#that's how you fucking die comrade

[sapphire-weapon]

I’m about to vomit out a bunch of thoughts, and I’m not sure any of this is going to make sense by the end, but. I’ve been thinking a LOT about these three lines in RE4make:

“You haven’t changed. You just think you have.”

“You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone.”

“This time, it has to be different...”

I’ve seen people focus in on that Krauser line and tie it directly back to Sherry, which is cool! Even as recently as five years ago, people completely glossed over Sherry’s impact on Leon’s life, and it’s cool that the remakes have had people digging into his character and realizing “oh shit, literally everything that happens to him after RE2 is because of his paternal love for Sherry.”

But... Krauser’s line is about more than just her.

With the remake turning Krauser into Leon’s combat trainer, chances are he knows about everything that happened in Raccoon City. And I don’t mean, like. He read a government file. Leon probably told him.

In OG, Krauser and Leon have this exchange of dialogue:

Krauser: “What is it that you fight for, comrade?” Leon: “My past, I suppose.” Krauser: “Hmph. Umbrella.”

It was axed completely from the remake, because it doesn’t make sense for it to happen in the remake. If Krauser was Leon’s trainer, that question was probably asked very early in their relationship. And since they weren’t currently in a fight to the death, and because they weren’t already six years removed from Raccoon City, chances are, Leon’s answer was a bit more involved than just “my past.”

So, let’s back up a little bit. In RE2make, they basically turned Kendo into a completely different character. OG Kendo was literally just there to point a shotgun at Leon and/or Claire and then go “oh my bad you’re not a zombie” and hook them up with some guns before he gets eaten. In RE2make, he’s a desperate and terrified father just trying to spend his last few moments with his infected 6 or 7 year old daughter before she turns. After he shuts the door on Leon and Ada, Leon turns to Ada and says, “Protecting people like that is why I joined the force.”

But Leon doesn’t protect or save Kendo or his daughter. He doesn’t protect or save... anyone. Every single person that Leon comes into contact with and tries to save dies horrifically -- and some, he even has to kill, himself (Marvin Branaugh). The only people who make it out of Raccoon City alive are people who saved themselves (Claire and Ada).

Of course, there is Sherry. But Leon didn’t save Sherry; Claire did. ESPECIALLY in remake canon, since nearly all of Leon’s scenes with Sherry got severely shortened or removed completely in RE2make.

But then, when Claire entrusts Sherry to Leon’s care (on his own insistence, per her RE3 epilogue), he goes and fucks that up, too. Gets her kidnapped and held hostage indefinitely by the federal government, and the only thing he can do about it is do exactly as they say and just hope they keep their end of the bargain and not hurt her.

So, when Krauser says “You can’t save anyone,” he means anyone. Ever. And even up to that point in RE4... Leon got the two officers who drove him into town killed, and he watched Luis die a slow, agonizing death right in front of him. And then, past that point, Leon has to kill Krauser with his own hands. Then he watches Mike die.

Ashley is literally Leon’s first and only success story, up to this point in canon. (And even when you go all the way up to current-day canon, Ashley is one of... three? People? I can think of? Total? Who Leon actually saves?)

So, Leon saying, “This time, it has to be different,” he doesn’t just mean Sherry. He means Ada. He means Kendo. He means Marvin. He means the entirety of Raccoon City. He’s staring down a repeat of what happened back then, not in terms of the bioterror situation, but in terms of his own personal failures. His survivor’s guilt. He can’t handle the thought that he’ll be the only person to walk away again -- and he refuses to be.

And that’s why Ada’s line bothers me so fucking much.

I mean, first of all -- Ada, you haven’t seen this man in six years, and you’ve spent a total of like five minutes with him since meeting up with him again here, so how the fuck would you even know -- but even aside from that...

To be clear: she’s right.

But she’s also wrong.

Leon has changed -- to an extent. In RE2 (OG or remake), Leon honestly believed that if it was lawful, then it was also morally right. He doesn’t believe that anymore. There’s no more “letting the law sort it out” or trusting in the power of authority for him anymore. His moral compass has been boiled down to: “If you hurt or murder innocent people, you’re a fucking asshole, and I don’t really care who you are, I’ll kill you myself.”

RE2 Leon was willing to hear people out and give them an honest benefit of the doubt -- even Annette Birkin. RE4 Leon just tells people to shut the fuck up before opening fire.

RE2 Leon was honest and trusting to a fault, and he felt stronger as part of a team. RE4 Leon is suspicious almost to the point of paranoia, and he just wants to be left the fuck alone to do his job.

These are all things that were really important to who Leon was in Raccoon City, and they’re reasons why things turned out the way they did for him, back then.

But at the same time, Ada’s right in saying that, at the core of it all, Leon is still that kind-hearted, decent guy who just wants the good guys to win and the bad guys to lose. That’s why it hits him somewhere sensitive when Krauser says: “You can’t save anyone.” 

It’s just that, now, the way he approaches it is different. His outlook on life in terms of his goals is different. His expectations for it have changed.

So, if Leon had been smarter/wittier, he absolutely could have turned it around on her and said: “No, I’ve definitely changed. You just think I haven’t.”

And not only would that sound threatening as fuck, he’d also be right. They both would be, at that point.

And for all of those major parts of him to have changed and still be facing down the possibility of failing every single person he comes across, especially Ashley...

"This time, it has to be different.”

And this time, it was.

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #meta analysis #and it WOULDN'T have been different if leon hadn't changed #could you imagine how RE4 would've ended if leon was still his RE2 self and tried to apprehend krauser instead of killing him #or like give him a second chance #like 'i beat you now you can repent' #fucking LUL #that's how you fucking die comrade #unfortunately leon succeeding in RE4 also taught him to emotionally close himself off and push everyone away #classical conditioning and all that #but that's a separate post for a separate time #if they ever remake RE6 watch me clown honk my way through leon and sherry's fucked up relationship #claire goes to see sherry regularly and leon admits out loud he hasn't even spoken to her in at least 3 years #and then chokes up with tears when he finally sees her again #smfh he's so fucking stupid #leon if you can't cope with your trauma properly then just shut up and keep drinking god i can't stand you #one day i'll also write a big post about leon's suicidal ideation #today is not that day #but one day

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Shit That I Wrote As A Kid That Was Objectively Horrifying And Should Not Have Been Written By A Child #1:

A story where every four generations on the same land sixteen girls are murdered brutally in close succession due to a girl named Felicity being cursed two thousand years ago. Felicity Burrows is reborn every four generations and made to live out the same fate, watching her friends die around her, inevitably failing to warn the next generation, and being slaughtered. Her best friend Megan looks on in horror, knowing what's happening but powerless to stop it.

I was ten.

#I actually made this one into a MUSICAL recently too so that's fun #Should definitely have raised some safeguarding eyebrows at the time tho #I mean we were meant to be doing horror stories but everyone else was like “oh no! A ghost in my bedroom!” #And then there's me #“you are sentenced to relive your own death and the deaths of your comrades until the end of time” #Honestly we were studying horror stories (mild ones obvs) and everyone else was fkin terrified and I was so bored so maybe that's why #Maybe I just didn't realise how horrific it was #Watched this video that made everyone scream and I'm like “that was faked” #One girl literally grabbed the person sitting next to her and yelled so loudly I thought my eardrums would shatter #No I don't feel bad sharing this shit bc a) I've not mentioned names and b) they've all been bitches to me since so -- #But honestly I was just so deadpan #My brain would not let me be scared #Just kept coming up with logical reasons for this shit #“you die if you stray off the path” whoopdee do #Now demolish the house and the path and in its place build a MASSIVE FUCKING RESERVOIR #bc nobody will subsequently BE WALKING ON THE PATH #SIMPLE SOLUTIONS PEOPLE #writerscommunity #writers problems #horror story #Why is there a tag for “horror smut” am I just too asexual to understand this or is something wrong with you people #Ah you see NOW I'm scared

[disteal]

So I haven’t talked about this on main before, but the situation in South Gaza has gotten so horrifying that I’m p much throwing caution to the wind to desperately plead for eyes on this. I’m raising awareness about stories from activists in Gaza right now, including one of our own.

My lovely, wonderful friend Swin (aka tumblr user @combaticon) was deployed as a volunteer medic to a Gaza hospital on the 9th.

When the bloodshed started, she heard they needed extra hands in Gaza, she spoke Arabic and had the training, and she went.

I’ve been in contact with her throughout. She’s so incredibly brave it takes my breath away. My heart bleeds for these children she’s taking care of and how resilient they are is… astonishing.

Swin and these poor people have been under siege for so long, and they’re in desperate need of critical supplies. They have to filter water through their clothes, and it’s getting dangerously cold. Foods finally been getting through, but there’s not enough blankets and jackets to go around and there’s no fuel for the generators.

Their comrades in the West Bank have been completely pushed out by settler thugs. It’s incredibly unsafe to even be doing humanitarian work for Palestinians. Remember this the next time a Zionist tells you they’re doing this to ‘feel safe’. The IOF is arming lynch mobs.

On a personal note, this has been the most gut-wrenching week of my life. Every day when I wake up without a text from her I feel so much fear. I fight back the grief but I don’t know how to help or what to do. It’s terrifying.

Swin has asked for nothing, absolutely nothing other than something it can show the people around it to make them feel like they’re not going to be abandoned. To make sure they’re not forgotten in some pit praying Rafah opens before Israel decides to slaughter them all.

Today was a bad day. She’s alive but beyond worrying about her privacy now; she’s asked me to share this and to beg that we not lose steam and forget about them. Please share this, and please keep being fucking annoying and loud and digging your heels in with fury because we cannot let these people die silently.

[Times of Gaza] [QUD network] [Eye on Palestine]

[link to GCC registration website as the link in this picture is broken]

Please keep in mind that the Global Conscience Convoy is NOT soliciting donations, and registration is to sign up for attendance to the actual event in Cairo. There’s a list of other actions you can do to boost awareness for their protest at Rafah on the website.

#palestine #world news #gaza strip #israel #dis.txt #long post #psa #important #i just want her to come home man #i’m so so so so proud of her

[criminalamnesia]

everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

#simon riley angst #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john price drabble #john price fic #john price x reader #john price #captain price fic #captain price x reader #captain price #angst #ghost x y/n #ghost x gn reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #john price angst #price angst #cod mw2 fic #cod mw2 #cod mw2 angst

[roach-works]

ok im waffling on about fallout instead of having breakfast but i saw a criticism of how the prisoners were treated that's stuck with me.

spoilers!

so i think the criticism wasn't incorrect, per se: it condemned the way the show portrayed the vault dweller's naive intention to rehabilitate their murderous captives. it found fault with a common, and horrible, message that tv shows like to say, which is that carcerial violence and even the death penalty is the only effective way to deal with criminals, who are a fundamentally Bad category of human. im sick of that message too! but i think that wasn't what was going on here, actually.

so like, the vault dwellers had only ever experienced violent loss the once, and didn't really know how to cope other than denial and repression of the ordeal. but they were all hopeful and enthusiastic that their prisoners, the invaders that came to kill them all and take their stuff, could be eventually welcomed into the community as their comrades. the champions of this cause were nebbishy dorks and painfully out of touch academics. this is pretty normal for how prison reformers are portrayed, if extremely fucking annoying for those of us who ARE in favor of prison reform.

but so of course when the son of the former overseer, Norm, speaks up and suggests killing the prisoners, because why should they share resources with invaders who explicitly wanted to keep hurting them? why should they show mercy to their attackers? everyone is appalled by this suggestion. because they had to reinvent the whole concept of vengeance right then and there, because grudges and cycles of violence are anathema to a bottle society like theirs. they have been raised all their lives to forgive and forget and now, put to the test, they're recommitting to this ethos: get along, let the past go, look towards the future, believe the best of everyone.

but the prisoners die, anyway. the prisoners are killed with rat poison. and the thing is that Norm who suggested it didn't do it himself. and the prison guard who's blamed for it, even though she privately agreed with Norm that the prisoners are dangerous and unforgiveable, she didn't do it either. it's not a moment of triumphant, cathartic vengeance and it doesn't prove that there's no way to negotiate with terrorists and invaders but kill them like vermin because that's not what the message is meant to be.

the message is that norm stands there in the middle of these inconvenient prisoners, these corpses dressed in his own people's uniforms, and he looks at the new overseer. and he knows that she killed them, and she knows that he knows. she wanted him to know. this is her message and he's reading her loud and clear. and he doesn't look like a guy who's just been backed up by authority, who's just been validated in his desire for the ultimate control over those who have wronged him.

he's scared and pale and the music is ominous as fuck. and he's inside the cell, he's directly in the middle of it.

because what just happened is that he realized his entire society is being held prisoner, and the overseer is the one with the rat poison. and that he doesn't know, anymore, what freedom and safety and justice actually mean, just that he doesn't have them and he doesn't know where to find them.

that's what that scene meant. not that rehabilitative justice is a pathetic delusion of people who have no idea how to make hard choices.

but that before you advocate for killing prisoners, you might want to see how big that prison is, first.

and which side of the bars you're standing on.

#fallout #look i went NUTS over the prison scene #it's gonna live in my brain for a good long while #RATS ARE A BIG THEME IN THIS SHOW #the rats that are vermin and the rats that are lab subject #both disposable #both struggling so hard to survive #both in pain and wondering what's going on and why is life so hard #both disposed of when they go where they shouldn't

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

I'd gotten a few requests for anbu era kakashi and gai, and need this specific scene for another comic, so here we go. Kakashi's about 17/18 Gai 18/19 here and not romantically involved/together yet

tw: blood, injury, suicidal thoughts kks has a breakdown p much

[gai snoring][knocking][pounding on door] Gai: Coming! Genma, I swear to-

Gai: Kakashi

[clatter]

Gai: 'Kashi, the blood in your mouth- KKs: NO!! No hospital, it's not my blood! Please, gai- Just go. Don't look at me

Kks: Why-?

Kks: Do you get off to seeing me this pathetic or are you just a fucking idiot! I do everything I can to get you to stay the fuck away from me! So why else-? I don't understand. Why do you even like me?

Kks: I don't know where else to go. I don't wanna end up like my dad, Gai. I'm so scared. What else am i good for Gai: Kakashi. Kks: I just wanna die. I just wanna die. [WAILING]

[There's lots I like about you, rival. How you love romance novels. Your distaste for sweets and fried things, so you always give them to me. Your stubborn competitiveness no matter how ridiculous the challenge is.]

[How fiercely protective you are for your friends and comrades even if they aren't grateful for it.]

[gai snoring]

[gai snoring] Gai: Sushi eating contest later? [kks flinches] Kks: Ok. Gai: Yes! see ya

Kks: See you.

[Because you're kakashi. Not Hound, The legendary copy nin, Prodigy, Genius,

[Or white Fang's son. I've always just seen kakashi]

[push] Hurry it up, I'm hungry. Gai: Trying to make me bite off my tongue, so I cant compete, hah?? Kks: Not at all what I was doing but ok Gai: Well- Let me tell- [And I think kakashi's pretty great]

#kakagai #kakashi hatake #maito gai #anbu kakashi #naruto #my art #//blood #//suicide mention #this is one of the vignettes from coma comic too

[yawnderu]

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

#cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #mw2 2022 #mw2 ghost #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #modern warfare 2 #cod #mw2 simon riley #ghost angst #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #hurt/no comfort #cod angst #angst #mw2 angst #simon riley angst

[owenthetokencishet]

Warhammer 40,000 as a universe is trying to do the impossible.

