#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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[adhd-coyote]

I just. Love Mando’a so fucking much. It’s so great.

They have three different words to describe ways to be stabbed. Bikadinir (to stab with a broad blade; “run through”), chekar (to stab with a small blade, “shiv”), and kalikir (to stab with a narrow blade, “skewer”).

They have one pronoun. Kaysh. That’s it. Buir is just parent, there’s no mom/dad. No son/daughter, just ad, ad’ika, ikaad. Child. Vod can mean sibling, friend, comrade. All at once. Amazing.

They have dozens of ways to insult someone. Di’kut, someone who forgets to put their pants on. Utreekov, emptyhead. Najaat, no honor. Dini, lunatic. Kaysh mirsh solus, “their brain cell is lonely.” Skanah, “much hated person/thing.” Hut’uun, coward. Ge’hut’uun, not even notable enough to be called a coward (how insulting is that?). Demagolka, originating from Demagol, the name of a scientist who was so fucking shitty that his name became the worst insult a Mandalorian could call you. And that insult is child abuser, monster, war criminal, someone with no honor.

And then there’s “shab”, which we don’t have an official definition for, but the fandom collectively agrees it means “fuck.” Because we have shabiir (to screw up), shab’la (screwed up), shab’rudur (to screw with), and shabuir (jerk but much stronger, AKA asshole/motherfucker).

And Mando’ade don’t say “I love you.” They say “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.” I hold you in my heart for eternity. Like. Are you serious. That’s so much better than “I love you.” If someone said that to me I would die on the spot.

Mirshmure’cya means “brain kiss.” Slang for headbutt, which is a thing Mando’ade do a lot, apparently. And it’s a sign of affection, too. They show affection by gently bonking their helmets together. How adorable is that???

Oh, and shereshoy. A lust for life “and much more.” Represented by orange on their armor. “The enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it.” And that “oy” at the end of it, derived from “Oya!”

“Oya”, which can mean so many things. A war cry before a fight or hunt. A celebration. An encouragement. “Let’s hunt!” “Hoorah!” “Cheers!” “That’s the spirit!”

This post got much longer than I meant it to lol. I’ll stop here. But you get the gist. Mando’a is a wonderful language and I am in love with it.

[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]

[dark-konohagakure2]

Hi! Could you please write an Akatsuki X reader scenario where they kidnap shinobi Reader and the best way to convert her to their cause is by fucking her until she breaks? (If you could include Obito that would be awesome too)

tw: noncon, forced kissing, degradation, nipple play, abuse, mind break, forced orgasm, overstimulation, biting

All characters depicted are 18+

Deidara knows firsthand just how bothersome it is to be forcibly recruited into the Akatsuki, but despite the shared experience he isn't very empathetic when he tells the young kunoichi that she has no choice but to join their ranks, either willingly or by force.

The girl is loyal to her village, so she'll initially refuse, which angers the blonde artist. He didn't have a choice when it came to his recruitment, so why should she? Deidara is going to make her join, and he knows just how to do it.

Despite his being a lean man, he's very strong, so Deidara is able to knock her backwards with her clay and pin her down with his body, sitting on her chest as he holds her wrists with one hand and covers her mouth with the palm of his other hand, using the mouth on that hand to forcibly kiss her.

The tongue on his palm will force it's way down her throat, making her gag as Deidara rips her clothes off with the other hand, practically salivating at the sight of her perfect breasts, but he doesn't have time to enjoy the scenery when his main goal is to force her over to the Akatsuki's side.

Deidara isn't one to pull his punches verbally or physically, bullying his cock inside of her vulnerable entrance, manhandling her into whatever position works best for him as he shouts threats and insults at her.

"Cmon you little idiot! Just agree to join before I get more forceful, hmm! I'm not gonna stop until you say yes, un!"

He'll force his hand-mouths onto her breasts, using them to lick, bite, and suck her sensitive nipples, his actual mouth forcibly on hers as he pounds into her, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air as Deidara shoves his tongue down her throat.

He isn't very experienced due to his age and eccentric personality, so he's just fast and rough when he fucks, his his slamming against her ass while his only goals in mind are to convert her over to the Akatsuki's side and get his rocks off, and there is nothing she can do about it.

Deidara will have her overwhelmed from the bombardment of stimulus from his hands, mouths, and cock, he'll leave her whining and squirting underneath him despite herself, much to the artist's delight and smugness.

Deidara is a energetic young man, so he can go for hours if he really wanted to, but he'll stop on one condition. Each time he pulls out after cumming in her, he'll ask her if she's ready to cooperate yet, and if she is; he'll stop, but if she isn't; he'll go for another round with her body.

"Ready to cooperate? Well should be! Because I'm not gonna stop fucking you until you turn into a good little Akatsuki member!"

Deidara is glad that he's able to recruit a brand new member for their little Akatsuki family, now he'll earn the respect of his senior members, and he gets to have a brand new toy to play with as a bonus.

tw: noncon, kidnapping, drugging, aphrodisiacs, fuck or die, age difference, riding, mind break

Sasori hates dealing with new recruits, they're all just brats who know nothing about art and respect, so when he's tasked with coverting a shinobi they captured over to the Akatsuki's cause, the red haired puppet master isn't the slightest bit happy.

He feels nothing, so Sasori can't appeal to emotion in order to sway her, instead he'll use threats towards both herself, her comrades, and loved ones, but when she doesn't budge, Sasori decides to show her that his words are anything but empty threats.

Before she can even react, Sasori is already injecting her with a special poison he created just for brats such as herself, it isn't fatal in small doses, and it's designed to instill obedience in it's user, but it comes with the very unfortunate side effect of forcibly increasing her arousal levels as well.

Sasori totally didn't anticipate this side effect, but he's not going to let this unique opportunity pass him by, in fact he's going to take advantage of it. He'll force her warm and soft body onto his own cold and wooden one, forcing her onto his cock and telling her to make herself useful for once.

"Faster, brat, or do you want me to increase the dosage? Good girl, now ride it like your life depends on it, because it does."

