him. Francisco moans out a strained ‘Madonna…’ as his cock twitched inside you. You knew he preferred to be taken care of instead of in charge, you had noticed it in the way Pope fucked him. Whatever Francisco wanted, you were going to give it to him. Anything for him to love you the way you love him. Anything to have the love of all your husbands.

Pushing yourself up, you bounce on his cock as he runs his hands up your loose dress, feeling up your tender breasts and playing with your nipples. He tweaked them through the thin dress, rolling the hardened buds in his fingers until you cry out his name, sweat beading down your face in the warm sun. “Francisco!” You close your eyes tightly, your senses taking in him, him, him. He roughly squeezes a tit, and as your legs tire you fold down over him again to his beautiful mouth. You feel him spearing you, laying his claim really and truly for the time as he hit that spot inside you that made you dizzy.

“So beautiful, Madonna” He mutters against your ear, panting and whining for you and only you. He was so beautiful like this, comfortable and happy and turned on, paying attention to your body. “Gonna cum…” He whines, hips bucking as he chases his release. “Please, need to cum, need to cum so fucking bad.”

Tender, you kiss his forehead, sliding up and down his throbbing cock, wanting to get him off so fucking badly. “Cum for me, I’m right behind you, wanna feel you fill me.”

With a loud groan, Francisco pulsed inside you, filling you up with his warm seed. The thought of becoming pregnant out in this field after finally securing his love, your body swelling with the savior… you came on his cock, pussy gripping his softening member with your fingers digging into his skin. It was hard, it was blinding, your heart bursting with love for the man eveloping you in his arms.

His cock still stuffed inside you, you rest your head on his shoulder. For the first time since the incubus, you fall asleep peacefully. Francisco would keep you safe, plugged up with his cum so it had no chance of leaving. You were going to get pregnant.

Fracisco woke to the sound of footsteps on the grass, and as he remembered him and Madonna’s compromising position he gasps awake.

“Oh shit- god dammit-” He see’s Jonah quickly turn around, grumbling and ruffling his hair, tucking his other hand in his jean pocket next to his holster.

Francisco’s pants were still fully on and your dress fell around you, so to Jonah it had only looked like you had fallen asleep cuddling. He must have realized that you were still implailed on him. The panties on the grass didn’t help.

He felt you stir, but he caressed your hair and shushed you. You were so tired, the bags around your eyes getting clearer every day. You needed your rest.

“It’s getting dark…” Jonah mumbles, clearly uncomfortable but trying to do his job. Frank didn’t mind Jonah, honestly. He did good work and especially he treated Madonna well. Frankie knew he has a fatherly presence, something Frankie didn’t long for the way Santi did, but he knew you needed. And Jonah needed someone to take care of since Iris rejected him. They didn’t even talk for the first three years of it all.

“Give us a few minutes” Frankie whispers to Jonah’s back. It was 20 minutes before he finally woke you, the pair of you having slept on the grass for 2 hours or so. He wanted to pocket your panties, but he didn’t want to have something someone might find. If Santi found it, his jealousy would be a problem for everyone involved. If Ben found them, he’d be hurt, thinking Frankie preferred Madonna. Did he love his wife? Yes… yes he thought he did. Who was he to reject this unconditional love from her? Yes, he loved his wife but he loved the man who was now his husband more. Benny before all else.

There was no way on this earth that Francisco was letting his wife, still wet and dripping with his cum, smelling of sex, in her pretty dress with Jonah of all people. Will would flip his fucking shit if he saw Madonna on his lap. So, she’d sit with him as they rode back.

Problem was, that smell of sex? That dripping, tight little hole that was all he could think about now? Her cute ass pressed against his crotch as she bounced on the horse? He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the house. His dick hardened against you, his arms pressing you close to him, he slide a hand up to touch your body. It’d been so long since he touched a woman’s body, preferring the company of Ben if he had a choice… and taking the love he could get from Santi if he couldn’t. He forgot how soft women were. Ben was rigid, safe, strong. His body was firm in a way that comforted Francisco. Santi was softer, sure. Santi’s legs and ass were thick with meat and his stomach a padding of stomach fat, but under it all was muscle still, joints and tissue and heft all boundled in the tight body of the would-be savior. Santi could never relax, his anger, his shame, his failings, the ever-present overcast of his mother never allowing him a moments peace. It wasn’t uncommon for Santiago to take Frankie in the sanctuary, Beatriz’s remains watching them as they consummate on the alter, not unlike Madonna, after reciting faux vows multiple times. Francisco had sworn his fidelity to Santi again and again in these private ceremonies… Francisco didn’t believe a word of Beatriz, her wishy-washy attitude of who the savior was when her mood changed solidified that for francisco in his youth… but some days…

Some days Francisco wanted Ben to drag him into the sanctuary, he wanted Ben to bend him over the alter and claim him, to not belong to and be subject to the will of any Garcia again. To belong to Ben and only Ben and tell Santi to fuck of… But that wasn’t happening. The Millers were dying before Beatriz took them in, and Ben had worshiped the ground Beatriz and Santiago walked on, and if Frank were being completely honest, he did long Santi. He missed their boyhood together, before Santi’s soft mess was beat out of him and he stuff all his love for his brother until it folded in on himself, only let loose under the cover of night fucks and threesones and orgys.

Ben was a rock. Santiago was dynamite waiting to explode.

You? You were soft. And it didn't matter that Jonah was only a few feet away on his horse, Francisco was going to feel every inch of that softness. You wanted him? Out in the open, no secret? He'd have you out in the open.

“Francisco?” You whisper as he slips a hand under your dress, feeling your little clit through the cotton.

“I got you, just relax…” But you squirmed against him. There was nowhere to go, the trotting horse so far off the ground and his arm tight against your middle. “Relax.” He was more firm this time.

You stopped moving, but your body remained stiff. “But… Jonah.” You speak quietly so the other man doesn’t hear, but Francisco doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip, pressing down hard on your clit and rasps in your ear. “Relax.”

You have to bite on your cheeks to keep from whimpering, and Francisco doesn’t like that. He wants to hear your sounds again so he toys with your body, playing you like an instrument he is well practiced in. Your nipples are stiff and sensitive, making them easy prey to Francisco’s long fingers. How did he know your body so intimately already? His fingers working fast, Francisco is still ever-tender, kissing your mouth as you tilt your head to kiss him. You were a pretty girl, you deserved to be kissed, but right now he wanted to hear you so he opted to detach from your mouth and kiss down your neck, sucking a possessive hickey on you until he got what he wanted; a moan.

He saw Jonah tense and smiled against your delicate skin as you began to relax finally. You still were stifling your sounds, obviously not wanting the older man to hear you on the verge of cumming, but little noises were slipping out. Jonah grunted and kicked the horse, effectively riding ahead. His was missing out, the desperate, shuttering whimper as you came was music to Franicosco’s ears, cumming in his own pants once again.

Jonah’s face was burning. He didn’t want to hear that, he didn’t want to see what he saw. He didn’t want to know what she did with those four at all hours of the day outside of her not being harmed too badly. He has a duty to Marcus to keep her as safe as he could without rocking the boat too much. His duty to Iris came before all else. Now he was physically sick, and he was stuck with her trailing behind him. Francisco was putting the horses away, and obvious wet spot in his own pants sickening Jonah more, and had told Jonah to watch her.

Her voice was small. “Jon-”

“Don’t” He grunted, not wanting to talk. He needed to find Iris or Reyansh, he needed someone else to watch her. He needed to get away.

“I’m sorr-”

Jonah whipped around to face her, keeping his distance. His shame only grew when Jonah saw her eyes flick down to his pants. It was brief, only for a second and she didn’t see anything there but the fact you thought you might, the fact you had any suspicion that he might have gotten turned on by Frank’s display was humiliating.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I- I couldn’t hold it in. I was trying to be quiet but he-”

Jonah shut his eyes, not needing any more imagery and held up a hand. “Honey I can’t do this right now, okay? I’m not-” He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just can't be around you right now.” He saw your lip quiver, but Iris walked into the hall carrying a load of laundry on her hip. “Here.” He looked at Iris and gestured towards you. “I need you to watch her.”

Iris scoffed at that. “You can’t just pawn her off on me when you’re bored of her.”

“I’m not pawning her off, I-”

Your voice was small but firm, slight wavering but determined to speak. “I’m not- I’m not a puppy who can’t be left alone for 5 minutes…”

Jonah scrubs his face. “That’s not what I meant… I just mean-”

“I know what you mean,” She looked back and forth between him and Iris who was listening curiously. “But I’m not a child, I’m not a dog. I’m the Madonna and I don’t need to be babysat.”

“I know, I know, but they want someone with you at all times-”

“I’m twenty-two!” You suddenly raise your voice.

