#security and spec-ops office

[dread-red-queen]

Another AMM Preset this time featuring Raven and Goros Office from my No Relic AU Fan Fiction series, its basically an Arasaka themed office space so thought I would share it for anyone wanting an Office scene to take pictures in XD

[thewritingrowlet]

The Guardian Angel, ft. ICHILLIN' Joonie

tags: cum-in-mouth, deepthroat, quickie, creampie (both type), anal, rough, daddy kink

word count: 8k+

warning: mention of firearms and depiction of use of firearms; reader discretion is advised.

author's note: I saw this picture of Joonie holding a toy gun and said "fuck it", so here we are. I wanted to get this fic out ASAP so that I could start working on The Outing Trip 3 and the ideas that are currently sitting in my inbox. Joonie is referred to as Junhee in this fic, btw.

-

“Excuse me, Mr. Director”, Mr. Kang, your chauffeur, calls out to you, waking you up from your peaceful nap, “we have arrived, sir”. “Hngh? We have?”, you say, rubbing your eyes to speed up the process, “can I ask what time this is?”. Mr. Kang looks at his watch, “it is 8:09 pm, sir”. You look outside the window of the car and see that it is dark out there. “Any news about the Guardian Angel, Mr. Kang?”, you ask. “The Angel is in position, sir. I was asked by the Angel to tell you to mind where you stand and not break line of sight—I’d also like to remind you that I’m keeping an eye on you as well, Mr. Director”, Mr. Kang explains as he shows you the gun on his hip. “Thank you, Mr. Kang. Be safe, okay? We can’t afford to lose you. I’ll see you in less than an hour”, you say to him before putting on an earpiece and getting out of the car.

“In case you forgot how you’ve ended up in this situation, let’s do a quick recap”, your brain says before starting. “You, Han Jinwoo, are the founder and director of a handful of companies, one of them being a nickel mining company that mainly operates in a developing country that is known for its messy politics. Over the past few years, you’ve been receiving extreme threats and defamations from people all over the world, including your own countrymen, for, and I quote: ‘destroying both the environment and the people of the country by ways of exploitation for capitalistic greed'. Those threats have led you to getting armored cars and extra security to keep an eye on you in public”. “Thank you for reminding me, brain; that was super helpful”, you say to yourself.

So here you are, standing in front of an empty lot that you’ve bought for an ungodly amount of money. You’re planning to build a new office building so that you can house 2 of your smaller companies here because the rent on the current building is getting ridiculous, and you’re here to meet some architects and engineers to talk about the construction.

Before you get closer to the construction site, you want to make sure that the Angel has eyes on you. You turn around and scan the buildings across the street, hoping that you’ll see the Angel. “Looking for me, director?”, you hear the Guardian Angel say in a calm but serious tone from your earpiece, “you don’t have a sniper scope like I do; you’re not seeing shit, love”. You bring your wrist closer to your mouth and speak softly into the mic, “don’t let me die, okay? I love you”. You don’t hear a reply, but you see flashing lights that spell out “ILY” in morse code. That’s your Guardian Angel, Park Junhee, a spec-ops-turned-private-military who also happens to be your beloved fiancé.

You turn towards the construction site and see some people with hard hats talking among themselves while seemingly waiting for you. “Good evening, ladies and gents. I apologize for being late”, you greet them. “Not at all, Mr. Director. I’d say you’re perfectly on time”, Mrs. Hwang, an architect, says as she shakes your hand. “Can I have a recap of our progress, Mrs. Hwang?”, you ask her. She shows you the site plan and some blueprints and explain to you that they’re planning to build the first 4 floors as soon as the materials arrive and aiming to finish it in 40 days. “Sir, I regret to inform you that the steel beams have been in transport longer than they should’ve been, thus slowing down the progress”, she says, “we have also been seeing protestors gathering here and harassing workers, sir. If I may, Mr. Director, I suggest having security here”. She is correct; while you may not have the cleanest hands and be the kindest businessman around, you certainly don’t want the innocent workers to be harassed or potentially be put in danger. “I’ll contact Nighthaven and see if they can help. Thank you, Mrs. Hwang—anyone else?”, you say.

An engineer asks for your attention, so you turn to him and listen to him. You’re deep into his speech when you hear Junhee warn you, “sir, there’s a man holding a knife running towards your position. Permission to engage, sir.”. “Don’t kill him!”, you yell out, and the people around you look at you in confusion. “Engaging”, Junhee calmly says, and you immediately hear a scream of pain from behind. You and everyone else walk towards the source of the scream and see that there’s a man lying on the ground with a butcher’s knife next to him. To your surprise, the man pulls out a gun and aims it at you, but instead of dying, you hear the man scream again; Junhee has shot him in the arm, forcing him to drop his gun. “Nonlethal, sir, as you asked. Wrap this up quick, please”, Junhee says, and you can hear the worry in her voice.

“I can’t risk losing you, ladies and gents. We’ll meet again at my office tomorrow morning, okay? Scatter, please, and be safe”, you tell Mrs. Hwang and company. Mr. Kang jumps out of the car and opens the door for you, “Mr. Director, get in, please”. “Mr. Kang, call an ambulance and make sure the man gets help, okay?”, you say as you get in the car. Mr. Kang calls his contact as he’s driving to make sure the man can be attended to with no questions asked. “We’re done, Angel—see you at home”, you say to Junhee over the mic. “Yes, sir”, she says.

-

“I’m home”, you say as you open the door and enter the house. You see that Junhee is pacing back and forth nervously while waiting for you. “There you are”, she says, “are you okay, love?”. “Yes, I am. Thank you for covering me, baby; I would’ve died otherwise”, you tell her before coming in for a hug. “You’re much more than a client to me, love”, she says, her voice shaking from the emotions. “I know, baby. I’m still alive because of you, you know that right?”, you say. Junhee was a spec ops personnel and all that, but considering that you’re her fiancé, she feels way more attached to you. “Please don’t die, love. I don’t know what I would do without you”, she says as her eyes turn to a waterfall. “I’m here for you and will continue to be, love. You’re there for me as well, aren’t you, my Guardian Angel?”, you say. “Why did you ask for non-lethal, though? I-I had perfect line of sight, love”, she asks. “We’ve caught enough flaks, baby; we don’t need more”, you say, pressing your lips on her head. “But you could’ve died!”, she screams, “please don’t die, I’m begging you”.

You let Junhee cry to her heart’s content in your arms for a few minutes while offering words of comfort and assuring her that you’re fine. Junhee breaks the hug and tells you to take off your clothes; “I need to make sure you’re not hurt—not even a scratch”, she says. You do as she says and start by taking off your shirt and trousers, revealing the bulletproof vest underneath; “thank you for listening to me and wearing a vest”, she comments with a smile, “continue, please—wait, actually”. She cuts herself off and runs towards the bedroom, leaving you with only a bulletproof vest and boxers on.

She walks out of the bedroom while singing Happy Birthday and holding a cake, and only now do you remember that it is your birthday. “Did you actually forget that today is your birthday, love?”, she asks. “Time flies, love. I was so occupied with work”, you admit. Junhee tells you to make a wish, so you close your eyes and pray for your and Junhee’s safety and prosperity before blowing the candles. “Hurray, happy birthday, love!”, she excitedly says. “Are we eating that, or?”, you ask. “Later”, she says, putting the cake on the dining table. Junhee begins taking off her Agent 47-esque attire and vest and throwing them to the side before approaching you and helping you take off yours.

She pulls you towards the sofa and tells you to sit down, “I want to suck your cock”. Junhee likes sucking your cock to celebrate both your and her birthdays, so this is nothing new or odd to you. Junhee pulls down your boxers and immediately take you in her mouth. “Oh, so good, baby”, you moan, “always so good to me”. Junhee gives you a wink and go down on your cock until her nose touches your pelvis, making her gag slightly in the process. You throw your head back and pet Junhee’s head as you bask in the sensation of her wet mouth and the sounds she’s making.

You feel your cock twitch in her mouth, and you know Junhee feels it too, proven by how she bobs her head faster on your shaft. “Ah, I’m about to cum, love”, you announce to her. Junhee moves up and leave only your tip in her mouth, ready to accept your cum. With a groan, you finally blow your load and flood her mouth with it. Junhee yelps a little bit when your cum hits her throat when she wasn’t ready, but keeps her lips tight around your cock. She closes her lips after pulling away from your cock before swallowing your cum. “Tasty as usual. Thank you, love”. You shake your head weakly, “no, thank you, love”.

Junhee helps you put your boxers on again before sitting next to you on the sofa. “Love, I want to buy firearms tomorrow”, she says. “Plural, baby?”, you ask her. “I want to sell my handgun, get a new handgun and rifle, and buy some ammo for them”, she explains, “you want to come along? We can practice shooting after”. You rub your chin and think about tomorrow’s agenda, “I have a meeting with the people from earlier so you’ll need to be with me first and then I’ll come with you—can I come with you, though? I’d hate to find out that the gun shop people hate me while I’m there with you”. Junhee laughs at you, “so what? C’mon, love, come with me, please”.

-

“Good morning, everyone. I apologize for ending the meeting abruptly last night”, you say as you enter the meeting room and see that everyone has come to the meeting, “is everyone okay, by the way?”. Mrs. Hwang answers for the group, “we’re okay, director. With respect, it was you that he wanted, not us”. “That is correct, Mrs. Hwang. Let’s start now, okay?”, you say as you press the button to roll down the blinds. Obviously, they notice Junhee’s presence in the room as she sticks out like sore pretty thumb, but no one dares ask you about her and jump straight to the conversation.

Since you have let the architects come up with the design, the engineers have little trouble following it since nothing is out of the ordinary or defying the laws of physics. Instead, they offer you ways to shave off some expense by “making the construction process less redundant”. You have no idea what this man is talking about, but since he assures you that it won’t compromise with the building’s quality and strength, you decide to agree. “We have received news saying that the steel beams I mentioned last night will arrive in 2 days, director”, Mrs. Hwang says. “Understood, Mrs. Hwang; please make sure we can continue the construction soon”, you say to her with a nod.

The meeting ends after about 40-something minutes, and everyone leaves together as a group, filing one by one out the door. Junhee drops the cold front and approaches you for a kiss. She takes your hands and put them on her tits, encouraging you to play with them. “Your tits are so soft, baby. Are you sure you’re wearing a bra?”, you comment as you juggle and squeeze them. “I’m wearing your favorite sports bra but no vests”, she says, “love, I’m wet; touch me, please”. You press a button to lock the doors and take off your trousers and boxers, “come to me, baby”.

Junhee pulls her trousers and panties down to give your cock access to her pussy. She jumps into your lap and immediately impale herself on your erect cock, letting out a soft moan in the process. “You-you’re filling me up so well, love—ah, hngh”, she says with heavy breaths. You want to cum so bad, so you thrust up and meet her in the middle, “Fuck, I want to cum for you, baby”. Junhee’s heart is palpitating like crazy, “ah-ah-ah—yes-yes, cum for your fiancé, love—ah, fuck—I’m so close, love”.

You keep thrusting up while Junhee keeps going down as the both of you are chasing your own orgasms. “Love, love—oh, please”, Junhee calls out to you, “I’M CUMMING!”. The way her pussy is squeezing your cock forces you to blow at the same time, and nothing beats the feeling of cumming together with your fiancé. Junhee leans forward for a hug, and the two of you stay silent while catching your breaths. “The—hah, God—the cum will drip down if you stand up”, you say to her. Junhee tells you to lay her on the table and get ready to scoop up the leak. Thankfully the leak isn’t too crazy, and she licks it off your hand. “That’s one pew-pew down, wanna move on to the next?”, you ask her. “Ye-yeah, help me put on my pants, please”.