Sasori won't make any noises, facial expressions, or even blink as she reluctantly bounces on his wood, her discomfort contrasting his indifference. If she slows down too much for his liking, Sasori will inject her yet again, although he's careful not to give her too much of his poison, he doesn't want to kill her yet.

Despite his lack of moaning or any expression at all, Sasori is rather enjoying the sight of the needy prisoner moving up and down on his cock while under the effects of poison is very satisfying to the emotionless puppet master, but the only time his satisfaction will be known is when he's cumming inside of her.

Eventually the combination of the stimulation, humiliation, and the drug is too much for the poor kunoichi to handle, being too drugged up and overwhelmed to even resist anymore, reduced bouncing on his cock and obeying his demeaning demands like a good little puppet, much to Sasori's satisfaction.

Sasori won't even bother to hold back his taunts at her expense, finding it incredibly satisfying that he was able to reduce a respectable ninja to his own personal puppet with just a few injections and his cock.

"Good little puppet, you'll make a perfect pawn for the Akatsuki, and the perfect hole for my cock..."

Before he knows it, the Akatsuki has a brand new member and Sasori himself has a brand new puppet to play with, which is very convenient since he's been looking for a new test dummy for his poisons.

tw: noncon, genjutsu, mind break, size difference, fingering, forced kissing, mental torture, mild degradation

Forcing people to do things they don't want to is a rather trivial task for Itachi Uchiha, but he prefers to not use violence to get his way, so when he's tasked with forcibly recruiting a new Akatsuki member, he'll get the job done using his specialty: genjutsu.

It's almost too easy, all he needs to do is make eye contact with her, and she's all his. He won't just use a genjutsu that makes her loyal to the Akatsuki, because it would just wear off eventually which would cause problems in the future, instead he'll cast a genjutsu that will make her more susceptible to his demands and advances.

Itachi is much bigger and stronger than she is, especially when she's in such a state, so it's not much of a challenge for him to take advantage of her, slipping his hand into her panties and his tongue into her mouth while she squirms in his grasp, under the effects of his sense heightening genjutsu.

His enjoyment won't be very evident on his face due to his stoic nature, but it's most certainly evident in his pants, the bulge in his pants pressed against her clothed pussy as his fingers move inside of her and he speaks to her in his usual flat tone, yet with a hint of mockery underneath.

"This feels uncomfortable doesn't it? I would stop if you would just cooperate, but I can plainly see that someone like you wouldn't know compromise if it stabbed you in the face..."

Eventually he'll pull his fingers out of her, which is somewhat difficult with how tightly her cunt is squeezing them, although her pussy won't be left empty for very long once Itachi forces his cock into her, hitting even deeper places inside of her that his fingers couldn't reach, such as her precious womb.

Itachi doesn't just jackhammer into her like a uncouth mutt, instead his pace incredibly slow, bordering on torturous as his cock slowly stretches her out and hits her womb with each thrust, his cock forcing her into submission better than any genjutsu ever could.

He'll have her whimpering and squirming underneath him in a matter off seconds, reapplying the genjutsu on her whenever she fights back too much, eventually she'll be so deep in the genjutsu that she won't be able to distinguish between reality and illusion, she won't even be able to tell if she's actually getting fucked or if it's just another genjutsu, it's an incredibly disorienting and terrifying experience, one that Itachi tells her she can end anytime if she just cooperates with the Akatsuki.

Eventually she'll become so disoriented and overwhelmed by both the illusion she's under and the sensation of him roughly fucking her that she'll practically burst into tears, weakly whimpering and sniffling as she begs Itachi to stop the genjutsu already, she won't even ask him to stop fucking her, she just wants to be free of the illusion, and if she agrees to the Akatsuki's terms, he'll gladly oblige her.

"Good girl. See? That wasn't so hard was it? All you had to do was ask nicely, it's quite simple really, even for someone so bereft of knowledge..."

He isn't surprised that she ended up caving to his demands, mental torture is his forte, and if she ever steps out of line with the Akatsuki's goals again, he'll have no qualms about giving her another 72 hours worth of suffering.

tw: noncon, size difference, double penetration, monster cocks, mind break, creampie, breeding, biting, degradation

In terms of physical appearance, Kisame is the most terrifying member of the Akatsuki, standing at nearly 7 feet tall with a set of razor sharp teeth and a shark-like appearance, he's the best in the organization at intimidation, and Kisame is more than happy to use brute force when attempting to force a potential recruit over to the Akatsuki's side.

Usually just flashing his teeth or brandishing Samehada is more than enough for Kisame to get his way, but when his dear little prisoner future coworker doesn't give in, Kisame decides he needs to take a much more rough and physical approach with her, the blue skinned man has been rather pent up as of late, and dealing with a brat is just increasing his frustrations, so he decides to kill two birds with one stone.

He's a brute, so he'll just throw here down onto the ground and force himself on top of her, his body huge compared to her slight form, Kisame practically moans at the sight of her eyes widening in terror when she feels his massive bulges rubbing against her, making it more than clear what Kisame is going to be taking from her.

Her pussy is almost comically tiny compared to Kisame's twin cocks, it would be damn near impossible for him to fit even one of his huge members inside of her virgin cunt, but Kisame Hoshigaki has never been one to let a little bit of difficulty stop him from getting what he wants from someone.

"Oh come now, don't go whining and crying on me yet! You don't even have the first one all the way in yet! So save your bellyaching for when they're both deep inside of you, sweetie..."

Befitting his appearance and reputation, Kisame is rough when he fucks, forcibly cramming both of his cocks into her tight pussy as he pounds into her, his huge body engulfing her's entirely while he's having the time of his life turning her body into his personal cocksleeve.

Kisame is a biter, he just can't help himself, it's in his nature after all, and he especially can't hold back his more primal urges when his cocks are balls deep inside of her and he's cumming directly into her fertile womb, his sharp teeth digging into her neck hard enough to draw blood, and when sharks see blood, they go into a feeding frenzy.