Jonah was done with this conversation, he couldn’t look at you without feeling sick right now. He turned to Iris. “Watch her, please?” and stormed off. He needed to find Frankie. He hears Iris sigh, then speak to you.

“C’mon, you can help me and Rey with laundry.”

Rey must really love her if he was helping her do laundry. He'd seen his room... laundry was not a priority...

Jonah slammed Frank against the wall as he entered the house from the stables. At about the same height, Jonah had an inch on him but that didn’t mean much against Frank’s broad expanse. Jonah needed to posture if he was going to intimidate him, even if Frankie was the most timid of the 4. He needed to make sure that today did not repeat. “What the FUCK was that!”

Frankie’s eyes were wide, all his prior bravery and showmanship gone as Jonah pressed his forearm into his chest. Jonah’s hand was fisted in his shirt. “Nothing!”

“That girl has enough going on without you publicly humiliating her! Are you going to bring her to one of your sex parties next? Parade her around naked for everyone to see!”

“NO!”

“What the fuck happened to you! You were the good one, Frankie! After everything Beatriz put us through, you wanna do that to her too!”

When Frankie’s mouth opened to respond, hurt and guilt flittering across his face just as Jonah knew it would, Jonah was tossed to the ground and tackled. Before Jonah even had a chance to see who it was, his face being beaten by fists, he knew it was Ben.

“DON’T! FUCKING! TOUCH HIM!” The boy shouted, pounding Jonah’s face so hard he wondered if he’d cave it in. The thought didn’t seem so bad, but he couldn’t leave Iris and the girl. It wasn’t fair for Jonah to escape this hell he put Iris in.

It was Frankie that pulled Ben off him, eyes blue and crazed and flashing with anger, keeping his body protectively in front of his lover. They were a secret from Santi and the girl, both of them too oblivious to suspect, but the rest of the household knew.

“Ben, stop, it’s fine”

“IT’S NOT FINE!” He screams, chest heaving in rage. Ben turns around to cup Ben’s cheek. “He doesn’t get to fucking touch you, baby.”

Frankie averted his eyes, body language stiff. It seemed he was okay compromising the girl’s dignity, putting her sexuality on display but was uncomfortable with Ben touting him. The reason, of course, was that Santi was a jealous god and Ben's possession could end his life, but the irony was still there.

The men left the hall, Frankie only looking back on where Jonah lay bleeding for a moment.

It was Rey that finally found him, Jonah too pained to get up on his own. His nose must be broken and everything ached, but the shame on Frankie’s face was enough. He made his point.

“Jonah! Shit!” Rey ran to him, and jonah forced himself to sit up lest the boy think he was dead.

“I’m fine, Rey.”

“Fucking bullshit, who did this? Was it Santi?”

He laughs. As if that man could get the jump on him without a knife or gun. Jonah could take him, he wasn’t the problem. The problem was the others. Ben, obviously, was a fucking force, and Will was a human mountain. Frankie was timid but don’t let that fool you, he’d seen the man take down forces.

The problem with Santi is the loyalty he garnered. Harming him meant the other 3 coming after him, and a majority of the commune. Delta would die for him, literally drinking the kool-aid if he asked.

Jonah refused to go to the kitchen, knowing Iris and the girl would be there, so Rey took him to his room to clean him up.

“You probably shouldn’t sleep.” Rey says, icing his face.

“I probably should drink either, but I'm gonna ask you to get me some whiskey.”

Rey chuckles and shakes his head, but gets the drink anyway. Jonah would just get his own.

Jonah mutters a thank you. “Please don’t tell Iris…” He sighs, knowing the answer to his request.

“You know I have to. Everyone else lies to her, she needs me to be honest.”

‘Everyone’ meant him. He hadn’t been a good father, he knew that. God, did he love her. Iris deserved better, he wanted to leave with her but there were no options. Everything around them had fallen apart, the other small communities around being so afraid of Delta they’d turn them in.

In the barren environment, Iris would die of exposer or be raped and killed by raiders within weeks, even with him and Rey protecting her. Not that she needed much protection, she was a skilled shot… which is why she wasn’t allowed a gun. Will kept careful eye on all the guns in Delta, Jonah himself only allowed his pistol during the day time, turning it in at night.

But Jonah hadn’t given up. He wouldn’t give up on getting Iris out until his last breath. If he could get the girl and Rey out too, he would, but Iris was the priority.

The energy had shifted, and Santi noticed.

Santiago fucked into Frankie who he had flipped naked onto his stomach with Will having Madonna on her back. Frankie, who previously in these moments had focused on him or Ben was now eying her tits as they bounced in time to Will’s thrusts. He had kissed her, even, which hadn’t sat right with him. He tolerated it with Will or Ben, but her? She wasn’t for Frankie to love, she wasn’t for Frankie to be attracted to even. She was for Frankie and him to fill.

You were on the edge of an orgasm, but so was he, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waste his godly essence on a barren hole. And he wanted to, god he wanted to. He wanted to cum so hard into his lover that Frankie swelled with child. Could it be possible? They were god, they were powerful… Maybe if he fulfilled his duty, maybe if he produced the savior with the whimpering girl impaled on his brother's dick, Mother would grant him this. If he had it his way, he’d have this child with Frankie only… but even now, even in his 30’s and the primary leader of Delta, a demi-god and son of the Holiest Mother on high, he could not control this.

With a strangled, pained groan, Santi pulled out of his most favored lover, shoving at Will as he stroked himself. Taking the hint, Will came inside you, kissing you deeply even as he pulled himself away to make room for their leader. As Santi angrily pounded your core, making your eyes roll back as he was the one to make you cum, not Will. He watches as your body writhes under him, Will’s cum coating his cock and spathering on his hips as it leaks out. Frankie joins Will in kissing you, your pleasured face chasing both their mouths until it was a blur of who was kissing who, the two mouths intertwining.

Your moans grow louder again, chest heaving and back arching off the mattress and unable to kiss back as another orgasm began to eclipse you. That’s right, your pleasure was his. He controlled your body and what it felt, good or bad. Kneeling on either side of you, Will and Francisc straight and made out above, you sloppy and wet with Will shoving his large fingers into Frankie’s mouth. Santi wanted to cum, but his anger, his jealousy the white-hot fury that bubbled at his life-long inadequacy was holding him back. Will was practically throat fucking Frankie with his fingers, his left hand wrapped around his throat and Francisco’s whimpering moans gargled by his spit that dribbled down his chin and onto your breasts.

Pleasured sounds from your lips intensified when your hands went to your breasts, spreading the droll on your tits and playing with your nips with the slicked-up pads of your fingers. Despite fucking you, from where Santi knelt between your legs he felt on the outside of the scene, like he was the dildo and they were your porn, like he was being cucked in his own goddamn home.

Will pulled his fingers out, ordering Frankie to spit in her mouth. Santi watched in jealousy as you swallowed that part of him, quickly followed by Will’s own saliva. When Will went back to kissing Frankie, wet smacks of lips on lips, he used his dominant hand to jerk off Frankie's, throbbing, massive, uncut cock and the other shoving two fingers in your mouth. He wasn’t aggressive with you, merely giving you something to suck on as you came around Santi’s cock again. And then again. When Santiago watched Frank cum on your face, streak after streak of white liquid on your skin, Santiago couldn’t take it anymore. Angry, he reached out to fist Frank's brown curls and yank him towards him, lips crashing together.

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM he thrust his hips into Madonna until she screamed a final orgasm with the help of Will's lips lapping at her nipples. As Santi came into your womb with fury, biting down on Frankie’s lips until he tasted blood. When it was done, he shoved Frankie to lay down where Santi joined him, lapping at the tangy blood and sucking on hip lip to draw more out. Will laid down by you, kissing you in a stark contrast. It was gentle and soft, making you smile.

Santiago reached out repeatedly, scooping up the cum on your face and shoving it inside your sore, puffy pussy.

“Can’t be wasting a single drop, Frankie.”

WHAT ARE WE THINK WHAT ARE WE THINKING WHAT ARE WE THINKING

I don't know what came over me with that smut bro, I blacked out and wrote it. im on my period a lot is happening.

Oh Frankie.... c'mon dude, don't do Jonah like that :((((

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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redd956 · 11 months

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Whump Prompt List: Covert Whumpee

Whumpee is some sort of covert worker: whether that be a spy, assassin, soldier, or something else. Either way their life depends on their ability to never make any mistakes. Too bad Whumpee isn't perfect.