-

 Mr. Kang drops you off in front of the gun shop, and Junhee leads you into it. “Good afternoon!”, Junhee says to the staffs. “Good afternoon to you as well, Miss Park. Can I help you?”, a female staff says. “Yeah, I’m looking to trade this in for a G43X MOS”, she pulls out her handgun and unloads it before putting it on the counter. The staff picks it up and inspects it, “G19, hey? Anything else?”. “No, that’s it—oh, some 9mm ammo, please”, she says. The staff then leaves you two alone and do whatever he needs to for the trade-in. “I thought you were buying a rifle?”, you ask. Junhee shakes her head, “on second thought, I don’t think I need a new one now. The one we have now still works well—you saw it last night”. You have little clue about firearms, but Junhee knows her stuff, so you trust her judgment on the matter.

The staff comes back outside and invites you two to the range to test her new handgun. The staff hands each of you some headset and safety glasses and asks you to put them on. Junhee then hands the gun to you and asks you to load it yourself, “do not put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to shoot—you don’t want to kill us, do you?”. You shake your head and take the gun from her hands. “Aim at that target, love”, she says. You’ve shot a gun before (under Junhee’s supervision, obviously), so you know how to unlock the safety switch and get ready to shoot. “I’m ready”, you say to her. “I know they’ve fired this gun multiple times during production to test it, but technically it’s a virgin; take her cherry like you did mine, love”, she says as she steps away from you.

You steady your aim and start firing one bullet at a time until you’ve shot all 10 of them. “Not bad”, Junhee comments, “you missed one, love—that might hit a bystander, you know?”. You apologize for missing, but she rejects it, “you can apologize by getting better, okay? You need to be able to handle a gun well in case I’m not there to protect you. Come, let’s get out of here”.

Junhee leads you to the front and pays for her new pistol and a box of 9mm ammo. “Sorry for being pushy, but is he your client, Miss Park?”, the staff asks. Junhee looks at you and chuckles, “yeah, something like that. Alright, we’re leaving. See you soon!”. You open and hold the door for your fiancé, earning a cute smile from her; “who would’ve thought a girl this cute was spec ops? Looks can really fool you, huh?”, you think to yourself.

“Love, can we go home, or do you need to go back to the office?”, she asks. “We can go home, yeah. We need to talk”, you say, keeping things vague for Junhee. “Oh, um, okay, love”, she says nervously. She tries asking you what you want to talk about, but you wave her off and tell her that she’ll know soon enough. “Excuse me, sir”, Mr. Kang says, “the news of Miss Park’s work last night has broken out. Personally, I would like to commend her for not killing him”. “It was my fiancé’s wish to shoot him in the leg, Mr. Kang; I was just following orders”, Junhee says. “That is good thinking, sir; the public might dislike you, but not killing him will make you look not as bad”, Mr. Kang says. “What do you think if I pay for his medical expenses?”, you ask your fiancé. “Yeah, I guess we can do that. I’ll call someone and have them take care of it”, she says.

-

“So, what is it you wanted to talk about? I’m not in trouble, am I? Please say no, oppa”, Junhee asks as you enter the bedroom with her. Junhee stopped calling you oppa after you two got engaged and nowadays she usually calls you that when she wants something. You laugh at her as you hold her hands, “no, you’re not in trouble, baby; I just wanted to say that I’ve booked a restaurant this weekend for our anniversary”. Junhee falls forward limply into your arms, “aaaah, you scared meeeee—I thought you were going to scold me or something, aaaaah”. “Ahaha no, of course not. Can I ask you to wear a dress, though?”, you say to her. Junhee huffs: she doesn’t like wearing a dress because she can’t keep her gun on her hip, “ugh, fine—please keep in mind that I’m only doing it for you”. You put on a confused face, “if not for me, then who are you dressing up for?”. “Nobody, oppa, I promise”, she says in a low voice, “if it was up to me, I’d not wear anything when I’m with you and just let you do whatever to me”. “One day, baby, okay?”, you peck her forehead.

“Baby, aren’t you hungry? Want to ask the cook to make you something?”, you ask your fiancé. “I’m hungry for your cum”, she says with a naughty smirk, “but honestly, I am. Can we have fettucine, love?”. You ask her to sit on the bed while you call the cook, “good evening, Miss Ahn. Can we have two fettucine alfredo, please?”. You hang up the phone after getting an answer, “she’s making us some right now. Do you want to do anything while we wait?”. Junhee moves to the center of the bed and rests her head on a pillow, “cuddle, please”.

You join her in bed and Junhee rests her head on your shoulder, the rest of her body hugging you from the side. “I love you”, she says. “I love you too, baby”, you answer. “No, no, you must’ve not heard me; I love you”, she repeats with a pout. “I love you more, baby”, you correct yourself. “There you go—wasn’t so hard, was it?”, she pecks you on the cheek after. You hear Junhee yawn, so you pat her on the back softly and encourage her to get a quick shuteye. She’s private military and all that, but deep inside, she’s just a girl who wants to love and be loved—Junhee doesn’t like being referred to as a girl, by the way; “you turned me into a proper woman, oppa—your woman”, she said after her first time.

-

The buzz from your phone shakes you awake, so you reach over to the bedside table and see the text from Miss Ahn saying that the food is ready. “Junhee, my baby, the food is ready, love”, you poke her in the cheek repeatedly to wake her up. “Hng, carry me, love”, she whines cutely. You carry her on your back and head towards the dining room.

Miss Ahn is waiting for you at the table when you arrive and welcomes you to dinner. “Your dinner is ready, sir and madam”, she says. “Wow, thank you, Miss Ahn. You’re the best!”, Junhee praises Miss Ahn with two thumbs-up and a gleeful smile. Miss Ahn then excuses herself to go home, since it’s almost the end of her working hours.

“Thanks for the meal!”, Junhee exclaims as she picks up some fettucine noodles with a fork and puts it in her mouth, “oh my, delicious as always”. “Apologies, sir”, Miss Ahn returns to the dining room, “your parents sent you a bottle of wine this morning, would you like some as company?”. You see that Junhee also wants some, so you agree to Miss Ahn’s offer and she disappears once again to get the wine and some glasses. “Oooh, a Chateau Margaux”, you say as she brings the bottle to the table. Miss Ahn pours some wine into each of the empty glasses and fills them halfway. “Is that expensive, love?”, Junhee asks. “Yeah, I think so; my mom is a bit of a wine connoisseur, so I’d like to guess that it is”, you tell her. Junhee takes a sip and smacks her lips after, “that’s really good, love”.

You send Miss Ahn away so that she can go home before digging into your fettucine and wine. “This is really good, wow”, you comment. You look at Junhee as you’re chewing and see that she has finished her fettucine. She leans back in her chair and lets out a tiny burp, “oh, sorry, love. It was too fucking good”. “Which one tastes better: the fettucine or my cum?”, you tease her. Junhee’s cheeks are red thanks to you, and she can’t come up with an answer; “you’re not comparing an apple to another apple, though, love; you’re comparing an apple to a banana”, she argues. You shake your head and laugh, “sure, baby, whatever you say”.

-

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?”, you think to yourself as you’re waking up in the morning. You look around in the dark and see that Junhee is still in dreamland in your arms. You move her arms and legs softly and set them on the bed so that you can get off and stretch your body.

After stretching, you decide to check out Junhee’s gun shelf in the bedroom. You open the shelf and see an unloaded rifle with a suppressor attached to the end of its barrel and two pistols, presumably Glocks, since Junhee likes them so much. When you look down, you see a bunch of magazines lined up tidily and a few boxes of ammunition. You pick up the rifle and rotate it around to inspect it; “feels like a very solid rifle—what is this big ass scope, though?”, you think to yourself. “Looking for something, love?”, Junhee comments as she wakes up. You put the rifle back in its place, “sorry, baby; I was just curious”. “I’m glad that you’re not scared of them”, she comments, “it’s helpful to not be scared of guns, especially when they’re used to protect you”. You turn your attention back to the shelf, “did you modify these things, baby?”.

Junhee gets off the bed and stands next to you. She grabs the rifle from the rack and shows you what part she’s swapped out, such as trigger, charging handle, and bolt carrier group; “obviously you can see the scope and suppressor”, she says. You can hear the enthusiasm in her voice whenever she’s talking about firearms, and you want to keep going for now. “Can you tell me about the pistols? Are these the MOS thingy?”, you ask. “The right one is, but this one isn’t”, she says as she picks up one of them, “this is a Glock G45 with an Omega 9K suppressor and extended mag—Nighthaven gave me this gun as a parting gift”. Junhee puts it back after inspecting it and closes the shelf, “that’s enough gun talk for today, love. Let’s do something else”. “Such as?”, you ask. “Such as giving me your cum before breakfast”, she bites her lip naughtily.

She asks you to sit on the edge of the bed while getting down on both knees in front of you. You pull your boxers down to help her get what she wants, and she strokes your cock immediately; “do you never get tired of having sex, baby?”, you ask. “How can I get tired of sex when my fiancé has such a perfect cock? Not to mention that you were my first and my only”, she says. You keep your eyes on her as she does your favorite thing: tying her hair into a ponytail, even going as far as bending backwards slightly to show off her tits. “God, you look so hot every time you do that”, you comment.

Junhee unbuttons her pajama top and throws it to the side, her tits now free from their restraints. “Love, I know I’ve asked you this before, but what do you think about my tits?”, she says as she holds them with both hands. “If it was up to me, love, I’d carry you in my arms and just suck your tits all day everyday while my cock is deep in your pussy”, you lick your lips at the thought, “would you let me do that?”. Junhee reaches down and starts touching herself, “oppa, I need you so bad—ah, oh—please, oppa”. You pull Junhee onto your lap, your cock pressing against her stomach while your hands are busy fiddling her nipples, “what’s the password, baby?”. “Ah, nghh—please, daddy”, she says with a moan.

You wanted her to say “love”, but “daddy” works just as well if not better. You lift Junhee up by her thighs and impale her pussy with your cock, earning a loud moan from her. “Daddy—ah, fuck, hng—daddy, I love you—ahhh—I love you so much”, Junhee says between noisy moans. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight”, you praise her as you grit your teeth, “wanna cum for your daddy?”. “Yes, yes, I—AH, FUCK”, Junhee cums as soon as she lets out a scream, and you’re trying your hardest to not bust despite the tight squeeze.

You pull out and ask Junhee to lie on her stomach on the edge of the bed, and unsurprisingly, she obeys right away. You hold your cock and push forward until you feel the warmth of her pussy again—Junhee’s moan is even louder this time, “God, how are you even tighter, baby?”. Junhee screams very loudly at the first contact, seemingly in pain, “tha-that’s my ass, daddy; you-you’re in my ass”. You rub your eyes in disbelief and take a closer look: you are indeed in her ass; “but how did I get in your ass so easily?”, you ask. “I-I’ve been training it, love”, she admits, “I-I wanted to give you my last cherry—ahng, so big, fuck”.

You pull out to process her words, “do you want to say it again?”. Junhee stands up and hugs you, falling limp in your arms like she usually does; “I-I wanted to give you my last cherry, love. That way I’ll be yours entirely”, she says in a weak voice. “But it hurts, no? I don’t want to hurt you, baby”, you say to her. “It did hurt, but it’s only right that I give you my anal cherry”, she says, “please, let me be selfish this one time”. You ask her once again and you’re met with her unwavering determination, so you decide to play along.

