#and i never do or say anything to even imply im a woman

[yanderefarm]

I need us pretending/threatening Emil with a divorce even after saying we wouldn’t 🙏🙏

this is a part 2 to this story

in your villain arc fr. i know if emil knew how you were manipulating him and playing him like a puppet he wouldn't even be mad he'd be like "thats hot wtf"

cw;; drugging, cheating, non-con (implied), abuse, manipulation

oh your poor husband, he's so pathetic and easy to break.

after your brutal breaking of his body with the cheating scandal you had been oh so generous to help him rebuild his all his lost favour. his ever loving husband who loved him past his worst flaws gave him a better reputation just by staying by his side. all he had to do was give into you, take you places, stop holding you at arms length like he was afraid of you running away and getting close to him at the same time. really all you wanted was more of his love and if that meant you had to break him down to nothing then you guess that's what you would do.

you walked into his office to find him surrounded by people, a familiar sight since his last scandal. you pushed past them to his desk, watching emil flinch away from your presence. you didn't need to yell and get angry this time, you knew exactly how to break him.

"i want a divorce."

you placed the newspaper on the desk to punctuate your sentence, the headline was a young noble woman's testimony of how the king had cornered her at the last royal banquet. another lie you had paid a pretty penny to get out there. you knew emil's head had been fuzzy since the last scandal, all it took was hiring a woman from a family desperate for money to force herself on him and then lie about it. he didn't even remember the night, he couldn't argue with you about it.

you heard his pathetic sob. that sound he would never usually make in front of anyone else. you turned back to see him still surrounded by his advisors and other noblemen but among their shocked faces you could see your husband had tears in his eyes.

"out." you ordered and they very quickly filed out leaving you two in a familiar position.

you walked back to the desk and stared down at him. your husband, already a broken and confused mess, hung his head like a kicked puppy dog so you couldn't see his eyes you could only hear him crying. you let out a heavy sigh.

"what am I supposed to do, emil? you clearly don't love me."

"that's not-"

"how many more women do i have to find out about before you admit it?"

"i don't remember that night... i don't think- i-"

a silence formed between you both only interrupted by his crying.

"i remember that night. i remember you left the party early to get some fresh air and you didn't come back."

he was shaking.

"..... if you had just talked to me we could have come to an agreement about concubines. if you didn't want to be with a man all you had to do was tell me. you don't have to keep humiliating me publicly and then lying about it."

"im not ly-"

you slammed your hands on the table making him flinch.

"you are. you're lying to me. you slept with the maid and then you lied about it and i forgave you. i forgave you because i thought you would learn your lesson."

"please... please punish me again please anything else... kill me, torture me, hate me, anything but leaving me..." he finally looked at you and you could see his pink eyes were cloudy and confused as tears dripped down his face.

".... that's pathetic emil. you want me to beat you but..." you forced your own tears along with your voice cracking. "you can't even say you love me."

emil tried to stand up, stumbling against the desk as his legs wobbled underneath him.

"don't leave me. please." his hand weakly grabbed your wrist

"do you love me?"

"yes."

"how am i supposed to trust that? how am i supposed to trust you? can you even say it? can you tell me you love me?"

"i...i...."

you ripped your hand away from him making him stumble again.

"I'm going to get the divorce papers ready. you're going to sign them."

you turned on your heel and left your husband sobbing in his office.

your plan to make the great emil landorr your mindbroken bitch was going along perfectly. it was going to be harder to drug him when you moved into the queen's palace but you were confident that the separation would drive him just as crazy.

[tremendously-crazy]

"You can't hate on an entire Sherlock Holmes adaptation just because of how they interpret Irene Norton (nee Adler)-" SHUT UP.

I will hate on an adaptation if it does the following:

makes Irene a love interest for Sherlock Holmes (whether realized or not).

First of all, Holmes is NOT attracted to women, and never experiences a smidgen of attraction towards them in the original stories. ACD could have very easily written him a love interest, but CHOSE NOT TO because it went against the idea of his character. He was never attracted towards women.

Second of all, Irene Adler isn't even Irene Adler. Her name is Irene NORTON. Do you want to know why? Because she's LITERALLY MARRIED. TO A LAWYER NAMED GODFREY NORTON. She already has a husband who she loves very much! She does not love Holmes!

Thirdly, a man can feel admiration for a woman without being attracted to her. Watson literally says in the first part of A Scandal in Bohemia that he didn't feel any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler!!

2. makes Irene into some sort of femme fatalle/sexually appealing

This implies that women can only be smarter than men if they are attractive/hot. That, in order for a woman to be successful, she has to provide something for a man.

Edit: this doesn't mean that she ISNT attractive. She is beautiful and enthralling, which is what makes the king fall for her in the first place. What I mean is when Irene becomes a SEXUALIZED character.

Doing this means she can't just be a smart woman, but that she has to be sexually attractive and mysterious, too! DOING THIS REDUCES HER INTO AN OBJECT OF DESIRE!!!

3. makes her weak/makes her get outsmarted by Holmes

Im not sure if any adaptations have actually done this. But if so. Absolutely not. She challenges Holmes's misogynistic ideals and to reform his views. Because Holmes views women as softer, weaker, and less intelligent (when they are NOT!!) And Irene helps to teach him this. Her lesson is effective!! Because Holmes stops making fun of women. And he changes his ways. Why would you make her weaker? She's SUPPOSED to beat Holmes.

If it does this or anything else I will NOT view the adaptation. You can tell a lot about the adaptors, their respect and accuracy while depicting the original stories, and how they view women, through their interpretation of Irene Norton. She is the most famous female character in the series, after all. Do her RIGHT! READ A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA BEFORE YOU ADAPT! And if you still make these amateur mistakes, you shouldn't be adapting Sherlock Holmes at all.

[hhighkey]

Taken, part 2 // Uvogin, one shot - part of hhighkey's phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: stockholm syndrome, love??, implied past kidnapping, implied references to depression, suicidal thoughts, unnamed chronic illness, medical inaccuracies, marriage, rough sex, size kink, lots of come im so sorry, manipulation, female reader Note: about 17k words, ao3 link: xxx, link to part 1

The union could never be legal, technically Uvogin didn’t exist, but that didn’t matter. Not to you when he confidently proposed with the biggest grin months after getting you back from Bates, going on a ramble about the thought of you being someone else’s wife terrified him. To him, it furthered his ownership of you, and was another way to show his utmost commitment and love. Not that kidnapping you four years ago was a total display of it or anything… That it took someone else trying to marry you for him to think of it. 

Never sure what to categorize as the happiest day of your life, for now that day took the cake. How even on one knee he was taller than you, a gorgeous ring in hand (you could thank Chrollo for that as you found out later). The idea of being someone’s wife when you were little had been like a dream, you’d always gawk at wedding stores and the dresses on display. It was more of a fantasy to look the prettiest surrounded by even prettier decor, not necessarily about the concept of ‘in life and death.’ After so long with Uvogin you understood that marriage wasn’t about a gorgeous wedding but about the vows and status it brought. Because your relationship with Uvogin was the epitome of together until death. And with each day getting harder to get out of bed, blood painting your tissues after coughing, you realize that death is on the horizon.

However, for the last few weeks Uvogin was doing his best to avoid a certain group. The term ‘bachelorette party’ became a forbidden term to me murmured around him, it’d be a night where he’d have no control. However, three people weren’t letting him off easy as you found amusement in him trapped.

“Fuck no.” Uvogin grunted, eyes tensely looking over the three female Troupe members, “She doesn't leave my sight when I’m not workin’.” 

“It’s a thing Uvo.” Machi said, “You’re not supposed to see the bride a few days leading up to the wedding, especially the night before and day of.”

“Okay so you can have her tomorrow then.” He waves them off, going to grab your arm, but Machi cuts him off stepping in front of you.

“No, you can survive two days without her.” 

“Whaddya wanna do babe?” He focused on you, pretending not to hear the pink haired woman. 

Your mouth falls open as you glance between Uvo and Machi. Your chest flutters with discomfort being in the middle of a strange face-off, where you particularly didn’t want to see Uvogin perturbed with you if you agreed with the girls. “Um..” 

“The four of us are going to do something tonight.” Pakunoda steps in, her voice level like she were talking to an overly large toddler not getting its way. 

“Like what?” 

“None of your business.” She stared at the larger man down. 

“Well Y/N’s my business so, anything she does is my business.” 

“It’s bad enough we can’t force Phinks and Feitan to let us have their girls, but let the poor bride-to-be have a bachelorette party where nothing can possibly happen. Then she’ll be your wife in two days and you can dictate the rest of her life, how about that?” Machi huffs, annoyed, “Go bother Nobu if you get bored but we’re taking her.”

“Yeah, no you ain’t.” He went to push past her, but she shot a hand up pressing on his chest. 

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Machi asked. 

“I- Uvo I would really like to spend time with them.” With a slowly ticking clock on your life due to the state of your health, you think you should say what you want. For a second you remember, like a little flicker at the back of your brain, times spent with friends shopping, movies, gossiping about boys. Makes your heart yearn for that type of connection again. Clarity seemed to leak into the depth of your mind the sicker you got. 

He frowned at you and time seemed to stop until he nodded, “Alright.”

“That was easy, thought we’d have to steal her in the middle of the night.” Shizuku said absentmindedly, which earned her a few glares. 

Uvo fretted over you before he let you go, fingers prodding along your delicate skin as if you were the most precious treasure, as if you’d break from one touch alone. 

“Behave.” His words come across as a warning but you hear the depth to it, the worry rather than a threat. 