CW: Violence, Covert Workforces, Torture

Upon being discovered Whumpee is promptly tortured by their enemy for information

While spying a particular target, Whumpee remains in a high place. Today they lost their footing, and plummeted from quite the fall

Whumpee's target knew they had been sent all along, and sent a covert worker of their own to intercept them. Perhaps the second covert character has been sent with a list of "lovely" things to do to whumpee once they found them

Their way of life has caused whumpee to be incredibly stoic. This surprises no one. Instead surprise comes in the form of them breaking this character under pressure

Whumpee poisoned themselves in hopes to cut the ties that they happened to be in a tricky situation. Unluckily for them the poison failed

Caretaker had no clue what they were getting into when they decided to save an enemy of the state, well an enemy of Caretaker's enemy is always of a friend

One of whumpee's own pieces of equipment malfunction, injuring them

Whumpee's hidden identity depends on a mask they wear, and now they're in a situation where they're forced to un-don it. Secretly tearing away the mask affects just more than their job

Whumpee get's injected with a discreet tool. By the time they notice it is far too late

Whumpee gets in a fight with a fellow covert character, both are incredibly annoyed at Caretaker deciding to patch both of them up

During a fight with their target, whumpee gets pushed out the window

Uh Oh, whumpee messed up bad, and their organization sure is pissed. However the organization has opted out on the idea of killing them for it, perhaps a punishment behind whumpee's imagination will do

Whumpee is forced to give up their entire identity, and leave everything behind in the name of their work

Caretaker is the covert one. With a killer life they don't like anyone, except whumpee, they like whumpee

Someone having to keep whumpee tied down excessively or sedated to make sure they don't get away, because they're infamously known as an escapist

A whumper has been wanting to get back and stop whumpee's stealthy reign of terror for a long time coming. Now they finally have their hands on whumpee, and are overjoyed with all the possibilities of what to do with them

Whumpee being a living weapon for their organization

#whump #living weapon whumpee #whump prompt list #whump prompt #whump prompts #military whump #covert whumpee #spy whumpee #whump stuff #whump scenarioes #whump prompt list #wh

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misirosekisiro · 5 months

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Shadow's deception

Chapter 1

Sarutobi Akiha's heart raced faster than ever as he finally stepped foot onto the Arasaka Corporation headquarters grounds. Despite years of training and preparation, the magnitude of his covert operation sent shivers down his spine. This wasn't just about revenge against those who killed his parents - this was warfare.

Inside the impenetrable fortress of glass and steel, the air carried echoes of powerful machines whirring behind closed doors. Every step forward felt like advancing into enemy territory, leaving his every nerve on edge.

Then he notice a guard, not just normal guard like outside building, but a ninja guards, dress in blue high-tech ninja's bodysuit, patroling and gurding the door.

Akiha sneak carefully towards the guard, waiting for the right moment to strike. Finally, he sees it – the perfect opportunity arises when the guard bends over to pick up something off the floor. In a flash, Akiha lunges at the unsuspecting target, grabbing hold of his wrist before pulling him closer.

The guard struggles, attempting to break free while reaching for hidden weapons under his sleeves. But Akiha’s mastery of ninjutsu proves superior, allowing him to swiftly disarm the opponent without breaking contact. With a twist of his fingers, he pins the guard’s arm securely behind his back, forcing submission as they face each other eye to eye.

As their gazes lock, the intensity rippling through both parties becomes palpable. Sweat drips down their foreheads despite the cool night air.

"Al..." Ninja guard going to shout.

But Akiha moves quickly, placing his hand over the guard's mouth to prevent any noise escaping. Then, with precision, he plunges his tongue deep inside the guard's throat, savoring the warmth of his blood. Their connection intensifies further, their breathing becoming heavy. "You know what happens now?" asks Akiha huskily, leaning close enough to whisper directly into the man's ear. His arm warp around guard's neck to do chock hold.

Guard struggle even more trying to escape death. It seems hopelessly for him, because there was no chance to resist Akiha.

"Sorry, I will take your duty for today." Akiha whisper.

Guard struggling in panic to breathe, slowly loosing consciousness due to lack of oxygen to brain. Akiha feels victorious, accomplishing his first task of the evening. However, a new sense of urgency begins to stir as he realizes time is running short. Taking advantage of the situation, he hastens to find a suitable place to don the stolen ninja attire." He found storage room, so he dragguard body there, undressed him.

First, he removed the black leather boots, then pulled off the formfitting blue bodysuit revealing smooth muscular legs beneath. Next came the gloves, followed by the headband which held the distinctive blue hair in place. Lastly, he took off the tight fitting hoodie covering the upper half of the body.After removing all these items, he left the unconscious guard lying on the cold concrete floor. Now dressed in the stolen ninja attire, he looked almost identical to the guard he had defeated earlier.

He look at naked unconcious guard. He need to make sure that he can't alert anyone, even he's early awake. He start to tie

the unconscious guard hands behind his back, rendering him helpless if he regains consciousness too soon. he also gagged the bound guard's mouth, muffling any possible cries for help. Once he finished securing the prisoner, He hidding his own belongs, his ninjs bodysuit, maskin a nearby storage area, knowing he couldn't risk having them discovered later.

Now fully assimilated into his new identity, he moved confidently throughout the maze-like structure, blending in effortlessly among the staff members. Utilizing his advanced knowledge of the premises, he managed to navigate the complex system, avoiding surveillance cameras and suspicious employees alike.

His mind constantly drifted toward thoughts of retribution.

But not long after he move toward his mission. One figure landed silently next to a place where Akiha hide his attire.

It's Mukuro, another 19-year-old gay ninja working for Arasaka Corp. His primary objective is to capture intruders like Sarutobi Akiha. His stealth skills are legendary amongst other ninjas. He found Akiha since he enter the building. So stalking him silently. He's let Akiha progress to learn what is this ninja's target. He saw when Akiha attack guard, change hisattire. And heading toward Data storage room. He pick up Akiha's ninja bodysuit, put in in his nose.

Mukuro smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly. Stepping closer, he reached for the fabric, taking it gingerly between his fingertips. His touch lingered longer than necessary, drawing attention to the supple material and exquisite craftsmanship. Unable to suppress a small smile, he traced invisible patterns along the soft fabric, reveling in the subtle sensuality embedded within its fibers.

He could feel Akiha's strength, determination, and sexual prowess radiating from the garment, enticing him beyond belief. Clasping the material tightly to his chest, he mentally saluted the ingenious design that allowed such an exceptional display of power and prowess.

He grab all Akiha's belong, then vanished.

Chapter 2

With his stolen ninja guard uniform and identity, Akiha head deeper into Arasaka's building.

Navigating through dimly lit corridors, the air thickened with apprehension. Each turn seemed to bring him one step closer to the data room holding vital information. Yet, he feel he was being tracked closely by someone else skilled in the arts of deception...someone whose sole aim was to expose and neutralize him. But he sight no one.

As Akiha navigates through the labyrinth of hallways, his mind wanders, fixating upon the prospect of success and how sweet victory would taste once he acquired the crucial intel stored within the data room. Even though he was alone amidst this vast expanse, the presence of Mukuro hung heavily in the air. His mere existence taunted Akiha, casting doubt over whether this quest for vengeance might end in failure.

He try to check a blueprint of the building in his memory.

He knew the data room should be near the top floors, far away from entrance, surrounded by high level security measures.

As he walk higher, feeling his heart race faster. Surrounded by dark corridor illuminated only by occasional emergency light. The pressure mounted exponentially as each passing second brought him closer to ultimate prize.

Finally, he reach a large metal door marked 'Restricted Area'.

He know he has arrived. Before opening the door, he take few moments to calm himself. Breath deeply and steadies his racing pulse. Gaining confidence, he steps toward the door, pressing his fingerprint scanner with his faked fingerprint on his finger.

Without warning, a male voice comes over intercom speaker: "Identify yourself!"

His voice filled with authority, making the hairs on Akiha's arms stand on end. Quickly, he composes himself, remembering the information he studied regarding the building layout and personnel. Speaking clearly yet quietly, Akiha answers, "This is agent X57, reporting for my shift." There is a brief pause before the intercom responds: "Access granted," accompanied by the metallic sound of the door unlocking. As he slides open the heavy metal door, he cannot help but marvel at the secrecy and security surrounding this highly classified space.

Adjusting his grip on the stolen ID card attached to his belt, he braces himself against the frigid draft blowing inward from the opened vault. The temperature drop signaled his proximity to the inner sanctum housing the most coveted treasures of Arasaka Corp. A thrilling mix of anxiety and excitement coursed through his veins as he ventured further, leaving nothing but darkness behind him.

Bursting forth into the main chamber, he beheld rows upon rows of gleaming server racks containing seemingly infinite amounts of digital information.

Despite the sheer magnitude of the wealth contained here, he remained focused on locating the specific data sought after.