Junhee returns to her previous position on the edge of the bed and spreads her cheeks for you, “please, daddy, grant me my wish; I want to be yours enti—FUCK, GENTLY, DADDY”. Your cock is halfway in her ass when she screams it out, “God, baby, you’re so tight”. “Ah-ah-ah—I’m yours, daddy. I’m yours—oh, fuck”, she chants as you fuck her ass at a slow tempo. Once you feel like her rear muscles has relaxed and is stretched enough to accommodate your girth somewhat comfortably, you start fucking her faster. Junhee screams as she feels the increased pace, “YES, YES, I’M YOURS, DADDY”. Her loud chants rile you up even more, and you quietly wish that a household assistant doesn’t happen to be outside the bedroom right now.

The tightness of her ass is different than her pussy’s, and you feel like it’s trying to milk your cum out of your cock. “Baby, I’m about to bust”, you announce to her with a groan. “FUCK, YES, GIVE IT TO ME—GIVE IT TO ME IN THE ASS”, she yells, straining her voice cord—you hope that she won’t lose her voice after this and promise yourself that you’ll give her some water. “AH, FUCK”, you scream out as you release your load in her ass for the first time ever, and you feel splashes on your thighs—Junhee is squirting from anal sex, isn’t that crazy?

You try to pull out, but Junhee tells you to stay inside. “It’s so hot, daddy”, she says, “now I belong to you entirely”. You bend forward and peck her on the nape, “thank you, baby. It was an honor to be your first. I love you, darling”. Junhee then asks you to pull out, citing the pain from the stretch, so you do as she asks and inspect the result of your work. Your cum is dripping out of her gaped asshole that is trying its hardest to return to its original shape. You keep an eye on it until it closes perfectly, and pecks Junhee in the ass, making her gasp in surprise. “Did you like it, daddy?”, she asks. You pull her into a hug before answering, “yes, baby, I liked it a lot. Thank you so much”. “I’m yours now, daddy—like, yours yours, you know?”, Junhee says before pecking you in the cheek. “I know you mean well, but you’re not my property, love”, you say with a smile, “I love you, baby”. “But you get what I mean, right? I’ll do whatever for you, daddy”, she says. You chuckle at her words, “can you eat well and stay healthy for me, love?”. “Aaaaah, you’re not cooperating with meeeeee”, she whines, “you’re so lucky I love you”. You hold her head with both hands, “I know, baby; I’m grateful for you every single day”. Your sweet words make Junhee blush, “I-I’m grateful for you as well, love. I can’t thank you enough for the love you’re showering me with”.

-

It is now 2 hours before you need to leave for dinner. You’ve been busy looking for clothes in the walk-in closet, even going as far as asking Mr. Kang for ideas; “I suggest a white shirt, a three-piece suit in navy-blue, and an orange striped tie, sir”, he said over the phone earlier; his love for those colors is second to none. “I’ll go along with your idea today, Mr. Kang”, you say to yourself. You fetch an orange tie from the shelf and a navy-blue three-piece suit that is tidily kept in cover bag. After putting them on, you grab a box of shoes and head towards the bedroom to check on Junhee.

“Baby”, you knock on the bedroom door, “have you chosen a dress yet?”. Junhee opens the door and walks out, and your jaw drops to the floor right away; she has put on a very fancy white dress and has a matching handbag in her hands. “Dear Lord, you’re so beautiful”, you comment as your eyes roam all over her body from head to toe. “You remember this dress, don’t you?”, she asks—how can you not remember? You gave her that dress as a gift after establishing the first mine under OreQuest Co. last year. You take her hand and peck it, “I can’t wait to get married to you, baby. I love you so much”. “I can’t wait to get married to you, love. I love you more”, she says with a lovely smile, copying your line.

Mr. Kang greets you as you and Junhee walk towards the row of cars, “looking sharp, sir and madam—I see that you’ve agreed to my suggestion, sir”. You shake his hand in appreciation, “I trust your sense of fashion, Mr. Kang. I must say it’s very on-point”. Mr. Kang accepts your thanks with a smile, “may I know which car we’re taking, sir?”. You look around your collection of expensive cars, “can we take the Ghost? That’s armored too, right?”. “It is, sir, just not as thick as the Cadillac”, he says, “please, have a seat”. You open a door for Junhee before getting in yourself, followed by Mr. Kang. “The Sapphire, please, Mr. Kang”, you say to him. Mr. Kang turns on the car and starts driving out of the garage, “certainly, sir”.

During the ride, Junhee pulls out her trusty G45 from her handbag and puts it in the compartment in the center of the seat, “I’ll be unarmed tonight, Mr. Kang; we’re relying on you”. “Understood, madam. Speaking of which, I have an AR-15 in this bag next to me as well”, he says. “Is that a 16-inch, Mr. Kang?”, Junhee asks as she takes a peek. “11-and-a-half, madam; I recently came up with a new build and have been training with it”, Mr. Kang explains. Mr. Kang used to be Junhee’s subordinate during her Nighthaven days, and she was the one who convinced you to hire him as a chauffeur. “You’ve always been the creative one, Mr. Kang—I’ll need a list of the parts you used for it, by the way”, she praises him.

-

Mr. Kang drops you off in front of The Sapphire and opens the door for you with a press of a button. “Director Han”, a staff greets you at the door with a polite bow, “your reservation is ready, sir. Kindly follow me, please”. You hold Junhee’s hand as you follow the staff to your table, secluded from the rest of the visitors. You pull out some money from Junhee’s handbag (since you don’t carry much cash) and hand it to him, “thank you for your help”. “Thank you for the visit, director. Your appetizers will come out soon. Have a good night, sir and madam”, the staff bows again and walks away with a smile. “How did he know that you’re a director, love?”, Junhee asks. You chuckle at her question, “I mean, almost everyone does, whether they hate me or not. Not to mention that The Sapphire’s owners have been good friends with my parents since I was a kid”.

A waiter sets some plates with fancy food on your table while another pours some wine into the glasses. “How long is this dinner, by the way, love?”, Junhee asks as she eyes the food. “9 courses, I think”, you answer her and turn to the waiters and one of them gives you a nod, “yes, 9 courses. Thank you very much, we will be enjoying this”. You lift a glass of wine for a toast, “to us, baby, until the end of time”. Junhee lifts her glass and clinks it with yours, “to us, love, until the end of time”.

-

“Here’s your final course, sir and madam”, the waiter says. “Ah, the last one already?”, you comment, “where has time gone, baby?”. Junhee smiles at you oh-so-warmly, “time flies like a fighter jet when you spend it by talking and laughing with those you love, honey”. Truer words have never been said before and they make you realize how blessed you’ve been throughout your life; “I love you so, so much, baby, but I can’t come up with the words to express myself”, you say with glassy eyes, “I want to get you a gift right now—you know, like a symbol”. “You are my gift, honey—one that never stops giving”, she says with teary eyes as well.

-

You walk out of the restaurant hand-in-hand with Junhee and head towards the car. You open the passenger door and ask Junhee to enter first. You hear a commotion from your left, but initially pay no attention to it and keep minding your business. That is, until the source of the commotion, a man who has a shirt with your face crossed out, appears from around the corner and aims his gun at you. You scream in pain when you feel hot lead hit your left shoulder, and Junhee screams in panic and pulls you into the car. Mr. Kang gets ready to jump out and shoot back, but you tell him no; “don’t, Mr. Kang—just get us out, please”, you say before grunting from the pain.

Mr. Kang plants his foot on the gas and speeds away to get some help for you, and you hear some more shots land on the car. “Love, love”, Junhee calls out to you as tears flow down her cheeks, “stay with me, stay with me, please. Faster, Mr. Kang!”. Your eyelids feel like they weigh a quintal, and you feel powerless to keep them open.

-

You’re lying flat on your back with a bright light shining right in your eyes, and you wonder if you died and is seeing God right now. “God, please protect my fiancé; watch over her and bless her like you’ve blessed me”, you mutter to yourself. “Oppa! Oppa!”, you hear Junhee’s voice coming from God-knows-where, and you can’t help but shed tears. “I’m so sorry for breaking your heart, love. I never meant it to end like this. I love you, baby”, you say to yourself.

A higher power places your soul back into your body as if telling you that this isn’t over yet, and you jolt as if you were electrocuted. You look to your right and see Junhee sitting on a chair next to you: she’s crying her heart out with her hands on her face. “Junhee-yah”, you weakly call out to her, and she gasps in shock before rushing to you. “Love! Love, you’re awake—oh God, thank you—thank you so much”, she says in tears, “I’m so sorry, love. I-I was supposed to protect you. Oh, God, I failed you”. You try to sit, but Junhee holds you down, “no-no-no, please, just lay down. You’re safe here; Mr. Kang is guarding the door”. You wipe her tears with your thumb, “are you okay, baby? Are you hurt?”. Junhee shakes her head as she presses your hand against her cheek, “I-I’m fine, love”. You show her a gentle smile, “then you didn’t fail anyone, love; this is simply an accident”.

You take a good look around the room and the IV drip and heart monitor tell you that you’re at a hospital. “Thank you for bringing me here, love”, you tell Junhee, “I hope no one gave you trouble”. Junhee exhales deeply before answering, “this hospital is secretly owned and run by Nighthaven; they don't ask questions”. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your shoulder area, and you let out a grunt because of it; “do you know where he hit me?”, you ask her. “Somewhere here”, she points at her own shoulder, under the collarbone, “the bullet is still sitting in your body, by the way—it’s fine, though, you’ll live”.

Junhee sits back down in her chair and texts Mr. Kang and your parents, telling them that you’re alive and well—minus the bullet wound. You chuckle while looking at her, “I was about to ask if you’re hungry, but we literally just had dinner”. Junhee pecks you in the cheek, “I haven’t even thanked you for taking me to dinner—thank you, love”. Since you can’t sit and peck her back, you opt to peck her hand instead, “happy anniversary, baby”. “Happy anniversary, oppa”, she replies with a merry smile.

-

You’re cleared to go home after spending 3 days in the hospital, and you finally see Mr. Kang since the shooting as you’re walking to the car. “Director, pleased to see you again”, he says with a bow, “my apologies for not reacting in time, sir”. You pat him on the back, “it’s fine, Mr. Kang. As long as no one else got hurt, I’m content with it”. He nods and smiles, “one more thing, sir; your secretary received a message from your parents saying that they’re inviting you to dinner on the 21st”. “Dinner, Mr. Kang? Did they forget what just happened?”, you let out an amused chuckle. “The dinner will be at their house, sir, and your fiancé has arranged for Nighthaven to guard the area—she might not be one of them anymore, but she’s still the highly-respected Head of Personnel Development in their eyes”, he explains. “Aaaah, I want to go hoooome”, Junhee whines, “love, please; can we not go home already?”. “You heard the lady, Mr. Kang; let’s go home”, you say to him.

-

Junhee drags you to the bedroom and asks you to sit on the edge of the bed, presumably because she desperately wants your cock after spending a few days without sex. “Are you that horny, baby?”, you ask Junhee, who is seemingly in a rush to strip. “You have no idea”, she says, “I would’ve sucked your cock and have you cum in me that night if it wasn’t for that fucking bastard”. She turns away from you and holds your cock as she lowers herself, “I want it in my ass, daddy—can I have it in my ass, please?”. You both know that your cock and her asshole are dry, but you don’t want to ruin Junhee’s mood, so you let her do what she wants and agree to fuck her ass again.

Hearing your approval, she starts lowering her butt until your tip is at her entrance. Once she manages to get the tip in, you pull her down roughly and fill her ass with your entire shaft. She throws her head back and screams, “ah-ah—daddy, so full—ah-ah, yes”. You then yank her hair and ask her where your cock is; “it-it’s in my ass, daddy—FUCK, YES, PLEASE”, she answers with a scream because you’re getting impatient with the slow pace and thrust up into her ass.