Warhammer 40,000 is, broadly, a grim satire of fascism. It takes the fascist's worldview, all the xenophobia, conspiracism, hypernationalism, and militarism, and amplifies it to a galactically ridiculous scale.

"The Imperium of Man has ruled for 10,000 years, warring endlessly against heretics, traitors, aberrant humans, and aliens galore, all of whom are so wildly different from humanity that peaceful coexistence will simply never be possible. The only emotion stronger than our hatred of them is their hatred of us. So, we war. We war and war and battle and slaughter until the end of days. We throw our sacred human form, untainted by mutation or the hideous sciences of our ancestors, against the barbarian hordes by the millions, most of us dying in the process. We revere and worship the warriors elevated by the hand of our divine god-emperor, the apotheosis of our glorious, eternal state. These warriors, reborn in the Emperor's image with His sacred eugenics, to become the ultimate fighting men. And yes, they are all men. We are never safe, while we must constantly be defending our borders from our enemies, we must also be ever-vigilant within. Anybody, from our comrades on the front lines to our commanders, tech-priests, preachers, or politicians, could be a traitor. Nobody can ever TRULY be trusted, and those who truly are heretics, must not only be destroyed, but erased. They, and all memory of them must be eradicated. One heretic can sign the death warrant of his entire world, and sometimes, for the preservation of the human race, billions must die."

Warhammer 40k presents a world where all of this(asterisk) is true (VERY BIG ASTERISK)

Through this lens, a lot of the more... questionable aspects make sense.

T'au Empire Mind Control: The T'au are how fascists view liberals. They CANNOT understand that an integrated, multicultural society could ever POSSIBLY work. They cannot FATHOM that different communities can just... agree to work together, it HAS TO BE the woke mind virus. "Can you believe these fucking idiots tried to NEGOTIATE with TYRANIDS???? These fucking losers tried to make PEACE WITH ANOTHER RACE??? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT"

Why the chaos gods are what they are: The followers of chaos represent everyone of the 'ingroup' the fascist hates. Because nothing, not even their sacred ingroup, is sacred to the fascist. The followers of chaos are the germans who resisted, the jewish antizionist, the rebel (Khorne), the intellectual (Tzeentch), the sick and disabled (Nurgle), and the queer (Slaanesh). "There is no reason ANYBODY, ESPECIALLY not those of our sacred ingroup, could object to our glorious genocide. And the runts of the litter must be eliminated to not be a drain on the rest"

And EVEN WITHIN 40k, a lot of this is bullshit.

The T'au mind control thing is provably bullshit because the Farsight Enclaves exist. A whole T'au society that exists free from the apparent mid control of the ethereals

The imperium feeds as much into the chaos gods as the traitors do. A stagnant, decaying empire (Nurgle), with an incomprehensibly vast and byzantine bureaucratic structure (Tzeentch), where a select few live appallingly lush and lavish lives of hedonism and pleasure, completely detached from the people they're supposed to govern (Slaanesh), all for the purpose of making ever more destructive and bloody war with everybody else (Khorne)

There is evidence of peaceful human coexistence with xenos empires during the Dark Age of Technology, including one humanity CREATED, and many inquisitors and rogue traders will GLADLY incorporate xenos into their retinues. Trade and coexistence with aliens DOES still happen in the imperium.

Hell, the parody of fascism is in the very MECHANICS OF THE WHOLE LORE. Fascists don't believe in "facts" or "truth", if they did, they wouldn't be fascists. Therefore, in 40k, "Everything is canon, nothing is true". This allows players to EITHER

Think critically and try to connect the dots to form their best guess as to what "canon" is

Or buy wholly into one side or another's propaganda

And one of those groups is going to find a "truth" they can accept and treat as fact a LOT more quickly than the other.

40k lays out in perfectly plain low gothic, all of the bullshit and hypocrisies of the Imperium. They'll let entire sectors die in the interests of preserving human life. The way the imperial guard are lauded as heroes but treated worse than the lasguns in their hands. The way that in order to become a space marine, one of humanity's great guardian angels, you must have everything that makes you human either beaten out of you or surgically removed. The priests who worship science and technology viewing scientific progress as the most abhorrent of heresies. The divine worship of a man who scoured entire worlds for the crime of worshipping him as a god.

Actually hang on lemme derail the flow of this post and talk more about the emperor. The Emperor is the chief hypocrite in an empire of hypocrites. "I AM NOT A GOD" says the 10-foot-tall gleaming golden immortal psychic god-man, "NOW GO FORTH MY ANGELS ON YOUR GLORIOUS CRUSADE TO BRING SCIENCE AND REASON, and by science and reason I mean doing exactly what I say without question and turning a blind eye to fundamental truths of the universe, TO THIS BENIGHTED GALAXY"

The problem is that parodying fascism is impossible. Fascism is already so inherently, fundamentally ridiculous a worldview, for all the reasons explained above, that distinguishing sincerity from irony is nigh impossible.

If you, an antifascist, read The Turner Diaries, you will probably assume it's satire. The book ends with Earth as an irradiated hellsacpe where few can survive and nothing about its resulting culture is explained. But nope! This is fascist propaganda! It was written by actual neo-nazis who committed actual hate crimes! It is an enthusiastic YAAAAAAAAAY APOCALYPTIC WARFARE!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAY GENOCIDE!!!!!!!! At least all the black people are gone! Hell, when Rogue One came out, Lucasfilm got all sort of shit flung at them for portraying the evil space nazis... as the bad guys... which they always were.

This is why both we, the fandom, and Games Workshop as a company, are DIRECTLY pushing SO HARD against the fascists in the space, and must push harder. 40K IS NOT FOR THEM. And no amount of clever writing or obvious parody will ever convince them otherwise. It does not matter how unfathomably stupid you make fascism look to people with functioning brains, fascists will gobble that shit up. You cannot make fascism look worse than it is, and you cannot make it stupid enough to convince fascists its stupid.

The problem isn't that Games Workshop isn't doing a good enough job writing the imperium as bad (although they aren't), the problem is that it will never be an adequate mockery to make the fascists feel unwelcome. It's not a bad parody of fascism, fascism is just beyond parody.

#warhammer 40k #ramblings. musings even #40k #imperium of man

[mistyresolve]

| RTB - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 3.4k

Summary - The reader is the pilot, AKA Stitch, of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killers in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. After their latest mission, Ghost seeks out Stitch to offer a special thank you.

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY, swearing, dry humping, switch, unprotected sex, creampie 

A/N - If you haven't already, I would suggest you read Incident Report before this one

Masterlist  ❤︎

Soot and smoke coated Ghost’s tongue and every breath felt like an attack on his lungs. The smell of burning flesh and gunpowder made his head spin. All that combined with adrenaline and anger, it was his life support. He clung to his senses with a feverish need. Rubble and bullet shells littered the ground around them. His once-black uniform took on a greyish hue from all the dust. Sweat rolled down his back and he had to blink it from his eyes. 

Beside him, Price was on the radio, his outrage tangible as he called for aerial backup for a third time, “I’ve got my men pinned here! Where the fuck is my support!”.   

Ghost felt a bullet's heat as it raced past the exposed skin of his neck, leaving behind the ghost of a burn. He ducked down behind the concrete barrier, cursing at himself, “We won’t be able to hold this position for much longer, Price. We need a plan to get us the fuck out of here,” Simon repositioned himself for a better vantage point. Ghost had long since run out of ammo and had resorted to picking up magazines from his dead comrades. He silently thanked every one of them, ripping off the dog tags from the few he could to take back to base with him. 

Price gave him a curt nod, “Chopper is five minutes out. They were diverted from another mission.” his face was grim and every muscle in his body was taut, readying to run for new cover or the bite of a bullet. Five minutes was a lot of time in situations like this, a lot could happen in a matter of seconds. He could die in half that. 

The team was forced into a corner of the compound, and they were getting hammered.  There was nowhere left to go. He kept one eye on the darkening sky beyond the compound's wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming heli. He figured the pilots on board would have reached out by now, but the radio remained utterly and eerily silent. 

He craned his neck, hearing the distant sound of its propellors, but with the ruckus around them, it was difficult to determine exactly how far out it was. Something in his soul urged him to bring his radio to his mouth, “We’re in the southwest corner,” he was speaking to the pilots, who were most likely biding their time before revealing their presence to the enemy. If that were the case they were probably dark, using minimal instruments to keep their profile as discreet as possible. 

Then he saw it. The slightly darker patch of sky. 

Then it was firing, and screams followed. 

And just like that, this fight was shifted in their favour. 

Bursts of orange and red as fire erupted from the helicopter's guns in erratic intervals, and in between they would shift positions, making it nearly impossible to predict where they would shoot from next.           

Then a very familiar voice came across the radio, “Hello boys.”

An involuntary smile split across Ghost’s face.

“You’re fashionably late,” Price quipped back. 

“And here I thought you’d be excited to see us,” you replied as you dipped the heli back behind the walls, using it as cover as you moved closer to the closed gates keeping them from their escape, “Should I knock?”

They didn’t bother with a reply before Dutch let loose, blasting open the gates. You could nearly hear his smile, “Ladies first.”  

Being diverted from a different mission meant you didn’t have nearly enough firepower or fuel to do any real damage, but you could do enough so the soldier below would be able to breathe a little and regain their footing.   

You glanced down at your fuel gauge, cursing, “We’ve got five minutes of fuel before we’re RTB. Give me some targets,” You couldn’t stop yourself from searching the ground below in hopes of seeing a familiar figure.

Someone pointed a laser at one of the watchtowers, marking it and the people within as prey. You angled the aircraft, giving Dutch a clear view of the tower. With the help of the last HELLFIRE missile you had, it was desecrated in a matter of seconds. 

The floodlights that were pointed to the outside of the compound turned on, momentarily blinding you. The enemy used the distraction to shoot back at you. Bullets dinged off the sides of the Apache.

“Smoke!” someone called from over the radio.

“Flares,” your muscle memories kicked in, your thumb finding the appropriate buttons as your eyes still had yet to adjust. Somewhere beyond the cockpit, you heard as your flares interrupt your death. You gritted your teeth, you weren’t sure you had the firepower left to fight this fight, but the thought of leaving those guys down there helpless wasn’t one you were willing to have. 

Your attention snagged on the fuel. 

You didn’t have a choice. You were already cutting it close. 

Dutch listed off what he had left to throw at him. The list was devastatingly short.     

“I have one more good run before I have to turn back.” 

Another laser pointed to a truck on the other side of the now blown open door, a mounted machine gun giving suppressant fire to the ground crew. With that truck, even with the gate opened, they weren’t going anywhere. 

“Copy,” Dutch replied, his head already turned and locking in on the target. He unloaded the last of his rounds into the truck and the surrounding area. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back from the fight, “We’re RTB,” again you search for Ghost amongst the group. Finally catching the flash of white of his skull mask. The nerves that gripped your chest loosened, “And as much as I love these play dates with you guys try and stay out of trouble will you?” 

You’d arrived back to base a few hours ago but still had yet to change out of your jumpsuit. You were immediately dragged into a debrief. You checked your watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since this meeting began.

Task Force 141 has yet to return, and you were beginning to ruminate. While in the sky it was easier to ignore your feelings, having to focus on not being struck by an anti-air and falling out of the sky didn’t allow for such mundane activities. Now that you were on the ground, you had all the time and safety in the world to just think. 

You could say that’s why you loved flying so much. You’d never be able to say it out loud under the fear that you’d be grounded for a month under the mental health act; but, you’d sooner die than give up flying. 

Suppressing a yawn you sat next to Dutch in the room, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of you. Your eyes grew heavy as you blinked up at the screen before you. You leaned closer to Dutch, “You think they’d notice if I just left?” 

A mischievous smile tugged at his mouth, “Not if you crawled.”

You pinched his thigh, scowling, “You’re a pervert.” 

There were probably twenty other people in this room right now. You could undoubtedly sneak out. 

A shiver raced down your spine, and your instinct told you that someone was looking at you. You peeked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the tall ominous figure standing at the back of the room. His hand still hovering over the doorknob. He jerked his chin to the hallway. A silent invitation to join him. 

Dutch was already rolling his eyes in pretend irritation, “You’re boyfriend beckons you.”

You made a face at him, “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Tell him that.”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at the idea. You two were by no means together. Not to say that there wasn’t something there that could potentially foster such as relationship, but now wasn’t the right time. Neither of you had the time or the means for it. It would only compromise both of your work. 

And relationships between two soldiers were frowned upon by the higher-ups.  

You stood up silently, kicking Dutches ankles on your way by.   

Ghost slipped out of the room all too silently. You met him just down the hall.

His eyes dipped to your chest and heated. You removed the top of your jumpsuit and tied it around your waist, revealing the plain black tank underneath that did everything right to show off your curves. 

Then he was looking everywhere but you, his shoulders tensing, before he started to walk down the hallway. You fell into pace beside him. 

You check over him, looking for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that you couldn’t find anything you tilted your face up to his, “You guys should've had an aircraft on standby for that mission,” you reprimanded, half annoyed with him for getting into danger. 

He shrugged, “It was supposed to be covert.”

You analyzed his dark uniform, perfect for blending into the night and the shadows. He didn’t have his gun, and he carried his tactical vest in his hand. 

“You guys were lucky we had enough fuel to divert our route. What if we weren’t there?” you bit out, anger flushing your skin. 

He opened a door for you. The door to his accommodations, you realized. You couldn’t help but notice the space still smelled like you. Or your signature scene of eucalyptus and lavender. You’ve been spending a condemning amount of time here, and with him.  

“Good thing we’re lucky,” he pulled at the words with his tongue before turning back to you, eyes flashing to your figure again. His hands reached down to the know that kept your jumpsuit tied to your waist and tugged you closer to him, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. You could still smell the fight on him. Dirt and smoke. A now familiar smell. 

Your fingers hooked around his belt loops. Heat radiated off of him and warmed your front. Already you were breathless. 

He shook his head, “It’s a damn good thing you were there.”

A question formed and you tilted your head at him, lips parting, “How did you know to tell us where you were? How did you know we were already there?” You had made sure your ETA was skewed to disorientate the enemy if they had access to your guys’ comms.  

“I figured there was a reason you guys were dark,” his hand traced the lines of your body, memorizing the feel of you under his fingers. They twitched impatiently against you. He slowly walked you backwards to the door to his bedroom, taking his time in watching you stumble over your weakening knees. “How can I thank you?” 

If he could read your mind and all the filthy thoughts that popped into your mind, he hid it well. Your ears burned in chagrin. You tugged his shirt out from his pants, diving underneath to touch his skin, “Let me touch you.” 

Ghost bit back a hiss when you dug your nails into his abdomen. He kicked the door closed behind him, reaching back only to lock it. Within seconds, his shirt was discarded somewhere on the floor, his muscles on full display as he did so. Your mouth went dry and the sight and the heat that was just at the tips of your ears shot down between your legs. No amount of time would ever tire you of seeing this man undress. 

Next was his mask, revealing the devilishly beautiful man underneath. The only way you could describe him was as “sinful”. Black still smeared across his features but it only accentuated his features.   

Fuck, you would eat out of the palm of his hand if he told you to. 

Whatever he saw on your face made him look away from you with a shy smile, a breath of a laugh escaping him. 

You brought his face back to yours, and you had to stand on your toes to reach his mouth. You’d be a fool to think that the kiss was anything but greedy. His mouth immediately opened to yours and he tilted your head with a hand to deepen it. You pressed yourself into him, needing to feel him against every inch of you. A calloused hand reached to touch the bare skin under your tank and traced the line of your spine. Your tongue brushed against him, and you turned to liquid.   