A sudden wave of panic surged through Akiha as he realized just how pervasively the room was monitored – every action he made would leave indelible marks upon countless digital records. This thought sent shivers cascading down his spine, making his resolve waver momentarily. But resolutely, he pressed on, determined to achieve his goals.

Moving towards the servers responsible for storing critical business strategies, financial transactions, military intelligence, and various other forms of valuable data, he searched diligently for the specific file he needed. The silence encapsulating the enormous space amplified the loud clicking sounds generated by the rotating hard drives and humming fans. Each corner revealed layers of intrigue hidden behind screens of numerical codes and cybersecurity protocols.

Although familiar with some aspects of technology utilized in espionage missions, Akiha felt a rising unease as he confronted the depth of this technological conundrum. Every attempt to access the desired files triggered multiple defense mechanisms designed to prevent unauthorized access.

Unbeknownst to Akiha, he was already under intense scrutiny by Arasaka's IT department, led by Mukuro. Observing his movements via closed circuit cameras, they noted his precise navigation and swift maneuvers throughout the facility.

They were well aware of his covert tactics - a testament to his mastery of stealth and strategy. However, little did they realize that Mukuro's keen instincts were honed not merely for tracking intruders, but for recognizing kindred spirits seeking redemption in combat. He knew all too well the intensity of battle, and understood better than anyone the fire burning deep within Akiha's soul.

Meanwhile, Akiha continued his silent exploration, traversing vast spaces swathed in shadows cast by stark fluorescent lights.

Dodging past several motion sensor stations without triggering alarms proved an incredibly challenging task, requiring finesse and agility he hadn't known he possessed. Despite these obstacles, Akiha refused to falter, fueled by desperation and passionate desire for justice.

During his journey, however, he began to sense something amiss in the atmosphere around him. Although he initially attributed these feelings to the heightened stress induced by this precarious situation, he gradually became convinced there was more going on beneath the surface.

Something about the way the wind whispered through the empty corridors or the eerie echoes produced by his footsteps resonated with him on a primal level. It wasn't until he turned a sharp corner and came face-to-face with the data terminal that he truly comprehended the significance of these whispers.

The data terminal stood tall and imposing, towering above everything else in the vicinity. Its cold steel exterior emitted an ominous aura, accentuated by the dim lighting enveloping the area. As Akiha approached cautiously, he couldn't help but notice the faint outline of a shadow moving across the floor. Pausing briefly, he peered intently into the darkness, trying to discern any signs of movement. Satisfied that whatever had caused the disturbance was harmless, he resumed his approach towards the terminal.

But before he can approach it. The wall raising form the floor around him, too fast than Akiha can flee.

Sweat trickles down his forehead, he clenches his teeth. Panicking now, fearing that he will be trapped forever, Akiha decides to make a last effort to break free. Digging his fingers into the cool metal walls, he starts clawing wildly, trying to find purchase to push off. Desperate and losing hope, he remembers his fighting skills. Suddenly, he launches himself backward onto a nearby platform, performing a powerful roundhouse kick.

However, It's useless at all. Then he heard a trapdoor open above his head. follow with another ninja, step into a seal cage. Trapdoor was close after.

Akiha could see a ninja standing there, dressed in black attire, with long limbs, lean muscles, and a graceful stride. He wore a red high-tech tight ninja outfit, complete with a hood hiding his face.

"Hello friend, Nice to meet you. I'm Mukuro, who's be responsible on guarding this tower." Mukuro said in mocking tone.

Akiha glares fiercely at the figure, struggling futilely against the confines of the cage.

Angry, frustrated, powerless, betrayed, these words ring true inside Akiha's brain. He tried to gather what happened. How did he get caught? All those hours spent planning, preparing, studying…for naught! In a blink of an eye, his carefully crafted plan crumbled.

Feeling defeated, Akiha looked up at Mukuro. He decide to suddenly attack to Mukuro, hope to grab a victory with surprise attack.

In response, Mukuro reacted swiftly, blocking Akiha's strike with ease. A smile curved across his lips as he observed Akiha's efforts to escape the cage. He took advantage of the momentum created by Akiha's failed attempt, pinning him against the bars of the cell. As sweat dripped down both warriors’ faces, neither hesitated to express their determination to win.

Despite his anger, Akiha found solace in the fact that he faced one of his own kind.

Unwavering in his commitment to honor and duty, he fought furiously, pushing against the limits of his human capabilities. Mukuro, equally driven by loyalty and devotion to the cause, engaged in a merciless struggle for supremacy. Their bodies moved fluidly amid the chaos of the conflict, each thrust aimed directly at weakening the opponent's defenses. Sparks ignited when their flesh collided, and heat radiated from their clashing energies.

Both men were consumed by the urgency of the fight, displaying raw strength and expertise rarely seen among ordinary individuals. As sweat soaked their clothes, the two fighters locked eyes intensely, each absorbing the other's gaze, attempting to psychologically disarm them.

Akiha pushed harder, knowing that if he didn't defeat Mukuro quickly, he risked being exposed, captured, and potentially killed by others within the facility.

But even Akiha is talent ninja, but he still too little experience on field. Ninja fight is not like a samurai, relate on power. But cunning and stealth attack. Suddenly Akiha feel daze. His mind filled with confusion, and his body no longer responded as quickly. His eyesight seemed hazy, yet oddly clear at the same time. The air smelled different, subtle scents wafting over him. Unable to resist, he fell victim to the drug administered by Mukuro earlier. Overwhelmed by the sensory assault, Akiha lost consciousness.

As Akiha lay unconscious in the cage, Mukuro seized the opportunity to explore the contents of the data storage device strapped to Akiha's chest.

Carefully removing the case, he inserted a special USB key into its slot and waited patiently for the device to download the necessary faked information. With a soft click signifying completion, Mukuro removed the drive and slipped it safely into his pocket.

He then turned his attention back to Akiha, observing the young ninja lying helplessly before him. Feeling a mixture of admiration and pity for his adversary, Mukuro decided to spare Akiha's life for now. Instead, he chose to take matters further, binding Akiha tighter and placing a gag in his mouth to ensure his silence.

Once secured, Mukuro left Akiha alone in the dark chamber, leaving only the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallways as evidence of his departure.

Now, Akiha struggled against his restraints, unable to move freely despite his best efforts. Frustration coursed through his veins as he realized the extent of his failure.

"So you finally awake, I wait until you awake because it more fun that way."

Mukuro spoke sarcastically. "It seems your plan has failed miserably," Akiha thought bitterly, feeling humiliated by his own lack of success. Despite his disappointment, Akiha remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to seek vengeance upon those who wronged him.

His hands bound behind his back, Akiha tested the limitations of his restraints. The material used for binding was surprisingly durable, rendering his attempts at escaping utterly fruitless. Yet again, he felt defeated.

Then Mukuro bring up a bag and place beside him. Akiha remember it. That is a bag that he keep his belongs and hidden while he disguise as ninja guard.

"Why bother?"asked Akiha with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "What good does it do me now?"

Mukuro paused momentarily, contemplating whether to answer honestly or maintain the pretense. Deciding on honesty, he replied, "Well, first things first, let us start getting to know each other."

Without waiting for a reply, Mukuro sat down opposite Akira, drawing his legs up underneath him.

His movements were practiced and measured, allowing him to sit comfortably whilst maintaining a sense of control. The slight creak of leather as he shifted in his seat punctuated the otherwise silent room. Akira continued to struggle against his bonds in vain, occasionally muttering curses under his breath. This would have been highly entertaining to watch if it weren't such a testament to Akira's arrogant pride. There was something fascinating about witnessing someone who appeared confidently superior, reduced to near helplessness.

Mukuro grinned slightly, taking pleasure in watching Akiha squirm against his restraints, visibly aware of how much his pride had taken a hit. Still, Mukuro knew better than to show any weakness or triumph prematurely. So instead, he began with small talk - inquiring about Akiha's past experiences and motivations. Gradually, the subject matter most pertinent to their present situation: espionage. But Akiha know better to not share any infomation about himself. he keep silent.

"It's ok, I just think it's will more easy if you just talk. But it's really no need."

Said Mukuro, seemingly unfazed by Akiha's refusal to engage.

"You may wonder, why I need to bring your belongs here." Mukuro pats on the bag beside him.

'Your equipment, right?'

Akiha nodded silently, choosing not to speak, understanding well enough Mukuro's intentions.

'Ah yes, your radio,' Mukuro continues nonchalantly, 'wouldn't want anyone accidentally intercepting our conversation.'

Even though he couldn't remove his hand gloves without assistance, Mukuro managed to fiddle with the device, ensuring the channel was securely encrypted. However, he purposely kept the volume low, creating an air of uncertainty surrounding their interaction.

"Since it was clothes, sure it bring for someone to wear."