“I always do.” You tease, moving to hug his thick, muscular torso. A small part of you wants him to scoop you up and lock you away with him, your heart beginning to panic at the idea of separating from him. Yet your mind told you to stay strong no matter how badly you wanted to melt right into him. 

Uvogin made a few more tiny threats towards the girls before he finally left, telling you he’d be at the Base. For a moment your chest twisted in pain knowing he’d be hours away, not working. You could survive being without him due to his job, but not knowing he was free.

So you stood in your townhome with Machi, Paku and Shizuku watching you. Sure, you considered them your friends at this point, slowly considered most members of the Troupe your friends. Yet you knew their loyalty to you was really loyalty to Uvogin, the help protecting you, keeping you healthy, keeping you happy- was all for him. While you’re sure they care for you as a person enough to make small talk, you’re Uvogin’s property through and through. But this moment as you debated what to do, made you want to feel hopeful. The three of them didn’t need to do this. It made no sense for them to fight with Uvo for days to let them host something. 

How Machi’s fingers dug into your bicep as you involuntarily took steps forward, 

“Don’t.”

You didn’t know how to be without him. Your body was slowly dying, and not the dramatic bullshit of aging. So perhaps it was quickly dying. The ever exhausting fog you lived in where all you had was Uvogin to care for you. His warmth disappearing from the room settled a chill and awareness. 

Machi has her normal blank expression, but she seems pleased when you nod, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

The looks exchanged made you wary. 

The devilish upturn of Machi’s lips makes you wonder if you should go run back to Uvo. But the part of you, stuck oh so deep down, that couldn’t rebel for years was overjoyed as it wretched its way out. 

“We are going out.”

“Out..?”

“You know, what normal girls do, dress up and get drunk, flirt with men.” 

You cringe at the last part, discomfort swirling in your gut. Normality. Normal girls. You play the words over and over, hearing her words echo as a harsh reminder. But also self reflection as these three weren’t normal either. Farther from it and yourself. Perhaps you nodded, agreeing to the location they wanted, because you’d missed out on so much. Though the sour taste in your mouth lingers as you all get ready as if it were any other night- that everyone in the Troupe was all aware of the fact Uvo kidnapped you. No one told him that he should reconsider, that it’d be selfish. But did you even want that? Would you have wanted Machi or Nobu to tell him to let you go? Because the thought makes your stomach flutter with wrenching nerves you don’t want to think about, as society’s version of normal wasn’t yours. And like that, you snapped back to the image staring back at you in the mirror, the girl chronically ill yet irrevocably in love with someone they shouldn’t be.

You look- strange. Yet you’re taken aback by the beautiful girl Paku had turned you into, makeup breathing life back into your sullen state. A flash of somebody else, a younger version of you reflected, prior to knowing what you’d become and with who. It’s nostalgic almost, thinking about the minimal times you’d gone to a bar with a coworker or an old school friend, how you debated over what to wear or how to do your hair. With Uvo it was simple- he didn’t care what was on your body, or if you had makeup, he controlled everything you could and couldn’t do and it simplified everything. 

The dress fit you like a glove, pushing cleavage up and you wanted to retreat into yourself.

The night sky preys down on you. Buildings feeling like they were closing in, the openness of the town, the fresh air felt like a jail. The fact you were in the open with options was suffocating, but you walked with your arm linked with Paku’s trying to save face. Trying to push down your insecurities and thoughts of Uvo getting angry with you. He’d never have let you wear this, never had let Machi push a shot of vodka down your throat prior to leaving. Thrilling. Yet terrifying. The best way to sum up what coursed through your veins while wanting to turn around at the same time. 

The lack of alcohol the last five or so years was clear, the shot made your cheeks tinged pink and a dazed smile on your lips. You tried hard now to sway as you walked and luckily the cool breeze against you the last few minutes helped to bring you back down. The taste of it was exhilarating- dancing on the edge of inebriation and the thoughts that came with it!

“I- Can’t.” You take a step back, “Too many people- I can’t.”

“Hey- Y/N.” 

You stare at the ground as you stumble back to some steps, letting the cold pavement press against you. Stuck inside yourself as your world spun you began to ramble, 

“I- Only people I’ve been around are the Troupe. No more than 12, never more. A-And Bates kept people away from me. No- No, too many. Feels suffocating, like I can’t breathe.” You look at them with terror written across your face, “Why are you all doing this for me? Because you know I’ll die? Or because you feel bad for me? Y-You know he kidnapped me, I’m not allowed to use phones or see my old friends, my family thinks I’m dead. Yet…” 

Machi crouches down to get eye level with you, “You deserve a night of freedom and fun you should have had. You’ve given all of us more kindness than we deserve all these years. And Uvo has never been happier in all the time we’ve known him. We want to repay it back before you die as his wife.” 

“We’ll take any backlash that comes of this, with your state Uvo wouldn’t dare to upset you.” Paku said, correctly inferring the nagging at the back of your mind that this would make him furious.

“You could get away with a lot more than you realize because he’s terrified of you dying, remember that.” Machi’s intensity bores into you in a way that makes you sit straight up. Either from the fact her nen could kill you in an instant or she was trying to instill you with a backbone. 

“How much longer do you have, Y/N?” Shizuku asked. 

“I… Don’t know.” You push your fingers against your temple, trying to stifle the weight of everything on your shoulders. The sting of the vodka still in the back of your throat, your eyes focused on the heels you wore. 

“A year at most, probably eight months.” Machi replied.

“Why- Why would Uvo be scared to upset me? Hasn’t stopped him before.” You flinch at the reminder of your impending doom, no matter how much you were coming to terms with it; It was Uvogin’s karma.

“With my non-professional medical guess, who's been there since the start, is that there’s so much medicine can do if you’re giving up. Uvo doesn’t want you to want to die, selfishly wants you to hang on for as long as possible even if you’re in pain.”

Oh. It felt like you hit a wall. A harsh wave of soberness and the realization of where you were, “I wondered, why it took him so long to think of marrying me? Did Bates love me more to go through those lengths? What did I do to deserve all this?”

No one spoke. It would have been hypocritical for them to, they were just as big of monsters as Uvo. That they didn’t need you looking at the situation from an outsider’s viewpoint anymore, a discomfort settled within their guts. 

“Can we- still go to that bar?” You ask, breaking the silence you caused. 

As much as you spilled to them unprompted, knowing your words wouldn’t spur them emotionally to do anything, you were always smart not to let anyone in on the doubt you felt. On the anxiousness since Bates, on the second guessing if your emotions for Uvo were real. You knew everyone would take it wrong, that you’d been indoctrinated or rebelling. 

Because hadn’t Uvo washed away every insecurity that made you doubt your love? All this hushed proclamations whilst his cock was buried in your guts. The small touches and the fact you no longer had to lift a finger. His ever permanent seeming presence. Right? Ringing struck up in your ears forcing you to shake it off, Right. Right. No question about it as you stared at the ring on your left finger. You were excited to be his wife, to further cement your love. You had to be. 

“Of course,” Paku said, “Let’s go. You can hold onto us as much as you need.” 

Everything was a blur after they helped you up from the step, urging you to forget about your woes. The line wasn’t a long wait before you’re stepping into what felt like an alternate dimension. Thick sweat-infused-air with the smell of alcohol, bodies shoved like sardines, and strobe lights beamed around. 

Music. Music! Oh it made you sway in utter glee as the bass reverberated in the depth of your soul. You felt like a fish out of water with your fingers intertwined with Paku’s, looking around the room like an awe struck child seeing the world for the first time. 

A glass was shoved in your hand and you indulged, then again, and again. Uncaring for the strength of the liquor or the overly sweet syrups, the taste of freedom was absolutely addicting. How you’d missed alcohol in all this time, you’d beg Uvo to let you drink again. Soon your vision blurred along with your doubts. 

It was tiring always worrying. Always wondering. Being on edge. Doubting. It made you suffocate and being able to let go was pure relief. Giggle and laugh with the three Troupe members like any other friend group would. Even if they weren’t as into or as relaxed as you, watching your every move, you didn’t mind. They were doing this for you.

Any man that approached you was shooed off with a threatening glance from Machi. You were encapsulated in a perfect bubble as you bounced around sucking down another tequila infused drink. Not caring that you didn’t know any of the lyrics because this was music you’d never heard before. When was the last time you’d listened to music? You stop as you warm, bodies pressing to you, and you realize you don’t know. 

You tug your dress further down your thighs, attempting to cover more. You falter in your steps and arms are on your waist in an instant. 

“Ready?” Shizuku stares through her glasses at you.

You nod. Was it late? How long had you been inside the club dancing to your heart's content as your mind went to mush. 

The air outside was frigid compared to your body’s temperature, to the red flush along your skin and sweat beading at your hairline. Hair a frizzy mess. Mascara smeared under your eyes with the glitter from atop your lids. You hadn’t smiled so big in so long, to the point your cheeks ached as you tried to skip along the paved sidewalks, giggling like a madwoman. Pakunoda never let you get far though, listened and responded to your entertainingly slurred words and statements. And how you slowly began to wear down, to slow in your steps as you wrapped an arm around her. Contentment resonated from you. 

They’re on edge first, you not noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. That the aura around you all dropped, anger seething through it. Three forms stood past the turn. One particularly large. 

Uvogin. Flanked by Nobu and Phinks, who looked more annoyed than anything. Yet it wasn’t them that brought concern, because Uvo looked halfway ready to destroy the local buildings. 

“The fuck are you all doin’? Thinking you can take my soon to be wife out to get drunk, take ‘er somewhere I don’t fucking know.” He’s rigid, a murderous aura surrounding him. Muscles flexing as his jaw locked. Oh Uvogin was a big and terrifying man yet you looked at him like the dark, bustling city was naught. 