He undid the knot of your jumpsuit, and you stepped out of it. Leaving you bare apart from the tank top, a bra, and underwear.

This time, it was your turn to guide him. You took him to his bed, “Lay down.”

He didn’t waste a second and pulled you down with him. You were a tangle of limbs before you planted your knees on either side of his hips. With shaking fingers, you shamelessly outlined the lines and curves of his abs and chest.    

Not once did either of you break the kiss, which had become a mess of breath and lips and teeth.

You pressed your hips into his, finding his own arousal there. He groaned at the pressure, hands flying to your waist, and pulling you harder to him. Already a carnal heat that only showed up when you were with him was building somewhere low in your womb. And even lower still.

God, he felt good.   

He was going to be the death of you. You were going to burn up in his arms until there was nothing left of you but your need for him. 

He paused for a second, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his pants to readjust himself to better align with your strides. You tested, feeling the full length of him pressed to your core, “Carry on,” before his smile could take form it fell away to a hiss when you began a languid pace.  

You rolled yourself down on him, your mouth finding the pulse at his throat and licked a stripe it. 

Simon liked to pride himself on his control over his needs. He wasn’t a teenage boy after all. He was a man who was more than capable of asserting some sort of rule over his body. 

Until just now. 

Right then, his entire mind went blank.

He wasn’t sure if he had inhaled too much smoke or if he over-exerted himself today, but that control was nowhere to be seen. His hands fell to your thighs, allowing you full reign on the speed and intensity. 

You felt a knot at the apex of your tights tighten, and the liquid arousal that accompanied your desire. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were already soaking through your panties and his pants.

Your kisses to his skin turn into hot desperate breaths, and it sent tingles throughout his body. Your moans were like fuel to a flame and it was driving him insane.    

You clung to him, his skin slick with yours and his sweat, as you chased after your climax. He let you use him however you needed. Some ludicrous and giddy part of him revelled at the fact that he wasn’t even inside you and you were still half-wild for him. 

Suddenly, your pace stuttered and became erratic. That knot finally loosened and you melted onto him, your body twitching, but you maintained some form of a rhythm.   

You pulled back to look at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his bottom lips pulled between his teeth.   

You felt him jerk under you, pressing himself impossibly closer to you, his mouth falling open into a downright filthy moan. 

You welcomed the wet warmth between him and you that followed. 

You chased after his release with him. 

You also came back down with him, slowing down to a purr on top of him. 

He was breathless, his body jolting with every change of direction.

He would have been a little embarrassed for cumming in his pants if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. 

“So sensitive,” you crooned, drawing a line from his heart to the line of hair that faded into the cover of his pants. At first, you weren’t sure he heard you, but then he was growling and flipping you off him. You were face down on the bad, trapped underneath him, his knees moving to spread your legs apart. 

“Shouldn’ve said that,” he snarled, his voice dangerous. 

He pressed himself into your backside. 

He was still devastatingly hard. 

You whimpered into his bed, arching your back.

A hand slapped your clothes pussy and you mewled at him in understanding. 

Do. Not. Move.

Then the fingers of the same hand outlined your folds over the already damp fabric, focusing on your clit. With his weight on top of you giving your lungs little room to expand and the fact that your brain was short-circuiting your breaths become shallow and unproductive.

He pressed his fingers into your cunt, the only thing keeping him from actually entering you was your panties. 

You writhed, desperate for friction. A second slap against your heat stilled you. 

“Ohmygod,” you breathed, your legs trembling.

He pushed the cursed fabric down your legs, stopping at your knees. His fingers delved into the slickness there. He swore, almost impressed with how wet you actually were. 

Spread your arousal everywhere, across your folds, the sides of your thighs, up to the rounds of your ass. He wanted you a mess in his bed. And you were. You weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but there was a high chance you were. 

Then his attention was back at your core, finger sliding into you without so much as a warning. Your greedy pussy tightened around his fingers, milking them as if they were his cock. His approving groan was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He was whispering naughty, impish things into your ear. Your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made to want to scream.  

Still sensitive from before, it didn’t take much from him to entice another orgasm from you. Time wrapped but it couldn’t have been less than a minute before you were spasming around his fingers, and your mind was momentarily fried. 

He was whispering in your ear. Your comprehension went out the window so didn’t know what he was saying but from the tone of his voice, he was mocking you. 

You felt him shift so he was behind you. He attempted to knock your legs further apart but your panties were still locked around your knees, tying them together. 

You felt something warm and velvety soft tap at your entrance. Once, twice. He slid his cock between his fld, coating himself in you. 

He asked you a question, probably for permission. The thought that you could string together a coherent sentence right now was laughable. You weren’t even sure you could be trusted to provide your own name. 

You could only nod and with your last dregs of will, lift your hips to his.     

There was no amount the sex or foreplay that could prepare you for the sheer fucking size of him. He wasn’t just long, not that his eight inches was something to roll your eyes at, but he was thick. Thick enough that when you took him into your mouth, your jaw would ache for days afterward. He was always gentle and never shoved himself inside you like an animal, but you still needed a few seconds to catch your breath each time.  

The broken sound that same out of you was naughty, and Simon had to bite his lip to keep from cumming from the sound alone. You were also impossibly tight, but he’d be damned if he got bested by you a second time tonight. 

He cruised into a fast pace, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The tip of his dick hit your cervix with every thrust. And with every retreat, he brushed against your g spot.  

In these moments, there was only him. Only the sounds of his breath, and the feel of his skin. It made him addicting. When with him, especially like this, it was like a moment of reprieve from worries and stresses in life. 

The world could be ending and you wouldn’t care. There could be air raids and a fire outside your door and you would still feel completely safe with him. Death and hurt couldn’t reach you when you were in his arms.  

His rhythm faltered when you squeezed around him, and he cursed, his arms moved from your ass to brace around you. He just arms shook to keep from crushing you.  

He could feel you quivering, both around him and beneath him as your third orgasm approached. 

You were going to be the death of him, and he didn’t mind one bit. 

You writhed under him as you reached your undoeing, unsure if you wanted him further in or out of you.  

You could feel his seed spurt out of him, and coat your inner walls. You could feel his cock twitch with every spray. 

He started to slow, letting you reel yourself back into your body. You were spooled out across his bed, onto the floor, floating in the air. 

He slid off the bed, carefully tucking himself back into his pants. Which, only now did you realize he didn’t have the patient to remove. He was all wandering eyes and a rueful grin. He was slightly out of breath when he spoke, “So sensitive.” 

A/N: You like that?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #call of duty smut

[satorustyles]

you can't fall asleep (sukuna x reader one shot)

pairing: sukuna x reader

warnings: none, just so much fluff! and soft sukuna, maybe? he's just not the typical angry and super duper evil dude in this one.

word count: 1,512

GOJO VERSION OF THIS ONE SHOT HERE!

NANAMI VERSION OF THIS ONE SHOT HERE!

It was game night.

It's the one night of the week when you, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara gather in the living room for an endless evening of video games. The PS5 was a present given to the four of you from your ever-loving, mostly annoying sensei Gojo Satoru last Christmas. Since then, it was tradition for the four of you to spend an evening together, with pizza and burgers and a shameless amount of slander against each other.

But tonight was different.

You won't be able to join them because you're sick. Headaches. Nausea. Dry coughs and the flu. It was all because of the most recent mission you've been on alone, and it already took its toll on you. Your three friends insisted on moving game night to a different date, but you didn't want them to postpone further. You've been sick for three days already, and for three nights, they adjusted for you. Tomorrow was the start of a new week, meaning you could likely end your streak of having weekly game nights. And you didn't want that.

"Guys, it's just one night. I won't die if I miss one." You told them with a shaky laugh, the cough in your lungs threatening to bark its way out your throat with every huff of your breath.

"y/n," Yuuji started as he walked over to your weak body on your bed, patting your shoulder gently. He had the most serious, determined look on his face. "I'll win this for you."

You smiled at how adorable he was and decided to play along. "Thank you, Yuuji. You're my hero."

The evening stretched on, and as you stayed on your bed, your friends yelled over each other in triumph and defeat, followed by loud laughs that would jerk you awake. Your head pounded at the loud sounds coming from the living room. Despite the closed door, you could still clearly make out their voices and their stomping across the wooden floor.

It only made your head hurt more.

But you didn't have the heart to get out of bed and ask them to be a little quieter. It's been a long week for everyone, not only for you. Megumi and Yuuji completed a mission before you, and Nobara was sent to accompany Toge after your expedition. It was a busy week for all of you, and game night was a way of easing everyone from their exhaustion.

"Megumi you prick!" Nobara shrieked, and your head pounded at the high-pitched tone. "I'm going to fucking kill you on the next round!"

You sighed to yourself, massaging your temples while your other hand struggled to pull your blanket closer to your chest. It was freezing. Your socks and the thick covers didn't help your case at all.

"That's how a game works, you loser!" Megumi shot back just as loudly. Then thuds. You could picture the two of them on the floor strangling each other.

Oh how you love them so much.

"Shut up, you brats!"

Your heart stopped. Silence followed after the sudden and unexpected outburst.

Despite your current state, it didn't take long for you to recognize Sukuna's voice coming from Yuuji's body. He seemed to have taken over while the other two were arguing.

Considering the abrupt silence, Megumi and Nobara must have also been shocked. The only sound that could be heard was the background music that still played on the screen.

"Not even an ounce of consideration for your poor comrade. Even an old man and a newborn baby would startle awake by your gaudiness!"

Your heart hammered against your chest when you realized that Sukuna was talking about you. Then, footsteps padded across the floor before your door was opened, and you froze in your place, closing your eyes and hoping that your breathing didn't sound too erratic.

"Just cut the act. I know you're awake." Sukuna mumbled next to you and you slightly flinched, surprised that he was immediately by your side. He turned your night lamp on, illuminating the darkness of the room.

You realized there was no point in even pretending. You sighed, opening your eyes and coming face to face with the King of Curses himself, his red eyes staring down at you and his lips curled in a slight smirk. 

"What do you want." You croaked out. Your throat was already dry.

"Here to help you," He replied nonchalantly as if it was the most normal thing to do. "It was about time that brat brought me out. Couldn't even think about helping or at least leaving you a glass of water."

As if on cue, he places a tall glass of water on your bedside table before gesturing for you to sit up. "Have a drink. I brought some painkillers."

You slowly sat up, leaned your back against the headboard and took a pill before popping it in your mouth. Sukuna then handed you the glass, and you were quick to gulp everything down in seconds. The liquid felt satisfying running down your dry throat.

"Thanks." You sighed. You then nodded at the door. "You can let Yuuji out now. I'm sure he wants to play more. You've done enough."

You didn't mean to sound like a jerk. Technically, you were still confused about where you stood with your—friendship? Relationship?—with Sukuna, after Yuuji has been teasing you that Sukuna wouldn't stop talking about you in his head when you first encountered him. He would find ways to take over Yuuji's body, even resorting to bribery and negotiation just to get himself out. He wouldn't admit it himself, but he's been so taken by you that he always craved your presence.

"The brat and I made a deal. He won't let me out for a week starting tomorrow if I could have an evening with you."

Your stomach fluttered. You tried to shrug it off as the occasional nausea that you felt, but deep down, you knew that you had a soft spot for the King of Curses as well.

"I—" You tried to say something after a moment's silence, but Sukuna was already up and going over to the other side of the bed. You could only stare up at him, dumbfounded.

"Move over a little, yeah?" He muttered quietly, and you found yourself obliging. You could only watch as he made himself comfortable next to you, the black markings on his face and shoulders more prominent underneath the light of your lamp. The tight black shirt that Yuuji wore emphasized the muscles on his arms and chest and you could feel the heat slowly creeping up to your neck. You were subconsciously imagining what it would be like if Sukuna had a body of his own.

It would be chaos for everyone.

For you.

"Come on now, don't be shy." Sukuna teased with an amused smile as he stretched one arm over your head, urging you to get closer to him. But you could only stare at him, still processing everything, asking yourself whether or not you had fallen asleep and were already dreaming.

He sighed in defeat before letting his arm wrap around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his body. He then took your arm and let it rest across his stomach, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

"Better?" He whispered. In fact, it was better. The warmth radiating off his body helped alleviate the coldness you felt, and he also took the liberty of pulling the covers above the two of you.

You felt rigid against him and you knew that he thought it as well.

"Come on, you little brat," He sighed, but he sounded fond and soft, unlike his usual, annoyed tone. "Relax yourself. I'm not going to bite you. Unless you want me to, of course..."

He received a weak slap across his stomach and laughed lightly, taking advantage of hugging you closer to him. He let his longer legs intertwine with yours, exuding warmth down your feet and ankles. His hand then reached up to run his fingers through your hair, softly massaging your scalp while his other hand held onto your arm and kept you from pulling away from him.

You've never felt so relaxed tonight. Everything felt so much better, warmer, cozier...

You were finally dozing off, happy that your body found the comfort and peace it sought hours ago. You couldn't even bring yourself to feel so reserved around Sukuna anymore, and you found yourself nuzzling closer to him, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

"Thank you," You mumbled sleepily, your hand sliding underneath his shirt and feeling the warmth of his stomach on your trembling palm. He just exudes so. Much. Warmth.

You felt his lips on your forehead, keeping it there for a long time. His hand rested above yours, just outside the cloth of his shirt.

"Sleep, my darling." He whispered against your skin. "Recover. I'll keep a look out for you tonight."

It was safe to say that you didn't want the evening to end. 

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna one shot #sukuna fluff #sukuna au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #bear writes

[babygirl-riley]

Numb

SPOILERS! IF YOU HAVENT WATCH/PLAY THE CAMPAIGN OF MWIII THAN MOVE ON!

NO SERIOUSLY BYE

LAST TIME FOR NOT SEEING SPOILERS

[keep reading]

After the events of losing a comrade, you watch Simon move around empty

Warnings: PURE FUCKING DEPRESSION, angst, mentions of PTSD, major death character, soft!simon, husband!simon, depressed!simon, nightmares, swearing

“Did some force take you because I didn’t pray?”

A/N: Listen…I literally almost threw up when we saw him die like 😭 I wanted to just lay down and die. This is how I would think Simon would react after knowing and been married to you for a while. 🥲 Also a little hint that Soap had a partner for the Soap readers out there. 🖤

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You waited as you watched the world fall apart and settle. You knew Simon was out there, in the midst of it. When you got the text “I’m comin’ home.” You were thrilled, you thought everything was fine.

However.

It wasn’t, Simon came home as you waited on the couch. Immediately he stared right at you, you saw how distant he was. How cold. How sad. You stood up and walked to him as his shoulders dropped. You grabbed the side of his face and had him look at you. He didn’t move as his eyes landed on yours.

“What’s wrong.” You whispered trying to find an answer through his eyes.

He is tired. You kept thinking, nothing happened. Everything is fine. He is just tired. Sometimes he comes home like this. No he doesn’t. You corrected. Something was wrong.

Tears brimming on the edge of his painted eyes. You only seen on two fingers that you seen him cry or tears in his eyes. You looked at him concern rubbing his cheek bones on his mask. He inhaled, shakily. “He…Johnny.” He whispered, his voice cracking.

You scanned his eyes, trying to find out why he was talking about Soap like he…No. He can’t be. “Is he hurt?”

Simon looked away grabbing your wrists. He stared at your fingers, looking at the ring he gave you just a couple of weeks before the hell broke. He squeezed your wrists not hard but little tighter. “No…He-He’s…”

“Oh,” You said quietly before he looked up at you then he wrapped his arms around you holding you close. “I’m so sorry baby.”