Akiha mumbles sullenly, his gaze fixated on Mukuro, desperately trying to comprehend his motives.

"You will know soon enough" Then Mukuro walk to Akiha, grab Akiha's hair and lift his head up. He remove Akiha's gag then thrown a pill inside Akiha open mouth. Akiha try to split it. But Mukuro punch to his guts. Make him open mouth and grab the air. the pill also pass down his throat.

Akiha coughed violously after swallowing the strange substance. It's wasn't long before he feel heat in his body. But also feel weaker in each second pass.

Mukuro noticed the change in Akiha's condition, amused by the effects of the drugs he had administered. Although it wouldn't make Akiha completely compliant, the added influence could prove useful in manipulating the course of events. He watched closely as Akiha succumbed fully to the potency of the concoction.

The warmth spread throughout Akiha's body as the drug took effect. Even as he became disoriented, a newfound euphoria emerged.

His limbs grew heavy, his muscles unwilling to obey his commands. Paradoxical feelings flooded his body; excitement and terror coexisted within him. Each part of him felt both enthralled and petrified. Meanwhile, Mukuro studied Akiha intently, observing the rapid changes taking hold of his captive.

Satisfied with the progression of the drug's effects, Mukuro proceeded to carry out his nefarious scheme.

Drawing close to Akiha once more, he positioned himself inches away from the vulnerable figure seated on the cold concrete floor. Observing Akiha's rapidly dimming faculties, Mukuro prepared to capitalize on the opportunities presented. Glancing around briefly, He put his mouth on Akiha's member.

His tongue danced around Akiha's tip, teasing the edges. Just as Akiha started to lose himself in the sensuality of the act, Mukuro leaned forward, pressing his lips to Akiha's earlobe. His whisper reverberated deliciously deep within Akiha's core.

“I hope you enjoy yourself.”

Pulling back momentarily, he looked deeply into Akiha’s eyes, sending shivers of trepidation through his spine.

Without warning, Mukuro resumed his suckling of Akiha’s erect manhood, moving faster and deeper with each passing moment. As Akiha’s hips bucked involuntarily, Mukuro smiled wickedly, reveling in the knowledge that he held complete dominance over Akiha in this state.

Meanwhile, Akiha tried desperately to break free from his binds, his desire clashing with his growing dependence on Mukuro.

Despite being consumed by lustful urges, Akiha found solace in knowing that there was a chance to escape later when his strength returned. For now, he allowed himself to surrender to the pleasures Mukuro so masterfully provided.

Mukuro moved expertly across Akiha's body, lavishing him with tender caresses along the length of his arms and legs. His touch brought forth waves of euphoric sensations that enveloped Akiha's entire being.

Swept up in the rapturous torrent of sensory delight, he found himself yearning even more intensely for release. His whole world seemed to shrink down to nothing but Mukuro's deft fingers and the tantalizing promise of fulfillment. And yet, he knew instinctively that this was merely the beginning – that they were mere players in a larger game.

Both aware of their respective roles in this twisted choreography, Akiha found himself caught in the web of passion woven by Mukuro. Unable to resist the temptation, he gave himself wholly to the experience. Their bodies tangled together, becoming one, their primal desires driving them ever onward towards a climax that promised to eclipse their wildest dreams.

Embracing the eroticism of the encounter, Mukuro unleashed the depths of his sinuous expertise.

Then Akiha can't resist any further. He break a cum.

Mukuro smirked, satisfied with his performance thus far. He step and watch at Akiha. Akiha's cock still leaking a cum. It's flow out non-stop.

Akiha moans softly in relief, finding a measure of calm amidst the chaos. He not even notice that his body start to flaten. It's like all muscle, bone in his body was melt down and turn in to his cum, flow aways form his body form his cock.

When Akiha notice that something happen to his body.

He try to stand up, to see what happened. But his body become heavier, harder to move. Slowly, he realize what happening. All of his power gone. Even worse, he don't understand why. Why everything go wrong?

While Mukuro look at Akiha curiously, enjoying the unfolding spectacle of Akiha losing control over his own fate. He walks toward Akiha slowly, studying his changing appearance with keen interest.

When the last drop of Akiha's cum, leak out to wet floor.

Finally, Akiha lay motionless on the ground, his face filled with confusion and fear. Unaware of what has transpired during these moments, he stared blankly at Mukuro, questioning the reality of this surreal scenario. In response, Mukuro only offered a cryptic smile, leaving Akiha feeling utterly defeated and defenseless.

Feeling the loss of power physically manifested itself, the sudden transformation elicited panic and horror from Akiha. He now just a conciousness skin of himself. Laid on the floor.

Akiha finally understood what had occurred. All the muscle and bones in his body transformed into his semen, draining from his penis and eventually dissolving, reducing him to nothing but a mindless consciousness confined to his original skin. Panic rose swiftly within him as he struggled to grasp the magnitude of the metamorphosis. How did this happen? What went wrong? Questions bombarded his thoughts frantically.

Unfolding his limbs, Mukuro sauntered towards Akiha.

"Seem you enjoy a process of my unique ninpo. "Skinsuit transformation""

Mukuro said casually, his voice carrying a hint of cruelty. This caused Akiha to quiver with dread, despite his diminished physical capabilities. Despite the horror that now surrounded him, Akiha remained determined to find some way to reclaim his former self.

Mukuro start to undress himself

Before Akiha, he reveals a naked body covered in scars. Scars from years of training and battles as a skilled assassin.

Mukuro approached Akiha slowly, his hands roaming suggestively along his muscular frame.

As he stands towering over Akiha, the contrast between their figures becomes evident - Akiha's body reduced to a bare shell while Mukuro stands proudly displaying his robust form.

Then Mukuro pick Akiha's skinsuit up.

He rub his finger tips against it lightly, savoring the tactile pleasure. Feeling the fine threads underneath his fingertips, he whispers to Akiha.

"Now, let me show you how powerful I really am... If I wanted to, I could simply snap your life away right here. Do you believe me?"

There was no need for Akiha to answer - his frozen state conveyed everything needed. Mukuro laughed softly, a dark sound laced with menace.

Then he lower Akiha's skinsuit, use both hand to spread Akiha's mouth open wide, even widen more than normal mouth can do. Akiha think it's may tear and he must pain. But he really feel just likewas injected with anesthesia. He can feel a touch, how his mouth was spread but it's no pain.

What is going on? Did Mukuro inject him with numbing agent? His mind races as he tries to comprehend the situation. It seems impossible for Mukuro to perform such feats without the aid of medicine.

Akiha knows he needs to focus if he wants to survive this nightmare. Yet, his rational thought is quickly subdued by his mounting anxiety.

Why doesn't his body respond? What does Mukuro want from him? These questions continue to echo incessantly within his head.

Then the fear stuck to his head, Mukuro put one leg inside Akiha's mouth.

Akiha's mind racing trying to comprehend what this meant. He couldn't accept what he saw before him. Was Mukuro truly doing this? Or was it merely a figment of his imagination born from fear and fatigue? Couldn't be real, right? It wasn't possible. No one could defy the laws of nature like this!

But it didn't matter whether it was real or imaginary, because Akiha was trapped in this terrifying illusion either way.

Mukuro bring his leg's to fill in Akiha skinsuit's leg.

Akiha head now hug to Mukuro's ass, he can smella mix of sweat and pheromones emitting from Mukuro's body. It makes him remember their first meeting. The intensity of their encounters earlier tonight replay vividly in his memory. He remembers feeling helpless beneath Mukuro's superior skills and control. Yet somehow, this newfound submission felt different — much more intense and perverse.

After Mukuro adjust his leg to fit in Akiha's leg, he put another legs inside do the same.

Akiha's mouth stretched wider as Mukuro continues filling the void within his body with his legs. The sense of powerlessness intensifies, gripping Akiha's heart like a vice. He finds it difficult to reconcile his helplessness as the reality of the situation dawns upon him fully.

Each time Mukuro steps inside Akiha's body, a wave of conflicting emotions crashed over him. There was a strange mixture of fear, anger, humiliation, and arousal coursing through his veins. Also it's feel some contents of himself was filled.

After adjust both legs, Mukuro pull Akiha's skinsuit to cover his shoulder. It's always the toughest progress to put the arms and hands in.

Mukuro grimaced slightly at the challenge of fitting his own long fingers and palms into Akiha's narrow arms and hands. As he forced each digit to conform to the limited space, he noticed Akiya shiver slightly in reaction to the invasion. The slight tremble sent a thrill running through Mukuro, igniting an inner fire that he had long since suppressed.

The sensation grew stronger, almost uncontrollably.

Akiha tried to hold back his cries, but they escaped anyway, reverberating throughout the silent chamber. The sight of Mukuro filling Akiha's body piece by piece evoked feelings of both fear and exhilaration simultaneously. He wondered how long he would endure such torment until Mukuro finished. Time appeared to drag, making each moment seem excruciatingly drawn out.