“Uvo!” You squeal, delighted, your core flush with warmth as you don’t notice his anger. Your thoughts are screaming for him, chanting his name like a prayer because there he is! He’s suddenly in your sights, though you aren’t sure why there’s two of him, but all you want is to squeeze him, take him for yourself. The way his thighs squeezed against the fabric of his shorts you narrowed in on, thinking about running your hands against them, prodding into the skin. Massaging and kissing and moving to his thick co- your core goes warm, such liquid goodness that you can’t fathom being away from him any longer, your daydream making you go numb.

You push off Paku and skip over to Uvo, practically throwing yourself into him. Which he caught you with ease even without prior notice. You nuzzled into his warmth, feeling his calloused fingers run along your arms. You don’t feel how he tugged down your dress as it’d ridden up, or as he checked for any marks. And you certainly didn’t feel the genuine panic, terror past jealousy of you drunk around others. The fear of you out without him. Finding someone else more interesting upon realizing how much he’d taken from you. Living a life that didn’t include him. And if you wanted said life back over what you two built on the cracked foundations only help up on your (possibly) messed up sense of reality. 

“Hi baby.” Uvo said in a fairly choked back tone; his attempt to seem relaxed towards you while he was really seething. In his mind he had to blame his fellow Spiders, that this was on them, not you. 

“Want you.” You whined softly, eyes filled with heated want that bore into him. Your palms flat on his chest feeling his erratic heart beat like it was your lifeline, “Missed you.”

You don’t remember much, not as you swayed in his grasp, vision splitting your environment from doubles to triples. The hazed joy settled into a comfortable exhaustion as your eyelids drooped, uncaring for the voices that argued around you. It doesn’t matter that it’s getting heated, not to you, this night has been better than the stars above. Topped off with Uvogin at the end. As your head falls limp, knees buckling, your last drunken thought is on the wedding. 

Feeling your body beginning to go limp as you mewled into him, Uvo picks you up cradling you into him. Your touch grounded him. Your excitement to see him might have been what stopped a possible massacre powered by his anger and fists alone. You’d missed him terribly even when you had the whole world at your fingers, and he loved that. Filled him with a sense of pride. 

“We’re going.” Uvogin nodded to Nobu and Phinks.

“Good fucking thing I didn’t let my girl come. Will have to tell Feitan ‘bout this.” Phinks grumbled under his breath.

“We’re heading back to Base.” Nobunaga tells the girls, “Come if you want, will be a tight squeeze.”

The group began their departure, silence amongst a still bustling town. Tension thick enough to cut with a knife, trepidation building within a few of the Spiders. Strange looks from some, especially at the large man carrying a girl who looked like she had a rough night out. 

Soon buildings died out. Lights limited. Roads turning to dirt, fences showcasing expansive private overgrown property. Countryside came into view with a car waiting, as Phinks pulled out the keys. For a second they all share uncomfortable glances unsure how they’ll all fit, but one person in particular had a dark cloud above her.  

“Uvogin.” Machi said dangerously low, fists clenched and Shizuku ready to grab her if needed. “How long have you had her now, four years, or is it five? She’s not going anywhere she’s in love with you, as much as she’s able. She doesn’t know how to think without you telling her what to think about, nonetheless run away anywhere. Where would she go? She relies on you for everything and more, you are her life. And she’s happy about it I guess, babbled about you all night. She doesn’t have long and you know it, don’t let her go it’ll do more harm than good but… let her say goodbyes. Proper ones to those you took her from.”  

“No.” He responded without pause, “You’ve gone soft, Machi I’m surprised. I ain’t letting her out my sight from here on out, I’ll let Chrollo know I need a fucking sabbatical or something. You’ll be lucky if I let any of you see her again.” 

“She’d be upset about that.”

“Whatever.” 

“You say that now.” She knew he was bluffing, and of course he was. 

He squeezed your sleeping frame before settling into the passenger seat of the car, keeping you tight to him. He stared at your angelic form feeling his heart squeeze, “Don’t do something like this again. And one day maybe you might understand a sliver of what I feel for her and why I do what I do.”

Uvogin couldn’t fathom missing another one of your breaths. Not a single one. Because from here on out he’d claim them all as his. 

-

This was how it was meant to be- your wedding day- you realize as you stare at your reflection. You remember the attempted one with Bates felt like walking to your doom, while this time around with Uvo? It felt like you were walking through a floralled field surrounded by a thick lavender odor, heading towards the rest of your life. It felt right. 

A white gown flows along your emaciated body that has a faint golden sheen from the joy swirling within you. Excitement coursed in your veins as you finished final touches for your hair and makeup, relying on Paku heavily for assistance. 

It’s Fall, the orange and red leaves falling delicately around you as you carefully walk along a gravel path with grass laying flat from overuse. The cooling air filled with a cinnamon spice odor so acutely that of the lengthening nights as Hallow’s Eve was around the corner. Feeling wrapped in the comfort of your favorite season, a molten liquid spread as you inched closer and closer to the altar. Arm looped in Paku’s, a smile lives etched on your face as tears prick at your eyes, swirling sentient settling within. After much convincing, Uvogin agreed to an outdoor wedding at sunset, not being able to say no to you. The Trope had done an immaculate job at setting up a cozy venue

It was a whirlwind. Walking down the aisle to Uvogin. How he looked at you with misty eyes and utter happiness, looking devilishly handsome in a tailored suit, something you never imagined seeing him in. He towered over you with a powerful aura that made you feel safe. Nothing else existed when in Uvogin’s orbit. How his hands held yours, staring so intently like you were the entire world. That you were all that existed on this plane, that all he wanted was to whisk you away as soon as vows were shared. 

You were always his, but to Uvogin this tied you to him forever. Emotionally linked your cute self to him in a way that meant everything to you, while to him the title of marriage did little to change his feelings. It made your heart swell and your face beam with love, making this worth it in his eyes.  

And it was worth it to see you walking down the aisle to him. His pupils dilated, shoulders dropping, mouth quirked up at the sight of you in a white gown. An angel. His heart soared and he stood a tad straighter beaming with pride. 

Closer. Closer to him. Time seemed to slow as you both became so consciously aware of the other, of how your hearts raced in rhythm combining. Circulating souls, winding and meshing, flowing together like pieces of twine twisting and twisting. Paku handed you off to him and he’s lit with a burning need as your smaller hands slot into his perfectly. A necessity so pure, like a starving man who’d kill for his survival, burn the world to the ground to have you. 

Nothing else mattered besides you; not Chrollo who began the ceremony, not the eyes and pleasant words of the other Spiders and their partners (who stared hopeful at their lovers). 

Only your tears of merriment as you peered up at him like he was your savior, mattered. He was your salvation. The sweet words that left your lips as you cried through your vows with breathy laughs, built him up more and more. Uvogin’s vows were strong, filled with his promises of protection and love, his thinly-veiled apologies for the past and the excitement to continue as husband and wife. 

A faint cinnamon smell wafted on the breeze, heavy earthy-spice amongst the falling leaves. The sun is setting beyond the horizon. Dimming violet skies flourished as the ceremony ended- you in Uvogin’s arms as vows sealed with a kiss. A symphony of harmonious noises blurred out your surroundings, a deafening buzzing that should have made your stomach churn and your instincts blare red. Instead it’s elation that spurred your tunnel vision as you kiss your husband passionately uncaring for anything else. 

Maybe you were too far gone from the clarity you’d had, from the questions of Uvo’s real feelings you once picked apart. All of it drowned and stamped out. Glowing delight crammed into every vein and bone, to your most miniscule of nerves. Plugged up so thick with the taste of Uvogin that you’re almost drunk off his scent alone, off the way his eyes raked along your body. The thought of him looking and touching anywhere else made you want to die. Like he was the oxygen you breathed. A fresh intake of air seeping with amber and intoxicating caramel, the taste of a maple tree’s smoky bark going up your nostrils to the tip of your head. 

Dizzied by his musk. Dizzies as your mind buzzed like a million honey bees flew about in crazed circles. Unable to wipe the grin off your face as Uvogin picks you up Bridal style to carry you off. Marital bliss is already consuming the two of you whole, Uvogin’s aura a violent red as his chest swelled with possession. 

Every inch of Uvogin; from his flexing muscles to his grueling height where his toes tingle with want. He was wounded so tight. Chords pulling and pulling, fraying as they did, and any moment they’d snap. He’d snap. Flustering begins to control him and you can see it in his eyes. The fire. The lust. All of it.

Uvogin wastes no time getting to his corridor of the Base, since everyone wanted the loud man in his own area to reprieve them of his usual antics. 

And he wasted no time placing you on the bed with a thump, your giggles music to his ears. Pure joy shimmered across your features and it had been far too long since he’d seen it. Uvo relishes in it as he helps you out of the wedding gown (tries to help while you beg for him not to rip it). Because for the rest of the night he has plans that will keep you a mess on his cock as you cry and scream for more, drunk off overstimulation, none of your innocent happiness to be found. Only your reliance on him. Your need for him. 

You’re on your back faster than you can blink, Uvogin pulling you to the edge of the bed. On his knees between your thighs you watch him with insatiable lust clouding your eyes, your senses, sending little volts of electricity up your spine as his rough fingers traced the skin of your inner thighs. How he kneaded and stoked, your mewls and constant jerking making a devious look fall over him. 

“I ain’t gonna be nice, gonna fuck my pretty little wife til’ she can’t take it. Then I’m gonna keep going.” His breaths fans along your clothed cunt, your liquids beginning to soak through the white fabric. 

You nod, feeling the numb tingle of anticipation wash over your body. Your mind as if it hung out to dry, lust dulling your senses. 