You heard a soft sob as he squeezed you. You held the back of his head and back, rubbing soft circles. You both stood there for a moment before guiding him to the couch taking his boots off. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, he just let the tears fall. Never have you seen him like this. Usually he would lock himself somewhere until he was ready to just lay with you or cook with you.

This. This however he was in a state of shock? Numbness? The old Simon wouldn’t be like this towards you but now you were just grateful he was. When you took off his boots you stood up, his head still on the ground his shoulders stiff. You gently grabbed his chin, he looked up at you. “Let’s get you in the tub.” You whispered.

“Let’s just go to bed.” He disagreed, standing up and moving around you.

The next couple of months was hell. Either Simon would jolt awake and be covered in sweat to the point he felt the need to shower. Or you would wake up to him mumbling Soap’s name, getting closer to him to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Which made Simon feel worse, waking you up because he couldn’t sleep or even be asleep hurt him more. His pain is causing you pain. Even though you reassured him over and over again that it wasn’t that. He told you that he was going to Scotland to spread his ashes which you didn’t mind.

It was a week before he came home, you didn’t ask how it went because it mostly was hard from him. So you made his favorite food and tea as you both sat at the table. He played with his food, picking at it before sighing and left the room. You made a container that most likely wouldn’t be touched by him. He ate sure but it wasn’t his normal eating habit.

One night the nightmares became worse and it was was the same one. The tunnels connecting as gunfire was heard in the distance. Kyle and him sprinting to help just to see Johnny getting shot. Again and again. Hearing Price yell for him. Hearing HIS voice call his name. Feeling no pulse. See the crimson blood soak the floor. The cry and scream of his partner when him, Gaz, and Price went to bare the news.

This time he wasn’t mumbling his name he screamed. Which snapped you awake immediately, you turned to see Simon shaking his back facing away from you. “Simon,” You said sternly but not in a malicious manner. You placed your hand as he snapped up, making you jump from the sudden movement. He snapped his head to you, eyes wild, tears pricking. He searched your eyes, you tried to quickly change your shock impression before he saw it but it was too late. He got out of bed quickly. “Simon.”

He shut the bedroom door, quietly leaving you there. You waited for a moment before walking out. Noticing he wasn’t home yoh went back to bed. Waiting until he came home. During that you pulled out your phone and text Price.

Simon felt his phone go off, it was Price. He sighed answering. “You are awake.” Price mumbled.

Simon grunted. “Can’ sleep.”

“Me neither,” He sighed through the phone. “Meet me at the base Simon.”

Simon grunted in response turning around to head home. He didn’t go inside but text you to inform you. You just said okay with a heart, that’s what he loves about you never pushed. Never showed how you were irritated or upset that he wouldn’t. You knew eventually he would tell you, slowly it took time.

It wasn’t until the next day Simon came home, you were getting out of the shower when you saw him sitting on the bed. He looked at you his eyes searching his eyes. Simon’s eyes always told the story, for you, you always knew what he truly felt. That is another reason he loved you, he didn’t need to vocally tell you how he feels, you just knew.

You frowned and walked up to him, placing yourself between his legs and wrapped your arms around his head and back. Placing him on your stomach, he large arms engulfing your body closer. “I could’v saved him,” You stayed silent as he sighed. “He was too young. The bastard had so much ahead of him.”

You nodded rubbing his back, you didn’t say anything still. What could you say? Simon said all the things that are true. You inhaled deeply moving your arms to cup your hands on his face. Having him look up at you. “You couldn’t do anything more than you already were.” You whispered, you rubbed his cheekbones up and down.

Simon’s eyes saddened more, he knew you were right. It was the part of him that thought about his friend and his comrade. Someone he eventually cared for. He hummed and nodded once before inhaling deeply. “That’s what Price said. I just…wish there was something more I could’v done.”

You hummed acknowledging his comment, everyone wishes something to have changed. To go back in time for that last second or minute before things go south. It’s unfortunate part of life not being able to go back to reset. Simon sighed. “I just…” His voice cracks, you start tearing up from him about to cry. Simon is known to be the “tough” one, the one that doesn’t show tears for anyone. The vulnerable side of him doesn’t present often basically rarely.

“Walking into base and not hearing the annoyin’ cheerful scott…It just…its hauntin’.” He mumbles looking up at you once more.

You nodded and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Guiding him back to your stomach holding him. A question came to you, knowing that he would never say yes to it. It clawed at you the more you thought about it. You inhaled deeply. “Why not ask Price for a short leave?”

Simon tensed up, making you tense up, subconsciously slapping yourself in the face. Until you felt him relax. “Okay.” He mumbled into you, squeezing you tighter

“Okay.” You whispered, you didn’t know how long you both stayed like that. You didn’t care. All you cared about is that you had to be his light, like he has been for you.

#Spotify #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #cod mwiii spoilers #cod mwiii #mwiii #call of duty mwiii #mwiii spoilers #modern warfare 3 spoilers #modern warfare 3 #call of duty mw3 #mw3 spoilers #mw3 2023

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Something I find interesting when viewing the two recent Dune movies as a whole is that initially, Paul is more than willing to use the prophecy and his visions for his own gain to convince Liet to help them, while Jessica whispers "careful!" at his side, and she later recommends they leave the planet entirely. But Paul decides they'll stay with the Fremen. Even at the beginning of Part 2, Paul is like "fuck yeah let's wage war on the Harkonnen" and Jessica is again counseling caution: "your father didn't believe in revenge." She goes through the Water of Life ceremony not because she wants to help Paul fulfill the prophecy but because she's forced to: do this or die. And even then, the old Reverend Mother had to use the Voice on her to get Jessica to drink.

That all changes when Jessica nearly dies during the ceremony. After that, Paul becomes more wary of embracing the prophecy, and she just throws herself into it. Paul nearly loses his mother (and his unborn sister) to a painful, agonizing poison - mere hours/days after losing his father and all their friends/allies to the Harkonnen slaughter - and decides it's not worth it. Meanwhile, Jessica gets a direct download of memories of millennia of oppression and goes "yeah let's burn everything to the ground."

It's an interesting, quick reversal at the beginning of the second movie, and it's great.

Ooh thank you for this great ask. I can always count on you for smart and thoughtful Jessica takes!

You make a really good observation about their reversal of positions--I had been struggling to figure out how Paul's line about "I must sway the non-believers" fit into his overall arc, but you are absolutely right that this feels like a continuation of how he talks to Liet. We're seeing the first stirrings of that little "maybe I am special" thought that later takes center stage.

For most of Part Two, Paul has several reliable counterweights pulling against that streak of arrogance and high-handedness that he's had from the beginning. Jessica almost dies drinking the Water of Life, which, like you point out, has got to make him think twice about encouraging people to believe in the prophecy. Then, he spends most of the movie surrounded by Chani and her friends and comrades, who seem the most skeptical of the prophecy and also aren't going to give his ego the time of day. And at the same time, he has an opportunity to pour his desire for revenge into collective political action that seems to be making a difference.

It's only when those countervailing forces start collapsing (the people who had started out as his equals are now becoming his followers; the Harkonnens attack Sietch Tabr and other civilian population centers, proving they are far from militarily defeated; Gurney shows up and immediately offers what seems like an easy solution to their problems that only Paul can access) that the little maybe I am special voice starts winning again.

As for Jessica, her journey doesn't get as much focus in the movie but it's also fascinating. She's a great character because she is so fucking smart at navigating power structures from what seems like an unenviable position. Did she have any choice about being sent to Caladan to become Leto's concubine? I am guessing she did not. But she sure figured out how to work that situation to her advantage. It happened that along the way she and Leto came to genuinely love and respect each other. But I'm sure she would still have figured out an angle even if that had not been the case.

In Part Two she starts out in a frankly quite terrifying position: she can undergo this unknown, dangerous ritual or die, and also possibly put Paul's safety at risk by raising doubt about whether he is the Lisan al-Gaib. But after she survives the Water of Life, she is launched into a powerful position in Fremen society and pretty quickly realizes she can use that to both protect Paul and get her revenge on the people who tried to kill her whole family. And unlike Paul, she is much more cognizant of the intergalactic power structures at work and aware that the Harkonnens themselves were a pawn in all this, so her target is the Bene Gesserit and the emperor.

I would have loved more time to explore Jessica's relationship to Fremen society and her POV in general. Because in some ways she becomes as Fremen as it's possible for her to be--she has access to thousands of years of memories of Fremen history and culture and politics; she becomes instantly fluent in the language and she is immersed in Fremen daily life in the sietch. (If there's one single thing I wanted more of, it was daily life in the sietch.) But she's still the same person she was, so she hasn't lost that ability to be ruthless and calculating and see people as forces to be manipulated. In Part One, her love for Paul and Leto provided an interesting counterweight to this that allowed us to see some moments of vulnerability from her (ie. she knows Paul has to undergo the Gom Jabbar test but she's terrified for him while it's happening). In Part Two she is so isolated for most of the movie (away from Paul; surrounded by followers who were never friends; I think we can all agree that talking to your unborn fetus doesn't really count) that we don't get a lot of these more unguarded moments from her. (I would have loved some Jessica/Stilgar action and it seems like the potential was very much set up for that, but I understand why they didn't have time.)

But in general I thought they did a great job of setting up this contradictory tension between Jessica and Paul, where they both want so desperately to protect each other and they both want revenge, but the way they each go about it ends up putting them in direct conflict with each other.

#dune #dune part two #lady jessica #paul atreides #asks answered

[broadcast-into-the-void]

I Can't Die a Virgin - Jean x Fem!Reader

A/N: I wrote this after three blinkers and I have written fan fiction since I was 13, so I'm sorry if this is ass.

Contains: Virginity loss (M + F), Oral (F + kinda M), implied feelings, Exhibitionism, Cunnilingus, Mutual Masturbation (M + F), Creampie but like not really, Size kink (+ belly bulge), humiliation??, Breeding kink but like really chill, Porn with little to no plot, technically fuck or die??, Fucking in a forest, Tip-sucking ;p, Finger-sucking, Big dick!Jean, Cock drunk!Reader, Pussy drunk!Jean, Jean lovessssss eating pussy, Kinda bully!Jean, Jean lovesssss mocking you, , implied that Jean has done everything but P in V/penetration, Both you and Jean are dominant and submissive in your own ways, Jean’s a head pusher for 1/16 of a second, Jean fucks himself with your panties for like a minute :3

(WC: 4.2k) DAMNNNNNN

Minor and ageless blogs DNI, I'm so serious.

Tomorrow was the day you and what’s left of your comrades would execute the final part of Eren’s plan and storm Marley. In your eyes, it was a death mission. You couldn’t see yourself making it out alive this time. Your fate was sealed. Tonight, you sit on the cool grass roughly half a mile from your base, chin resting on your knees allowing yourself a final night of peace.

You’ve been out here for a few hours, skin numb from the heavy winds when someone calls your name from behind you.

“What are you doing out here?” Jean.

If you were ever given the chance to love in this lifetime, you imagine you would love Jean. He’s the only person you could ever see yourself being intimate with. Whether it was your first kiss or virginity, you could only envision Jean.

You stopped feeling guilty for thinking of him when you touched yourself in the shower a long time ago. It’s not like he’d know you grip your cunt around your fingers imagining they were his.

“Is everything okay?” he asks following your silence.

“Just thinking.”

You see him sit beside you and stretch his legs from the corner of your eyes. “About what?”

If it were any other night, you would've stayed silent but tonight, you lost the energy to care. To you, your final days start the moment the sun rises.

“All the things I never got the chance to do,” you reply.

Jean was surprised to hear your response. He became used to your silence whenever he attempted to pick your brain. He didn’t show it. He wanted to see how much more you would let him know about after years of prying. For once, he decided to keep his mouth shut having you say whatever you wanted him to know on your own time.

“I never had my first kiss,” you admit after a minute of silence, turning your head to face Jean.

“Really?! You’re lying.” He doesn’t believe you. How could he have had his first kiss and not you? It didn’t make sense.

You give him a small, fake smile. “Never got the opportunity.”

The way he was looking at you made your legs ache. It’s a mix of disbelief and something more… passionate. His eyes slowly dilated the longer the silence between you continued. His mind was racing. If you never got the “opportunity” for your first kiss, does that mean you never got the opportunity for anything else? Has no one touched you? Have you ever touched yourself?

“And I-...” you start, trying to find a way to express how feel without making him uncomfortable. You give up, giving him an apology while turning your head away from him to face the other direction.

“I can’t die a virgin.”

Jean’s breath hitches. His questions were answered.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“No! No,” he replies, his eyes still locked to your head. “I, I understand what you mean.”

You turn back to face him seeing that his iris’ have become completely black, consumed by the thought of your face on his pillow, fucking yourself on his cock and begging for him to do whatever he wants to you.

“Jean?”

“Mhm.” His eyes were still on yours making you unable to control the question that comes out of your mouth.

“If things were different, would you have fucked me?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed. You couldn’t seem to care.

Jean’s cock stiffened. He couldn’t do anything but nod. His eyes move to your thighs for a flash of a second. You were wearing a floral nightgown you bought at a Marlyian market long ago. He doesn’t believe what you’re wearing even qualifies as a “nightgown”. If he adjusted his position next to you by an inch, he’d be able to see your clothed cunt beneath the end of the fabric on full display. He would do it in a heartbeat if his semi-hard cock wouldn’t be visible to you if he moved.

He didn’t know you noticed his quick peak at your clamped thighs. You lift your head off of your knees, turning your body to face him and resting your thighs on the grass giving you a perfect angle to see his bulge. Unlike Jean, your gaze lingers between his legs, making sure he knows how badly you crave him.

You don’t know what came over you as your right hand drags its way to your aching pussy. grazing your clit with your middle finger. His gaze snaps to your hand, adjusting his posture to see past the ruffles of your “nightgown”, and slightly spreads his legs. You move your hand from your clothed clit to the side of Jean’s face, thumb brushing his cheekbone for a moment.

“Can I kiss–?” His lips latch onto yours, stealing the question from your mouth.

The kiss is desperate yet so gentle. Jean stops himself from bucking his hips in the air, his cock begging to be touched. He’s doing everything he can to not ruin your first kiss. You move your hand back to your clothed cunt, going back to the feather-like touches you gave your clit, mewling into his mouth.

You slowly release your mouth from his to lock eyes between his legs. “Touch yourself, Jean,” you command.

He doesn’t hesitate to do so, palming his throbbing cock through his thin, black lounge pants. You watch his bulge the size of your fist slowly grow. He moves his hand to give you a perfect view. It grew slightly in length whenever he lightly tugged his shaft with his fingers. You noticed how with every half an inch of growth, the width increased. You apply pressure to your clit, imagining how it would feel to fully take him.

Jean releases his now fully hard cock from the confines of his clothes, his hand immediately reaching for his tip. “Touch yourself,” he commands with a smirk, imitating you.

“I am.”

He fully sits up. His hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, his other hand reached for the top of your panties leaning in towards you, pointer finger and thumb pinching the seam. He uses his two fingers to pull the front of your panties down your hips, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth as a signal for you to arch your hips so he can free your pussy from its prison.

“There she is,” He whispers.

His cock twitches in his hand at the sight of your glistening cunt. He strokes himself slowly, dragging your panties completely down your legs, wraps it around his base, and continues to move his hand up and down his length. Your fingers touch your now bare clit tilting your head back with a strangled whine.

Jean bucks his hips into your panties. “No. I want you to fit as many fingers as you can in that pussy. Can you do that for me?”