Despite his predicament, there was also a perverse fascination with watching someone else occupy his body. It fueled a hidden desire deep within him that demanded satisfaction.

Mukuro also adjust his cock to fill in Akiha's empty cock skin.

Without hesitation, he inserts his entire length into Akiha's crotch area. The act causes Akiha to cry out involuntarily, his body reacting to Mukuro's presence. However, Mukuro maintains his composure, reveling in his complete dominance over Akiha. Akiha's chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath quickening, betraying his growing arousal. He closed his eyes, struggling to regain his bearings amidst the swirling sea of mixed emotions.

The weightiness of Mukuro's presence continued to press down on him, yet strangely enough, his aching desires began to stir once again. A part of him yearned for release, begging to be consumed by Mukuro's raw passion. In spite of the uncertainty surrounding his circumstances, a subtle whisper called forth from deep within, urging him to succumb completely to Mukuro's advances.

Having secured Akiha's lower half, Mukuro stepped back to admire his work. Now only last piece, he pull up Akiha's skinsuit head, to cover his head.

Inserting his head into Akiha's skull cap proved far more challenging compared to other parts. Each attempt seemed futile, causing Mukuro to grow impatient. Eventually, after several failed attempts, he managed to get his head through the small opening, securing the final piece of the puzzle.

Fully integrated into Akiha's skinsuit, Mukuro stood tall, surveying his newly acquired domain with pride. At first it's like a man try to wear too tight suit. Akiha's face was distort in different body inside. But soon Mukuro body start to shrink to match with skinsuit.

As he settles comfortably into Akiha's body, he observes his surroundings. The faint trace of Akiha's lingering essence fills him with renewed determination.

Akiha realized that Mukuro has indeed taken possession of his body entirely, leaving him paralyzed inside his own skin. It was both horrifying and surreal at the same time.

Amidst his confusion, Mukuro seized the opportunity to speak directly to Akiha, his voice echoing deeply within Akiha's skull.

"Feel the warmth caressing your insides, Akiha? Soon, you will experience something beyond your wildest dreams."

Mukuro's taunting words reverberated within Akiha's consciousness, creating a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. Simultaneously terrified and titillated, Akiha struggled to comprehend his present circumstance.

Then Akiha feel like got something slide into his brain. It's nauseating feeling. Like a slime try to read anything inside his brain.

The slithering sensation brought about discomfort as well as curiosity. Then suddenly, the sliding stops.

"Oh, Akiha right? Good name, that my name now. Ah you work under Genso, that oldie never give up right? I'm sorry about your lost that turn you into a shinobi. But why not just forget about them and seek different way of life. Than try to destroy Arasaka." Mukuro said, everything about Akiha's live

now belongs to him, his past and future included. "We should make best use of our enemy's resources, don't you agree?" Mukuro now as Akiha, move to Akiha's equiment, he start dressing it.

First, he take off Akiha's underwear, revealing his perfectly sculpted behind. Even though he was dressed in Akiha's skinsuit, he couldn't help but appreciate the firmness and smooth texture of Akiha's derriere. This sudden intimate encounter heightened his excitement further, sending waves of heat pulsing through his core.

Next, he moved onto Akiha's armor. Carefully slipping on the various pieces – gloves, gauntlets, boots, and finally the iconic black bodysuit that covered Akiha's upper body. Each item added to his transformation, enhancing his physical prowess and giving him a distinct edge over any adversaries.

The armored ensemble bore testament to Akiha's dedication and commitment to honing his craft. Mukuro marveled at the precision engineering incorporated into these garments, designed specifically for optimal performance during missions.

Then he take a Akiha's tight ninja mask.

Akiha's nose twitched as he caught a familiar scent wafting from the confines of the mask. It was a combination of perspiration, musk, and the lingering traces of Akiha's pheromone-laden presence. The blended fragrance caused a peculiar sensation to course through his body, eliciting an unexpected response. Despite the initial repulsion, he found himself oddly attracted to the unusual concoction.

As Mukuro took the ninja mask and placed it carefully around his neck, ensuring its snug fit, Akiha experienced a surge of panic. Trapped within the confines of his own skinsuit, he was unable to resist Mukuro's manipulations. His thoughts raced frantically, searching for a means to escape this bizarre predicament.

Suddenly, Akiha became aware of a throbbing ache below his waistline. Was this a side effect of being controlled by Mukuro's powers? Realizing that he could no longer control his physical responses, Akiha accepted his fate as a pawn in Mukuro's elaborate game. Acutally it's Mukuro that feel so

excited, as if electricity is flowing through his body. Sensual images flashed through his mind, sparking a flurry of ideas aimed at seducing Akiha into submitting to his will.

Unbeknownst to Akiha, Mukuro possessed knowledge regarding Akiha's weak spots. Leveraging this advantage, Mukuro sought to exploit these vulnerabilities, drawing Akiha deeper into his web of temptation.

Mukuro as Akiha, pick all left equipment, place it into his body.

As he straps on Akiha's gadgets, his confidence grows steadily, bolstered by the power and capabilities afforded by Akiha's arsenal. These tools served as the ultimate proof of Akiha's devotion to his cause - even in death, his skills remained invaluable.

Wearing Akiha's clothing and gadget gave Mukuro a sense of invincibility and potency unlike any before.

Akiha felt his heart racing in trepidation beneath his stolen skin. Meanwhile, Mukuro savored the taste of victory as he prepared to leave Akiha’s base incognito. As Akiha lay helplessly bound, he watched Mukuro don his mask, preparing to deceive the others waiting outside.

Chapter 3

Mukuro standing in the moonlight in Akiha's identity, watiching a old japanse mansion that is a base of Akiha. A rebellion group which aim to destroy Arasaka Corp. He need to report a successful mission to his master. but with false data inside the USB.

He had a plan in motion, one that would lead him straight towards destruction and chaos. The thought sent shivers coursing through his veins, igniting an inner fire that burned brighter than ever before.

When he reached Akiha's base, fully transformed, he confidently strode forward without skipping a beat. His footsteps were sure and steady as he made his way toward the entrance of the secret facility. He knew the layout of the compound by heart, having memorized every nook and cranny in anticipation of tonight's events.

With unwavering certainty, he approached the security checkpoint undeterred. Donning a calm expression, he handed over the usb containing fake intel to the guard stationed there. "This is the latest update from our field operatives," he stated authoritatively, hoping to instill trust in the minds of the unsuspecting rebels. The guard appeared satisfied with his explanation, nodding briefly before allowing entry.

Once safely inside, Mukuro swiftly navigated through dimly lit corridors, making his way towards the central command post.

His newfound physique exuded an air of authority and strength, instantly earning him respectful glances from fellow agents. With an easygoing demeanor, he introduced himself as 'Akiha', claiming to have successfully retrieved crucial intelligence vital to their campaign against Arasaka Corp. While some individuals displayed skepticism due to his apparent youth, none dared question the authenticity of such critical data.

Akiha's quarters were located adjacent to the command center, offering privacy and solitude.

Once alone, Mukuro removed the items from his inventory and began examining them meticulously. Every object held significance and value to Akiha's strategies. Disguised as Akiha, Mukuro felt emboldened, relishing the idea of manipulating Akiha's peers with ease.

Staring back at Mukuro in the mirror, a sinister grin formed across his lips. He recognized the danger lurking within these walls—the potential consequences of his betrayal.

Yet, the prospect of causing utter havoc among these traitors only intensified his resolve. Pondering over Akiha's personal files, he discovered sensitive information pertaining to several key members of the resistance movement. Smirking maliciously, he formulated a plan to sow discord amongst them using this valuable data.

Leaving Akiha's private chambers, Mukuro ventured forth, surveying the bustling activity within the compound. Invisible amidst the crowd, he observed everyone go about their business oblivious to the impending turmoil.

Beneath the surface, however, a sinister smile stretched across his face as he contemplated how to execute his destructive intentions. Utilizing his expert understanding of human psychology, Mukuro subtly embedded seeds of doubt throughout the camp, planting suspicion amongst its inhabitants. In doing so, he hoped to fracture the cohesiveness of the team and create divisions among the ranks. To solidify his position within the organization, he decided to establish a strong rapport with those who held considerable influence.

He amost can't keep his laugh to brust out.

#identity theft #stolen identity #gay #steal clothes #clothes stolen #steal uniform #uniform stolen #male body suit #male bodysuit

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daisiesanddaffodils3 · 2 years

Text

Willow Maid (Yandere!Daemon x Reader) p.2

Author’s Note: So I had the idea on what a sequel would look like but was worried no one wanted it, however one person asked for it and I was like ‘You drive a hard bargain but yes’. Really sorry these are quite short, but there will be more.