You feel tired after a few minutes, so you pull out and ask her to get on her hands and knees on the bed. Junhee’s arms become limp as you’re fucking her from behind, causing her to drop her torso onto the bed. You spank her multiple times as you’re fucking her ass hard and fast, making Junhee scream both in pain and pleasure. “Daddy, daddy, yes—fuck, yes—do me, daddy”, she chants repeatedly. “I hope you like it rough”, you say to her as you plant your feet on the bed to get a better posture to fuck her.

You finally blow your load in her ass with a groan, but unlike last time, Junhee isn’t squirting. She also doesn’t resist when you pull out, choosing to drop her ass flat onto the bed due to exhaustion. “You were so rough, daddy; I don’t think I’ll be able to walk after this”, she comments with heavy breaths. “I’m so sorry, love. You made me really horny, and I went off the rails”, you apologize as you pat her back gently.

You roll Junhee onto her back and cuddle her, “I know I technically didn’t go anywhere, but I’ve missed you so much, baby”. Junhee steals a peck from your cheek, “I’ve missed you too, love. I’m so glad you’re okay now”. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall and see that you still have a lot of time until bedtime, “love, are we ready to call it a night or do you have other ideas?”. She gathers her might and straddles your thighs, “you haven’t filled my pussy, love; one more round, please? I want you to make me sore”.

Her words arouse you, and you feel your cock hardening again instantly after hearing that you’ll be doing another round. Junhee holds your cock in one hand and starts stroking it, “always so hard for me, aren’t you? I love it”. You close your eyes and enjoy the handjob she’s giving you. That is, until she asks for your attention; “eyes on me, love”, she says with a smile. You look at Junhee in the eyes, and she immediately stuff herself with your cock. “Fuck, the size catches me off guard every single time”, she says before taking the entirety of your cock in her pussy, “oh, fuck, so full again”.

You don’t want to miss out on Junhee’s heavenly soft moans, so you pull her down and keep her in your arms while her hips are busy going up and down your cock at a relaxed tempo. “Moan for me, love; you know how much I love the sound”, you say to her. Junhee nibbles your ear before moaning right into your ears. “Ah-ah—honey, I love you so much”, she says softly into your ears, “everything about you is just perfect, honey—take me, honey, yes”. You want to reply to her with your own words, but your low voice doesn’t sound as sexy as hers, so you decide to do something else. You latch your lips on her neck and start sucking and nibbling, feeling keen on planting hickeys on her pale skin. “Yes, mark me, love—I’ll show them who I belong to”, Junhee eggs you on. With her encouragement, you suck on her neck harder until it’s red.

Rough sex is fun and all, but nothing beats slow romantic sex with very minimal profanity, as you’re able to rejoice in the sensations and show your significant other how much you love them, just like how you and Junhee are doing it right now. “My love, I want to cum with you”, she says softly between moans. “Kiss me, baby”, you say to her as you guide her chin towards you. Junhee plants her lips on yours and starts kissing you lovingly and passionately, adding a bit of tongue wrestling on top of it. Junhee breaks the kiss to deliver some news, “I’m so close, my love. Please, please finish with me”.

Orgasm is finally at the door again after what felt like half an hour, and your cock twitches in Junhee’s pussy. “Yes, love, give it to—OH, GOD”, Junhee cuts herself off and yelps as she reaches her peak. You follow closely behind her and blow your load inside her pussy. Junhee kisses you again as she rides her high, only breaking it after it passes. “I love you so much, honey”, she says. “How much?”, you say with a teasing smile. Junhee straightens her posture and makes a big circle with her hands, “thiiiiis much”. You laugh at her antic, “I love you more, baby”.

There are stray strands of hair all over her face, so you do your best to tidy them up for her. She lies on your body after you’re done, “thank you for everything, love”. “You’re welcome, baby. Thank you”, you reply to her, “you want to let me out, or no?”. “No, let’s just stay like this until tomorrow, that way I’ll be able to ride you first thing in the morning—would you consent to that, by the way?”, she says. You smile at her, “of course; it’s not like you’ll cut my penis off when I’m asleep, is it? What makes you want me to stay inside, though?”.

She plants her hands on your chest and looks at you, “I don’t know if other men’s penis does this, but yours doesn’t shrink; you’re just limp—you’re very big, by the way, if you haven’t noticed already. I’d love to keep your penis in my mouth or vagina all day long if it was up to me”. You laugh at her words, “it feels like you’d do a lot of things if it was up to you”. She slaps your chest playfully before resting on your body again, “I really want to be naked all day and let you do what you want to me, though”. “What about the household assistants, love? You don’t want them to see you run around the house naked, do you?”, you ask. “Oh, you’re right”, she says as the gears in her head turn, “we can give them a day off, no? That way the house will be empty. Please say yes, love”. You smile and shake your head in amusement, “sure, baby. Just tell me when, okay?”.

[mychlapci]

reading that Tarantulas and Prowl processor overload ask has revived one of my recently dormant fetishes

(this is an expansion on the forced porn download ask actually, wasn't really done b4 sending)

Prowl's archives just being a massive database of miscellaneous data, which seems like a fully practical thing that he'd do for simulation work at first glance, but in truth, he just never deletes anything because he gets off to the feeling of being just sooooo full in places no physical sensation can reach.

He wasn't always like this, you see. Prowl used to maintain good software management habits. He'd defrag according to a strict schedule, used connection buffers often and cleared his processing queues before recharge. He would never think twice about netdiving into shady websites with nasty popups, let alone download anything from there. But eventually, as his processors develop at that exponential pace his handlers noticed upon bringing him online, Prowl got bolder.

Bold enough to make a slip up and plug into a corrupt mainframe, triggering that forced download and kickstarting his fetish for good. He barely remembers anything about that incident other than an overwhelming mental barrage of arousal. Sometimes Prowl wonders if his colleagues at the time knew just what was literally going through his head as he slumped over on the console, seizing in place as they frantically tried to disconnect him safely. Maybe they caught the scent of his overload under his panels, and chose not to say anything.

Prowl would of course say that he was perfectly fine after that incident, but he'd be haunted by that instance of utter bliss he'd felt when like 30 terrabytes of ERP chatlogs and erotic flashgames burned through his neural circuitry. Eventually, he'd start by visiting a library. Full of clean and safe data to indulge in. Then he started logging all non-confidential precinct data, like routine security footage that's get deleted anyways, and dispatch call recordings. Then he started downloading from legal websites, then onto not so legal ones.

He even has backup and extra hard drives stored in his office and habisuite in plain sight, since no one else but other archivists and data specialists would catch on to his kink in the first place. Every once in a while, he'd plug himself into all these units and just let all that data flood through him, his fans and cooling systems squealing in effort to keep up with the deluge of information forcing it's way through his staticy brain, reducing his overclocked cognitive units into jello as his RAM gets consumed by pure uncontrollable math.

He loves the feel of his mind being pounded by googols of nonsense, it makes him hornier than anything else. He'd save anything from the internet, books and numeric databases are his usual go tos; high definition media are a must, the more graphically and audially intensive the better; the most unoptimized and performance heavy video games, anything that would fill up his hungry battle computer until it's full to bursting and melting.

Sometimes when he feels extra naughty, he'd even fire up the various malware and viruses the Spec Ops team would bring back, on top of all the seedy ones he'd find online. He'd trigger them in his processor and lie back in his berth, finger his fluttering pussy and feel the malicious software start tearing through his brain as his battle computer instinctively fights back, making him feel soooo hot all over. And every time he overloads, it sweeps all of his progress, and the self cleaning protocols will just have to restart as he writhes helplessly in the dark of his room.

Software sanctity? Fuck that, he'd hit anything as long as it demolishes his brain and make him into a silly, messy, spasming horny mess. A real dataslut.

god this is so good. He's quite literally overloading his processor out. It's almost like an addiction. Of course, Prowl could stop any time he wants... he could, he just doesn't want to! After a while, pumping his head full of junk data and malicious viruses is the only way Prowl can even have a fulfilling orgasm. Being full of miscellaneous data is just not enough. It's a pleasant pressure in his constantly calculating brain, yes, but if he wants to cum, he needs something stronger. He'll keep frying his brain inside of his helm as long as he gets to feel that electrifying thrill of his battle computer struggling to deflect the attacks on his mainframe.

It feels like he's falling apart at the circuits, delicate wiring so hot that it's disintegrating into dust, and all he can do is frantically rub his soaking wet valve through it all, optics bright and staring off into space as his HUD floods with nonsense. All his senses are completely taken over by the foreign malware, all he knows is that he feels so good.

Honestly, I wonder what would happen if he got stuck like that. Just for a day or two. And someone had to find him in his apartment, face twisted in pure bliss as his frame keeps twitching even after countless hours of continuous overloads. Of course, Prowl's processor gets cleaned out after that, yet he can't help but want to repeat it... to feel so absolutely stuffed and overwhelmed with data that he's just a wet, helpless thing. To give up control and let his processor sink into endless pleasure.

But for now, he's got a morning shift at the precinct to finish.

[baerattack]

I completed reading Catalyst literally just a few hours ago and wanted to share some further observations regarding Orson Krennic. (Discussion about his blaster is attached in the end.) While Krennic may not have excelled in combat skills, his role as a uniformed officer rather than a civilian was justified given the context of his work.

The book illustrates that Krennic had experience with missions akin to spec ops ("specially designated, organized, selected, trained, and equipped forces using unconventional techniques and modes of employment" as defined by NATO). His tendency to circumvent the chain of command aligns with the stereotypical portrayals of intelligence officers in popular culture (I'd blame James Bond for that). This behavior contributed to the tension between Krennic and Tarkin, not due to Tarkin's disdain for engineers (he was an engineer himself to some extent considering his contributions to ship designing) but rather because Krennic's actions often disrupted military operations, a domain in which Tarkin was particularly adept (i.e. the natural habitat of a Prussian officer).

Krennic wore an ISB uniform also for good reason. Although he was not a field agent, he appeared to be familiar in the areas of espionage and cybersecurity (Holonet security? Does it exist?).

Krennic was born in 51 BBY, and the Clone Wars commenced in 22 BBY when he was 29. It is important to note that there was a lengthy period of escalating tensions leading up to the Battle of Geonosis, indicating that considerations for security strategies likely began long before the Republic's formal militarization. Consequently, standard security protocols could have been established, with Krennic receiving appropriate training upon joining the Republic Corps of Engineers, which operated under the Judicial Forces—the closest entity to a military organization at that time.

[slayerdurge]

Secure Your Soul: A Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfiction

This fic was previously published under the title “Before the Event Horizon.”

Summary: Six months ago, V’s boss at Arasaka ordered her to assassinate his rival. Instead, with the reluctant but invaluable help of her old friend Jackie Welles, she pushed them both off their thrones and claimed one for herself. Now the new Director of Arasaka Counter Intel has a problem. She’s uncovered information that indicates that Yorinobu Arasaka, the heir apparent to the Arasaka dynasty, is a traitor. But without solid proof, she’s forced to take matters into her own hands.

An AU in which Corpo!V never leaves Arasaka.

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE BEGINNING IS THE END IS THE BEGINNING

[read on ao3]

SIX MONTHS LATER

"Johnny Silverhand?" Frank Nostra repeated, incredulous. “The old-school rockerboy?”

"That's correct," V confirmed. "His engram, anyway. On one of our Secure Your Soul relics. My source doesn’t know why NetWatch wants it, but he’s sure that’s what they’re purchasing."

Nostra furrowed his brow, his gaze shifting distractedly to the holographic koi fish circling outside the windows of V's office.