Kisame's sheer size is all the more apparent when his entire muscular weight is pressed down on her as he rearranges her insides with his cock, his huge body smothering her only adds to the poor girl's disoriented state, it's nearly impossible to breathe when a giant shark man is on top of her and using her as his breeding toy.

When Kisame eventually cums inside of her, he cums a lot, emptying his huge balls into her sensitive little womb, and the poor kunoichi is left completely cockdrunk just from one round of Kisame bullying her poor pussy with his big cocks.

"Oh how cute! You did didn't even last one single round! What was our leader thinking asking a pathetic weakling like you to join our little family..?"

This entire experience has once again reminded Kisame why he just adores newbies so much, they're so weak and overconfident even when against someone as fearsome like him, and the stubborn toys are all the more fun to break.

tw: noncon, sadomasochism, abuse, degradation, fuck or die, misogyny, slapping, blood play, fear play

It's no surprise that a sadist like Hidan loves nothing more than causing distress and pain to others, even if it isn't for his religion or organization, so he's as giddy as a schoolgirl when he's given the task of forcing their latest recruit into submission, and if there's something that brings Hidan joy, it's forcing people.

He isn't the strongest in the Akatsuki, but he's one of if not the scariest member when it comes to just how unwaveringly brutal and heartless he is, and not only is Hidan brutal, he's also a complete pervert, a fact that will become almost instantly apparent to his already scared captive when he starts groping her and talking about how pretty of sacrifice she would make to Lord Jashin.

Hidan hurts people as easily as he breathes, so the morally bankrupt Jashinist has absolutely no qualms about forcing himself onto someone, it's like a power trip to him when he gets to have complete free reign over the organization's prisoners, subjecting them to his depraved whims at his leisure.

The white haired man will absolutely love it when she desperately fights back, kicking and scratching at him with the futile hope of getting him to back off, but getting hurt by her mid-fuck just turns Hidan on even more, he's the kind of man who loves both giving and receiving some of that sweet pain.

"Ohh..! F-Fuuuck yes~! Keep fighting me like that, babe~! It just makes me want to hurt ya right back, you feisty bitch!"

While Hidan really does love receiving pain, he's still going to return the favor tenfold, he'll slap her across the face for every kick that lands, and practically stab her with his spike each time she scratches at him. See? Hidan isn't a selfish lover at all! He's returning all of the sweet, addictive pain she's so graciously giving him, she should be thanking him really.

Hidan has the highest sex drive out of all his comrades, practically using her as a pocket pussy to empty his balls into, and to no ones shock, he doesn't even try to be gentle, forcing his fat cock in and out of her with the main goal of getting his rocks off, slapping her ass or breasts with each rough and sloppy thrust.

She'll inevitably start to bleed a little bit from how many times he's bitten her or poked her with his sharp weapons, but that won't deter Hidan in the slightest, in fact it'll only excite him more, and he'll even lick up the blood from her wounds, resulting in his skin taking on it's skeletal pattern, which only terrifies her all the more.

It doesn't take too long for his sheer sadism and brutality to take a toll on her, and she's begging him to stop, sobbing that she'll do whatever the Akatsuki says as long as Hidan just stops. Hidan is incredibly annoyed and disappointed that his fun is being cut short, and all because she can't handle him going easy on her.

"Huh?! Done already?! Geez, this is just what happens when ya let the broads join the boy's club, but fine! Welcome to the Akatsuki, you whiny cunt!"

Hidan isn't particularly happy about having another shrill pussy with legs in the same organization as him, but he manages to look on the bright side of things; at least he doesn't need to go down the street corner for a quick fuck anymore, now he only needs to go down the hall.

tw: noncon, age difference, size difference, tentacles, gaping, degradation, misogyny, bondage, anal

Kakuzu hates newbies, they're all brats without a shred of respect for their elders, it's bad enough that he has to put up with Hidan's nonsense, but now he has to deal with converting a new member? He's going to make her pay for his troubles, despite the fact that she wants to be there about as much as he wants her there.

He'll cut straight to the chase, plainly telling her to join the Akatsuki or else, although he doesn't elaborate at all on what the 'or else' will entail, so she doesn't take him seriously and immediately refuses. Kakuzu doesn't like that very much, he absolutely hates not being taken seriously, so the miser decides that there's no time like the present to make sure he knows that he's a very serious threat to her.

She can barely even react when his threads emerge from underneath his mask and cloak, quickly wrapping around her limbs and forcing themselves down her throat, muffling her noises of protest when the rest of his threads start slithering towards her vulnerable holes between her legs with no regard for gentleness or permission.

Kakuzu's metallic tentacles are uncomfortably harsh as they force themselves into her pussy and ass, stretching her holes out to 'prepare' them for Kakuzu's big cock, all she can do is weakly struggle and bite down on the threads in her mouth as Kakuzu gives her a stern talking to about how much of an ungrateful brat she allegedly is.

"Stop biting, brat. It hurts when you bite down on them like that. But I'll hurt you a hell of a lot more than you could ever hurt me if you don't shut up and take it."

He'll use his tentacles to spread her pussy out enough for him to get a good look at it, being sure to make sure he knows how shocked he is that she's still a virgin with how indecent she acts. Girls these days are just so disrespectful towards men, probably because none of them have a big strong daddy to put them in their place, but Kakuzu is about to change that.

His cock is just as big as the rest of him, so it will stretch her out a great deal when he forces in inside of her, even after all that preparation. Kakuzu is a product of his time, he doesn't prioritize his pleasure over her's at all, because that would imply he even considers her's in the first place.

He doesn't even really need to hold her down given how strong he is, he has her bound for his enjoyment, not his convenience. Kakuzu always finds it amusing when his prey struggles against his superior experience, and he finds it almost hilarious how she squirms against him, even with his thick meat buried balls deep inside of her.

Kakuzu doesn't really care where he cums, just as long as he does. He doesn't think it really matters if he cums inside of her, he's nearly a century old, he probably can't get her knocked up, so she can stop being so damn hysterical about such a slim possibility.