You respond by brushing your hole with two of your fingers, making sure Jean can see you slowly push them inside of you. He mutters profanities, reaching his unoccupied hand to replace the one you had to your clit. You moan and rest back on your left elbow.

“Let me see you stretch yourself for my cock, baby.” Jean knows he’s fucking you tonight. He’s making sure of it.

He moves to sit directly next to you, removing his right hand and your panties from his throbbing cock and to your head, resting you on his shoulder. You close your eyes and halt your fingers knuckle deep inside you whining into his neck.

“Do I make you feel good?” he asks.

You nod into his shoulder.

He smirks, swiftly moving his body to hover above you, placing soft kisses down your body. His fingers arrive at your clit. Jean looks at you with his fully dilated eyes and lightly licks your clit. You arch your back, angling your pussy to his mouth.

He grabs your hips, laughing at you. His thumbs push your hips down, moving his hand down to grip your ass before engulfing your clit in his mouth. Your mouth widens in pleasure. His tongue escapes from his mouth, lapping your leaking juices back up to his mouth. You could feel that this wasn’t his first time eating pussy, and you couldn’t help but internally thank the girl he learned this from.

You cover your mouth to stifle your moans. A hand grabs your forearm. You look down to see Jean staring up at you, his eyes begging to hear your moans but refusing to get up from your cunt to use his words.

You remove your hand from your mouth and let your moans escape you. Jean’s hand returns underneath you to grip your ass, digging the tips of his fingers into the fat. Purposefully leaving bruises. Your fingers reach down to tug at his grown-out hair causing him to rut his hips into the ground. Pants barely protecting his shaft from contacting the grass beneath him.

You run your fingers through his tangled hair, getting good enough of a grip to remove his lips from yours with a pop. His mouth was shimmering in the moonlight from a mix of your juices and his saliva– beard completely drenched. His eyelids were heavy, staring into you as he mindlessly placed his lips back on your puffy cunt. You yank his head back up by his hair making him groan.

Your hands let go of the grip on his hair to hold his chin. “We can’t do this here,” you whisper to him.

He whines, slowly grinding his aching hips into the grass below him. “But we’re alone out here.”

“It’s not how I imagined it all going down,” you chuckle, moving your fingers softly down his neck.

“Please, baby. Please,” he begs, his hands reaching around your torso and under your nightgown to massage your tits. “I need you here. Now.”

“Then take me,” you moan, grinding on his chin. “Now.”

Jean’s eyes roll back and he groans. His hands grip your tits hard before moving his hands to your hips giving them the same grip. His lips latch back to your pussy, his tongue probing your entrance. You wrap your legs around his head in response. He slowly sits up on his knees lifting your hips in the process, muscles bulging through his tight, long-sleeved shirt– lips and tongue not parting from you.

His left-hand moves to the small of your back to lift and balance the lower half of your body on its own. His right grazes along your body wrapping his arm around your left thigh with a squeeze. His tongue moves from your hole back to your clit engulfing it with an open mouth kiss.

“Jean–,” Your whine is interrupted with a gasp as you feel his pointer and middle finger slowly enter you. Your walls clench around his fingers with a low moan.

You arch your back leaving your head to be the only part of your body left on the ground. His tongue slips from your clit as you grind it against his nose. He laughs at your desperation and lifts his head to return to his work on your sensitive bud.

You can feel yourself open more and more for him the deeper he enters. It stings, but you still feel the same ache in your ovaries from when Jean was devouring you. His fingers are thicker than yours, looking slender in contrast with the length. You can’t feel how dry and calloused they are. The texture was completely overpowered by your wetness. Yet, you’re so tight around them.

“You’re gripping my fingers, baby.” he babbles, kitten-licking your clit and slowly penetrating you. “I can barely move em’.”

You relax at his touch, feeling him move in and out of you with ease as he slowly lowers your chest back to the ground. He’s being so gentle now. Taking his time with you. 

“You didn’t have to stop,” he says, licking a painfully slow stripe just above his fingers up to your hood.

“I’m sorry.”

He gives your clit a peck, “Don’t apologize.” He kisses his way up your abdomen, his arm softly wrapping his lips around your tit and sucking on it.

“Jean, please!” You whine, grinding against his hand.

He removes his swollen lips from your hardened nipple, mocking your whine as he kisses up your neck landing on your lips. His tongue makes its way into your mouth forcing you to taste the remnants of yourself. You feel his fingers increase their pace, his ring finger attempting to make its way inside of you. You loosen your legs from his lower half and spread them allowing him deeper access. However, your pussy refuses to unclench from the anticipation of the third digit.

Jean pulls his lips away from you, softly kissing down your neck to get you to relax. You do and he forces his finger inside of you with a groan. His fingers move at a moderate pace. He twists them with each deep thrust making you tear up and close your eyes from the painful stretching of your walls.

He doesn’t stop his fingers from twisting, he simply says he needs you to be able to “take all of him”. He doesn’t actually know if this will help you. He just likes the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your hands find their home in Jean’s hair tugging at the strands on his nape, the back of his head, brushing his hair behind his ear so you could place a sloppy kiss on his cheek on occasion. You feel your body moving back and forth.

You open your eyes and move your head to look in between you and Jean’s bodies. You see Jean humping his wrist. His tip peeks through the band of his pants. Cock begging for attention. You feel like you’re stretched enough for his cock to at least enter with little resistance. You move your right hand down his clothed back and abs landing at his hip. You slowly release his twitching, rouge-colored cock and run your fingers down his happy trail.

His body twitches and lays slightly on top of you. Left hand reaching for your tit.

“Holy fuck,” He moans.

You attempt to wrap your hand around the base of his shaft struggling to reach far enough.

“Please, Jean,” You beg.

“I don’t know if you’re ready yet.”

You run the tips of your fingers up his cock barely landing on his tip to spread his precum. His fingers fully halt inside of you. His breath stutters in your ear. His grip on your tit softens. His body freezes above you for what feels like a minute.

Jean lifts himself off of you and removes his fingers from inside of you completely. His hands remove his pants and reach behind his head to do the same with his shirt. His toned body was lit by the moon behind him. His face leans back down to your pussy, giving a soft peck to your hole before spitting on it.

Your moan is muffled by Jean’s sticky fingers. He shoves his digits deep into your mouth. You hesitantly wrap your lips around them as much as you can, running your tongue in between them to lap up every drop of you. Just like he did.

He smiled down at you as you struggled to wrap your lips fully around his fingers. The sounds coming from your mouth were sinful and it wasn’t even your fault. Your loud slurping was comical to him.

He moves his knees around your midsection. His fingers leave your mouth with a trail of your saliva dripping down your chin to stroke his cock above you. He arches his body above your head, his cock coming straight toward your face.

“Spit on it, baby,” he demands, petting your head with his unoccupied hand.

You stare at his cock unable to comprehend what he told you. You didn’t hear him call your name. Twice. You didn’t hear him laugh at you. You did see his tip come closer to your mouth, brushing against your parted lips.

You immediately widen your mouth with a groan like it was a reflex. Your lips wrap around his tip licking and sucking the rest of his precum. Jean’s hand on your head pushes you a bit further down his length. Just enough to get the first few inches wet with your saliva.

“I want you to spit on it, okay?” He asks you softly this time. His hand slowly pulling you off of his dick by your hair.

Your response is muffled around him causing him to moan with a chuckle, stopping himself from fully pulling you off of him. He stares into your eyes smiling as you suck on his tip.

“Yeah?” He mocks you. He repeats himself, and you nod with him still in your mouth. He leans his head back laughing at you. You feel embarrassed. He looks back down at you for a few seconds as you keep slowly sucking him, and tilts his head. “You sweet girl.”

He removes you from his tip with a pop. You poorly spit on his shaft. Your saliva dripped off of his tip. He laughs at you again, softly wiping the spit off your chin and mixing it with what you left on him. He strokes his cock and leans down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss. He backs up to your legs and spreads them so he can fit in between.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, his face meeting yours.

“Yes,” You reply, leaning up to kiss him.

He hums and deepens the kiss, aligning himself at your entrance. He uses his hand to help push himself inside of you. You pull away from his lips and hiss, wrapping your arms around Jean’s neck. You could feel your hymen being pierced by the width of his cock. Feeling your cunt slowly wrap around him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He coos, groaning. “I’m sorry.”

“It hurts,” You whine.

“I know.” He kisses your temple and pushes himself in further. You yelp. Your nails pierce his back.

The pain you feel makes it seem like his whole length is nuzzled inside you, but you know at least half an inch is all he’s attempted to do. He shushes you, softly kissing your head telling you he heard from some of the guys that it hurts for girls at first. He watches your pussy as it tries to suck him in.

“I trust you,” You breathe out.

You feel his tip twitch and he pushes himself deeper. Too deep. His whole head is inside of you, taking your flower. You can do nothing else but scream. Jean whips his head from your pussy to your face, moving his hand from his shaft to your cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asks, panicking. “I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Your face is wet with your saliva from his cock. You feel humiliated. You just wanted the hard part of this experience to be over so you could be filled by his cock and his cum. But it hurt. You wanted to tell Jean it wasn’t his fault, but it kind of was. He was just too big.

“I’m okay, Jean,” You reply kissing his nose, tasting yourself on it. God. You feel dirty. But that’s how you want to feel. You want him to give you your last night of peace. You wanted him to bottom out for the first time, deep within you. You wanted to tell him to fuck you so hard your legs go numb, to do whatever he wants to you, to feel his cum drip down your legs and be soaked up by your suit tomorrow. The only thing you could say through your pain was, “Fill me.”

Jean groans just barely pulling himself out of you to thrust another half an inch within your gummy walls. He looks at you to see any indication of you wanting him to stop. He sees your eyes rolling back as tears form at your waterline. Jean leans in to kiss your undereye, pulling himself out even more, and thrusts an inch of himself inside of you with a breathy moan.

You can barely let out a whine. Your throat feels restricted by an unknown force. You feel your womb ache and it feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Jean moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck to bury you in his.

“I’m going to speed up,” He warns you. He pulls in and out of you at a slightly quicker pace. He holds himself back from pounding himself into your hips at you clenching around him. “Fuck. You’re so tight, baby. I can feel you sucking me in.”

You whimper into his neck, being overcome by a painful pleasure. You’re crying into his neck, but he’s almost completely inside you. He can feel you holding back your pain. He pulls you out of his neck and sees the tears streaming down your face. You stopped him before he could say anything.

“Fuck me however you want. I want you to–.”

Jean slams himself completely inside of you with a moan, “Oh, fuck. Oh… fuck.” He bottoms out inside you.

He pulls two inches out of you. A moan drags out of your mouth, head leaning back to rest against the grass, and your back arches. He slowly thrusts himself fully inside you again, groaning.

“Jean.”

He pulls half of his length out of you, thrusting halfway, pulling out more of himself, and thrusts himself fully inside of you. He speeds up his pace being fueled by your squeals beneath him. He’s fucking you now.

You can only feel pleasure as Jean fucks you. Unable to control your moans. You can feel him twitching inside of you.

“Are you close?” You ask him, hoping he will say no and tell you about his high libido.

“Y-yes. Fuck!”

You push his chest off of you making him still.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, his eyes bearing into yours.

“No, no,” You assure him. “I-I don’t want you to cum yet. I want to try something.”

He nods and apologizes. You reassure him and tell him to pull out of you so you can get on all fours and arch your back to him. His eyes widen at the sight. He grabs his cock, lining it back to your entrance, and slowly inches himself back inside of you. Fuck. Your hole stretched around him feeling that pain all over again. You bite your forearm to prevent you from screaming as he bottoms out again.

He grabs your hips, pulls out all the way, and thrusts into you, his balls slapping your clit making your chest fall further to the ground. He plunges himself into you at a rapid pace. The sound of skin smacking echoed through your dark surroundings. He leans down, pushing your hips down with him, ramming into you. You cry out in pleasure, whining beneath him. He uses one hand to push the arch of your back further into the ground and uses his other hand to do the same with your head. Your arms fall to the ground under you giving him deeper access inside of you, pushing himself against a spot that makes you wail.

“Yeah, you like that,” Jean moans your name. “You like my cock filling you up like this?”

You can’t seem to form words. He wraps the hand pushing your head down around your chin and turns you to face him. 

“Answer me.” He demands.

“Yes, sir.”

Jean practically growls. He flips you over, cock still nuzzled deep within your walls. He grabs both of your ankles, rests them on his shoulders, and ruts into you. You’re dizzy. Your vision blurs at the force of which he’s fucking you. You feel pressure in your lower abdomen like something’s pressing down on it.

“Look at that,” You hear Jean huff. Your vision focuses on the face in front of you, seeing his eyes latched to your stomach. There was a long, wide bulge appearing and disappearing inside of your body. “Do you know what that is, sweet girl?” You could barely shake your head no. “It’s me.” He laughs.

You look at your stomach again seeing the bulge appear with his thrusts and you realize just how small you are in comparison to Jean. His height, his build, his strength, his length. It all overpowered you. A hand grabs your chin and pushes your face up. “Look at me when I cum in you, baby.”

You got lost in his eyes as he fucked you stupid. Your head falls back, still staring into his eyes. He laughs, again. Saying something you couldn’t hear. You were distracted by his taunting smile and your oncoming orgasm. Your hips begin to shake but Jean holds you down with his hands, bringing his lips to yours.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschstein smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #aot #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader smut #aot x you #aot x you smut #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x you smut #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtien x you smut

[euphemiaamillais]

cry, kill, die part 3 - coriolanus snow

after seeing you with sejanus, coriolanus decides that he just has to do something about you… and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants

cw: 18+//piv sex//blowjobs//fingering//alcohol//victim-blaming//sejanus slander (from coryo obviously)//hate fucking

part 3 was inspired by this ask

you’d had such a lovely night with private plinth at the hob, in spite of the protestations of a certain coriolanus snow. however, when you woke up the next morning to find said man in your living room, talking to your father in a hushed voice, your stomach sank.

‘sweetheart,’ your father nodded at your presence.

you were wearing one of your little pink nightgowns, and could see coriolanus trying to eye you discreetly—he wanted nothing more than to rip it off you.

‘daddy, what’s private snow doing here?’ you bit your lip, anxious to figure out what he was plotting. he was always planning something; just so he could get to you.

your father cast a disappointed look, his brows furrowed in frustration. private snow looked serious too, and their gazes flickered from you, back to one another. your father stood up, walking several paces to where you stood, and grabbed you by the shoulders.

‘darling, private snow has informed me of what happened last night,’ your father began. your brows cocked, watching as a schadenfreude grin crept across coriolanus’ lips.

‘last night?’ your mouth rounded into an o of surprise. had he seen you kissing private plinth. it was all very innocent.

‘why didn’t you tell me? i’d have dealt with it immediately,’ he began to rub your upper arm, eliciting surprise in you. when did he ever show this much affection?

coriolanus shifted a little, eyes dancing with sick delight as you struggled to figure out what happened. your father took your frantic gaze to mean that you were still upset, and so took the liberty of spelling it out to you.

‘private snow informed me of how his comrade…’ your father dropped his voice. ‘took liberties with you.’

you could hear a pin drop in the room. your heart pounded, and you watched as coriolanus tried not to laugh. you knew private plinth would never dare to try anything—in fact last night you had to beg him for a kiss, what with him wanting to be proper and all.

coriolanus must’ve been there and seen how close you two had been all night. you knew his jealousy ran deep, but you didn’t expect for him to stoop so low as to accuse his friend of defiling you.

‘daddy, please, it isn’t true!’ you felt tears pricking at your eyes, but your father only offered a sympathetic frown and sat you down on the couch.