Synopsis: Daemon has just taken you back to the dragon’s nest that is KIngslanding

Warning: Threats of violence, Daemon is his own warning, toxic relationships, normal yandere warnings.

The residents felt nervous as they saw Caraxes land within the pits, Prince Daemon had gotten somehow more aggressive since his first tryst through the woods. Some of them were sure he was cursed by that dark place. So when they saw him return with a small slip of a girl they didn't know what to think of this ash covered thing. Her beautiful e/c were dull and distance, she neither leant towards the prince or away, she was like a doll. Servants saw him dismount his dragon before turning to his companion and gently lifting her off as Caraxes helped by bowing down. Once she was on her feet he took her hand and led her towards the castle, were she not so dazed she might notice the bewildered look of all those around her. Their mutual thought - who is this strange woman the prince holds so softly. Once inside the Red Keep, Daemon waves down some faceless servant: "Wash her, fix her hair and dress her in something worthy of a Targaryan". His voice rung with clear order, so the servant bowed and went to take the girl's arm when she noticed the sudden sharp look the prince donned. Fearing of what may happen should she touch the girl, she stepped back and raised an arm to guide her. After a slight nudge from the prince, the girl numbly followed the servant. It didn't take much to deduce what happened to her. Her whole family had served the Targaryans for many a year, and their obsessive ways were renowned. In a way she pitied the girl, but like a dragon coverts their hoard, so does a Targaryan their lover. She'll never want for anything, the servant thought bitterly. A hot bath was prepared within Daemon’s chamber, the tub was made from pure copper and unlike many other baths was lifted from the floor by four legs, perfect amount of room to allow candles to be lit under it. She stripped the girl down careful not to look or touch too much, even in one’s private chamber the walls in Kingslanding has both eyes and ears. Best not awake the dragon, so to say.

Guided into the bath, she took a sponge and worked to remove the grime, all the while the girl blindly stared forward. The silence made the servant feel uncomfortable, but she reasoned had she just watched her home burn, she wouldn’t be feeling very talkative. It got to the point where all visible dirt was removed but where she laid in the tub covered up the burnt hair she must cut and the remaining ash on her back. Shyly she prompted "I'm sorry Lady... um". Where silence lingered for a second. "Y/n" the girl's melodic voice rang out "I was called y/n once". In the isolation of the forest she had needed no name. "Lady y/n" she smiled, "could you lean forward for me" and was wordlessly obeyed. They continued in silence, she felt bad for having cut such beautiful h/c hair, nonetheless the Maiden still looked ethereal. Once finished she was dried and placed in a simple black dress made of silk. They would have to measure her for more extravagant dresses. The maid admired her, it was no wonder how she caught the prince's eye. Speaking of whom she knew it was best to go retrieve him, leaving y/n sitting on his bed. She found him in the dragon pits, stroking Caraxes deep in thought. As she approached he asked "How is she?". "She's been washed and dressed, I found a dress in her size but she'll need to be measured, Your Grace" he nodded silently, nonchalant. She continued "I left Lady y/n awaiting you in your chambers". And like that, the pit went cold, his hand stopped stroking Caraxes, it was that same feeling as earlier but worse. By the Nine, what had she done wrong? Was she not meant to leave her there? Was it because she left her alone? Did he think she would run away?

“What did you call her?” His words were short and clear, she could see his tense jaw and even a vein in his neck pushed to the surface.

“A thousand apologies Your Grace, I did not mean to insult you!” She still didn’t know what she’d done but that’s of little importance, Prince Daemon was known for his fiery temper and she’d hoped to never be on the receiving end.

“Her name.” Each word was more tense than the last, at this point Caraxes sensing his master’s started beating his tail on the ground, growling, attempting to move towards the one who upset him.

She fell to her knees, hands together in a silent prayer. “L-Lady y/n, Your Grace” Tears rolled down her face as she watched his stiff nod, not once had he looked at her. He began to stalk towards the Red Keep, and now without the Prince between her and his dragon, Caraxes began to stalk forwards. “Please My Lord have mercy!” rung out around the pit as Daemon continued to walk away.

#Daemon Targaryen #daemon x reader #yandere targaryen #yandere daemon #yandere x reader #prince daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #yandere #game of thrones #got

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popcornrya · 14 days

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Talk about bad timelines~ Covert Au oc be like-

#rottmnt #rise of the turtles #rottmnt fanart #covert don #rottmnt covert au

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adora-but-ginger · 2 years

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Lost Love

pairing: din djarin x gn!mandalorian!reader

summary: an old forgotten flame is rekindled

word count: ~2.9k

warnings: mentions of a blaster, oh boy so much fluff, helmet comes OFF that’s right, creed talk, i think that’s it

masterlist

a/n: listen everyone it’s my fic so i decide what’s canon, also don’t ask me shite about star wars planets becuase i could not tell you for the life of me. thank you for reading <3~L

also don’t repost my stories, because reposting isn’t a very cool look now is it.

(credit to gif owner)

You stood there, parallel to the being wearing armour that mirrored yours.

You had not seen a fellow Mandalorian in what had to be tens of rotations, and it was a bit unnerving if you were to admit it to yourself. You had left the covert with your head held high long ago, disregarding the oh so sacred creed you were a part of for as long as you’d known. You had left behind all that you were used to, being dubbed a ‘Mandalorian no more’ by those who you used to call home. But you didn’t mind that, not really.

Because a creed that prioritized its secrecy over a dying life was one you refused to partake in.

You remember standing there, looking at those you used to call friends--those who you used to call family--watching you as the armourer exiled you. Those you were close to, those who you grew up with as foundlings, looking upon you with barriers of metal, doing nothing. Your visor had locked with each and every one of theirs, noting those like Paz who almost seemed amused by the situation. And then there were others like Din, would have who gazed upon you with an unspoken apology. Speaking of Din, he wasn’t even there that day. Where he had gone off to, you never knew.

He was your closest friend, and you couldn’t even say goodbye to him.

So, with anger in your eyes that could make the metal surrounding you turn ablaze and a pang of sadness in your heart that would haunt your being until your last breath, you left.

No one had followed you out, not that you had expected any to, but the last time you saw another Mando had been Bo-Katan’s group, and you didn’t really fit in there, either.

So, here you were, hidden away on Scarif. You had made it out well here, defending the village from any outside threats on the daily. You provided protection, and they provided space for you to live peacefully. Not many knew you, and over the years you became that of a ghost story.

That being said, you can imagine the surprise that was apparent when he walked in, broad shoulders and shiny beskar helmet staring into your own visor, walking up to you. His helmet met yours, gazes you assumed locking. Sure, you didn’t abide by the creed anymore, but you found a bittersweet sense of security in keeping it on. No one here knew your face except the medics, and you were okay with that. The sounds of his footsteps had silenced the room, everyone’s heads turning towards the newcomer. You tilted your helmet upwards--a gesture that some may take it as a greeting, but you both knew what it truly meant.

A challenge.

A silent question of intimidation, to see where the next few moments would lead. His hand, hovering over his blaster, slowly flexed before lifting away from the weapon entirely. He had taken another step forward, now no more than a few paces away from you, carrying the attention from the cantina with every breath.

Taking him in, a familiarity washed over you. You looked him over, the shiny beskar covering his head, chest, arms, and legs, to the pulse rifle on his back, to the numerous weapons donning his being. A jetpack sister to yours peaked from behind his cape, and at his side lay a worn-out brown satchel.

Standing from your chair, hand resting on the blaster at your side as you did so, you adjust your posture to meet him.

A beat of silence is caught between you two, waiting for one to address the other.

“I’ve been searching for you.”

His modulated voice was low and had a slight rasp to it. Your gloved hand remained near your blaster, tensing up ever so slightly.

“You must be mistaken.” You responded, short and quaint. His helmet moved towards your blaster, then back towards your visor.

“I am not. I’ve been trying to find another Mandalorian, another of our kind. I need your help.”

You took a deep breath before relaxing a little, annoyed. Was this guy serious? Walking past him, you scoffed as your armour grazed his due to the small space. Heading towards the doorway of the cantina, you turned your head back towards his direction, where you saw he had turned around to watch you walk out.

“That’s too bad.”

This guy really thought that after probably tracking you down, he just expected you to be willing to help him? There was a reason you hid, why you covered your tracks as best you could. You didn’t want to be found. What right did he have to just disregard that? The Mandalorians back at the covert never offered to help you, not after you broke their precious creed.

You could hear his footsteps behind your own, marching fast to catch up with you. You had just walked out the entrance when you heard his voice again. “Hey!”

Sighing, you met him, tilting your helmet in question. “What?”