The sudden onslaught of his tongue has you seeing stars. He knows exactly how to tease your entrance to make you squirm and gasp, knows how you like how he oscillates his long tongue inside you to pull out an orgasm. Stroking your inner thighs so playfully and feather like, 

“Uvo- pl-please!” You beg, fingers yanking at his scalp. You need him like you need oxygen to breathe. Your senses are so dull, the air smelling thick of your juices and sex, a tangy musk that is sweet because it’s because of your love for him that you feel this way.

“Need somethin’?” The vibrations of his deep voice sent shivers up your spine, your mind spinning in lust as with a flick of his tongue, the way it then drags along your folds brings you back to your high. 

Sobbing for him as you snap, squirt dribbles and he laps it up, sucking your engorged clit to make you shake. To make you tremble and jerk and try to push his face away as slurping noises fill the room. 

“Ne-ed you!” You sob, “In me!” Your head is spinning and all you can think about is having his cock stretching you out. 

He relinquishes with a final kiss above your clit, pulling to strip himself of his clothes.

Uvogin is more than aware of the size difference between you two, you’re so small beneath him, just so cute laying in awe at his naked hulking body as his hand goes to stroke his godly length. You’re so tiny, so breakable and while he is always as careful as a man like him can muster, right now all he wants to do fragment you into a thousand little pieces. 

“You’re so damn tiny, wife.” Blood rushes to his cock, hardening it even more as the tip leaks precum swollen and red. The way his hand engulfs parts of your leg as he gropes makes him burn and he knows he can’t hold back much longer. 

“You want this fat cock in your tight cunt? You wanna be nice and full, all stretched out? Gonna take all I give you?” 

“God yes, Uvo.” You keen, “Please, fill me.”

“Who do ya belong to, wife?” His eyes darken as he lines his cockhead up to your dripping entrance. 

You squirm and moan lewdly, unable to focus as pleasure grinds at your core, “Y-You Uvo! My husband, I’m yours- your wife- yours.” You babble as his swollen tip continues to tease you. 

“Cunt is mine.” He thrusts in fully, a silent scream escapes you as your eyes roll back. Uvogin’s cock pulses and he groans in pleasure, muscled legs trembling as his nerves are shot full of an addictive high from your body, “Tits are mine.” He engulfs one of your breasts in his hand, thumb rubbing over a pebbled nipple. “Whole damn body is mine. Your fucking mind is mine, I own you.” His thrusts turn erratic, slapping skin reverberates in the room as your little pussy takes his ginormous size and violent force behind each fuck against your cervix.

Already a mess, you’re easy to move, easy to morph as Uvo adjusts you on the bed. Angle was just right, your ankles held down at your head and his hips just so to drive into you so deep you won’t be able to walk. Your orgasm blossoms as squirt juts from your hole as Uvogin’s long cock spreads you too wide and too deep, the pain electric and overwhelming but your hips shake. 

“You’re so pretty baby, so damn good takin’ me like this.” He grunts, throwing his head back as he continues to fuck into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “I love ya, love how you squeeze me. You want my cum this bad? I’ll give it to you, get you nice and full from it. Take me deeper now, you can do it, yeah?” 

His vulgar words are disoriented in your ears but they make you feel obscene, make you smile sordidly with tears in your eyes, and nod like your life depended on it. 

You’re lost in his wicked aura. Your wedding night lived up to all you would have hoped for it, as your dress lay discarded and you were folded in different positions as your husband drove the both of you to pleasured highs again and again. Heavy spurts of come coated your insides, too much so that it trickled out and painted your thighs, painted the sheets. Again and again he plugged you with his cock and filled you with heavy grunts, letting you feel the hot come shooting out from him for far too long, far too much that you could almost taste it in your throat. He hit every sensitive spot you loved that made you feel mushy and braindead, just a reliant little thing on him. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You could barely hold your head up or moan how much you loved him and his cock. Your eyelids grew heavier, while your body shook from the continued rapture. 

Uvogin kissed you so lovingly, so much so that it hid his true malicious intents you couldn’t understand in your fucked out state, “I got you baby, gonna let me use you?”

You nod. Smile like a drunken idiot, and go lax. You feel every thrust, every pulse and curve of his cock, each slap against your ass, each kiss, lick, grope along every open inch of skin. You knew this was heaven. Heaven as he pushed you to your chest, hiking back your ass and slamming in. Your poor cunt quivered, gaping wide from his girth as his come leaked out, lower tummy inflated and Uvogin watched you with a glint in his eyes, and he couldn’t keep his emotions in. He let out a monstrous roar, one the brute was known for, and he let you take every inch of him uncaring if you broke or said it was too much. But you took it. You always did. Even if your gummy walls tried to force him out, tried to tighten up too much but he’d always push past the defenses to claim you and feel your clamping cunt as it came, as it squirted. And god as he’d toy with your aching clit he’d see you spasm even in your passed out state.

His fingers gripped your hips, they’d leave bruises he’d stare at proudly tomorrow. And he knows more marks will follow, he needs to mark you, to show anyone who you belonged to on all open parts of your skin. Your eyelids were finally permanently closed at this point, once done-up hair a mess, makeup all smeared. Tiny mewls all that escaped your parted lips. Yet your pussy still squeezed him like a vice, milking him for all it was worth begging for more, “Still so fucking needy for me aren’t ya? Don’t worry I’ll fill you all night till I got nothing left, you know your husband will always take care of you.”

-

Uvogin could never help himself when it came to you from the second he laid eyes upon you. His feelings are too intense and overpowering of his superb fortitude, years of destruction and rigidness in his work. And it took awhile the first few months before he took you because he adored who you were, and did not want you to become a shallow version of yourself. But he always knew it was his job to protect you as your friend turned captor, turned partner, turned husband. 

What type of man was he if he couldn’t keep his love safe? He’d spent years diligently watching over you, even going as far as to check your body for harm. Make sure you ate well, slept enough, and had a good amount of things to keep you mentally entertained. He knew you like the back of his hand and it was why he struggled from the start when you couldn’t get healthy. But with his mind set on it, it would happen, he was sure. 

Uvogin wasn’t always suited for tough conversations when it came to you, overall happy with everything. Never complaining about not being able to contact anyone outside the Troupe or go outside without him or an escort. You stopped going stir crazy after accepting your feelings for home were true all those years ago, loving his clingy touches and loud humor. 

But as the weeks went on after the wedding, your state got worse. And so did his helplessness, the gut feeling that he was still not doing enough. His optimism wore on himself as much as it did you. 

Everything about you makes his heart race at such a speed he wonders if one day you’ll give him a heart attack. Simply based on his overly obsessive actions and thoughts, his every waking being is all for you. 

“Uvo, stop it.” You swat at his large hand that held a protein bar, “I’ll just throw it up. Don’t wanna.”

So maybe it was all coming to head after almost two years. Exasperation with the situation that turned into taking it out on the other. More or less you wanted a break from the pity, the treating you like a little porcelain doll by your lover. 

“You gotta eat, babe. Can’t survive off that baby food shit.” He sighed referencing the nasty apple sauces, ground up food into weird shakes that made him gag. 

“Better than nothing.” You murmur, staring aimlessly at the blankets you sat under.

Uvogin ran a hand through his hair, feeling disgruntled by your frail form not even looking at him. He moved towards the bathroom, dropping the bar in the trash. He wants to scoop you up, pin your chest to the mattress to fuck into you to hear you chant his name. 

He doesn’t mean to snap at you. But god he can’t fucking stand to watch what you’re doing, because he’s not stupid. He missed his girl, her smiles and snark, how she’d be equally all over him as he was towards her. His best friend and lover wrapped up in one. While he wasn’t cruel, swore if you were in pain then so was he, but he was tired of this push and pull. 

“You’re giving up.” His words come out harsher than he intended, but the bitterness bubbling up his throat spurred them on.

“Stop.” 

You wipe at your eyes because of the sudden tear that fell down your cheek. His words feel like a painful stab to the gut. 

“I can’t- I won’t watch you die, Y/N. Not even thinking about what this is doing to me. I can’t be without you.”

Anger filled you but you couldn’t breathe, dry heaving through your sudden sobs that hit you like an avalanche, “Doing to you? I’m the one dying, Uvogin. I’m the one in pain every day and every breath.”

He flinched at the usage of his full name. 

“Let me die, please it hurts so bad and I have fought. Fought for you, for us but I’m so tired. You need to let me go so you can move on with your life rather than be stuck as my caretaker.” Desperation laces your words, all you want is for him to hold you in his arms. Not for him to stand by the door with a faraway look. The sorrow on his features and the regret swirling in his eyes. You know he’s hurting, but this is destroying you.

“Is that what you think?” His fists clench, muscles going taut as they strain against his shirt, “That you’re a burden? That I’m better off without you? I take care of you because I love you, not out of some stupid fucking caretaker duty I’m obligated to.” 

“But aren’t you? You are the one who kidnapped me, you have to care for me or throw me to the curb if I’m not fulfilling my duties.” You spat, and you don’t regret the words as they slap him in the face making it twist in a dark glare. 

His brows pinched together, lips purse as he exhaled jadedly. The fierce mocking chuckle spewing out made your blood run cold, “We going there?”

“Maybe we should. We never have properly, always joking about it because it worked out for us. I downplayed what you did because you always respected me, kept me as me. Didn’t force me to fuck you, or be with you. And we always had amazing rapport even before that.” The aggravation of talking to him like he was a non-receptive 8ft plus wall made you want to rip your hair out. Not a flash of any emotions on his face leaving you to reel and second guess. 

“What’s the point of this babe? Gonna start throwin’ shit at me again? Begging me to let you go?”