‘you don’t have to defend him, sweetheart. private snow has been very helpful in the matter. i just can’t believe one of our own would do this… and to my daughter of all people!’ his voice boomed throughout the room, and you felt yourself shrink into your seat.

why? why would he do this? poor private plinth, he was so sweet. he’d never in a million years think of touching you, not unless you were married. on the other hand, private snow had been the one to take liberties with you—twice. you wondered what your father would think of him, ploughing you while you begged him to go harder.

‘daddy!’ you cried out. ‘please don’t shoot him…’

you scrambled to make a defence, but realised it was in vain. he’d likely have him hanged, and so you settled on pleading for mercy over truth. what use was truth when private snow had been so convincing?

‘oh pumpkin, i’m not that harsh,’ he laughed a little, stroking your hand. ‘no, i’ve decided he can serve the rest of his peacekeeping days in eight. they need all the men they can get out there, and he’ll be far away from my little lamb.’

coriolanus smirked, and you cast him an angry look. how dare he? you were at least relieved that sejanus wasn’t going to be killed, but eight? you’d never see him again, and you’d hoped that maybe your relationship would progress a little.

but of course, coriolanus had to have you all to himself.

‘you should really be thanking private snow,’ he dropped his voice. ‘i think he has good intentions, sweetheart.’

you looked like a lamb at the slaughter, trembling a little while your brain tried to comprehend the situation. there he was, coriolanus snow, laughing. laughing at your misfortune while your father sent the only man who had shown you some semblance of kindness, away.

‘private snow, i’d like to see you back here at 1800 hours,’ your father commanded. snow rose, and saluted your father, stiff as a board.

you furrow your brow. ‘what for, daddy?’

‘well, i thought you could let private snow take you to dinner, as a thank you.’

—

you had been dreading that evening all day, praying that you’d catch a cold and even going as far as to stand too long in the sun. but it was summer, so of course a cold was out of the question. it seemed that you had to go.

it wasn’t that you completely despised snow. you couldn’t. your mind circled back to how good he’d made you feel with his tongue, his cock. you hated how your core burned at the thought of doing it all again. you’d really only kissed sejanus to make him jealous.

only you hadn’t expected him to go this far. you thought it would just be a little game, like last time, where he’d chase you into your house while your father was out, and show you who you really belonged to. it was cruel of him to spread such falsities about private plinth. he was sweet to you, a kind soul if there ever were any among the peacekeepers. it broke your heart to think of him, alone now in eight. there’d be no getting out now. 20 years of hard service in the second-poorest district. your heart throbbed.

coriolanus arrived at your house at 6 o’clock sharp, which pleased your father. he was always one for punctuality. coriolanus had even made an effort to look nice, wearing his cleanest set of commissioned day-clothes and a pair of well-polished shoes. of course he was trying to impress your father, appear as if he was the innocent one in this situation and not poor sejanus.

if only your father knew what coriolanus had done to you—and in his own home. he’d have him hanged.

‘good evening, commander,’ coriolanus greeted him with a salute, and your father gave a curt nod.

you were sitting on the couch, dreading the evening, but you attempted to look nice, wearing another sundress, this one covered in tiny blue flowers. coriolanus drew a breath when he saw you, and the way the dress hugged your curves in such a way that he couldn’t help but think about how well he knew what lay underneath.

‘darling,’ your father called to you, snapping you out of your idle reverie.

you put on your best smile though, not wanting to displease your father, and greeted private snow with an innocent smile. your father hadn’t mentioned what happened between you and private plinth, but you could see how cautiously he was eyeing you, watching for if you so much as gave the eye to coriolanus, or blushed too much. he would have to keep a tighter leash on you now that you’d been spoiled by one of his own men.

‘private snow,’ you said dully, watching as his brow quirked up, and a small frown crept at the corner of his lips.

‘miss hoff,’ he remarked curtly. ‘what time do you want her home, commander?’

you hoped your father would save you from having to spend the entire evening with coriolanus, but he smiled—a rarity even towards his own daughter—at coriolanus and answered him in a suspiciously jovial tone.

‘i trust you to keep a rein on my daughter, private snow,’ he watched you like you were the suspect in some act of treason—after all, private snow had acted with such decorum; it was his own daughter that he decided to flirt too much and end up with one of his own men between her legs.

‘have her home by midnight, at the latest,’ your brows quirked up; he’d never let you stay out that late, not even when he’d approved of sejanus. you were always to be home by 9:30 sharp. any later and you’d be on dawn wake up for days on end. it was particularly hell in the summer.

you attempted to hide your scowl, but coriolanus could see it clear on your face. he pursed his lips, and the two of you bid your father goodbye before you could raise any suspicion of your disdain. after all, you’d rather face the wrath of coriolanus, than your father. even if neither were ideal, at least you could get him sent away if he proved too bothersome.

you walked in silence until you were past the gate of the barracks, dragging your feet in the hopes that they’d give out before you could make your way to the hob.

‘you’re very quiet today, bunny,’ coriolanus remarked, lacing one hand around your waist as you attempted to walk ahead of him.

‘i’m not exactly in the best mood,’ you scowled, glaring at him.

‘aren’t you excited to go dancing?’ he quipped wryly. he could see the distaste stretch across your face.

‘you know why i’m upset, coriolanus,’ you retorted, trying to foist off his hands from your waist.

it only made him grip harder, and your mind was cast back to the way he had grabbed your hips as he bucked into you. damn him for being such a good lay—you had to admit it, you’d been thinking about him at night for the past week, fantasising about him climbing through your window and fucking you as you tried to keep quiet so your father couldn’t hear. the thought sent a thrill through your body.

‘hm,’ he mused, voice trailing off as he kept his gaze away from you. he felt, guilty perhaps. not that he’d admit it, but you could see it from the way he refused to look at you, appearing far too interested in the dirt on the walking track.

‘why did you do it?’ you asked, waiting for his response.

he was silent for a moment, as if he was musing upon his thoughts, and you wondered if he might refuse to answer. you tried to keep your frustration at bay, and began to curl a lock of hair around your finger to distract yourself. he met your gaze again, but stopped you both in your tracks, unlacing his hand from your waist.

‘i had to have you all for myself, bunny,’ he hummed, stroking your chin. ‘couldn’t let sejanus touch you like that.’

you shook your head. ‘it was a kiss, coriolanus.’

you two had begun to walk again; nearing your way to the town centre—you were nearly at the hob.

‘mhm, but your daddy doesn’t know that. thinks private plinth got you drunk and took you into an alleyway. told him i heard you screaming and begging for him to stop—that it hurt. he’s furious that his daughter’s a little whore now.’

your heart dropped—what would your father think now, that you were some kind of slut who gave it away after a few drinks? you’d thought that coriolanus had been more polite with his words, but it seemed he had veered to vulgarity to underscore how dire the situation had been. not that anything had actually occurred. he had a knack for fabrication, you figured. perhaps he got off on the thought of sejanus’ misfortune.

‘and i wonder who’s fault that is,’ you snapped, eyes burning with fury.

‘you’re lucky i didn’t tell your daddy that you enjoyed it. imagine what he’d have done if i said you were begging private plinth to go harder, and that you were telling him how well he filled you up?’ coriolanus laughed, lips quirking into a wry smile.

‘you’re cruel.’ you spat, feet moving to storm off, but he caught your wrist.

‘maybe so, bunny. but i needed to remind you who you belong to.’ he remarked, pulling you flush against him.

‘i don’t belong to anyone!’ you yelled, stepping on his toe. you watched as his eyes darkened, but you knew he hadn’t felt anything in his combat boots.

‘oh bunny, you’re so dumb. you’re all mine. you belong to me, no one else. can’t let your daddy know you were begging for my cock, hm?’

‘you wouldn’t!’ you gasped, shoving his arm.

‘what should i tell him, hm? that you were on your knees, pleading with me to fuck you because you’re a little slut?’ coriolanus’ breath was hot in your ear now, fanning against your ear. you felt something tighten in your chest, and your legs buckle a little.

your body sought to betray you. even when you despised him, wanted him dead, your body still warmed to the thought of his touch, the very thought of his cock pounding inside of you.

‘please coryo, no,’ you shook your head, eyes welling up a little.

‘calling me coryo now?’ he chuckled. ‘i don’t think you despise me as much as you think, bunny.’

you crossed your arms, but realised you couldn’t walk away from him now and make a scene in front of all these people. you could hear the hum of music coming from the hob, and the sound of feet stomping to one of the covey’s tunes.

you supposed if you had to tolerate him, you’d drown yourself in cheap moonshine and pray that you had sobered up by the time you got home.

—

he kept a close rein on you, and when he saw you standing to close to anyone else, he immediately drew you back to him, clamp on your wrists, or waist, tightening.

you stumbled a little, body weakened by your slight inebriation, and he took note of this. while you were making a fool of yourself, it would be far easier to get you on your knees when you weren’t scowling at him.

‘private snow,’ you drawled. ‘come to take me away now, have you?’

he shook his head, looking at you with a scrutinising eye.

‘i have a mind to, if you don’t start behaving. you’re acting like a fool,’ he snapped, dragging you away from the crowd.

the music dulled, and you felt your heart pounding in your ears. your head swam, and your thighs felt sticky as you became more aware of the touch of him; his cool hands pressing against your pulse point.

‘oh, so you want to punish me?’ you teased.

clearly you’d lost control of your own ability to seethe at him, instead teasing him.

‘you’re practically begging for it, bunny,’ he mused, breath fanning your cheek.

he pulled you further away from the crowd, down the damp hall, and you wondered if he’d really dare to fuck you up against the wall? you’d be caught by anyone of the peacekeepers, who’d report you to your father. especially if they saw it was a fellow private who’d gotten his hands on you.

‘private snow, we really shouldn’t,’ you huffed, trailing behind him like a little puppy as he slid open the door to some back room.

you’d not seen it before, but it was far away enough that you’d not be spotted. it appeared to be a store room of sorts, but your thighs burned with such want that you didn’t even bother to wish for a couch or somewhere pleasant to let him touch you.

you’d not intended on it, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of fucking you again, but the drink had gotten to you. even if you despised him for what he did to sejanus, you couldn’t help but think about how good it felt, being stretched out with his big cock.

‘you want it,’ he sighed, thumbing the soft expanse of your cheek.

you shook your head, but the truth was in the way your skin danced with want, and how your breath hitched as he pressed you up against the wall.

‘poor bunny,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘what am i going to do with you?’

he leaned in to kiss you, and you submitted, hands lacing around his neck. his tongue was quick to make its way between your lips; he was hungry in his ministrations, and you couldn’t help but moan as he pressed a hand flush against your clothed cunt.

‘please…’ you sighed, tongue sliding over his, hips grinding into his touch. he was teasing you, hand ghosting over the fabric of your sundress. he didn’t even have the decency to touch you through your panties.

‘please what, bunny?’ he mused, smirking at the way you had once again become putty in his hands.

‘need you,’ you admitted, face burning with shame. in spite of all he’d done, your body still ached for him, to feel his cock stretching you out.

‘what a little whore,’ he cajoled. ‘you just can’t keep away from me, hm?’

his breath fanned your ear, and you found yourself reaching desperately for his hands, bringing them up against your bare thighs. he was cool to the touch, fingers skimming up the apex of your thighs, groping at the soft skin. you let out a whimper, core throbbing with need.

no matter how much you denied it, you needed him.

‘don’t tease me,’ you whined as he slipped a finger past your panties, feeling the slickness of your cunt around him.

‘fucking hell,’ he guffawed. ‘so wet and i haven’t done a thing.’

you gazed at him with wide-eyes, knowing you couldn’t put up a fight anymore. you were aching for him, soaking around his finger as he pumped it into you. you mewled, and begged him to add another, which he did, feeling you stretch around him.

‘please… need your cock, coryo,’ you pouted, the use of the familiar appellation causing his blood to burn.

it was like music to his ears; sweet and golden as were the whimpers you made as he fucked you with his fingers. he pressed a thumb against your clit, causing you to cry out—you looked like a pathetic mess, writhing up against the wall.

‘look at you, begging for it like a little slut,’ he sneered, rubbing his fingers against your clit, sending your head into a whirl.

coriolanus removed his touch from you, causing you to groan with dissatisfaction. you attempted to pull him back against you, but he gave your wrist a tight squeeze, his bicep muscles tensing beneath his overshirt—a reminder just how much stronger he was than you.

‘if you’re going to act like such a whore, you’ll have to do as i say,’ he commander, putting two hands on your shoulders and pushing you to the ground.

your legs buckled a little, but you found your place on your knees, seeing clearly with your eyes what he wanted you to do. his cock strained against his pants, and your mouth watered at the thought of taking it in your mouth again—all eight inches of it—until he came down your throat.

coriolanus grabbed your chin, forcing your mouth open, and you parted your lips willingly. he bent down, eyes meeting yours, and without a word, spat into your mouth.

‘swallow,’ he demanded, and so you obliged, swallowing his spit down your throat and offering him your open mouth again.

he undid his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers, and presenting his hardened cock to you. you pressed your thighs together at the sight of him; he was red and aching, the tip threatening to spill with precum.

‘now bunny,’ he stroked your chin. ‘you gonna be a good girl and suck my dick?’

you nodded, veering your head forward and pressing a hungry, open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock. he watched, mouth twitching into a grin at the image of you on your knees, desperate for his cock. you looked so perfect like this, eyes brimming with want, pretty lips curved as you pushed the head of his cock past your lips.

coriolanus let out a groan as your flattened tongue glided across his shaft. he grabbed your hair in his hand, tugging on it so hard you could feel your skin tingling. he began to buck his hips, desperate for satisfaction—if you were going to behave like such a slut, he might as well treat you like one.

his cock pressed right against the back of your throat, and you gagged, struggling to take him all in. he throbbed in your mouth as your saliva trickled down him, his eyes flickering over his girl. you looked so perfect, taking him all even though tears were pricking at the corner of your eyes.

‘fuck,’ he cried out, thrusting his cock against your lips.

you gripped at his hips, bobbing your head up and down as best you could, fat salty tears trickling down your cheeks. his balls slapped against your chin with each rut, and the fire between your legs grew even more. you needed him, more than anything in the world. in fact, you felt that if you didn’t have him right then, you’d die.

‘taking me so well, aren’t you,’ he cooed, feeling himself edging closer to his release. he didn’t want to let go, however, wanting to finish as he fucked you.

he pulled himself out, cock dribbling with precum, and watched as you whined, wanting to feel him cum down your throat. your lips ached a little from the stretch, but when he hoisted you up on your feet again you could hardly complain. he was about to give you exactly what you wanted.

‘gonna cum inside your pussy, hm?’ he teased, hands rucking your panties down to your knees, and then hoisting your dress up.

your cunt was dripping wet when he’d gotten your dress around your waist, and as he pressed you into the wall, he dragged his tip teasingly along your wet hole. he wanted nothing more than to shove himself in, but what fun would it be if he didn’t watch you squirm and beg for it?

‘please coryo,’ you whined, fingers clutching at the base of his cock, attempting to push it inside of you. ‘i need you, please…’

he laughed, and slapped your pussy with the aching tip of his cock, causing you to let out an exasperated gasp.

‘that’s what you get for being a fuckin’ slut,’ he scolded, finally shoving himself into you.

you gasped as he pressed his entire eight inches inside of your wet cunt, giving you no time to adjust to him. you clutched at his back, knees buckling a little from the feeling, head swimming with desire. it felt so good, but your body was humming from the shock of it all.