"Shut up. Trust me, idiot, I'm far too old to give anyone a baby, much less a whiny twerp like you. Besides, having a baby is all women like you are good for."

New members are always so troublesome for Kakuzu, all they do is drain the Akatsuki's finances even more, and Kakuzu is going to make sure that his dear newbie pays him back every last cent.

tw: noncon, power imbalance, mind break, god complex, violence, piercings, humiliation, kidnapping

Pain is the leader of the Akatsuki, so he'll deal with coverting potential members more often than not. He's the best man for the job, he has the reputation, status, intimidation factor, and most importantly; he has the abilities to back all those qualities up with action. Only a fool would try to deny Pain, but it seems that his dear future subordinate is something beyond just foolish with how much she's resisting.

She can resist to her hearts content, but she's a mouse in a trap compared to his godlike powers. When she inevitably true to make a break for it, Pain will simply use Universe Pull to force her back towards him, pinning her down underneath his cold body, his body temperature being enough to nearly make her shiver, even with his cloak on, and the proximity doesn't help matters at all.

Pain's method of restraining her is swift and cruel, he'll stab one of his chakra rods straight through both of her hands, pinning them to the ground and causing immense pain, to which he shows no remorse, because he's about to show her an even more intense pain with a very different kind of rod.

His Rinnegan eyes will be locked onto her's as he forces himself on top of her. She isn't as foolish as he initially suspected, and she instantly knows what he's attempting to do to her, but Pain will pay no heed to her struggles, treating what he's about to do to her like its the most justified thing in the world.

"Enough resistance. It's futile against me. I am God, and now you'll get the privilege of witnessing what happens to those who resist God's will."

Pain's cock is both thick and pierced, so it fills her up to the brim and the cold metal of his piercings touch every inch of her untouched depths. It's hard to tell if Pain can even feel the sensations of her pussy gripping his member, since his remains cold and impassive throughout.

Its unsettling how calm Pain is throughout the ordeal, lecturing her about understanding pain and the Akatsuki's goals, all while he's pounding into her, his thick cock bullying her womb with each thrust, increasing the intensity of the agonizing mix of pleasure and pain.

He could just use his Rinnegan to put her under his control and 'tame' her, but Pain doesn't have to do that, he's physically strong enough to brute force her body into submission, and the most effective way to do that is to brute force her pussy into submission first, and the rest will follow.

Once Pain has had his fill with her holes, he won't even need to ask her if she's going to come along with him or not, she has no choice. He's already destroyed her village, so she has no choice but to join his cause or be left to die alone.

"Playtime is over, little one. It's time for business. You will join the Akatsuki, or I'll just have to put you through this torment again..."

Swaying even the most stubborn of individuals onto his side is a trivial matter for someone like Pain, it's truly amazing how a little bit of destruction and degradation can go such a far way in terms of the elimination of one's insubordination.

tw: noncon, facesitting, suffocation, cunnilingus, rimming, age difference, piercings, power imbalance, fuck or die, humiliation

Being one of the most important members of the Akatsuki, Konan is used to recruiting new members. While she isn't a brute, Konan isn't above using physical means to get what she wants from the more particularly standoffish individuals.

Konan will attempt to negotiate at first, gently explaining the benefits of being a part of an organization as well-known and feared as the Akatsuki, and how it's much better than serving any village. But when the young woman continues to refuse Konan's kind offers, she decides to take more forceful measures.

Like a stern mother about to punish her unruly child, Konan will give the girl a few moments to reconsider her foolish choices, but when she inevitably doesn't, Konan decides to test just how stubborn someone is able to continue to act when they're unable to move or breathe underneath their superior.

Konan is a very strong woman despite her lithe physique, so she's easily able to hold the other woman down and sit on her face, pressing her entire weight down as her mature pussy presses against her face, practically suffocating the younger woman underneath her perfect ass, not budging an inch until she secures the girl's cooperation.

"Sorry, but you aren't allowed to come up for air until you agree to join the Akatsuki. If you keep squirming like that I'll simply add another ten minutes to your sentence..."

Konan is a very patient woman, she has all the time in the world, so she won't be in any rush to move from her rather comfortable seat on her face, simply occupying herself with her origami or by explaining more details about the Akatsuki and their goals, being sure to speak very highly of the organization that the girl will belong to in the very near future.

While patient, Konan is no saint, so she'll get bored of simply sitting around and waiting for the uncooperative girl to come around, so she'll demand that if she wants to live, she better get Konan off before the suffocation gets to her first, with how stern Konan sounds it's difficult to tell if she's being serious or not, but it would be foolish to take that chance.

While not usually very vocal, Konan will let out soft moans when she feels the younger woman's tongue against her perfect womanly holes, the wetness caressing the piercing on Konan's clit. If she keeps up the good work, then Konan will be more than happy to let her live.

She's a stern woman, but she isn't overly cruel, once Konan is brought to climax, she'll finally let the poor girl breathe, that is, if she agrees to the terms, and between joining a criminal organization and dying in such a humiliating way, becoming a rouge ninja is the much more preferable fate.

"That's a good girl... Now I just know you'll be a lovely fit for our great organization, you have the perfect... talents for us all to enjoy..."

Konan is very glad that the Akatsuki finally has another female member, now the purple haired woman will have someone she can go to whenever she finds herself needing a more female touch.

tw: noncon, overstimulation, degradation, pussydrunk!Tobi, size difference, exhibitionism, humiliation

Tobi is giddy at the opportunity to prove himself to his comrades by converting their lastest member over to their cause. But there is one small problem: she doesn't take him seriously at all, and really who would? He presents himself as a bumbling and immature man child, so nobody really pays him any heed, much to Tobi's dismay.

Poor, sweet Tobi tries to be nice, he really does, but she's just so mean to him, calling him an idiot and shoving him away whenever he gets close to her. Tobi looks like he's about to give up and sulk, when the masked man suddenly remembers the advice his sempai gave him; that a true Akatsuki member needs to be cool, concise, and mean.