“No!” You sit up straight, rolling your shoulders back feeling frustration and the sudden want to rip your hair out, “I love you. Only way I’ll ever want to leave is if you no longer feel the same, or if you hurt me. But jesus Uvogin, put yourself in my shoes even with your limited fucking ability to empathise. Because sometimes I wonder if you love me the way I love you, or if I have fucking stockholm syndrome!”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“The truth, how you really feel.” You press, almost as if you wanted him to snap. You’re tired of half truths, of him dumbing everything down like you’re a child.

“The truth?” His eyes narrowed as his chest thumped, felt like his insides were turning inside out in absolute agony, “Truth is I feel fuckin’ useless and you no longer care about living. You are leaving me, you’ll be dead. And now I’m hearin’ you think your feelings are fake? What a fucking time this is.”

“How am I supposed to not die, Uvogin? Tell me. I sleep all day, take handfuls of pills, IV for fluids. My body is rejecting it all and you don’t care that I’m in pain, you care more about having me around so you can get off.”

An explosion of red aura escapes him with a growl, his fist coming down on the closest piece of furniture. You gasp, heavy sobs returning as you recoil in ear. Realizing what he’d done, he tried to approach you, but you cried for him to stay away. Fear. Dizzied confusion written on you and Uvogin doesn’t know how to take it away. Not even the first few months after taking you, had you looked at him like that. And it made him want to die. 

“Y/N, M’sorry. Fuck. You’re my life, I love you. You aren’t some fucktoy to me, you’re the reason I breathe. And I’m so scared of the day I gotta live without you. It’s no excuse, but please. Would never hurt you, you’ve gotta know that right?”

You stare at him. Blank. Fingers gripping the blankets you used as a shield until your  knuckles turned white. Wet streaks falling down your face, off your jaw staining the fabric. 

“By begging me to stay alive… You are hurting me.” You whisper, but he can hear. 

“Fine,” He growls needing to leave your presence before he lashed out more, “Then you got my fucking permission to die, wife. I’m done.” 

He spares you no other glance as the door slammed behind him. You’re left trying to pick up the pieces, pick apart his words. Unable to hold back the flood of sorrow that seeped out, hysterical, airy cries as you heave. Pathetically quivering as you hugged yourself, slowly rocking back and forth atop the bed as it sets in. You think he means he’s done, he doesn’t want you, this is him washing his hands of you and your fate. 

You call for him, his name falling onto nothing, sniveling and blubbering like a mess. The air suffocates you, thick as it wrung you out. Dull skin prickling like a thousand needles inserting within you. Searing pain behind your brows and temples as it felt like your head was being crushed as your eyes went puffy and red.

Stuck in limbo staring at the wall. For months you’d been living under pitying glances, careful words, and locked up in an ivory tower of protection against the world. Even yourself. 

Your actions not your own as you move like a woman possessed, a ghost haunting the halls of its resting place. How you dressed for the colder weather outside the Base, discarding the disaster of splintered wood Uvogin left during his outburst. You moved with whimsical intent and glazed over eyes. In a trance as you padded along the eerily quiet halls then the main room, not a Spider in sight. Not that they could have stopped you, or even noticed as Uvogin’s screaming caused them to scatter. Pity as they had no choice but to listen as his deep voice echoed through every cranny spewing hurtful words.

Nobody stopped you as you opened the door to the outside. As you stand in the doorway contemplating stepping out, you realize it’s the first time you’ve been able to go somewhere without permission, with your own autonomy. With that you leave, crossing an invisible boundary that leaves you feeling lighter.

You walk, slow, stumbling as your lungs struggle to adapt. 

Unable to get far, you collapse unto a patch of grass, overlooking an expansive patch of trees overgrown with weeds and vines. 

On replay in your mind is the fight you’d just had with Uvogin, how his words sliced you deep. How he struggled with your pain, and how you spent too much time keeping your thoughts from him to ease his own. A selfish feat. But they were fearful, self deprecating thoughts that plagued you day in and out. The heaviness of accepting an eventual death that could be at any turn. The realization of your complacency and how the doubt Bates’s kidnapping of you set a spiraling turn of events. That you doubted your love feeling anxiety over his touch or telling him those three words- and how it made you selfish. More than ever. That you now saw Uvogin’s actions in the evil, manipulative light they were, and you did not care. Not anymore. His charismatic, strong nature over you was irrevocably his property, his wife, and this would have happened kidnapping or not. 

The cold, you feel yourself becoming one with it as your shallow breaths exhale fog around you. Your body feels numb as your pulse slows at an alarming pace. It’s comforting, serenely quiet before a high pitched noise sounds in your ears. The scenery is beautiful, you admire it as your eyelids droop, this was a good place to pass. To rest. The sky so blue, the sun high and bright, alluding to a perfect Summer day yet you shiver from the almost freezing temperature. 

You hear footsteps approaching and you hope it’s Uvo, that he’d get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, that he’d make it up to you. But it’s not and you almost laugh, maybe he really did mean he was done with you. 

“Chrollo?” You jolted back to reality at the sight of the Phantom Troupe leader, at first having thought the figure was imaginary. In all these years you never conversed much, Uvogin having said the passing of his wife permanently altered him. 

“Y/N, dear.” His tone is gentle. He approaches and you see the heavy coat and blanket he carries.

“Don’t.” You stammer, “I’ve made my choice, I ask you to respect it. Just make sure he’s okay once I die. I used to think he deserved it after everything, after taking me but- god,” You let out an insane sounding laugh, “I don’t want to leave him, but I can’t live like this. Coughing up my lungs, blood, always tired, unable to eat. My body is giving out on me.”

“When I lost her, I thought my life was ending.” Chrollo laments, closing in on you to wrap you in the warm fabric. He takes a seat beside you, “It did. I’m forever stuck, unable to move on. And truly? I am okay with it. But there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for any members of the Troupe so they never have to experience the magnitude of losing your wife.”

“I understand but-”

“I want you to tell me what it is you truly want. If you could have one wish.”

You respond instantly, not needing to think of your answer, “To be healthy and live the rest of my life with Uvo.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I believe you.” Chrollo sighed, “I wanted to respect your wishes but I had a feeling you were accepting the path of a martyr as all roads appeared exhausted. I found someone, a skilled doctor from another continent who has treated and helped patients with symptoms similar to or more extreme than yours. He likes the challenges of strange chronic illnesses.”

You straighten, an invisible weight feeling like it’d been lifted off of you. Your mind is short circuiting however, as if you’d been unplugged. You’d had to come to terms with your impending doom after a multitude of medical avenues were taken at no expense. But Chrollo’s outreach must have been intense, it must have taken ages to discover if you’re only now hearing of it. 

Hope rushed into you. A re-ignited fire burning bright within, making the idea of living another day plausible. Something you wanted. 

“Does Uvo know? Where is he? He left me I… Thought he was done. That he didn’t want me-”

“I sent Feitan to find him, I wanted to talk to you first. The doctor is already on his way. I did not want to waste time if you agreed. And if you truly wanted to rest for eternity, I’d have sent him back.”

“How.. But the Troupe- please don’t kill him after.”

“No, it would be a waste. He is miniscule as a threat to us, I actually thought him to be dead all these years. I knew him briefly in Meteor City, he would come to treat the children.”

“Ah.” Knowing the doctor wouldn’t die for helping you released you from any possible qualms you’d have had, “Chrollo?”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate it, and I apologize for making you come out here.”

“Do not. Uvogin should be the one apologizing to you.” Chrollo stands with ease, then helps you stand, “I wouldn’t let him off easy, while we all deal with things in our own way, he’d have always regret walking out on you if it were the final time. We should never take time with our loved ones for granted. I am only glad I could find a possible solution for you.”

You’re swelling with appreciation, genuine happiness that you don’t think you’ve felt since the wedding. And before that? Prior to your initial pneumonia diagnosis almost 18 months ago. And definitely prior to Bates. With the burst of joy through your veins you want to throw your arms around Chrollo and thank him profusely some more, but that’s not something you’re physically capable of. Your legs can hardly hold you upwards as you two walk, him having to keep a firm grasp on your waist and arm in case. Slowly the path turned into the walkway for the Troupe’s base, the walking time taking practically double what it should have. But that’s okay, you’re too filled with ambition dreaming about having a normal functioning body once more even if Uvogin still wants to be done with you. 

Your teeth chatter, tips of your extremities a bright red from the chill. Unable to stop shaking even from the sudden heat inside. 

Chrollo helped you into your bed in Uvogin’s room, telling you he’ll have Machi swing by. The warmth of the room and the mound of blankets covering you, it’s suddenly easier to sleep than ever. For now you let yourself dream about good health, about treatments working, but still worry scraped the back of your mind when it came to your husband. Burning deep in your gut at the thought of your vows meaning nothing. As you begin to drift off–  

You hear a deep voice yelling laced with panic. Uvogin sounded ready to rage, to throw furniture across the room, you could picture the anger radiating from him through his tone. Because his words are hazy to you, and even as the door bursts open you’re unable to look. The feeling of large hands combing along your cool skin was the last thing you felt before falling into darkness. 

Uvogin shudders in relief as he watches your chest rise then fall. Your wind stained cheeks still pink as his thumb dragged along your face. He’s coming down from an intense adrenaline fueled high, his heart hammering in his chest ready to burst. How angry he’d been as Nobunaga followed hot on his trail attempting to put reason into him. And how Feitan appeared out of thin air with a look mixed with pity and contempt, saying Chrollo needed him for an emergency. How his stomach dropped filled with nauseating butterflies as his mind jumped to you, that him storming out left you vulnerable. That you fucking died somehow, as he’d let you think he was done. His selfishness towards his lack of control wracked him with guilt as he raced back to the Base. 