‘and sluts,’ he mused, grunting as he began to thrust into you. he was already halfway there, balls throbbing and aching to be emptied. ‘don’t get to cum. especially not when they’ve been whoring themselves to other peacekeepers.’

you sighed, dizzy with want, but his words still cut at you nonetheless. your heart stung a little.

‘coryo…’ your voice went soft. ‘i promise, sejanus never did anything.’

he grunted, the mention of sejanus’ name earning a hard thrust, and you whimpered as his cock stretched out your tight walls.

‘really, huh? you sure you didn’t get on your knees for him like you did with me? suck his cock til you were gagging?’ he taunted, and you shook your head, cheeks burning.

were those tears in your eyes that he saw? how pathetic. tears from a whore, at that. he couldn’t believe your gall, it was obviously for show. the translucent droplets trickled down your cheeks, and you felt your heart stab with the pangs of frustration and disappointment.

coupled with the feeling of his cock pistoning in and out of your wet cunt, it was throwing you through a loop. it was all too much, and you couldn’t help but begin to full on sob—why did it feel so good; the way his golden tone taunted you, the way the sound of his sighs echo melodically in your ears if he was being so cruel?

‘coryo,’ you wept, feeling your cunt clench around his cock.

you were just so perfect—sobbing and yet your body was yielding itself to him. he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of coming though. he found his own pleasure begin to give way as you cried, your pretty eyes wet, lips plump from the salt mingled with the way he’d used your mouth.

‘can hardly speak, can you? fucking you so good that you’re too dumb to even remember your name,’ he groaned as he looked down at his cock, seeing the way your hole gripped him even as he slid in and out.

‘please let me cum,’ you whined, fingers tracing the nape of his neck.

he shook his head, silencing you with his lips. he was too close now to let your helpless pleas distract him. he focused all his willpower on coming, rutting into your tight hole, your muffled whimpers straining against his mouth.

you let him kiss you, surrendering yourself with a hopeless passion, whining as you took him further inside of you. your clit ached dully as you yearned for your own finish, to spill around him, but he sought to spite you; punish you for something you had not done.

coriolanus finished with a heavy grunt, the sound of his cock slamming in and out of your wet cunt echoing in the back room. you felt spurts of his sticky, hot cum coat your walls, and trembled as he continued to thrust. his body was humming with overstimulation, but the way your tight cunt clenched at his cock made him more determined to continue fucking his load into you.

‘you’re all mine now, huh?’ he murmured against your lips. ‘who’s going to have you now that i’ve fucked you full of my cum—certainly not fucking sejanus. no, he’ll never touch you again, i’ve made sure of that. you belong to me.’

you moaned as his lips trailed from your lips down the smooth expanse of your neck. he began to suck at the skin, marking bruises into you as your heavy breaths sounded in his ears. your forehead beaded with sweat, hairline sticky with the stuff due to your exertion.

you winced as he sucked a little too hard, and when he pulled away he looked proudly at the round, dark bruise he’d left right against your clavicle. there was no hiding that. even your father would see. the purple, shameful thing.

coriolanus slid out of you, sticky cum dripping down your thighs now, and brushed your hair away from your neck, admiring the mark he’d left on your neck. his branding.

‘nobody’s ever going to touch you again—nobody but me, huh?’ he scowled. ‘you, bunny, are going to be mine forever.’

#coriolanus snow #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosbas #hunger games #smut #coryo x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games smut #tbosbas x reader #tbosbas smut #tbosbas fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth fanfiction #x reader #female x reader #peacekeeper!coryo #the hunger games fanfic

[morbific-or-felicific]

-ADRONITIS Featuring Childe

Meaning: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house

Word Count: 2.3k~

Description: Childe is helping you train and decides to show off his foul legacy form only to decide to fuck you

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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You were exhausted. You had been hiking to the top of what was probably a mountain, and somehow, you had the eleventh most powerful member of the Fatui walking alongside you. You still weren’t sure how you had been afforded the opportunity to speak with Childe, but my god were you glad you got to. For the past month or so, you had been spending the majority of your free time training with Childe.

Frankly, you had no idea how you had managed to swing that, but you were damn grateful that you had. It was all thanks to a seemingly innocuous comment you had made about hoping to one day be as strong as him the first time you two had spoken. You honestly still weren’t sure why he had decided to speak to you of all people. There would be no reason for him to have noticed you…right?

But unbeknownst to you, Childe had been watching you for quite some time before he had even decided to speak to you. You had caught his eye with your ability to best practically any recruit that you sparred against and the fact that any missions you were a part of were always successful. He was initially just fascinated by how someone who looked as weak as you did was able to beat all of the tall, muscly boys and girls of the Fatui. However, over time, he found himself getting excited to catch glimpses of you, whether you were sparring or not, so when he finally decided he wanted to speak to you and you mentioned wanting to become as strong as him, he jumped at the chance to offer you his penis guidance.

“Are we almost there?”

At the moment, Childe had decided to help you with your endurance training and took you to what he called a “small hill”, but realistically, it felt like a mountain.

Childe gave you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, comrade. We’re almost at the top.”

You felt a little wave of relief flow through you.

Your hike continued with the two of you in comfortable silence until, finally, you reached the top of the ‘hill’. You flopped down onto the grass. You could see why he called it a hill, but by the sheer size of it, you thought that it could be considered a mountain. Childe stood by you as you caught your breath and recovered.

“Alright, are you ready to spar?”

Your stomach dropped. He wanted to spar? With you? You were going to die.

Childe chuckled at the apparent fear on your face.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”

You considered it for a moment. It would be interesting to fight him. It would probably help you improve too. You could also see how well you could stand up to his skill.

“…Okay.”

Childe grinned before offering you his hand and pulling you up. Childe pulled two practice swords out of god knows where and handed you one. You both got into a fighting stance.

“Are you ready?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

He winked at you, and you lunged forward at him. He easily parried your attack, and you two began your dance.

You were surprised that you were actually managing to hold your own a good ways into the fight, and you thought you might last a while longer, until Childe decided to take it up a notch and start using his delusion. Fuck.

You had a vision yourself, so it wasn’t like the fight was imbalanced in that way, but adding a delusion? That was just unfair.

The fight continued, and while you had taken a few hits, you were still going. Childe was thoroughly enjoying himself, and while he was holding back his true strength, he was still curious to see how you would react if he unleashed his full power on you. He wanted to see you try and fight against his overwhelming power, when realistically, there was no way you could put up any meaningful fight. He also kind of just wanted to show off for you, but that’s not important.

“Why don’t I show you what I’m truly capable of, comrade!”

You were somehow convinced that you might actually have a chance of beating the harbinger before he had said that. Then, all of a sudden, he started rising from the ground in a spiral of water, and in a flash, he was covered in new armour, and he had grown much, much taller. You had heard rumours of this transformation before. It was called “foul legacy”, was it not? You had heard that it made him grow all the way to 9’6, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t heard girls speculating on uh, what else grew.

Of course, facing him like this now, the most prominent thoughts in your head were “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck I’m so fucking dead.”

Childe let off a few attacks, and you were dodging them the best you could. Of course, you were too terrified to realize that he was purposefully attacking in predictable ways and leaving himself open for attacks, should you develop the bravery.

He loved this. The rush of fighting and the gratification of fighting someone that he knew he could crush in an instant. That isn’t to say you weren’t strong, of course, you had exceeded Childe’s expectations, but he was just so much stronger. He was starting to get a little worked up, watching the way your body was moving. All of the adrenaline and endorphins rushing through his body were making you look even better than usual. Besides, you definitely didn’t look bad in the little shorts and t-shirt you had worn for the hike.

Finally, after ten or so minutes of dodging various attacks of his, you decided to strike back at him. You swung your sword at his chest, but before it could meet its mark, your blade stopped mid air. You looked for what had stopped your swing, and you saw Childe’s massive, armoured, clawed hand holding your sword. Within the same moment, you felt him yank on your sword, causing you to slam into his body, your head barely reaching his stomach. He reached an arm down around your shoulders to keep you there. Childe felt his breath grow heavier as he pressed you against himself.

“You’ve fought admirably. I’ve enjoyed this fight. Why don’t I repay you?”

You hadn’t realized how his voice had changed, and it was making you feel a certain way… no, no you need to focus. You struggled fruitlessly in his grip.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that I want to make you feel good, comrade.”

There’s no way he meant…no, not right now. It wasn’t possible.

“Come now, I’ll do all the work. Just let me fuck you.”

You turned bright red. Well, bright redder.

“Uh, I mean if you wanted to maybe do something tonight, we could uh… maybe do something, if you actually want to…”

“Not later. Now.”

“But…”

“Do you not want to?”

“No, I do…I definitely do… I just… it won’t work unless you change back first, right?”

“I’ll make it work.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. He loosened his grip on your shoulders, but before he could do anything else, you shot backwards instinctively. Childe immediately got back into a fighting stance. Well, it didn’t look like the fight was over yet. He attacked, and this time, you barely made it out unscathed. Now that he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you, Childe was determined to get you in his arms and on his cock.

After another attack from Childe and a few failed parries, you somehow managed to trip over your own feet and fall backwards, hitting the ground hard and knocking the wind out of yourself. Childe chucked at your misstep and took the opportunity to pick you up, pull off your shorts and underwear and hold you up against his chest with one of his arms, making you wrap your legs around him. Childe pulled off one of his gloves before tossing it to the ground and pushing two of his big fingers into your mouth. You were already so worked up just from how much bigger than you Childe was, and feeling his big fingers in your mouth only added to that. He pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth until he decided he was ready to reach down and push them inside of you. His fingers felt so big. You were terrified of how big his cock was going to be. He kept fucking you, eventually adding another two fingers, doing his best to prep you. Finally, when he thought you were ready enough, he undid his belt, letting it drop to the grass before undoing his pants and pulling out his cock. You could feel his cock hit against your back, and a wave of fear flowed through you, but you were far too committed to whatever was going to happen next to back out now.You blushed, looking up at him, and then you realized that he still had his mask on. Wanting to see his face, you reached up to try to move it. Your attempt was fruitless. Childe laughed before pulling off his mask for you.

He lifted you up, hands firmly on your waist, and that’s when you saw his cock. Your eyes popped out of your head. It looked like it was almost as big as your arm. There was no way that was going to fit in you. Childe lined himself up with you so he could start bringing you down onto his monstrous cock. Childe pulling you down mixed with simple gravity let him push into you without much resistance from you writhing around. You yelped at the pain. It felt like he was going to rip you in two if he went in any farther, but of course, that didn’t stop him. Childe was slowly pushing inside of you as you whined about how it was too big and how you couldn’t take it, tears streaming down your face. But Childe just shushed you and stroked his thumb along your hip, telling you that you can handle it.

Eventually, you were as full as you could get, despite Childe attempting to fit more of himself inside of you. After all, you only had more than half of him buried in you.

As much as it hurt to have something so big inside of you, you had never felt so full in your life. It just felt so good.

Childe waited until you had adjusted the best you could to the size of his cock before he started bouncing you on it, doing his best to not push too far with each thrust. Your mind was blank. The only thing you could think about was how fucking good it felt to have this massive man fucking you like you were a toy.

You could hear Childe moaning at how good you felt around him, and it was music to your ears. His voice was so deep now that it gave you butterflies whenever he spoke.

“How does it feel, comrade? Do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

You couldn’t formulate a response. You just let out a moan and a little squeak when he brought you down too hard.

“Have you gone dumb on my cock already? That’s too bad. I thought you would be able to endure it better, but I suppose this is really what you’re good at hmm? Being a toy for me?”

You weren’t paying any attention to whatever he was saying because you were so close to cumming around Childe’s massive cock. Fuck, it just feels so good.

With a little shout, you came and were seeing stars. Feeling you spasm around his cock was all Childe needed to cum along with you. He filled you up with his cum, and it was dripping out of you, even with his cock still inside of you. You were out of breath and were waiting for Childe to lift you off of his cock when you realized something. Was he still hard? You looked up at him, eyes wide.

“I’m not done yet. I have to see how much I can really fill you up.”

And with that, he was fucking you again, just as hard and just as fast. He was gripping your sides so tightly that you were convinced that his still-gloved hand had managed to draw blood, but you didn’t care enough to stop him and make him take it off.

Before too long, you were cumming around him once again. Your vision flashed white, and everything blurred together for a moment as the euphoria rushed through your body. Childe smiled as he kept bouncing you on his cock, not giving you a moment to rest.

It went on like that for almost another hour. You were barely conscious when Childe finally lifted you off of his cock and set you down on the grass. He transformed back to normal before watching for a moment as his cum flowed out of you onto the grass. He knelt next to you and pressed on your lower stomach, making even more cum run out of you. After a minute or two, he wiped the cum and little bit of blood off of you and slipped your shorts back onto your limp body. He lifted you up in his arms and gave you a little kiss on your lips before starting the hike back to his home at the Fatui compound.

As far as he was concerned, now you were his, and he was going to treat you as well as he possibly could.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧ #childe.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧ #this killed my editor so i hope you guys like ittttt #and i know that foul legacy takes it the fuck out of him but this is just for the fun goofy sex times #childe x reader #foul legacy x reader #childe smut #foul legacy smut #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x reader #gn reader

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Leonidas with Yoriichi Tsugikuni!fem!reader platonic headcanons

Warning(s): RoR manga spoilers up to ch. 78, historical references, violence, KNY anime spoilers, established relationship, strong language from Leonidas, ooc.

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @enryegotrip and @themoonisrising for their feedback in the drafting phrase!

Before reading this piece, however, I strongly recommend you read this story, as it acts as a part two. The link will be here.

With that being said guys, sit back, relax, and enjoy the chaos that is about to unfold :)

King Leonidas knew the gods existed and he hated them. Apollo, the arrogant little shit who was worshiped in Delphi all those centuries ago, is the god whom he despised the most. His men knew why but they were wise enough to never speak about the patriot of the arts in front of him. He did not, however, know that demons existed in Valhalla too…until that fateful night. 

He and his men were settling in their campsite, bellies full and ready to resume their training or take the first watch and make sure no one tried to sneak past them…but someone did.  It had been an old man, whimpering and cowering with a large lump on his head and wearing tattered clothes. Just when a soldier barked at him to leave or die where he stood, brandishing a spear in his direction…the old man’s body split in half, then half again until four young men began attacking the campsite. All hell broke loose, and Leonidas had no idea what the fuck was going on or how to kill them.

Guns didn’t work on the winged one because he was too fast in the air, the swords and spears of his men snapped in half when making contact with the bodies of the blue-eyed one before he impaled them with a halberd. The one wearing red robes possessed a staff that could create lightning within a seven foot radius, and the green one used a fan to blow away his men with a single swing. He used his shield when the latter and the winged one attacked, but it could only do so much against a sonic wave attack. 

When shit looked like it was about to go sideways in the worst way possible, she showed up seemingly out of nowhere. She zigzagged across the field, dodging the winged one’s attacks and swiftly decapitating the halberd-wielding bastard, his head flying off and landing in the mud with a ‘thud’. That was when King Leonidas noticed something odd about the opponents…no, it wasn’t odd. These sons of bitches knew who exactly you were and they were afraid. 

The horned demon in red raised his staff in the air, preparing for another lightning strike when she appeared in front of him. She inhaled sharply through her mouth and raised her sword above her head, the blade becoming ignited in crimson flames before striking him down, his body splitting in half. It was after taking this monster down that she addressed him. 