V rapped her knuckles quietly against the surface of her desk as she waited for him to speak. She respected Nostra, and their quarterly reviews proved they worked together far more harmoniously than their predecessors had, but the burning knowledge of this particular piece of intel would not allow her to remain inactive for long.

"And you're sure—one hundred percent sure—that the seller is who you think it is?"

"Yorinobu Arasaka," V enunciated the name clearly. "You can say it, you know. My office isn't bugged."

"You'd better hope it's not," Nostra retorted sharply. "That's the emperor's son you're accusing. The heir apparent. If you're wrong—"

"And if I'm right," V interrupted him, "then there's a crack in the very foundation of Arasaka's legacy. If a splinter like that is allowed to spread—"

"Okay, okay," Nostra interrupted her in turn, "Let me think for a minute."

"All right, Frank. I understand your caution completely. But we're on a sensitive time table here."

"So you've mentioned. This source of yours at NetWatch—what did you say his name was?"

"I didn't." V frowned. "And I won't now, either. He’s risking his life by bringing me that intel."

"I'm sure he is, V, but without proof, I don't see how we can go any further up the rungs with this."

"We are, respectively, the Directors of Counter Intel and Spec Ops, and you're telling me there's nothing we can do about intel that indicates that Saburo Arasaka's son is a traitor?"

Nostra winced, and despite her earlier claims of security, V felt a slight twitch in her neck. She had to restrain herself from turning her head to check that they weren't being overheard. 

"I didn't say that," he clarified. "I said we need more proof."

"Nostra, I told you, the deal's supposed to go down tonight."

"Yes. At Konpeki Plaza. I understand." 

“Then you understand why we can’t afford to wait.”

“I’m not telling you to wait, V.” Nostra’s face was thoroughly neutral. “I’m telling you that you need more proof.”

V was silent. Her heart began to beat more rapidly. She realized what he was implying. He wouldn’t officially recommend that she obtain proof on her own, but he was letting her know that that’s what was necessary. It was a risky endeavor, and she wasn’t entirely sure yet how she’d accomplish it. But the idea filled her with eager anticipation. 

“Okay,” she told him, folding her arms neatly on the surface of her desk. “Understood.” 

Nostra nodded. “I hope so.” He stood. “Keep me updated, Director Locke.” He left the room with one last backward glance at V. 

His use of her official title was deliberate, she was sure. Almost everyone she knew at NCHQ called her V. The single letter alias had been assigned to her during her first year at Arasaka Academy as part of a particularly challenging group project—a simulated undercover operation. V’s plan had led her team to victory, and she’d spent a blissful two weeks of fame at the top of the student leaderboard before someone knocked her off it again. Since then, the nickname had just stuck, even though it was an atypical form of address between coworkers. By using her title instead, Nostra reminded her of her position and her responsibility to look out for Arasaka’s best interests.

V swiveled her chair slightly to the right so she had more room to comfortably cross her legs. She leaned back into the cool, supple leather. As always at the start of a new mission, V began by considering what she already knew about her enemy—Yorinobu Arasaka, Saburo Arasaka’s second-born son and presumed heir, since the death of his first-born son way back in the 2020s.

She knew his sordid history, a rebellious youth messing around with Japanese gangs. By all accounts, however, he'd been brought back into the fold since then, becoming leader of the Taka Faction and the most likely of Saburo’s potential heirs to actually take control one day. 

Even as a Department Head, V was far too low-ranking for her viewpoint on the issue to truly matter, but she privately thought that all of Saburo’s potential heirs fell short of him in various ways. His daughter, Hanako Arasaka, was reclusive and cautious—she was unlikely to be able to command respect to the degree that her father could, and her preference for playing the waiting game could result in missed opportunities. On the other hand, Michiko Arasaka—Saburo’s granddaughter via his first-born son—was well-loved by the public, but not so much by high-ranking executives in Arasaka, and the reform policies her faction lobbied for were too restrictive for V’s taste. And Yorinobu himself…

His faction’s namesake was the hawk for a reason: Taka was the most militant faction, and they were also globalist in scope and innovative in approach. All this, V appreciated. Yorinobu himself struck her as quick-tempered and headstrong, qualities that he shared with his father, but overall he seemed to have more passion and less restraint. That was a useful insight, at least. Emotional people were always easier to predict and manipulate.

All right then. That was the gist of what she knew about her enemy, little though it may be. Now onto her goals. Step one: getting into Konpeki Plaza. 

Luckily, as Director of Counter Intel, there were myriad possible excuses she could come up with for her presence at a place like that. She had several upcoming meetings in the pipeline that she could easily reschedule to tonight. What could be more natural than to apologize for the abrupt scheduling change by choosing a highly comfortable meeting venue, like say… Konpeki Plaza, for instance?

But then she'd have to figure out how to sneak into Yorinobu Arasaka’s suite while working around the schedule of the meeting, which might not leave her with sufficient time. And sending a delegate to replace her at the meeting would be suspicious at worst and extremely rude at best, considering she’d be the one who’d demanded the meeting occur on such short notice in the first place. No, that wouldn’t do. She needed an excuse that explained her presence at the hotel, but didn't draw anyone's attention to her specifically. 

Time for another approach. 

She used the optics display on her Kiroshi to pull up a calendar of events at Konpeki Plaza. She scanned through the conferences scheduled for tonight. If she could find one that could function as a realistic cover story, she could purchase a ticket and use it to get into the hotel. Her early exit from a large, crowded event was unlikely to be noted. And, better still, the conference rooms were on the ninety-eighth floor of the Plaza. Yorinobu was almost certainly on the hundredth floor—the penthouse suite. Anything less would be unseemly. She'd only have to find a way to go two extra floors higher.  

She scanned the possibilities. She was hoping to find a talk on something related to her work to buff up her cover story, but no such luck. One event did stand out to her, however. At 8pm in the Sapphire Conference Room, Hideyoshi Oshima, the famous braindance producer, was hosting a conference on the implementation of multifaceted emotional states in next-gen BDs. The timing was perfect, though the content of the meeting was ill-fitting with the type of events V typically attended. It certainly didn’t have much to do with her career. Still, she could plausibly claim a personal interest in the topic. 

She pulled up the event’s seating details and purchased a ticket. They were pricey, but what was the point of that ample Arasaka paycheck if not to spend it? She checked the time. She had about twenty minutes to change into a fresher suit and get to Konpeki Plaza, if she wanted her timing to seem realistic for the event. This called for her fastest ride. 

—

Fifteen minutes later, her Rayfield Excalibur touched down near the Arasaka waterfront, just outside Konpeki Plaza. She exited and was immediately greeted by a young, gold-skinned valet. Literally gold-skinned. One of the requirements of a job at Konpeki Plaza was a uniform you could never take off—you had to replace your natural skin with a shiny coating of metallic, gold Realskinn. V appreciated that level of dedication. 

“Hello, Director Locke,” the valet said. “Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. I’ll take care of your AV for you.”

She didn’t miss the excitement in the kid’s eyes. He may have been accustomed to luxury vehicles, but the Excalibur was the best of the best. V understood his enthusiasm. It was the fastest street-legal vehicle in the world, not to mention safe, comfortable, reliable, and absolutely gorgeous. V’s was off-black in color, exterior embellished with the Arasaka logo, and so polished that it gleamed even in the low lighting of the parking area. She smiled at the valet, waving her right hand in the signal that transferred a generous tip from one of her bank accounts to his. “Take good care of it."

“Of course, Director.” He nodded deferentially.

V made her way through the front doors of Konpeki Plaza, breezed through the security scanners, and walked up to the check-in desk. The receptionist recognized her on sight. “Director Locke,” she said. “Welcome back. Here for another meeting?” 

“Not this time, ” V answered, already placing her hand on the scanner to verify her SID chip. “I’ll be attending a conference tonight.”

“Ah, yes,” she responded. Her eyes lit up momentarily as she received the upload of V’s data. “Hideyoshi Oshima’s talk. He’s very good.” Her eyes faded back to their normal color and focused on V again. “Are you interested in braindance advancements, Director?”

“I am,” V responded, smiling warmly at the receptionist despite the irritation she felt at the question. She always strove to be courteous to the help—they were perfectly placed to overhear a treasure trove of gossip. Besides, she’d rehearsed a point of view on the topic during the AV ride. “I think Oshima has an interesting premise, but I maintain that experiencing a heightened sense of passion is actually a major selling point of BDs, and that therefore complicating that would actually counterintuitively cheapen the experience. His ideas, in my opinion, might not apply as well to the medium as he expects.”

The receptionist nodded earnestly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. You may be right, Director.”

“Well, we’ll see if his speech impresses me,” V said, leaning towards her over the countertop with a conspiratorial look. “If you see me leaving early, then you’ll know I haven’t changed my initial assessment.”

The receptionist laughed. “Come down to the bar if he bores you. No sense in wasting the evening.”  

“None indeed,” V agreed. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer.” She threw one last smile her way, then turned to leave. “Have a good evening.”

“You as well, Director,” the receptionist responded cheerfully. 

V heard her voice from a distance. She was already halfway towards the elevator. But as she passed the bar, a snippet of conversation caught her ear. 

“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like?” A drunken businessman was gesturing wildly at a disinterested bartender and shouting loud enough for half the bar to overhear. His speech was slurred, and he occasionally interrupted himself with a hiccup. “What’s four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered? The answer’s docked in the bay. Hanako Arasaka decided to take a little vacation!”  

Hanako Arasaka was in Night City? V slowed down, her mind reeling. Her source at NetWatch hadn’t mentioned anything about that. It was possible he was unaware of her presence, but the odds of it being merely a coincidence were not great. 

V adjusted her course, heading towards the bar. By now the drunk had calmed down a bit and was staring morosely into a glass of golden liquid the bartender had handed him. V slid up next to him but faced the bartender, who turned his attention to her as well. “Evenin’,” he said. “What can I get you, baby?” 

That was the second time tonight she’d been addressed casually. No wonder the Night City Konpeki Plaza ranked below so many of the others in quality of customer service. “Evenin’,” she responded, mirroring his tone. “A glass of Centzon, please.” 

“Of course,” he said, pulling the appropriate bottle and a lowball glass from the shelf behind him. He poured the tequila and handed it to her. “Enjoy.” 

V took a small sip, savoring the taste. It was her favorite drink, but she wanted her mind to remain clear tonight. She watched the drunk from out of the corner of her eye and plotted her opening line. 

“A word of advice, if I may,” she spoke to him quietly, without turning her head. “Be careful what you broadcast for all the world to hear.”

He jumped slightly, no doubt pulled suddenly out of some private train of thought. A splash of his drink flew towards the floor. He stared at the stain for a moment, then looked up at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “What d’ya mean?”

“Your speech earlier, about Hanako Arasaka’s visit,” she reminded him. When he startled again, V explained herself. “You were loud enough that I could hear you from the other side of the room.”

“Was I?” he asked, momentarily abashed. Then a flush of anger returned to face. “Well, good! ‘Cause this affects us all. It’ll slap everyone in the face!”

“I get it,” V said. She propped her elbow up on the bar and placed her hand on the side of her neck, turning her full attention to him. “You’re pissed off. That’s fair. But you’re not gonna fix anything by mouthing off in a bar. You’re just gonna make things worse for yourself.”

At first, he looked angrier, and V feared she’d taken the wrong approach, but then all at once, the anger drained out of him, and he just looked tired. He took a swig from his nearly empty glass. “Why do you care, anyway?” he demanded, his voice a desperate whisper. 

V shrugged. “I guess because I’m in the same boat. I’m a tech specialist with Arasaka Counter Intel. I know how this shit can get.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, a trickle of relief creeping into his tone. “You would, wouldn’t you?” He scratched his head, a thoughtful gleam lighting up his slightly more lucid eyes. “Didn’t you have a big crisis a few months ago? Some psychobitch director shooting up the competition?”