But instead Chrollo awaited him with a stern lecture even as he tried to push back yelling for you, body screaming for you to be against him. Yet Chrollo sat there amused over his idea to let Uvogin’s thoughts run rampant to a worse case scenario, sickeningly wanting him to feel the sorrow, the agony of losing you to get it through his thick head this wasn’t all about him. Then the leader informed him of the doctor on his way, giving one final effort to help you. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

Uvogin repeated as he pressed wet kisses to your skin, inhaling your scent like it was his own personal drug. His addiction to your frame in his as the bed creaked when he joined you under the blankets. 

How tiny you are compared to his monstrous form, precious and fragile as you subconsciously nuzzled into his warmth even in a half conscious slumber. He can feel all the cold that rattled you melt from your body due to his own heat, how you no longer shuddered as you fell further limp with relaxation. Little mewls escaping your lips. The jerk reaction of your leg twitching as you murmured something under your breath. Not quite actual words but always made his lips quirk. 

“Uvo?” You exhale with a smacking of your lips, a whimper as you attempt to shift. Arms and legs trembling as you stretch out waking from your quick douse of sleep, “You’re back?” 

Your delicate lashes flutter as you languidly look about. 

“Do… You still want me?” 

Oh his heart shattered from your frail words as you rubbed at your eyes, eyes glittering from the wetness in your lash line. Your bottom lip trembling that all Uvogin can do to show you his devotion is press a chaste kiss to you. 

“Always.” He grunted before deepening his lips against yours with force, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to taste and to claim. 

You gripped his bicep, head spinning from the suddenness of his stealing your breath. Now suffocating in his warmth, his scent, and his touch as you lose yourself in the pleasure running down your spine. Emotions all over. Anger at him for leaving, for yelling. Relief he’d come back. His hands roam underneath your clothes to lay ownership over your body, a heavy groan vibrating into you as he tugged you closer. If it were even possible. He’d tie you to him if he could, keep you glued to him, be inside you to be molded as one. 

As you become more aware, your feelings of betrayal towards him coming back, you push on his pectorals. And when he doesn’t budge you push again harder, words laced with venom shooting from your mouth. 

“I want you off me.”

He looked like a kicked puppy, surprised as he pulled away. Someone so big with his bulking muscles looked like he wanted to shrivel up before he regained his senses, then attempted to entrap you in his arms.

“You don’t get to crawl into bed and kiss me after what you said. Would you have come back? Would you be this happy if Chrollo didn’t tell you about the doctor?”

“Baby.” He murmured miffed as you squirmed from his grasp, “I-”

“He found me outside, I was so cold and lost, going to just die there.” Uvogin’s face twists to something unreadable and devastating, but you continue, “He asked me what I wanted. If I would accept help from one last doctor, it would be okay if I said no. Uvo I’ve had to come to terms with all of this on my own, you’ve always been so convinced it would be okay. But don’t you understand we were out of options? We have limited time, all I wanted was to rest, to enjoy whatever I had left with you. Yet you storm off. I know it’s been taxing for you but I have tried so hard to stay alive.”

You don’t want to cry, you don’t want him to see you suffer more. You get up from the bed, seeing how his arm twinged as he held himself back from grabbing you, Uvogin was smart enough to understand times you needed autonomy to stick it in your head that you had a semblance of control.

“And I am going to do whatever it is this doctor wants to try, but if it doesn’t work you need to accept that I’m letting fate have its turn with me.” 

It felt like an eternity as you and Uvogin stared into the depths of the others eyes, watching every movement the large man could make. The apprehension in his body language as the gears turned in his head put you on edge. For he was stubborn. 

“Alright.”

Alright. He says it like it’s a defeat but offers a faint smile to follow it up. You sigh from the comfort it brought you, physically allowing your shoulders to relax from where you stood. The bed served as a thick barrier between you physically, but the expanse there mentally was like a cavern. 

“Uvo.” You sniffled, lips quivering as the necessity for him brought you to tears. But you couldn’t, wouldn’t as you remembered his words from earlier.

“C’mere baby.” 

“No.” 

He says nothing though you have ideas what he’s debating doing. 

“I can’t. Not after what you said. How willing you were to tell me to die, then walk away.”

From words spoken out of quick anger, Uvogin watched as the relationship cultivated between you two seemingly came crashing down. A thread wound so tight, pulling and pulling for months, finally snapped. And he knows he needs to patch it back up as quickly as possible, get you back into his orbit. 

He groans into his hands, pushing against his cheeks running his fingers against his skin down to his jaw, eyes moist. An incredulous look flashed across his face as his mouth opened then closed, then opened back up to speak but with no words to follow. 

A standstill, you wipe at your tears, “I think we need some time apart.”

“No. Absolutely not, you’re out your fuckin’ mind if you think I’m leaving your side.” From confusion to immediate discontent, his chest overflowing with annoyance at your stupidity thinking he’d give you space.

“But you did. Earlier.”

Uvogin had nothing to retort back for once as his brows pinched together. His thick fingers flexed as he focused on containing his growing temper he felt towards himself, the divide he put between you two. 

“And I fucked up. Got no excuse for my behavior besides I was pissed, I know I’m big and breaking shit around you isn’t the answer. Walking away won’t fix it but I had to leave before I did anything I’d regret. Couldn’t scare you further or risk hurting you. The thought of me being the reason you’re ever hurt makes me fucking ill, I’d rather break every bone in my body. I love you, and I’ll prove it to you every single day over and over if I gotta. But I’m not giving you space.”

It’s the most genuine apology that’s ever left his lips, has you warm inside and brain flitting to accept immediately. You see and hear the regret, it pulls at your heart making your stomach flutter with butterflies. He knew exactly what you needed to hear but this time around he said nothing he didn’t mean in an attempt to sway you back into his arms. He was a truthful, passionate man overall, only straying when absolutely necessary in keeping you happy with him. And he sees you perk up. Knows he’s got you.

“I’ll hold you to that.” It’s hard to hide the twinkle in your eyes, the involuntary upturn of your lips, or your reddened face because of him. How you know you’re giving in to him too easily and that you should make him work for it more. Get on his knees and beg, maybe do a few things while down there too. 

Because against better judgment you’re across the room and straddling the expanse of his large hips. Your lips desperately pressing into his uncaring for the way your lungs throbbed within you, not until you’re pulling back. A coughing fit comes over you, heavy and mucus filled, from the depths of you making you shudder. Uvogin holds you, petting your back as you hack against his chest. Burning. You felt so hot it was almost unbearable as the intake of any air was torturous for your frail body. 

He sighed into your hair, listening to your erratic pulse, “My sweetest girl. I got you. No matter what happens with this doctor, I’m here.” 

And you believe him, whether or not out of necessity. It doesn’t really matter anymore. 

You fall into a strange cycle with him the following days. Uvogin becomes your ever present, ever hovering gigantic shadow that moved precisely when you did. His intense gaze feels like a permanent fixture upon you, watching, assessing every move you made. From the food you consumed so that it was up to his standards of health, to taking over shaving your legs, to not letting a single person touch you besides himself… It brings you back to the first year you spent with him before the relationship blossomed, to how robotically he controlled your life. 

Pieces of you wanted to brush him off, punish him as exasperation boiled within you. Unable to push his hands away without a glare. His gigantic form pressing against you constantly.

But this was different, you had to believe so. He was scared to lose you. Bad enough you wandered outside with him knowing because he stormed off, almost leaving you to freeze to death. So day in and day out you're met with an onslaught of kisses and tender touches along with his over-protective barrage. In your soul you feel it though, the light at the end of the tunnel slowly approaching. Just what that light was- you weren’t certain.

-

Two weeks later on the dot does Chrollo arrive with the mysterious doctor in tow. You’re nervous sitting atop the table in the small infirmary in the Troupe’s basement. You remember the medicinal scent from the one other time you’d been down here and it makes you squirm, palms sweating as you fiddle with Uvogin’s fingers. . 

Uvogin had pulled a chair to be beside you, a large hand engulfing one of your own as the doctor carefully looked you over, taking vitals, and a few vials of blood. You’d pouted at the sight of the needles, begging Uvo for some help which only brought a wicked grin to his face. You knew he liked how hard you’d squeezed him as blood was drawn, making a face at the nauseous feeling it brought. He’s trying so hard to keep your spirits up and you daresay it’s working?

Things had been strange, more tense in some ways, Uvogin seemingly walking on eggshells around you. Scared to upset you. Overly doting if that were even possible for the clingy man who would choose to spend time with you over Troupe business. (Which took you far too long to realize how serious he was the first time he told you that.)

“I’m going to run these tests I need real quick. I need to be able to count out a few possibilities to confirm what I think our path is. My nen will speed up the process so sit tight.” The doctor, who was a short man with an overgrown beard, said offering a kind smile. 

“Thank you.” You take a sharp breath in and glance at Uvo. The door clicked close, leaving the two of you to sit in heavy silence.

You watched him slowly kiss your knuckles one at a time, expelling the unruly feelings of obsessive jealousy coursing through him. His overly possessive nature regardless of your health, hated the doctor’s hands on you. Was grounding himself as his lips dragged along your skin, “Feeling okay?” 

“Nervous. Hated describing everything I’ve dealt with, though I know he needed to hear it.” You sighed. The insurmountable effort to get out of bed each day was wearing you down, at this point you’re surprised you’re able to at all. Mornings begin with faint cries and whimpers as Uvo helps you up. Then you stay placated in the same spots, droning away at whatever is shoved in front of you. And night time was when your bones could relax and mind could have its reprieve from the constant synapses shooting aching pain through you. 