Tobi is shockingly strong for someone so apparently airheaded, his muscles pressed against her body as he gets on top of her, revealing a surprisingly huge bulge in his pants as he does. Tobi seems completely oblivious to the fact he's rubbing his cock up against her however, scolding her in his squeaky voice to stop squirming and being so mean to poor Tobi.

He'll act as though its a freak accident when he fat cock slips into her pussy, he'll even sheepishly apologize when it happens, but since it's already in there, Tobi decides that this is the perfect opportunity for him to get to know his new best friend even better!

"Whoopsie daisy-! You were moving too much and I slipped! Now you have to be a good girl and take responsibility for getting Tobi stuck!"

For someone who's apparently so well meaning, Tobi is incredibly rough with his new toy friend, his hips slapping against her ass while he roughly holds her in place with his gloved hands and making obnoxiously loud noises of pleasure from behind his mask, clearly he's never gotten his cock wet before judging by how whiny and overwhelmed he gets almost instantly after sticking it in.

He's so loud that it's more than likely that the entire Akatsuki can hear what he's doing behind closed doors, the more annoyed members will even chime in, telling him to 'shut up!' and 'keep it down in there!' from outside the room, the fact that her other captors can hear what's happening to her is all the more embarrassing, but Tobi is too lost in the feeling of her perfect cunt around his meat to care.

Tobi is just too pent up for his own good, recklessly dumping his load into her pussy whenever he cums (which is a lot), and he'll feign surprise when she panics about him cumming inside, he as a grown man will claim that he didn't know that was how babies were made, demonstrating that he's either completely stupid, or a brilliant actor.

After spending so much time playing with her perfectly snug pussy, Tobi loses his composure, his voice dropping multiple octaves as he let's his mask slip, although not the literal one, but even with his face still covered, it's like there's a completely different person talking now.

"Soooo are you gonna be a good little girl and join the Akatsuki? You are?! Great~!! Now learn your place in our ranks, you pathetic slut."

She's most certainly learned a very valuable lesson now, she was right in only one assessment; Tobi isn't someone to be taken seriously at all, but Obito sure as hell is.

[buttercupshands]

This is basically the worst (not in terms of quality, it's actually great in this aspect) chapter in MHA (or even MVA) to date

Twice dying at least was followed by "fuck off Hawks I had the best life the the LoV"

And... this? How the hell will this even be fixed??????

Well, this chapter turned out to be everything I was worried about (AFO reveals he gave Tomura his quirk, manipulated his whole life, and he never had any agency as a villain/person ever) and then made it worse (Tomura, the only charcater with the want, plan, & convivtion to make a better world, just mentally disintegrated).

Now our best villain has been booted from the stage, ON HIS BIRTHDAY NO LESS, to be replaced by MHA's most boring and lame. (Like what is he still doing here? He can't get Yoichi, he can't beat all the heroes...is it just spite?)

I...do not know what to do with these feelings.

[psychotrenny]

To all the Anarchists who don't read, could you please understand why people would like you to answer basic questions on the principals of how your planned future society functions. You don't have to produce a hundred pages of technical documents and 5 year plans, but at the bare minimum when people ask "Could you produce the things I/my loved ones need to not die badly?" you need a better answer than "Yeah man we'll work something out. I gotta buddy who's really into biochemistry I'm sure he'll cook something up". If you are unwilling or unable to provide said better answer, then it's only natural that people will be unsympathetic to your ideology and getting mad about it only makes things worse.

Like if you wanna pursue Anarchism as like some sort of Philosophy/Lifestyle/Mindset or whatever that's your business, it's not as though I can send you to a re-education camp* or anything. But doing that is not a very effective way to bring about actual change in the world, and you look fucking ridiculous when you act as though it is. You need to take your ideology serious if you want anyone else to

And to all those Anarchists who do read, do keep in mind that the largest and most vocal contingent of self-identified "Anarchists" are the various political illiterates and LARPers who therefore provide most people's primary point of reference for Anarchism. I'm sure it's very infuriating to see all the contemptuous mockery directed towards the the most weak and incoherent version of your ideology, but you have to understand this is mainly a reaction to what people actually experience rather than a deliberate attempt to strike at strawmen. Like if you're sick of seeing this then getting mad isn't gonna do anything either; your only real option is to improve your collective efforts at education and agitprop. And not only towards the "Statists" and undecided, but towards your supposed Anarchist comrades as well. It's worth preaching to the choir when none of them show up to church

[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.

[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.

[trans-axolotl]

content note: this post talks about eugenics, incarceration and institutionalization, and violent ableism

tangent from that post because i didn't want to start writing an essay on someone else's post and this is about a conversation i had irl this month, not intended as a reply to that post. but i actually feel very complicated about the idea of whether or not we should be pushing for more "accessibility" in jails and prisons and psych wards and institutions. i put that word in quotes because i don't think there is ever a way that being incarcerated is actually accessible to our bodies and minds; it is a disabling experience on so many levels. i'm not going to list out all the reasons why on this post; i've made so many posts talking explicitly about the harms of institutionalization before and i don't want to do that again right now. Talila Lewis has given several interviews about ableism, incarceration, and disability that are really worth reading and go more in depth into what that violence looks like. Liat Ben Moshe has also given another interview about disability and incarceration that goes over many of the same topics. given that these places are intense sites of violence towards disabled people, it feels difficult for me to claim that they could ever truly be accessible in any meaningful sense of the word.

what's also true right now is that institutions and prisons are incredibly inaccessible for physically disabled people in particular. i've been arrested with a wheelchair, i've been institutionalized with a feeding tube on top of that as well, i've been held on medical floors for psych treatment before, and i know very well exactly how bad it is. i've watched myself and so many other physically disabled people almost die in these places because of sheer neglect. i have physically disabled neighbors who were killed in these places. it is so dangerous for physically disabled people who are locked up in these places, yet at the same time, often psych wards are so inaccessible that physically disabled people just can't even be admitted because wards refuse to take people with mobility aids, medical devices, specific types of medication or care needs, if you have some kinds of terminal illness, and on and on and on.