“Something like that, yes.” V looked away from him, fixing her gaze on a point in the distance and letting her eyes glaze over like she’d seen Carter’s do when he’d spoken to her about finding the bodies. “It was terrible. If you’d have seen it… all that blood…”

“Hey, now,” he said, adopting a soothing tone. “You can’t go getting worked up over a little blood. You’re gonna see way worse things if you stay in Counter Intel. You need to be prepared.”

V analyzed his demeanor, checking if he noticed the irony of their role reversal. But he seemed too pleased to care. If only she knew how to cry on command. She took a deep, shaky breath instead. “How do you cope with it?” she asked him. “Is it always like this for you?”

“No, not always,” he reassured her. “I mean, I’m a liaison. That’s a sort of go-between from one branch of Arasaka to another. I represent the Night City branch in negotiations with the Tokyo branch. It can get stressful, but situations that get me this stressed aren’t usual.”

“I feel like things like this happen all the time.” 

“Nah, of course not. I mean, there’s no way something like this happens all the time.”

She looked at him doubtfully.

“No, really,” he insisted. “I mean, Hanako just had to follow her father…” 

He broke off his sentence hastily. V struggled to maintain her composure while she waited for him to resume it. Saburo Arasaka was in Night City??? Did he know about Yorinobu’s plan? Was he trying to stop him? Was he in the building right now? 

But there were some dangers so great that even intoxication and a pretty girl couldn’t make a man walk into them. When he began stuttering and trying to take a sip out of his empty glass, V knew she’d lost him.

“Look,” he said, finally putting his glass off to the side. “I should really get back to my room. It’s getting kinda late, and I’m probably gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”  

V was far too shaken to try to convince him to stay. “All right,” she said simply. “Be careful.”

He looked at her strangely. It wasn’t until after he’d walked off that V registered why that must have been. Unlike everything else she’d said tonight, that warning had been genuine.

[frostkingoftheapocalypse]

---- Plotted starter for the wonderful @ssolessurvivor

There was a private acknowledgement of the simple brilliance of the Target Insurgent Command's ability to source, and set up, their secure bases in the Core System - all sanitized sectors, scrubbed from interstellar databases - keeping them neatly off Earth military's radar. The visual that was unfolding below the ship's navigation window of the eighth uncovered Insurgent home-base fit the basic specs for the last seven of them. The visual that, too, confirmed the redacted, violently-acquired data had within it some legitimate implications, was also, if nothing else, a relief to see in person for the S.I. Captain of the starship Mountainbreaker.

Earth Military's past encounters to ferret out these militia by the root had turned up nothing but empty settlements. Despite the lack of discovered bodies, and the abandoned functioning structures showing no sign of having cut any corners for human habitation. Earth had sent in suppression teams. Oo-ra junkies. Their missions a siren of a red flag that any resourceful operation could see coming a lightyear away.

There was a fifty-fifty chance that this - off-record, covert-op - mission would still find the base currently jutting from a haze of cloud cover neither hostile, nor occupied. It was sensibly tucked between five mountainpeaks, on a bleak little moon behind Jupiter's bulk. A glorified rock like this was a prime candidate for an IMC terraforming and atmosphere stabilisation project. There was a dribble of sad jungle below, traipsing around the mountains in fits and starts, incompatible with the freezing rings of Jupiter it neighboured. At least three atmosphere towers would have been required to achieve even this much life in the dead of space.

Seeing it, it was a wonder that the handful of interested parties - both overt, corporate, government, and classified - that had funded this ship's belly full of pilots and black-ops Frost Giant titans, had retained enough hope to sanction this mission. Everyone knew there was a mole - or an army of moles - in Earth's upper echelon command structure. It was only a question of how far up the intel was being leaked. And to whom.

"Smart buggers." Beast's helmet siddled into Haetta's peripheral vision, the logo sprayed onto her visor edge sparkling in the silverish light being thrown down onto the moon by the nearest orbiting sun-mirror. Like the rest of her gaudy taste, 90% there to tease her commanding officers, it was a set of animal fangs, in a glittering red dark paint, enough to be mistaken for black, "We might not be able to avoid going in hot if they spot us."

"Bring us down behind the Saturn-most mountainpeak. Southside approach."

"So we are going in for their blind spot."

A deep rumble of affirmation, "They'll expect it. If they're tactical and have sky resources. Command thinks they do. I give it a twelve percent chance that they'll launch titanfall from between those two ridges. Only their best should be able to meet us up there." If the Insurgents did offer to bite, it would be a gamble well taken: a proper bait and capture, the most ideal of the two options. Swift and nasty. If not, the ghost entry would get his squad intel for their preliminary scaffolding of plan B. Either option would be a happy place for the veterans that had signed up for the insane death-risk missions given to the classified squad Jotunheimr.

"Tell Hawk to reign Mountainbreaker in. I want a three-eighths swoop above the mountain, as steep as she can make it. We'll execute the last of the fall by air. She can pick us up from a seperate rendevous point once we signal to her."

"Ohooo, she loves that run. Hope you've picked out a shiny, shiny, big ol' diamond for her afterward, Cap-sir, that's basically a courting gif--"

"Fall into line, Sergeant."

Beast gave a sloppy salute, smacking her helmet button on the way to wipe away the opaque solar-shielding in her helmet, so that Haetta could see both the eye-roll and the ear-to-ear grin - respectful, coming from her - before sauntering away.

---

Flung up against the launch-bay walls, the titan-encased squad easily readied their JO-T0N Black-Ops Modified Chainguns. Like being caught with your pants down, there was never a point to starting a run with their weapons away for their grade of missions - 42.8156% of their targets shot at them from the air from the get go. The open hatch that the Jotunar dangled recklessly over shrieked like a singer's mouth hitting a joyous high-note with the howling hurricane of wind from their near-vertical descent.

The gravelled order came clear and low from inside their helmets, readouts flickering to life,

"Prepare for Titanfall."

[falliay]

P-food anon here again. When Prowl had to make up stories for Optimus, did Prowl put most of the blame on himself for it being command failures, believing he failed his subordinates, or a mixture of both?

How did the other Autobots realized Optimus wasn't the hero they believed in? Was it because battles and supplies were running more smoothly, lowering casualties, or was it from being in small group, physically and socially closer to Optimus once he woke back up?

What would be the Autobots reaction to this. Did some have complete mental breakdowns that the one thing they could hold on to, Optimus the perfect hero, wasn't constant or even real? Or were some finally given proof that all that all those niggling thoughts in the back of their heads about Optimus were right even if they didn't want it to be?

What about the rest of high command? I know with a way a lot of fanon and Canon the Autobot command had huge amounts of nepotism. Concerning that, would Prowl and Jazz's relationship be against the rules?

I know this sounds like an Optimus hate post. I'm okay with the guy, I know things aren't always as they seem and everyone has daisies in their backyards or skeletons in the closet.

P-food anon, hello again :3 Sorry for taking so long

Guilt

While Prowl does feel bad sometimes, he tends to tackle his own mistakes(and of others) with anger and frustration rather than with guilt.

Prowl took the blame for a lot of Optimus’ failures. Most of the time, though, it wasn’t necessary. With the logical mind he has, he can easily create stories to cover up for both him and his commander. Anything to keep Optimus as the great leader he is.

Optimus is the one that feels the worst about it. Even more having to lie to his friends.

Realization

There are SOOOME stuff I don’t feel like saying yet cause it’s major spoilers + I want more time to polish. The realization would happen around the finale of the first season (if it worked like a show or comic)

Mirage is one of the first to realize. A lot of it happens while Optimus is still asleep and that discussion creates a huge conflict between their own members. The commander wakes up to a very awkward situation.

Autobot High Command (During their stay on Earth)

Optimus Prime - Supreme Commmander

Prowl - Temporary Commander, SIC

Jazz - SIC, Head of Spec Ops

Jetfire - Autobot Air Commander

Ratchet - Chief Medical Officer

Ironhide - Chief of Security

Line of command might change depending on the situation.

Prowl and Jazz’s relationship is private. Veeery private. While they do encourage these kinds of relationships around the faction (so they have more reasons to defend each other and fight together), Prowl and Jazz decided it’d be best if no one knew about them. The second in command and the head of special ops? That’s a dangerous combination and Decepticons could easily use that against them.

Also, one of Jazz’s traits is that he’s an extremely private bot. No one knows who he really is, where he comes from, what he wants. And Prowl respects that.

[stealthkills]

CODENAME: SPECTRE.

LEGAL NAME: Vladimir Bodrovski NICKNAME(S): SPECTRE. BIRTH DATE: feb. 19, 1964 ( 02/19/64 ) AGE: sixty ( 60 ) as of 2024 GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis male (maybe). ORIENTATION: no one knows. NATIONALITY: russian. ZODIAC SIGN: pisces.

CURRENT RESIDENCE: permanent resident of the Guild base in the Yukon. EDUCATION: university level education, former soviet security service member, former uss surveillance expert. OCCUPATION: gun-for-hire, with a preference and expertise in behind the scenes infiltration and espionage. security officer for the guild base.

EYE COLOR: gray. HAIR COLOR: formerly dark hair, though so threaded with gray that it's not anymore. HEIGHT: without his horrible back situation, he'd be 6'1". as it is, he hunches to 5'7" usually. BUILD: still fit, but health problems in the last few years have put him on the backburner of training. SKIN: basically blemish free because he wears so much gear. SKIN MARKINGS: what scars he does have are mostly covered these days, but include markings from zombie attacks and a pair of scarred over bullet holes on his right side from a rival spec ops sniper. he won that confrontation. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: notable of spectre is the fact he is utterly plain in appearance. his skill in espionage is magnified by the fact that he looks like A Guy. he's very plain looking and he likes to stay that way.

BIOGRAPHY.

what little is known of spectre's past is told by the man himself, with a debatable amount of truth behind it. stories are told about how he joined up with the military due to needing funding for his education, while others say he was handpicked from his class for his ability to blend in.

what is concretely known is that vladimir bodrovski was a top member of the soviet security service, known best for being able to blend into any space and find any information one needed found. unfortunately, this came into conflict with a flaw of his personality: the greed of wanting to always have more at his disposal. eventually, he blackmailed the wrong people and fled to the states, where he came into contact with umbrella's security service and offered his skills in return for political immunity.

following the dissolution of the wolf pack and the destruction of raccoon city, he went back into independent espionage work that inevitably led him back down the same paths of betrayal.

when he heard a familiar name was gathering mercenaries specialized to fight BOWs, it wasn't long before he was on hunk's doorstep to offer his expertise. though age and health problems have sidelined him, his intelligence expertise means he spends much of his time behind the monitors of their security system and scrubbing social media for potential jobs for them (when he isn't busy with farmville.)

[dukeofriven]

People who've never played the series, especially the modern games, don't understand just how deeply, unsettlingly weird Agent 47 is— think 'Batman is prepared for anything' but if the Pattison Batman was older, more reptilian, and had worse halitosis. Thus, given some of the ridiculous shit you do in those games OP is not joking so much as writing a perfectly valid Hitman level spec script. Riffing on it, there would be, as some available costumes: convention volunteer, hotel bellhop, schlubby blogger with press pass credentials, convention security, and a shirtless or at least visibly buff fur-ears-and-briefs-with-tail furcon riff on a Chippendales dancer. There would also be a side-story where you disguise yourself as a famed furry artist and have to sit-in at his booth in artist alley drawing tame softcore fur art to unlock intel on the target (or kill him in some surprising booth related manner), proving 47's surprisingly good drawing skills. Conversations overheard in the level: a catgirl in a bathroom who is crying to her friend about a breakup text sent by a real jerk, two or more con attendees all dressed as the same franchise character getting into a heated argument over who has the better costume, staff in the hotel kitchen discussing how yeah it was weird but not nearly as weird as that business convention last year those rich assholes were up to some real freaky shit, a cleaner complaining about getting the cocaine out of the target's office carpet, and somebody whose locked the head of their fursuit in their car in the parking garage along with their keys and is freaking out about it. If you retrieve the head you can put an explosive in it and contrive to get the secondary target to put it on a blow their brains across half of Hall B. You can unlock a wolf tail as a custom garotte.