You didn’t speak much as butterflies spurred from Uvogin’s invasive touching, continuing to claim parts of you as his own as you wait. But there was a twisting past the sparks he made you feel, one dreadful and sickening. A wandering mind down alleyways of deceit telling yourself there’d be no magical cure or good news; that you’d spend your remaining time wasting away in suffering. 

Eventually the door creaked open and the doctor strode in, head stuck in a clipboard, “Alright.”

You’re sitting straight, electricity shooting through your spine. Uvo tenses next to you, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly.

The diagnosis was in the air of what you’d expected. Pneumonia from the time before Bates kidnapped you never properly healed. It expanded into more. Your respiratory tract was giving up and the rest  of your body did too. It wouldn’t be long before you’d begin coughing up blood per the doctor, the statement shaking you to your core.

“I see antibiotics have not done much, which are always the first line of defense. Which I believe a more aggressive track should be taken.” 

“And what is that?” Uvogin asked in a low voice, fringing on threatening. 

“I would like to put you into a medical nen induced coma.” 

“No.” 

“Uvo.” You grab his wrist as a silent plea, “He’d know better than us on treatment.” 

Your insistence has Uvogin backing down, as in his body physically relaxing. His muscles twitch in the arm you grasp. 

“I have seen and treated 3 cases of hemoptysis or pneumonia successfully this way. And have studied cases of past colleagues too. We are in the unique situation where my nen would be the driving factor rather than what a normal hospital would use. Your body would be given complete rest, no need to fight each day to walk or eat, or even rest. It would give your white blood cells the ability to fight this intense infection. This has turned a lung infection into something chronic, this is the only route that makes sense to take.”

“How long will the coma be for?” You race to articulate your swarming thoughts. They’re all jumbled due to your lack of medical understanding and the fear seeping in. But between you and Uvo, you need to be calm so he is. Because when it came to you, any sense went out the window. 

“Two weeks. But I would be able to tell from test results if you’d need longer. Then afterwards for 3 months there’d be a strict regimen of pills.”

You take a deep breath in, “And if this doesn’t work?”

The doctor gives you a solemn look, which you understand, “Then we’d want to make you comfortable.” 

It was a scary thought. Going to sleep and not waking up one day. One that you’d rather prefer than a malicious death, like torture at the hands of Feitan. While you feel confidence in this doctor, in that you’d wake up from the nen coma, it’s what comes after that makes bile churn in your gut. 

The doctor wants to put you into the coma pronto. 

Uvogin wants to argue, you see the fire in his eyes, the desperation on his face. The silent anger vibrates in him as he wants to scoop you, his wife, up and leave. His silent pent up feelings of failing you coming to the surface. 

He holds your hand as your body goes limp. The pink glow of the doctor’s nen cocooning you inside, not allowing Uvogin to touch you. He hates it. 

The days go painfully slow. 

An hour felt like twenty. 

The first week felt like a year. 

Uvogin was more combative than normal, aggressive with his words when he used them. Abnormally quiet but everyone knew to steer clear of him. Leaving your side was an absolute no-go for the large man, needing to watch every delicate breath to prove to himself you’re still breathing. 

If someone like Uvogin was truly capable of true self reflection- he probably would have during this time. Sure, his mind occasionally filled him with doubt, if his life choices were some fateful cause of your doom. Much like his thoughts had when Bates had you, at least this time he had his eyes on you. 

When the second week finally came to an end and the doctor confirmed it was safe for you to be woken up, that your vitals showed drastic improvement, Uvogin was elated. 

How endearing it was as you whined, eyes fluttering as you struggled to wake. Limbs heavy as you reach in the air through blurry vision, attempting to claw at your face. How you mewled for him relishing in his suffocating touch, fueling his protective instincts more than ever. 

You properly wake to lips against your own, stealing your breath before moving to your jaw. Through heavy eyelids you can make out the side of Uvo’s head, then threading a hand through his wild locks. You can feel his burning lips kissing, the nipping down your neck as he sucks the delicate skin between his teeth to leave marks. A fast sigh of pain leaves your lips as a jolt inside you grounds you to your surroundings. 

“Uvo?” You croak, voice betraying you as it doesn’t sound like your own. Throat dry and hoarse, it hurts to speak so you don’t. 

He doesn’t respond to you right away, Uvogin groping and squeezing at your skin. Swirling heat envelopes your weary limbs, sweat pooling along your hairline as your core goes flush with molten liquid. Sleep still dragged on your eyelids. You could barely move your own legs from the exhaustion and traces of medical nen pricking along you.  

Your legs move, Uvogin spreading your thighs wide. The bed creaks as his weight presses on it. His body exudes searing heat. Burning you as you squirm and mewl about the heavy fog weighing down on you. Chest heavy, heart hammering so much that you hear the blood pounding in your ears as you swallow in anticipation. 

The feeling of your nightgown hiking makes you gasp. Your panties peeled off your form felt like jabs of knives down your numbly tingling skin. 

Uvogin’s thick cockhead prods at your folds, “Fuckin’ hell your soaked. Thinkin’ of me in your dreams?” He chuckled cruelly. 

You whimper as a moistness between your legs fill you with shame, his words only prodding it further. 

Mind lit in static fire, blue and orange with smoke paralyzing your brain as your hips jerk to meet his involuntarily. Body blistering from head to toe, confusing lust settled in you as you feel a pained stretch through your smoky mind. 

“Fuck you’re tight.” Uvogin grunted as he sank his cock further. 

He’s splitting you apart. You cry out, a ghastly moan as your walls spasm around the large length forcing its way in. Dazed and overwhelmed. Impossibly full before you could properly register you were even alive. That you’d been in a coma for two weeks. That now, your poor cunt was shoved full of cock and your stomach expanded as Uvogin grunted with each vicious inch he pushed further in. Fingers seized at his biceps nails drawing blood, toes curled as your legs trembled with feathery pleasure whilst all you felt was unnatural. 

You’re being pushed and pulled every which way, caught in a dangerous undercurrent that shows no reprieve to let you swim upwards. Extraordinary pleasure blossoms within you, petal by petal unfolding and its bright colors glimmering in ecstasy. Ecstasy that choked you up to where you couldn’t breathe as tears brimmed at your eyes, desperately trying to gain senses.

Uvogin began to fuck into you slow, uncaring for the lack of prep, primarily driven by his insatiable want for you. Driven by the fear over your health and his lack of control. That shoving his cock into you to feel your poor gummy walls squeeze the life out of him, settled his churning emotions. That the incessant burn of anxiety in his chest was being snuffed out, and all because the electric pleasure of being one with you brought him. 

“Uvo!” You cry so sweetly for him, all hoarse and face filled with confusion. He was your lifeline in the storm. A storm he brought upon you. One that lifted you and dropped you as his cock hit your most sensitive spots, nestling up against your cervix only to pull out and thrust in again. 

Your lust filled whimpers only grow as Uvogin manhandled your thighs further apart, resting them on his biceps as he towered over you. His thick muscles corded with each push to the hilt of his hips flush to yours. Smacking of skin filled the dry air, your pain still twisting with rapture as his name repeats off your tongue. 

He leans to capture your lips, an inhuman-like groan from the back of his throat tickles your ears. It was one of desperation, higher pitched and letting you see him with shields down. His gigantic body practically trembles upon you as he picks the pace up, pistoning his hard cock over and over, and over. Mind blurring. Squirt dripples from your abused hole as you reach your high through a giant wave of pleasure. 

“Missed you.” Is all he moans. Again. And again.

Your arms move around his neck, legs attempting to wrap around his expansive waist. You can’t imagine him being any further, needing him closer, even closer than the part of him inside you. Because as you blink furiously, registering in your post orgasm haze, about the medical nen coma. That you don’t know the state of your health or the day of the month it is, instead all you can feel is your husband’s cock burying deeper into your guts like he’d never get to again. Overstimulated and too full, Uvogin roared as he came feeling your perfect velvet walls so tight, his vision whiting out. The way the bulge in your lower tummy inflated, the way he re-hardened in seconds to empty you to slam back in. A silent scream all that escapes you.

Fucking through each other’s highs there was nothing you could have ever wanted more than him like this. Maybe you would have wanted him to wake you properly to meet with the doctor to know whether or not you’d live or die. But you’d take this heated moment as you lose your mind as he fucks your sensitive nerves and toys with your clit, murmuring loving yet intense proclamations into your ears. 

Blissed-out face. Uvogin’s eyes burning into yours. Sweat falling from your foreheads. Cries of love. Heavy breaths. Electricity swarms you two, bodies lit in flames of passion and his possession over your body, mind and soul. As he comes again, letting your tiny cunt greedily take his warm seed, your chest sores and a pathetic smile tugs at your lips. You’re babbling incoherent words. Letting him grope you and kiss, and nip and play with your most sensitive areas even as you cried for a reprieve. His come leaked from your folds, an intense river of the warm seed trickling down to the bed, leaving you oh so empty from it and the aftermath of losing his cock. You cried for him to go back inside, that you needed to feel close to him to be one with him. Your hips bucked and jerked as tears fell, pitiful pouts before he laughed.

He sucks and licks along your cunt, slurping your juices and his own seed. Playing with your sensitive and enlarged clit as tingles shoot along your core, twisting so good in your belly. Sweet salvation as you sigh in joy and blurry vision from the pleasure his mouth gave you, collapsing further into the pillows and opening your legs further to welcome him. Fingers threading into his hair to keep his head in the very spot you needed. 