You could tell he was annoyed--good. “You can’t just walk away like that. I have spent too much time looking for another one of us just to have you not even consider my request.”

You crossed your arms. You were tired and it had been a long day, so when the little jolt of guilt rang through you, you spoke up. “I will be of no help to you. You sought out the wrong Mandalorian. I’m truly sorry.” With that, you headed back on your way, the ground crunching beneath your boots. His voice caught your attention again, this time filled with more frustration.

“It’s by creed that you should help, that you should aid another in a time of need.”

You stopped again, like a wall had just hit you. “The creed you speak of does not bound me. Now, leave me be, and do not speak of my presence.” A bitter tang accompanied your words, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. He did not respond, and so you did not spare him another glance, instead resuming your journey home.

Of course he followed you back. Not a word was spoken, but the entire trek back to your residence his footsteps accompanied yours. They were a distance behind, and he almost lost you once or twice, but you left your door open when you entered your home, awaiting him to follow. He came in not too long after, standing in the doorway.

With a sigh, you addressed him. “Are you just going to follow me or-?”

His response was the same as the first interaction. “I need your help.”

Walking up to him, you stopped short a few feet when you took him in, like actually took him in. The cantina light was low and dull, but here with the setting glow of light you could see him for all he was, the details hidden within the armour from battles and skirmishes. His helmet, sculpted and sharp, blossomed that same familiarity you felt earlier. The mud horn signet shone on his shoulder, and his shiny cuirass showed your reflection in it, from the beskar that covered your chest to the durasteel on your arms. You had seen that helmet before.

Just as you were about to comment on the helmet, a sigh emitted from him, just barely audible. You almost missed it, but you didn’t miss the movement that shook his satchel simultaneously. Hand shooting to your blaster once more, he realized what had you on alert and shot his arms out in response, trying to prevent what might happen if not. You were being difficult, you knew that, but he was desperate.

“No, no. Don’t shoot, please.” He reached with one arm to cover the bag as best as he could. “This is why I need your help. He is why I need your help.”

Confused, you released your grip on the weapon, returning your hand to your side. “What do you mean, he?”

Slowly, he reached into the bag, pulling out a little green creature from it. “This is the Child. I was hoping that if I found another Mandalorian, that they could aid in my deliverance of him to his kind. Please.” The Child giggled in response to the man’s embrace of him, eyes widening at his surroundings. His eyes met your helmet, and a coo escaped him. “You are a Mandalorian, are you not?”

You had never seen anything like the little green guy before. You noticed a smile slowly growing on your face as his own reached you, and when you returned your gaze to the man in front of you, your voice gave the smile away.

“Yes, I am a Mandalorian. What is he?”

His voice grew a little softer as you eased your guard. Progress. “He is a Jedi. That is who I need to deliver him to. Do you know of any?”

The smile was quickly wiped from your face. “Yes, I know of one. Or I knew of one, one time. I’m afraid--” you said, looking back and forth between the two of them, memories of meeting Ahsoka rushing through your head. You had only met for a few moments, in passing too, but that was knowledge that he need not of. “I’m afraid I do not know much of anyone anymore. You, though, you remind me of someone I knew once too. You share a helmet.” You assumed the comment would be tossed aside, but he straightened his back, a tilt of his head accompanying the motion.

“What do you mean?”

“I once belonged to a place like yours, a group of Mandalorians. That was long ago though.” You reached for the Child briefly, stopping quickly to silently ask permission. He granted it, handing him over to you. The kid whined as he left the arms of the metal before you, but his smile quickly returned as he looked at your helmet.

“What was their name? The one who bore my resemblance.” Reaching down, you fixed the ruffles in the top of the Child’s robe before answering. He cooed in response. When you spoke, it was so quiet that you weren’t even sure you said it out loud.

“Din.”

The air shifted as you spoke, the man stilling before you. You had no idea that he had just lost all of his composure then, heart thrumming as he heard his name. He must’ve known you somehow, but how? Trying to not sound as confused as he felt, he spoke. “And who are you?”

You froze for a moment, letting the Child wrap his hand around your gloved finger. You hadn’t spoken your name since you left, which was ages ago. You weren’t even sure how it sounded on your tongue anymore. A ping of sadness rang through you at that thought, which might have been one of the reasons why you said it.

When you did, the tension in his shoulders slacked. It had been awhile since you saw another one of your own, and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

He tested your name out and spoke it soft but punctually. And when he reached for the Child to return to him, a lightness ran through his tone that was new to both himself and to you.

“It’s been a while, cyar’ika, I thought you were dead.”

You felt like you’d been struck by a speeder. Your pulse jumped, your breathing got quicker, and your mind was racing. “Wait, Din, is that you?” He nodded, and the smile that broke your face was unlike anything you’d felt in rotations. It wasn’t there for long though, insecurity seeping in its place. What if he was just like the rest? What if when he came back and you were gone, he cursed your name, banishing his friendship alongside your image? What if--

“They told me you were dead.” His quiet voice tore you from your thoughts. “I was barely gone a few days, and when I came back, you were gone.” He looked down towards the ground then, murmuring more to himself than to you. “They told me you were dead. How’d--”

“I broke the Creed.” You whispered back, taking a deep breath as you did so. “They tossed me out within the hour. I was off planet within the day. I’m--” Your words were muffled as you felt his gloved hand on your helmet and froze at the gesture.

“I almost left when I found out. Left the covert, left the town. I would see the ghost of your presence everywhere.” He spoke in awe now, the Child jumping down from his grasp and landing lightly on your floor. You looked at the kid as he went to explore, but Din’s hand, now bare, drew you back. “You’re alive?”

You leaned into his touch, partially out of care for him, partially at the lack of human contact you’ve had. He was your greatest friend back then, but you always felt the pull. The feeling that you would follow him to the ends of the galaxy. It could have been labelled as many names--whether it be care, trust, or love. Whatever it was, you didn’t see your life without him in it. You two were seen at the hip growing up, one almost never seen without the other. Which was why it was so rare that you two had been separated when the exile happened.

In retrospect, maybe that happened on purpose.

You took your helmet off to revive that of a dying civilian, and you had a feeling that had Din been there, he would’ve stood by your side the entire way. You didn’t know that earlier that day would be the last time you two would speak for who knows how long.

You nodded into his hand and saw his chest shake. Removing your gloves, you placed your now bare hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly as you wrapped it around his own. Your foreheads met, metal to metal.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You took a deep breath at it all--the gestures, what he was saying, the situation in whole.

“And yet, the stars spoke and brought you here.”

No words had to be spoken as the flame between you two was lit once more. Leaning back, you took your hand out of his own, reaching for your helmet. It happened before he had any time to react, the hissing and air coming from the metal. You took the helmet off, and for the first time in your life let him see you. The real you. You felt bare, and a little scared, but were in too deep to back out now. You could feel the waves of inner conflict washing over him, a battle happening behind the beskar. So, when he reached for his own, your breath caught.

“Can you close your eyes?” His tone was hesitant and timid--he was nervous-- he was Din. Your eyes fluttered shut, and the same hissing was heard. There you two both stood, years of anguish and fear, of sadness and frustration, washing away at the hands of old friends. Of friends that were always more than just friends.

This time, when you felt his hand on your face, it was skin to skin, and you shivered. He felt so soft, so warm, so real. “Can I kiss you, cyar’ika?” His voice was raw and unfiltered, so full of emotions, that you didn’t know how the modulator made it stoic.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And when his lips gently met yours, you thought you died of bliss. It was like you were made for each other, and when you pulled apart, a small laugh escaped you. He laughed too, and the smile that grew on you was sweeter than ambrosia. It was like a dance, and though he had probably never done this before, you knew he would become good at it really quickly. Years of emotions flowed between your lips to his, telling stories that only shared a beginning.

You broke apart this time only when oxygen required it so. “I will help you, Din, with the Child, with it all.” Placing your foreheads together, you reached up quickly for another peck. He responded to the kiss eagerly, and you swore that now that you two found each other, you would never lose sight of him again.

When he responded, you felt the weight of Scarif lift from your shoulders.

"Good,” A quiet groan escaped him as you ran a hand through his curls. “Because we have a lot to catch up on.”

Bonus scene:

Grogu babbled as he reached for the food laying in the basket ahead of him. He had managed to climb up a stool and a chair, which were some pretty big feats. The delicious-looking pastries lay waiting for him, and he swiveled around one more time to make sure his dad wouldn’t notice. He saw him and the person he was talking to seconds ago now very close to each other and knew he was in the clear. He quickly turned back around to accomplish his mission, making his way towards the wonderful aroma surrounded by wicker. The basket was piled high with warm, soft bread-like foods, and Grogu was about to have the time of his life.

#din djarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction

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