“My lord….there is a fifth demon…heading northeast. That is the demon’s main body. If it is destroyed, then the other four will cease to exist. My comrades…they are on their way. They will be here soon, and provide aid.” She then looked him straight in the eye, calm and level-headed as if this wasn’t the first time she had fought against these things. “Normal weapons cannot penetrate a demon’s body…but seeing that you are carrying firearms, use this.” She pulled out three cartridges of ammunition from her  robes and handed them to him. “Aim for the head. I must go…before the main body gets too far away.” 

She then darted away from the campsite, disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Leonidas is a proud man, but even he knew not to look at a gift in the horse’s mouth. He unclipped the magazine in his pistol and loaded in the new ammo, opening fire but making sure that these bullets would not be wasted. 

Just as the woman said, reinforcements arrived. All wearing robes and carrying swords, moving across the battlefield as if they were dancing and not fighting against these creatures. 

Spartans are bred for battle and will die for battle. Never give up, never surrender. That is in their blood. However, a smart Spartan realizes the difference between an ally and an enemy, and that the flow of time constantly changes in the mortal realm. From politics to fighting techniques, if it can be used to take down an enemy, King Leonidas doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything else. 

When his second magazine was on the last bullet, all of the demons disintegrated into ash. The soldiers shouted in Grecian, raising their bloodied spears in the air and smiling victoriously. Their mysterious comrades either relished in the moment or simply walked away from the battlefield, sheathing their swords with a grimace. A little while later she returned to the campsite, expressionless and covered in blood that was not her own. 

She  bowed deeply to him. “I apologize…my lord. If I had been sooner…there would not have been so much damage…and you would not have lost so many men.” 

Leonidas just shook his head. His men were prepared to die in battle if it meant glory and victory in the name of Sparta, they trained to go up against even the most powerful of opponents. But what he could not stand is not knowing what he and his army are fighting…so what the hell were those monsters? He wanted information, and he wanted it now. 

To his surprise, she was more than compliant to sit and talk with him. One of her associates, a tall brat with a large sword strapped on his back, barked at her, saying that it's against the rules to share confidential information with an ‘outsider’ but the woman replied that he has a right to know. He is the commander of these men; would it not be better to tell him and prevent this situation from happening again? 

Furthermore, she is an unofficial member of the organization, so the rules do not affect her as much as it does to him or the others. When her associate turned away with a scoff, she asked him what he liked to know. 

“Everything.” He snapped. 

She nodded. “Of course.”

As the men cleared the debris and buried their dead, Leonidas fired question after question at the swordswoman, whose name he learned was [First Name] [Last Name]. Demons were nocturnal in nature, and consumed human flesh to gain strength. Their bodies were extremely durable; normal weapons cannot harm them, and they can only be killed by decapitation. Her sword, a nichirin blade, forged from Scarlet Iron Sand and Scarlet Ore, both of which can be found in high mountains that perpetually bathed in sunlight all year around. 

Sunlight was the only thing that could kill a demon for good. The bullets she gave him were created from the same materials, designed for a Hashira that preferred guns to swords.  A Hashira is a very strong Demon Slayer, and she is one herself: the Sun Hashira, which is why her blade ignited upon attacking the demons. The Breathing Style is…difficult to explain and to learn, but it is effective. 

The Demon Slayer Corps had existed for over a thousand years, and it was revived in Valhalla under Lord Hades’ command. Another human soul, Nostradamus, destroyed the Bifrost and demons have been crawling their way into Valhalla ever since. The one he and his men came in contact with is Hantengu, a powerful demon who once served under Muzan Kibutsuji. 

Muzan was the original creator of the demon race, and she had encountered him once many years ago. 

“I wish I could tell you more my lord,” She bowed her head to him. “The only thing I can offer is to give you the name of the person who can create these bullets, though I must ask that you keep his identity a secret. Muzan might have perished all of those years ago, but seeing one of the Upper Moons here in Valhalla and still possess their powers…the possibility that he might have regenerated in Helheim cannot be ruled out. If he still wishes to destroy the Demon Slayers, he will make another attempt to kill the craftsman who creates the weapons that can destroy him and the other Upper Moons under his command.”

Lenoidas nodded. Makes sense, He thought. Keeping a supplier safe is crucial in war. The less an enemy knows who or how their opponent is getting their weapons, the better. Cut off the supplier and supply route, these people wouldn’t have the swords or bullets needed to destroy the demons. Still…

“Is it possible to meet the guy who made these?” He asked, holding up the empty cartridge. “I know that’s asking a lot from a stranger like myself, trust me, but just having the basic info on an opponent won’t help me or my army be prepared if this situation happens again. You said you’re an unofficial member of this organization.”

“...I am. However, to meet the creator of the bullets…I would need to speak to Lord Ubuyashiki first. He is…very protective of us all, like we are his children. The secret location of the swordsmiths had been exposed once before, when the organization had been on the decline in the Taisho era. You may have to speak and present your case to him as to why you wish to know the suppliers.” 

“How soon can that be?”

“When I return to headquarters, I will go straight to him myself…though I am sure no one will want that. He has…not been well as of late.” [First Name] looked to the side, blinking at the large crow perched on her shoulder. “I will send you a message through this little one, should he allow this meeting. Is that acceptable?”

Momentarily surprised that such a large bird suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Leonidas cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s fine. I look forward to hearing from you…through your bird.” 

The Demon Slayer nodded, bowing to him before she left the campsite as quickly as she had appeared, stunning the war general with her agility. Huh…were women soldiers in the Demon Slayer Corps always so sneaky? He’ll have to ask next time. Right now, he had to direct his mind and think about his next move. For now, it seemed going north would be the best choice; there was a Greecian military base there, so his men could rest until they were called to the next war. He’ll also need to let his wife, Gorgo, know what happened as well. 

Gorgo remained Queen of Sparta when he was away at battle, in life and in death. She had just as much authority and political power as he did, so he knew their home in Valhalla would be well-protected in his absence. If he hadn’t known that these demons existed until now…could he truly say that their home is fortified against every single threat? No. And she deserved to be aware of the situation. 

They were husband and wife for fuck’s sake. 

A week flew by until the army reached the base, and another when the messenger crow flew through the window in his study one sunny afternoon, a scroll tied around its neck. Hoisting himself up from his hammock, Lenoidas marked his spot in the book he’d been reading and set it down on the floor. He walked towards the window and untied the rope around the crow’s neck, unfurling the parchment to scan the contents. 

The meeting will take place in four days. A member of the organization, a kakushi, will personally escort him to the lord of the manor on the morning of the meeting. To ensure everyone’s safety, he must wear a blindfold the entire time until he is given permission to remove it. 

Lenoidas’ brow twitched. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. He thought, annoyed, before he sighed deeply. [First Name] had promised him that she will try to persuade the clan head to speak to him in regards to the suppliers. This would be his first and only chance to negotiate peacefully. 

He couldn’t allow the Sun Hashira’s hard work to go to waste…so he’ll play along. 

Time passed quickly as he made the necessary preparations. Before he knew it, a fellow dressed from head to toe in black with a cloth concealing his face waited at the city’s gates. The kakushi  blindfolded the king of Sparta, and then they departed. 

But it wasn’t just one kakushi that escorted him…there were many of them, each with a different voice and mannerisms, switching him off at a designated post. Some were polite, curt. Others were skittish, can’t really blame them honestly. When he’d been granted permission to remove the blindfold, Leonidas was…surprised to see a young man smiling serenely at him, dressed in white and purple robes. He was flanked by two small children, and a woman sat behind him. 

Safe assumption that these were his heirs and wife, but the Spartan general kept his comments to himself as he observed the lord. His eyes were clouded, unfocused. Blind. Probably caused by the rotten skin that’s spreading on his face. 

The man and his family bowed their heads to him. “Welcome to our humble home, Lord Lenoidas of the Spartan Army.” He said softly. “[First Name] has spoken highly of you since her return. A courageous leader who remained calm in such a dire and unexpected situation…though you wish to meet the ones who have supplied my children with the necessary weapons to protect themselves and others from the demons who prowl at night. May I inquire why you wish to have access to our resources? How can I be sure that you will not spread this information to others?”

This was it. One chance to either get the information he seeked…or to lose it all, and his men would go back into battle unprepared. Leonidas inhaled a deep breath, and spoke. 

He didn’t sugarcoat his intentions, plainly and respectfully to Lord Ubuyashiki. To his surprise, this brat didn’t get pissed off or talked down to him. Instead, the young lord understood where he was coming from. There have been more reports of sporadic ruptures in the Bifrost; try as they might, the Demon Slayer Corps cannot be everywhere and protect everyone. Lenoidas’ armies were the largest within the Grecian district, rivaling only that to Chinese militia, so it would be beneficial to supply the war general with the necessary anti-demon artillery, but only to his armies. 

Right now, he was the only human leader outside of the organization who knew about the demons’ existence. As much as he wanted to help everyone, there were too many cons rather than pros to take another gamble with the supplier’s secret location should anyone else be aware that there were weapons that can kill demons. 

As much as Leonidas wanted to protest…the brat had a point. The less people knew, the better. No good in causing a panic among the public. The gods could go fuck themselves, of course. The war general wasn’t too concerned about them so much as his fellow mortal comrades. 

Then the meeting was settled. He along with the Sun Hashira would be escorted to the swordsmans’ village to meet the bullet crafter, and talk about business as needed. Lenoidas thanked the lord for his time…and politely asked to give his regards to [First Name]. 

That was the last time Leonidas saw Ubuyashiki. Within the following week, he and the Sun Hashira embarked on a journey to the suppliers alongside the secretive kakushi.  He saw how the bullets were created, negotiated the amount needed to a fair price, and things propelled from there. 

He also came to enjoy [First Name]’s company. She wasn’t a talkative person, though she had proven herself to be insightful and open-minded when they spoke on the way back to Sparta. She had agreed to go with him and his men on an expedition  under the condition that she would teach them everything she knew about demon extermination. She warned him she was not good at explaining more complex Breathing Styles, and it might not be suitable for his men. There might also be questions that even she cannot answer fully, though she will do her best. 

Leonidas said he was well aware but at this point, he was willing to take a chance with the Sun Hashira; these men were under his command, so he knew them like the back of his hand. Whatever Breathing Styles or demon exterminating techniques she knew and was willingly to teach would be appreciated. Hell, if there was a way to implement it in his army’s battle formations and even his own fighting style, Leonidas will take it for what it’s worth. 

Leonidas grinned as he watched [First Name] training his men from the rim of his book. She had proven early in their journey that she was not to be underestimated or her lessons to be taken for granted. She’d saved their asses, helped them secure a supplier for a fair fee, and showed them how to combat against lower-level demons if they ever came across them at night. Didn’t even complain about the long hours spent walking or hiding up the mountains. 

The only downside to this arrangement is that when it was time to restock their weapons with anti-demon bullets, spears, or shields, Leonidas had to go get everything himself. 

Pain in the ass, but worth it in the end. 

The war general wondered if he should consult Gorgo about adding women who can fight to the army’s ranks would be more beneficial and boost morale, or would just make things worse, when a scout shouted that a god was approaching the campsite. Lenoidas narrowed his eyes, getting himself out of his hammock again because shit was about to go down. Once he grabbed his spear and shield, he darted towards the enemy with [First Name] following close behind. The men were already in the phalanx formation, acting as a barrier around the campsite to prevent the intruder from taking another step further. 

Lenonidas stared at the god. Tall, muscular, couldn’t be more than seven or seven and a half feet tall. Black tank-top with a weird ass rabbit on the front, orange robes tied around his waist and hands. Sunglasses, long blonde hair, light blue orbs…is that a fucking lollipop in his mouth? 

Who is this punk?

“Buddha?” [First Name] said. 

Lenonidas blinked once, then twice before he swiveled his head over his shoulder to glance at the slightly stunned swordswoman. “You know him?” She gave him a brief nod, then looked straight ahead with a confused frown. The war general followed her gaze and saw the son of a bitch standing right in front of him, his shadow almost towering over his own. The god blinked, munching on the lollipop with his oversized canines. 

“Yo. You’re that war general from Sparta, right? Nice to meet ya. Soo…sorry for the sudden visit, but I’m takin’ the Sun Hashira back with me. Ya dig?”

“And what gives you the right to treat her like an object, shithead?” Leonidas growled. “This is why I can’t fuckin’ stand the likes of you or any others in the pantheons.”

The god stared at him. “Old man…I respect that you wanna protect her, but you should know more than anyone that she’s more than capable of defending herself. You’ve seen her in action, right? That’s how she met ya. And why she decided to go with ya on this trip. However, she’s been away from home for far too long.”

Buddha then walked  past him and gathered up the swordswoman in his arms, with one hand under her legs and the other around her shoulders. “C’mon sunshine, we’re headin’ back to paradise.”

[First Name] blinked. “We are? But the men still need more time to be properly trained - ”

“Six months.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t been home in six months, and ya had the guts to leave your husband all alone in a cold bed.” He puffed up his cheeks in annoyance. “I might enjoy hangin’ around the bodhi tree when you’re not around, but I wanna cuddle with my wife more than once before she suddenly heads off on a mission without sayin’ good-bye! You could’ve woken me up before ya left so I know were you’re goin’, you silly rabbit!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya should be! I almost had to call Kintoki and ask him to track ya down if your crow didn’t drop off a message beforehand! Think things through before you run off into action, darlin’!”

“Okay.”

Lenoidas and the army stared at the pair with slackened jaws at the sight of a god pouting like a child as he scolded the Sun Hashira, who has identified himself as her husband. She was married to a god, and didn’t say anything to them?!? 

[First Name] looked over Buddha’s shoulder, waving her hand at him. “I’ll be going home, Lord Lenonidas. I’m sorry this trip has to be cut short, but feel free to send a message to my residence or Lord Ubuyashiki’s if you have any questions or concerns.” 

The war general felt a headache coming on. “Yeah…sure. Don’t worry about it or the training, we can handle it from here. Just go home to your…husband.” He muttered. “And don’t  be a stranger either, all right? You’re always welcomed in Spartan territory. If any of ‘em give you a hard time, I’ll knock some sense into them.” 

She nodded, offering the barest hint of a smile before she looped her arms around Buddha’s neck. The god looked back at him and inclined his head. In an instant, the pair were gone, returning to wherever it is that they called ‘home’. 

Bonus Content:

Soon as Lenoidas received word that the Sun Hashira had come to pay him and his family a visit as she promised she would, the war general invited her to sit at his table for dinner.

 Gorgo was delighted to finally meet the swordswoman who had earned her husband’s trust and saved the men’s lives. It is rare to meet a skilled warrior who is not a goddess and is humble.

Leonidas received the second shock since meeting [First Name] when she quietly revealed that she is, in fact, a divine being. Well, not exactly. More like a mortal soul who had received the blessing of a god. 

She had met Buddha shortly after ascending to Valhalla. They were good friends for a long time before marrying almost two decades ago, though the enlightened one mentioned he should have done so sooner. 

Something about rivals for her affection? 

When his wife pressed on what [First Name] meant, the swordswoman’s calm face briefly pinched into an uncomfortable expression. Inhaling a deep breath, she answered Gorgo. 

The Grecian representative of the Sun, Apollo, had approached her on the pretense that they were a perfect match because they were affiliated with the same celestial orb: bright, warm, and influential. In his mind, he believed Fate brought them together. [First Name] did not, and politely declined his proposal of a courtship.

Apollo did not give up. He was persistent in the coming days, and Buddha had almost intervened on her behalf. But it had been her own mess. So in the context of Buddha’s “lingo”, she “wiped the floor” with him. 

Leonidas had trouble breathing as he howled in laughter. That fuckin’ shithead had actually gotten his ass beaten by a divine being who used to be a mortal. 

Good. The prick deserved it. 

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