They’ll never do a Hitman level set in a Furry Convention because gamers would absolutely ruin it but imagine. like the target isn’t a furry he just owns a hotel that happens to have one every year but you can disguise yourself in a fursuit and some guy will ask you “what species is your sona” and 47 would be like “a wolf. i always felt a connection with…hunters.” and then diana would be like “let’s see if you can sniff out some information, furrty-seven” and then he comes to my house and kills me for writing this

[boycigs]

📋; Kaine 'Saint' Kolenkhov

Birthday; June 28, 1982 (40 as of 2022)

Ethnicity; Croatian American (AfroAmer)

Occu./Rank; Private Operator & Warrent Officer/OR-9 (2019)

Relations; Moses Hicks (Father), Matej Kolenkhov (younger brother), Marinka Kokenkhov (younger sister), Ms. Kolenkhov (Mother)

Kaine is a multi ethnic woman, tan skin and dark brown loose curls. She has amber eyes and a big frame from her mother's side of the family. 5'10 and 200lbs. beauty spots are sporatic across her body but not enough to be called freckles. She has a large scar on her stomach and thin one vertically on her top lip.

Backstory

Kaine grew up in a city now called Mošćenic, Croatia. When she was young it was all united as Yugoslavia. She'd help out her mother in the garden, play by streams and tumble in the woods, pick up stray cats she found, go to mass every sunday.

Everything was nice and dandy, until independence became popular after Tito's service and medsling from the US. Countries wanting to be their own sovereign state and fighting for it meant casualties. War was heavy, displacing people, buildings being destroyed, loosing family. Kaine tried to keep herself strong, especially with her mother taking her to church to pray with plane's flying overhead.

Ms. Kolenkhov was always good natured by heart but loosing a lot of her family withered her. Even her firm faith couldn't save her soul. As a last resort to give her will to live she tried for kids with her husband. Twins she was lucky enough to have in the middle of the war. 1995 and here come Matej and Marinka Kolenkhov.

Yet, even the creation of life left her feeling worse with heavy symptoms of post-partum depression and yearning for blood that couldn't be brought back. She tried her best, but still fell short. Snapping at her husband, isolating even as she could barely get out of bed and unconsciously pushing her own notherly duties on to her eldest child.

Regret clouds her mind for bringing children into the world in a time of war. She eventually turned desolate and bitter, doing the bare minimum for the twins as Mr. Moses took over, working night jobs and taking care of the kids during the day while Kaine worked where she could.

When Kaine became of age she enlisted into the military at 18, a year before the yugoslav war ended. Going through a time that would improve and destroy her equally.

Currently, Kaine works as a private contractor with an apartment in Šibenik, Croatia. She feeds stray cats when she's on military leave, occasionally visiting her family. She sometimes picks up shifts at her local Cafe to feel useful. She visits her mother and they sometimes go to therapy together.

Ms. Kolenkhov rests in an assisted living home, seeing her kids twice a week. Mr. Moses lives in an apartment close to his daughter and the twins are out on their own seeing other parts of the world and working for themselves. Their old home lays sold and deserted in the country land.

Timeline

Born. 1982 (parents are both 22 & married)

Yugoslavian war. 1991-2001

Matej and Marinka are born. 1995

Ms. Kolenkhov is placed in a mental institution/long term hospital. 1997-2007

Kaine's enlistment to the Croatian army. Summer 2000 (after she turns 18)

Kaine gets sent to Afghanistan. 2004 (part of the International Security Assistance Force)

She gets pulled out due to an injury in late 2009. (against her wishes, but she follows orders. she broke her wrist and a sprained her ankle.)

Kaine is back in the field after healing. summer 2010 (28 y/o, OR-5/sargent)

recruited into special forces after a rescue mission of a hostage soldier made its way to higher ups. 2012

makes it into special forces and is now a Commission Officer. (OR-7) early 2013.

Special Operations Battalion merges with the new spec ops program and honorably discharges Kaine at staff sargent rank. (OR-8) She also gets picked up by Station Cheif Katelynn Laswell as a private operator. (32 y/o) 2015

Kaine is sent on a search and retrieve rescue mission as a favor to take out enemy combatants and assist shadow company to exfil. This is a favor for Gen. Shepherd. Kaine does not forget this. (She is also given OR-9 rank honorably after being discharged from Croatian Army.) (37 y/o) 2019

Laswell brings Kaine into the 141 to assist with catching Makarov. (39 y/o) 2021

AU's

AGERE AU. (I say lightly because it's not really an au. Kaine regresses as of canon. but au for others.)

OMEGAVERSE AU.

HYBRID AU.

DARK AU. (basically just a bad ending for her character.)

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please don't steal, plagiarize, repost, or reblog. you can like or comment. this is a selfship, not x reader content.

dni if you dont like self shipping. please n thanks. mwah <3

[nitrosodiumfmpsequel]

Researching Terrestrial Facilities Part 3: Site-19

I've already looked at SCP, but this time I am specifically looking at the level design and architecture. The particular SCP facility that the game takes place in is called Site-19, and there are a few versions of it across other SCP games. A lot of them make the facility seem quite futuristic, with glowing elements and touchscreen interfaces for doors. However, in the original Containment Breach game, Site-19 appeared as a fairly low-tech facility, even to the point of seeming somewhat underequipped to deal with housing the various SCPs within.

The first area is the Light Containment Zone, where D-Class test subjects are held, along with most of the SCPs. The vibe I get from this place is very prison-like; most of its areas have a stark, uniform look, and it is of course devoted to imprisoning both humans and anomalies. Despite this, none of the equipment seems to be state of the art. Lights flicker, pipes clank, and the various steel security doors creak and skip over gears as they open. Some sections are gated off with electrified Tesla Gates, that must be ran through to avoid getting fried.

Then there is the Heavy Containment Zone, where more dangerous SCPs are housed. It is far grimier and more industrial than the previous zone, with many catwalks over dark pits and checkpoints that spray gas for the purpose of decontamination. The environment is incredibly oppressive here - the colours are muted, the hallways are generally tighter, and the ceilings are lower. This helps bolster the tension as the player passes through it on their way to the exit.

Finally, there is the Entrance Zone, where the administrative duties of Site-19 are performed. There are various offices and conference rooms here, and the lack of SCP containment chambers makes it slightly more safe, but you are still being pursued by a few of them, plus the Nine-Tailed Fox spec-ops group, attempting to recontain SCPs and eliminate any escaped D-Class personnel, which includes you of course.

Overall, the aesthetic is fairly solid: steel doors, concrete, all very physical defences in lieu of more technologically advanced methods. It's cool, but I'm not sure if I want to replicate it in any way.

[dread-red-queen]

Michigo Arasaka introducing Goro and Raven to there new office from my Fic Present & Future.

[poesbeforeprose]

Chapter 1:

I shifted in my chair as the chime caught my attention. A simple notice of an emergency call being answered. Not by me however. I was currently swiping through another chapter of “Love Lies Lost” as my coffee was going cold. Four in the morning was a haunting time for the base mostly because of how quiet and contained it had become. Most of our troubles were miles away and mine especially were just down the road. Unlike most people stationed here, I was able to finish my shift and go home if I wished but not much was there save my cat and stack of unread books.

“Odie.” My radio called. The voice I immediately recognized as Keaton was on the other line.

I closed my phone and clicked the comm, “Go ‘head Kit.”

“You should see this. Headed to you now.”

The line went dead shortly after which meant a few things. Either Keaton was going to personally show me some fucked up side of the internet he was entirely too proud of, he was about to show me something on his phone that would be suspect to prying eyes, or lastly something big just came to our station. The latter was the one that was the most rare. Keaton took pride in the fine and exquisite taste of raunchy and dark humor, but he also got a kick out of showing off all the subscription sites he was plugged to. In short, the guy was a perv, but who wasn’t in a quiet and lonely place like this?

After a moment or two, he rounded the corner into my small office space. Immediately his eyes were not of wild pleasure and glee, but instead were almost rounded with fright and dismay.

“Dude.” He whispered. He checked back into the hall and gazed about the room before saying anything. “You need to come with me to ER, right now.”

My boots hit the floor before he could say anything and I felt my heart flutter, “What’s up? Is something happening?”

He gave me a smirk, “Calm down cadet, no combat here. Except the Jane that just rolled in. You won’t believe it.”

I could feel my shoulders give way. Keaton also had this knack of sticking his hands deep into my brain and squeezing the exact nerve that triggered my anxiety. I could relax just a beat because I felt like he was about to tell me about the girl that just came into the station was probably “hot” or something.

“What is it? Is she dismembered or something?” I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Dude, no. The opposite. She has a nasty look about her. Scars from nape to neck and everything. I looked at her file really fast and came over. She’s practically a celebrity in some parts of the force.” Keaton, keeping his voice sullen and controlled was remaining vigilant to sharp ears.

“Oh? Big deal huh?”

“Yeah. Spec Ops brother. Task Force One. Four. One.”

I felt the pit in my stomach disappear into the floor.

——————————————

“Dude shut up and keep your head down.” Keaton said. Since then we cut through security checkpoints back to the way he came.

Standard procedure in this case would be extremely off the record and kept close to the chest. For me to even be in the same building Keaton works in made my palms sweat.

“I am not supposed to be in here right now.” I muttered as a nurse passed by. Keaton elbowed me in the ribs.

“Fuckin’ chill Brodie. You’re gonna be fine.”

He grabbed a clipboard off the nearest desk and pretended to be flipping through a chart as another gentleman at least in his forties strolled by. I could see the parade of demerits and flogging coming my way if we ran into the wrong CO. Please God if you’re up there, send as many guardian angels as you can.

“Henderson!” A voice shouted from behind us and we froze in our tracks.

God, you must really hate us right now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dr. Josiah Pierce, one of the oldest and crummiest men on the planet could turn anyone’s blood to stone.

“Dr. Pierce! Yes, my apologies for the late call. I was bringing Caleb Thompson up for my walk about. He is an orderly after all.”

Dr. Pierce’s steel grey eyes cut to the bone as he looked me over, “Ah. I’ve heard about you. I understand the skeleton crew call you ‘Odie’?”

“Y-yes sir. That’s a nickname.”

“It’s a shitty nickname.”

Keaton and I stiffened, “Yes. Yes it is sir.” I simply replied.

“Henderson, make this quick. We don’t have time for showboating and sticking our noses in shit that we can’t comprehend. We got her taken care of.”

Keaton was taken aback, “Got who taken care,”

“Cut the shit son, I know you were taking him to the op. Just be quick about it and get the fuck out of my wing.” Pierce muttered. Keaton snatched me by the arm and led me away.

“Yes sir. Right away sir.” He chimed.

After he was hopefully out of earshot I said, “Kit you’re going to get me strung up on display in the front fucking lobby.”

“Relax my compadre, we’re here.”

My eyes scanned the room, and there was a single nurse taking notes at the moment. Keaton, ever the charmer, strolled up to her right side, leaving me in the doorway.