what's also true is that when these places are so inaccessible that many physically disabled people are excluded and unable to even access them in the first place, it doesn't mean that we then somehow access other types of care instead. it just means that we're also discarded and left to die. this also is a really similar dynamic for a ton of other marginalized groups that get excluded from psych care--many of my comrades who are people of color have also experienced this same type of denial of care. initially i think that can seem like a confusing contradiction--how is it that psych wards are locking up some people up against their will but refusing to take in other people? but when you start thinking about the underlying logic at the core of these systems, it makes sense.

psych wards operate under this idea that madness must be cured by any means possible, up to and including eradication. institutions are a way of disappearing madness from the world--hiding us away so that we don't disturb a sane society, and not letting us free again until we either die in there or are able to appear like we've sufficiently eradicated madness from our mind. preventing physically disabled people from accessing inpatient treatment is operating under the same assumptions--except that this particularly violent convergence of ableism is happy to just let us die, both because it eradicates madness from the world and because they view our lives as unworthy of living in the first place. eugenics is still alive and well in the united states and it's still fucking killing us; both inside institutions and outside of them.

i would never tell someone that they're privileged for getting institutionalized--i think that would be a cruel thing to say to someone who has just survived a lot of violent ableism. and at the same time, our current systems of mental health care are set up in a way where not being able to access inpatient care can be a deadly logistical nightmare. there are some partial hospitalization programs that have such a long waiting list that you can only really get in if you just got an urgent referral because you're getting discharged from inpatient care--how the fuck are physically disabled people supposed to access those programs? if you need meal support for your eating disorder 6 times a day and the only places that offer that are residential treatment in a house with stairs, what the fuck are you supposed to do? if noncarceral outpatient forms of treatment like therapy, support groups, PHP programs, peer support funding, etc etc etc are often prioritizing people who have recently been discharged from inpatient care, how are you supposed to access any type of mental health care at all? (to be clear i know that not all forms of outpatient care operate in this way, but a lot of state run/low cost programs that accept Medicaid/Medicare operate in that way, and i've seen it cause enough barriers that i know this is a very real problem.)

so when i think about what it would take to actually ensure that physically disabled people can access mental healthcare, there's a lot that comes up for me. on one hand, so much of my work is about tearing down institutions and ensuring that no one is forced into these places to face that type of violence. on the other hand, so many physically disabled people need care right now, and we have to figure out some way of making that happen given the current systems we have in place. i will never be okay with just discarding physically disabled people as collateral damage, and any world that we're building needs to be one that embraces disability from the beginning.

i keep thinking about the concept of non-reformist reforms that gets talked about a lot in the prison abolition movement. the idea behind non-reformist reforms is that usually, reforms work to reinforce the status quo. they're usually talked about in liberal language of "improvement" and "human rights", but when it comes down to it, they're still giving more power to harmful institutions and reinforcing state power. an example of a reformist reform is building a new jail that is bigger and has "nicer" services. or when the cops in my city tried to get funding for more wheelchair accessible cop vans. these are reformist reforms because when it comes down to it, it's still giving more money and legitimacy to the prison system and increasing the capacity to keep people locked up--even when people talk about it using language about welfare for prisoners, that's not actually what's happening. having more wheelchair accessible cop vans would be dangerous for the disabled people in my city--it's helped us out a LOT that it's so difficult for the cops to arrest multiple wheelchair users at once.

non-reformist reforms are the opposite of that--they're reforms that work to dismantle systems, redistribute power, and set the stage for more even more dramatic transformations. They're sort of an answer to the question of "what do we do right now if we can't go out and burn down all the prisons overnight?" Examples of a nonreformist reform are defunding prisons, getting rid of paid administrative leave for cops, shutting down old prisons and not building new ones, etc. they're steps we can take right now that don't fully abolish prisons, but still work to dismantle them, rather than making it easier for the system to keep going.

so, when we apply this to the psych system, what are some nonreformist reforms that could help make sure that all disabled people are having their needs met right now? Some ideas I'm having include fixing the problem of PHP/outpatient care requiring referrals from inpatient, increasing the amount of Medicaid/Medicare funding for outpatient mental health care, building physically accessible peer respites that allow caregivers to stay with you if needed, increasing SSI/SSDI to an actually liveable rate, creating more disability specific mental health resources, support groups, care webs, and a million other things we'd probably need to actually get our needs met. non-reformist reforms for people in psych wards right now might look like ensuring everyone has 24/7 access to phones and internet, ensuring that disabled people have access to mobility aids in these spaces, making sure that there's accessible nutrition for people with dietary restrictions and/or feeding tubes, and more.

when i see people saying that we need to ensure that psych wards or prisons are made accessible it makes me feel nervous. i worry that the changes required to do that wouldn't actually provide care to disabled people, i worry it would just make it easier for increasing numbers of disabled people to get locked up and harmed all while people claimed it was a success story of "inclusion." i worry that it would just continue to cement carceral treatment as the only option for existing as a disabled person, and that it would make it harder for us to live in our communities, with the services and adaptations we need. when i think about abolition, i'm always thinking about what can we do right now, what do disabled people who are incarcerated and institutionalized need right now, what can we do right now to ensure that everyone is surviving and getting their needs met. i'm not willing to ignore or discard my incarcerated disabled comrades in the moment because of my dreams for an abolitionist future, i'm always going to support our organizing in these places as we try to survive them.

overall i guess what i'm saying is that i think making inpatient psych care accessible would require dismantling and fundamentally destroying the whole system. I can't imagine a way of doing that within the current system that wouldn't just continue to harm disabled people. and that as a psych abolitionist i think that means we have a responsibility to each other right now to fight for that, to understand that physically disabled people not being able to access mental health care is an incredibly urgent need. I refuse to treat my MadDisabled comrades as disposable: our lives are valuable and worth fighting for.

i'm also going to link to the HEARD organization on this post. They're one of the few abolitionist organizations that does direct advocacy and support for deaf and disabled people in prisons. if you or one of your disabled community members ever gets incarcerated in jail/prison, they have a lot of resources. donate to support their work if you can.