“Natalie, what’s up lady? Doing alright in here?”

She didn’t even jump in the slightest as he approached her. Apparently she was used to this every night. “Hi Keaton.”

She turned to see me standing alone there, “And you are?”

“Thompson. Caleb. I’m just tagging along.”

“Yeah, Caleb here is a little bit of a fan when it comes to special forces, runs in his blood. Too bad he had a few bad run ins which sidelined him.” Keaton droned on. I looked at my feet as she looked me over. As the conversation shifted away from me however, it gave me an opportunity to slide over the bedside of the operative.

I could feel my heart slamming against my chest. First impression showed she was shorter than me, at least five years younger but battle scarred. I was careful not to touch her but just examine anything out of the ordinary. Although I’m certain she had already been in good hands. Her hair fell about the pillow in a wave of inky blackness. Looking over her arms I could see bruises, cuts, and even one long wound that had closed some time ago on her inner bicep. I swallowed hard as I tried not to stare too deeply into her facial features but it was like looking at a porcelain doll. Her skin was fair and taken care of, lips firm and unblemished, and a jawline that seemed so defined for her career choice. In a word, she was beautiful, but then I looked at her hands to see the other side of the story.

They were worn past their expiration date. Knicks, cuts, bruises, scars, and even her fingernails seemed to be damaged. Just looking at her I could tell that whatever past she had, whatever battles she had experienced, all of her stories boiled down to one simple fact. She has killed before and she was incredibly good at it. I gulped down the knot in my throat and exhaled softly away from her.

“So, get this Odie, wanna see something cool?” Keaton snapped my attention and I turned to see he was holding her file. He thumbed through a few pages and stopped on a note.”

“Check her callsign.”

He passed me the chart and I looked to see first her name and then the name that run a chill down my spine. Nyx Stevenson, code name “Cadaver”.

“Holy shit.” I muttered.

Suddenly her hand lashed out and latched onto my wrist. I didn’t realize I was that close to her still?

She groaned softly, almost a purr, “Simon.”

Keaton and I looked at one another, “Who the fuck is Simon?”

[mychlapci]

need prowl with a distracted/uninterested/bored kink, as in the other mech couldn't care less about prowl while hes trying to fuck. most bots give prowl all their attention, and while thats nice, it's the bots that dont care that drive prowl hot and bothered. just imagine, prowl autobot head tactician and SIC, deliriously humping and moaning on somemechs leg, who's clearly not giving any mind to prowl at all. it drives him crazy, his ego and position scream for attention and respect from all autobots, ghe embarrassment of not pleasing his lover gets him off

hes gets it on with most of high command, but once they learn of his little kink, they all pitch in "ignore prowl" objective.

jazz playing his electro bass in his room while stepping on prowl, handcuffed to the floor, rubbing on his anterior node, making prowl scream and tremble but jazz is way too busy strumming those notes baby. he taps his foot to the melodious beat, stomping on prowls valve while the music drowns out the tacticians sounds. even when prowl pisses himself, the spec ops officer doesn't stop his playing or his foot for a second

ratchet doing prowls maintenance check up while hes face down on the hospital bed, checking his vitals and all that while intentionally shoving his fingers into delicate wiring and sensitive door wings. prowl jumps and squirms but ratchet just grumbles and pushes him back down. prowls valve and spike drool lubricants everywhere but ratchet doesn't touch them, doesn't even acknowledge them for pure professional duty. hes treating prowl as if he was simply a fussy sparkling and not a grown horny mech.

red alert is on security patrol, eyes laser focused on the terminals displaying the security camera footage, paying absolutely no mind to prowl sitting on his lap grinding his swollen node against his leg, holding onto his body for dear life, moaning and lapping at his neck pathetically. everytime prowls tries to grab red facial plates and turn away his gaze from the footage, he growls and tugs on the tacticians door wings, hard. prowl takes off his chest plates and presses his large boobs against the security commanders chest, groaning as his hips pick up the pace and energon starts to spill from his nipples but the mech wont budge.

wheeljack disabled the sensors from his lower body, diverting his attention only to the work on his workdesk and not to the mewling autobot pawing at his array, sucking and kissing at his spike and valve. wheeljack doesn't even notice whenever he reaches over the table to grab a tool, his spike presses deeper into prowls mouth while he grinds his wet valve onto the floor. if prowl tries to grab at wheeljacks arms, he gets a simple slap away. prowl tries with all his might to fuck his face onto the thick spike, hoping to suck the transfluid out, but with wheeljacks sensors disabled its limp. even when perceptor comes in to hand wheeljack lab reports, making funny small talk, neither pay any mind to prowl moans and chokes. maybe he permits one of his sensors on his array, his piss hole, and voids shamelessly inside prowls mouth, emptying his tank while still focused on the project before him.

optimus and elita 1 are having a very important and serious meeting to discuss, which is why they only focus on eachother and not the mech beneath them on the berth, tied up like a birthday present with his hands behind his back and his legs pressed against his belly, impaled by two large spikes up his valve and his mouth. prowl is shaking and moaning, begging around optimus spike to please please move, please just fuck and use him. but this is a very important meeting, so elita and optimus ignore him, staying still as mountains, discussing important tactics on how to move in on the decepticons without giving away their position, even placing down datapads and pens on prowls back, using him as if he were a table between them. when prowl finally goes still, elita and optimus start to move, but only to kiss eachother. they make out sloppy, slowly causing their spikes to move inside of prowl. he tries begging for more, but their focus is solely on each other, murmuring praises, whispering soft promises, and combing out their fears and hopes for this war, for their relationship. its all so sweet and vulnerable and intimate and has nothing to do with the filthy scene between their legs. this slow torture continues until elita and optimus open up their chest plates, pressing against eachother as their waists are only separated by prowls body, their spikes pressing against his gestion tank and the back of his throat. they overload as their sparks merge, leaving prowl still charged and unsatisfied.

maybe as a little epilogue, prowl gets pregnant with elitas baby, and gets off on elita and optimus talking to him as if he was just and incubator for their baby, like kind of an objectification kink except of course they dont use the object, they only just talk above him

oOooh Prowl's usually on the other side of this scenario, so it's really inch resting to have him be the desperate, horny slut, getting off of being ignored and treated like furniture or a slight annoyance.

All of the high command know that when Prowl crawls up on all fours, it's play time. He can lap at their panels, hump their legs, and they'll just ignore him completely as he whines and whimpers.

Hrhhh Elita and Optimus using him as a warm table that they can put their spikes in, talking above him until Prowl is a quivering mess, grinding his hips against Elita's lap to try and wring out an overload out of his poor, stretched valve... They don't care if he has a huge belly hanging under him, he's still just part of the scenery, and he'll behave himself accordingly.

[one-desperate-duros]

*Shriv marches on ahead, not lingering at the view, nor on the beach itself. He doesn't bother to look back to see if Bane had followed, or if anyone even noticed him at all, not that he wasn't used to that. @man-with-a-big-cape and @freelance-combat-medic seemed to be enjoying themselves, and he could not fault them for it. @crazytookalady, on the other hand, did not seem in a rush to swim, and after the conversation he just had with @a-big-hat, it is a wonder she is still alive at all, or that he had bothered to listen to Shriv in the first place.

He dashes up the ramp and through the open hatch. He doesn't suppose security measures are necessary after having made a sweep of the parameter, Rose being the only other person on the island. It remains ajar as he rushes down the corridor and to the cockpit of the Lady Luck. He immediately sits down at the computer terminal, hands itching to get started.

Shriv pauses. He stares at the screen. His thoughts are barely containable, his emotions threatening to run rampant and trample him.*

Karkin' idiot!

Fekking laserbrained, stubborn bastard! *he voices aloud to no one but himself.

Shriv sighs deeply, trying to collect himself. He gathers his courage and sets to work.

He accesses the HoloNews first. It's a good place to start. He has a near to photographic memory, counting back two standard months to the day when Cad had returned to the Restoration after being given the mission to go after the TIE. The Imperials had labeled it as an attack by a band of rogues, or marauders. The report recounted the deaths of both troopers and officers stationed there. It had been quick, and merciless. Some fifty soldiers were killed, wiped off the face of the moon, yet nothing at all was stolen, or so they said...

The full details were not listed here, so Shriv makes use of an encrypted code, logging into a database that was only accessible from rebel flagships, alliance military bases, or in this case, the general's personal pleasure barge.

Once Shriv is able to navigate to the appropriate search tools and finds himself in the correct place, his eyes widen at the gruesome contents left out by the media. There was extensive use of thermal detonators and various illegal weaponry used to squash the Outpost. Death and destruction and rained down upon these men and women in less than five minutes, the ground stained red with their blood and bodies littered with enough blaster shots to bring down a herd of bantha.

It was noted a ground force, an entire batallion of soldiers would be needed to accomplish this amount of carnage, as rebel operatives knew of no such deployment.

There was no mention of the TIE fighter, though it linked to a file signed off by Calrissian himself, stating Spec Ops had undertaken the mission to gather an important weapon that would aid the rebellion in the future, and no more questions had been asked. Cad Bane's name was not on the report.

Shriv closes the file and stares morosely at the now blank viewscreen. It wasn't that the Imperials had been gunned down in cold-blood that bothered him, but the method, the way they had been killed that ate away at him.

'An entire battalion...'

'He did it by himself. He accomplished in five minutes what would have taken an entire regiment hours to -'

*Tears cloud his eyes once more, though this time he does not try to stop them. He allows himself to cry, crossing his arms before him on the console so that he may rest his forehead in his grief.*

It's not his fault ... He was born into...

'Stop trying to rationalize it, Shriv.'

You really are a ...Killer, aren't you, Cad? *he asks to the silent ship around him, Shriv gazing at the floor and his own teardrops as they fall at his feet.*

'They must have gotten in your way.'

[slayerdurge]

WIP - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

"Johnny Silverhand?" Frank Nostra repeated, incredulous.

"That's correct," V confirmed. "His engram, anyway. On one of our Secure Your Soul relics."

Nostra furrowed his brow, his gaze shifting distractedly to the holographic koi fish circling outside the windows of V's office.

V rapped her knuckles quietly against the surface of her desk as she waited for him to speak. She respected Nostra, and their quarterly reviews proved they worked together far more harmoniously than their predecessors had, but the burning knowledge of this particular piece of intel would not allow her to remain inactive for long.

"And you're sure—one hundred percent sure—that the seller is who you think it is?"

"Yorinobu Arasaka," V enunciated the name slowly and clearly. "You can say it, you know. My office isn't bugged."

"You'd better hope it's not," Nostra retorted sharply. "That's the emperor's son you're accusing. The heir apparent. If you're wrong—"

"And if I'm right," V interrupted him, "then there's a crack in the very foundation of Arasaka's legacy. If a splinter like that is allowed to spread—"

"Okay, okay," Nostra interrupted her in turn, "Let me think for a minute."

"All right, Frank. I understand your caution completely. But we're on a sensitive time table here."

"So you've mentioned. This source of yours at NetWatch—what did you say his name was?"

"I didn't." V frowned. "And I won't now, either. He risked his life to bring me that intel."

"I'm sure he did, V, but without proof, I don't see how we can go any further up the rungs with this."

"We are, respectively, the Directors of Arasaka Counter Intel and Spec Ops, and you're telling me there's nothing we can do about intel that indicates that Saburo Arasaka's son is a traitor?"

Nostra winced, and despite her earlier claims of security, V felt a slight twitch in her neck. She had to restrain herself from turning her head to check that they weren't being overheard. 

"I didn't say that," he clarified. "I said we need more proof."

"Nostra, I told you, the deal's supposed to go down tonight."

"Yes. At Konpeki Plaza. I remember."