[thewertsearch]

Let's pull back from this ever narrowing dark pocket. All this uncertainty is wearing thinner than the only pair of pants in an immortal's wardrobe. I've never much enjoyed navigating the vortices of alternative possibility.

Son of a bitch. Scratch was fucking trolling us, wasn't he?

We must have split off from the Alpha Timeline a while ago - probably before Vriska had even left the Veil. The moment she reached Jack, the entire timeline was unsalvageable. I should have known it was doomed.

The path which alone has my absolute mastery is the alpha timeline, a continuum I define as that which boasts exclusive rights both to my birth and to my death, two circumstantially simultaneous events.

Wait, Scratch can only die in the Alpha Timeline? So he can never die in any other timeline, no matter what?

That's a little strange. Is the Green Sun indestructible in doomed timelines, then? Surely there should be at least some offshoots where someone offs him by dumb luck. He claims there are multiple ways to kill him, but that's completely irreconcilable with the statement that there's only one scenario where he dies. They can't both be true.

You hear that, you orb-headed motherfucker? You lied!

I fucking got you!

Also, I think I know how Scratch's birth and death are circumstantially linked. Snowman orchestrated his birth - and, mirroring this, his last act as a living man will be to orchestrate her death.

Any divergence from this path to my knowing will taper into blackness like rotting roots. But if I was a Seer, such offshoots would be fully within my domain. And if I was a Seer of Mind in particular, synaptic causality would be my specialty.

Right, so all Seers can perceive doomed timelines to some extent, but Mind-aligned Seers are apparently designed to do so.

Terezi - the Alpha Terezi - has seen this offshoot. She knows exactly what will happen if Vriska gets away, and she can't pretend this situation is salvageable anymore.

A Seer would support her allies in battle not with her weapons, but her vision. She would sift through dross of her comrades' poor tactical inclinations and examine the grim consequences. A Seer would not charge into the fray headlong but direct it as a conductor with a baton. She would have the sight to eschew the obvious gambits, and find the path to victory disguised cleverly as setback, or even imminent defeat.

The Seer is a tactician's class, specializing in strategy and problem-solving. It's a class for those who are adept at analyzing and consolidating information, as well as understanding the consequences of a given approach.

Presumably, each Seer's style of problem-solving is influenced by their Aspect. I'm not sure how to characterize Rose's approach, but Terezi's is obvious - she specializes in the consequences of decisions.

And she would know victory doesn't matter in a reality where all else is doomed to fail.

...including her own.

[cherubfae]

𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱 || {𝔩𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔡𝔶, 𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢}

what better way to test if your boyfriend can stay silent by sucking him off in the middle of a trial with a killer on the prowl? things do not go as planned.

tags: nsfw, smut, gn!afab! Resident Evil verse!reader, dubcon (just in case!!), descriptions of afab anatomy, degradation/namecalling (ghostie), forced blowjobs (ghostie), public acts of indecency, voyeurism (ghostie likes to watch), dry humping (Ghostie x reader), established relationship, slight ghostface x reader x leon, brief mentions of anal play, allusions to puppyboy!Leon, leon is a bit of a freak lmao he's def a closet perv, breeding kink (previous mentions about potentially having kids), Leon and reader are not good teammates x3, this got vulgar aaaaa

The Macmillan estate was vast, cluttered in useless machinery, old rusted tools, and many nooks and crannies for you and Leon to find a temporary safe haven in. The Ghostface had already successfully hooked an injured Meg, who had struggled enough to summon the Entity early, unfortunately, everyone knew they wouldn't make it in time to unhook her. Her sacrifice would soon be claimed by spindly inky spider-like legs. With one practically in the bag, the killer continued on his vicious pursuit of both Vittorio and Sable.

Crouched down into a squat with his back to the silent generator, Leon winces at the jingle of his belt, quickly unfastening the buckle and tugging down the zip. "Are you sure you can keep quiet?" The rookie teased. He looked smug, one dark brow raised, and his thumbs hooked into the loops of his uniform pants. The waistband of said pants sag around his hips, a sliver of skin revealed above his blue plaid boxers, looking oh so tantalizing.

Scoffing, you shoot him an incredulous look, unimpressed. "Leon, baby, every time one of the killers strikes you it sounds like you're practicing for a porno, you little masochist. This was your idea. Don't make me gag you." He knew full well you'd find whatever you could to shove in his mouth-- and he secretly hoped it would be the underwear you're currently wearing.

Whining, Leon's head dully thuds back against the generator. "Fuck, that doesn't sound half bad. Wanna try without first, baby, please. Promise I'll be your good boy." Giving you that signature grin you love so much, Leon easily swayed your opinion. He really was just like a puppy, always begging to be praised, and you were more than happy to oblige your boyfriend.

You missed all the toys you liked to use on him back home in Raccoon City. The way his ass stretched around the silver plug you oh so kindly fucked into him. Leon would just about die if any of his comrades ever found out that almost every night after his shift his partner was fucking his ass with a wolf-like tail butt plug or a pretty, glittery blue strap-on. He would never mention he had the ears, the studded collar, and the paw print gloves to match. All in an adoringly cute silvery-grey.

And when you weren't pounding into him? He had you folded in half beneath his strong body, ever so eager to prove just how much he's physically improved, humping into you in the deepest mating press possible. Never fully satisfied, much less satiated, unless you were dripping in his seed. He loveeeeed watching your hole clench with the absence of his dick, cum staining the sheets below. Like a doting, caring boyfriend, he'd push back all of his cum inside. You'd talked about it before. Maybe he wanted it to take this time.

You two were insatiable, like rabbits.

Now, trapped in this eternal purgatory, things were certainly no different. You two continued on as normal as you could in this hellscape. You thanked whatever god, probably the Entity, thank you were sent here with your boyfriend. True hell would be to never get to see one another again.

Deciding he is taking too long; you yank them down yourself. A gust of wind ripples across the ground, making the two of you shudder and huddle in even closer.

His erection is hard and hot, flushed red and thicker than your wrist, and visibly twitching in your grasp. You've barely touched him yet and already Leon gasps like he's close to cumming.

"Fuck, baby, need you. I need you, please." Leon begs, shuffling closer. He claims your mouth in a passionate kiss, parting with a heavy whine. Gently lowering you to rest between his legs, he parts your lips gently; always so sweet and kind to you. Tapping his cock against your lips, you open wide, tongue lolling out to lap at his tip. His moans are delicious and it's clear there was never any intention of him staying quiet. He'd already failed.

You take him in as far as you can go, swallowing around his head once he hits the back of your throat. His fingers curl around the back of your neck to keep you in place, idly toying with the ends of your hair. Too deep in your element, you fail to hear a rustling noise several feet away from you.

Leon, drunk on pleasure, snapped his head up. Through ashen blonde bangs he makes out the unmistakable shadowy outline of the Ghostface's shroud billowing in the wind. Although straining, he can hear the muffled, heavy breathing rasp from behind the killer's mask. Yet, the cloaked murderer makes no move to stop for the couple.

Narrowing his eyes, he watches Ghostface with confusion. Watches as the killer sheaths his knife into the ground with a dull thud. Despite the distance, Leon doesn't miss the jerking motion Ghostface does with his hand now between his crouched legs.

Leon's hand cards through your hair, stroking the silken strands lovingly. A gasp catches in his throat when your eyes tilt up, peering at him through your lashes, with your mouth full of his thick cock.

Smirking, he caressed your cheek. "We've got an audience, love. The Ghostface," he hummed. "But he's not trying to attack us. Guess he likes watching my pretty baby suck their boyfriend's dick." He gently taps your cheek, a signal to continue. "Whaddya say, wanna give him a better look? Want him to touch you? Yeah? Atta baby." Leon waves his hand. "Go ahead then, Mr. Ghostface. Do what you will."

Now you hear it. The uneven, raspy breathing. The crunching of heavy boots on dead grass, the cracking of twigs as the predator creeped ever closer. There was the undeniable scent of steel, of faint cologne, and the tang of copper. Blood.

Heat pools in your abdomen at the lewdness of this whole scenario. There was something undeniably sexy that both your boyfriend and some masked stranger, a serial killer, were getting off to such a display of indecency.

A gloved hand, sleek against your soft hair, roughly pushes your head down forcing you to take Leon to the back of your throat; Leon crying out in ecstasy. You gasp and gag, sputtering and coughing around the length, your nose buried in Leon's pubic hair. Unable to look to see what's happening, you do what you can to focus on pleasing your boyfriend. The strong hand on your hand is a heavy reminder that the roles have now been switched.

Something warm and hard pressed at your ass. It didn't take you too long to guess as to what it may be. A second later, you're being pushed tightly into Leon's chest, your hips harshly gripped between gloved hands as Ghostface drags his bare, flushed cock along the seam of your jean shorts. He's long and thick, that much is evident, with every drag of his cock along your clothed cunt. Precum clings to the light blue fabric, staining it.

Ghostface humps his cock at your backside like a mutt breeding a bitch. His larger frame has you caged between the two males, thighs pinning yours in place and gloved hands groping any skin he can touch. You yelp as Leon's cock falls out of your mouth with a wet pop. Spit and saliva connect the two. You wrap your hand around him, sticking out your tongue to lap at his head moaning low.

Slipping his hand beneath your waistband he alternates from grinding his gloved fingers along your slit and grabbing a handful of your tits. The texture was rough. It rubbed your skin raw, massaging your velvet walls in such a way that you saw stars. You didn't care how fucked out you looked anymore, you rode Danny's fingers eagerly.

"Suck his dick like a good little whore," came the raw, deep voice of the Ghostface. "You like your mouth being used as his little fuck hole, don't you, sweetheart?" Feigning sweetness, the killer cards his fingers through your hair. Tears prick your eyes, but fuck, it was so hot. It felt so fucking sexy to be used like this.

Gripping you at the scalp, Ghostface roughly forces you to bob your head up and down on Leon's cock. Your boyfriend frantically tries to give you some semblance of peace and security by gripping and massaging your shoulders with his warm hands. His eyes squeeze tight, rapidly inhaling and exhaling.

"F-fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Leon yelps, hips gyrating. Borderline fucking your throat with every hump of his hips to your face. He hoped you would forgive him. It felt too damn good to stop now.

Ghostface cackled, forcing you back down. His large hand greatly obscures the back of your neck. He holds you in place, all the while laughing at your tear-stained face desperately trying to swallow down all of the rookie's cum; white essence spilling out of your mouth as you're overfilled.

"Such a slutty, slutty little mess, hmm?" Ghostface grumbled. He yanks you off Leon's dick, forcing you to face him. Leon instinctively wraps his strong arms around your tummy. Ghostface kicks your legs apart to crouch between them. His leaking, bare cock now visible with his shroud hiked up to his waist. Long, hard and visibly throbbing for attention. He cups at your sex, mocking your pathetic whine. "Think you can fit two dicks in there, sweetheart? Whaddya say, rookie cop? Feel like sharing?" As if Leon had any choice.

Collecting the cum trickling down your chin, Ghostface pushes two leather-clad fingers into your mouth. The digits press down on your tongue, noisily slurping on them. Red eyes, as red as blood, stare down at your wanton expression with faux kindness. There is only sadistic mockery in his tone. "Show us your hole, then, sweets. I think it's time I deserved a treat. I'll go easy on ya. I'd hate to make Kennedy pissy." He hissed, his hand going to his cock, jerking himself directly over you. "Unless you'd rather be hooked?"

|| ᴘʟ���ᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[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?

[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.