A whimper bubbles from you as he kisses up your aching slit, before leisurely dragging along your sensitive bud that feels just right. Furiously working you to another climax as he suckled your clit, a finger stroking inwards of your thigh. He pads along your sopping entrance and you shudder, watching as two fingers sink into your cunt. Two of his large fingers, which one alone bigger than most cocks. Stretching you out so good as he pumped and curled to your liking, stimulating all the spots that he knew made you go dumb. Uvogin thinks he wants to watch you lose yourself to him but he knows this is a fine line he’s on already, taking advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. But he can’t help himself! You’re just so cute and he’d been so scared the last two weeks. He needed to have his cock deep in your little pussy, the one he’d been so good not to fuck whilst you were in your coma. He wonders if you’d let him fill you again as he jerked his hips against the mattress as his cock began to harden again. 

You’re grinding against him, he smirks before latching back onto your clit and listens to every vibrato of each moan. Of each cry and beg as your slick rushes from your tight cunt, ecstasy blossoming inside you once more as he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from you, him allowing your roadmap of pleasure to lead back to the thick tip of his cock prodding at your slit once more. You smile, so stupidly with a wet face and flushed skin, hardened nipples and asking for him to fill you up again. 

And he does.

Until you're leaking of him. Barely conscious and not able to even moan in pleasure. Until you're trembling and neither your arms or legs can support you anymore. Till he’s shooting blanks and still nudging himself back into you even as you drift off.

Uvogin ruts into your barely there form, pulling you to the edge of the bed so he can have a better view. His come dried and caked onto your skin. Hair a mess. Face swelled red and dried with streaked tears. He grunts as his feet garner support from the ground so he can pound back into you without worrying about the mattress holding him. He doesn’t care that you aren’t crying his name or begging for more. All he sees and cares about how you still squirt little streaks of juices from your hole and across his abdomen. How your body is so obsessed with his touch that he can still make you orgasm even as you lull in and out of sleep. Your clit is so engorged, pink and sensitive but he can’t stop playing with it, rolling it between his calloused fingers as you squirm. Or sucking on it so harshly you passed out earlier, only awoken by him tapping your cheek, pulling the back of your head up so you could watch his cock morph your insides to him as you barely understood what was going on before spasming and blanking out again. Staring into your blank eyes, mouth open in an O-shape, he tells you how much he loves you, and that everything is going to be okay. And of course you believe him, he’s your husband after all, the only man you’d let use you like a fuckdoll in your sickly state to the point your tummy inflated from his thick spurts of come.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself, you’ll come back to the reality of your situation. Tomorrow. For now you’ll bask in your husband as an escape.

-

It’s the next day, your legs and core are so sore, when you meet with the doctor. It felt like the pink blush was permanently painted along your cheeks as he checked over your vitals. Uvogin watched you smug, one hand tracing circles along the low of your back. The memories of yesterday are prevalent in the air, the thought of it makes you go flush. Uvogin knows the effects he has on you even in such a serious moment that you almost want to smack him for it.

This was it. The moment of truth. 

You're fluttering with anxious nerves, stomach churning and you’re eyeing the garbage can for the chance you puke. Thundering in your ears as your heart hammers and blood rushes. It’s like your surroundings were null as you carefully watch the doctor’s every move, listen to his every breath and word to analyze what they mean. Looking for any sign in his body language that you’re fucked, that it failed and you’re officially out of options. 

But it doesn’t come. He smiled warmly between you and Uvogin. 

“As I expected, my nen coma was a success.” 

As he expected? Had he seemed so certain two weeks ago? You didn’t think so, but apparently he believed off of past patients that you’d recover?

He continues, “Your body was able to replenish itself not having to strain itself the last two weeks. You’re out of the danger zones to where traditional medicine will be able to bring you back to around 90% of your strength. While it’ll never be completely perfect, permanent damage has been done, you’ll no longer be in chronic pain day in or day out, or worrying about coughing up blood. You can go up stairs without stopping and go for walks without needing someone’s assistance. You’ll have energy, an appetite, no longer with permanent symptoms of pneumonia, and excitement towards the future once more.” 

You immediately look to Uvogin, who for once looks pleasantly surprised. His eyes glitter as he meets your gaze, and he smiles. It’s genuine, not forced like everything had been at one point to keep your spirits high. Immediately, you fling your arms around him, tears prick at your lash line. Hugging him as tight as you can knowing you couldn’t hurt him, while his boisterous laugh is like music to your ears. 

The doctor sends Uvogin out of the room to fetch food, saying he’ll go over your medications now. 

For a second you stutter, your whole body short circuiting as you don’t want Uvo to leave. But his encouraging nod your way before he closes the door helps you relax. 

You quickly discover why the doctor wanted time alone with you.

“It’s fairly simple, these two bottles of faint coral-pink pills are for the next two months. They’re high dosages which is why they’re rather large pills, do your best to get them down. Take them with food as well.” 

The doctor grabs two other bottles, your stomach drops as you feel a change in the air. 

“Now, I’ll keep it simple. I can’t tell if you’re happy, what kind of doctor would I be if I helped you recover just to keep you with a dangerous band of criminals?” He laments, “The pale yellow pills are for the final month, they’ll cement the work of my nen and the pink pills. You should not regress for the rest of your life, they’re strong and will kill off any remaining infections or diseases. You’ll be lethargic so I recommend taking them at night.”

“What about the blue ones?” You ask, stomach feeling like it was in the pits of hell the way it violently churned within you. 

“They’ll undo mine and the pill’s work and will allow you to pass peacefully. Take them for a final way out.”

“You- How could…” 

“I’ll write down directions, yellow pills if you feel like the pink ones worked. Blue is needed if more aggressive medications are needed after the two months. At your discretion, who would argue?”

For a split second you wonder if this was a test. But you just smile at him, “I really appreciate your help. It’ll be nice to breathe normally again.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

It took all your strength to not focus too intently on the blue pills as the doctor explained to Uvogin what they meant. He was completely bought in by the ‘deceiving’ explanations, no inkling present that one of the bottles could kill you.

You don’t want to think about it, not too much. You want to think about having autonomy once more. To breathe without hacking, to walk without needing help, to eat without getting sick. 

Month one- you take the bottle of pink pills. Each day, you aren’t sure if you’re truly feeling better or if it’s a placebo. A week of getting out of bed without tears or an aching body, is when you realize recovery was possible. You begin to enjoy full meals with Uvo, seeing the delight on his face when you bake for the first time in over a year. You two laugh at the mess, how half the pastries were burnt but it’s progress as you salvage the edible parts to feed the other. Your deep, nasty cough still surfaced each day. Less and less mucus each time. You’d sleep through the nights, once again becoming the one to wake up first like a waiting puppy for its owner, how expectantly you stared down at him nudging him to wake. How for the first time you were able to initiate sex with no worries of getting sick or him hurting you, as you took his swollen lengthy cock into your mouth. Him standing over you as he lets you explore him with your tongue. He’s so heavy and you giggle, warm and needy as you suck and kiss, lick along his thick veins to the point he can’t handle your teasing. You cry as he fucks your face but they’re good tears, and he watches as you swallow and then open your mouth to show him. Uvogin never leaves your side but for once you feel joy towards it, not frustration. 

Month two- you still take the pink pills and the improvement is astronomical. You giggle like a maniac as you skip about the fluttering grass outside the Troupe’s Base. Uvo watches you spin about before falling to the ground in exhaustion, he smiles as you bask in the sun. You’re breathing heavily but no coughing fits come. You’re bright red and clearly tired but you can still get up to keep going. He’s relaxing under a tree and you’re running around like your life depended on it, he thinks you’re just so damn cute. This is the month you return to more hobbies, become more talkative and want to watch more shows or finally give him back snarky remarks. Uvogin almost dies from the elation, the lightness of his chest at how life returned to you, how you were you. Not the husk of a person stolen away because of disease, you’re happy. Right? 

It’s now month three- you stare between the two bottles. ‘Take the blue pills for a way out.’ The doctor's words reverberate, you’d ignored them for the first two months not wanting to worry about it. Not wanting to get in your head before making a decision. 

You sit in the main room of the Troupe’s Base, Chrollo had called a last minute meeting the night before so Uvogin had to cart you out of bed, ruining a rather good dream. You’re staring at the medications on the counter, then eyes flickering to the clock. Today was the first day you needed to make your choice, the one you’d avoided for so long. 

Sickness numbed your mind at times, while at others allowed you to see things for what they really were. You think. You’d been ready to die, to be released from chronic neverending pain, but now having life back changed your mind. Little things you’d always taken more granted were now things you would never want to lose again. Maybe you’d lost yourself a long time ago, maybe you were always a horrible person to love Uvogin, but as you recount all these years with him you don’t want to lose him. Or the way he loved you. The doubt you’d had towards him after Bates was finally washing away, you walled all the incessant ringing you’d have in your ears off. No more were you susceptible to the common sense you had at the start of your captivity to always hang onto the truth about him. You walled it all off, brick by brick in your head. 

Maybe a part of you wants him to suffer. Wondering how he’d react when you suddenly fell sick again and passed, would he be ruined? Would he move on? You figured he’d do something dumb, find a way to get himself killed more likely. So you walled those feelings off too. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” You smile as Uvo walks out from one of the halls. You mewl into his large hand as he cups the side of your head before moving so you could lean back into him. He’s so large over you that when you lean back on the side of your chair that you only reach up to his thighs. 

You crane your neck to look up, “Everything okay?”

“Yep. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” He looks at the bottles on the table, “So, what ones you thinking? Can you mix them depending on how you feel each day?”

“Uh, don’t know about that, doubt it? I’ve been trying to recount everything to make a decision. Because I mean… I can’t complain, I feel good.” 

“Right.” Uvogin held a hand for you to take, then he grabbed your waist to help you up, “Up to you then, babe.”

The feeling of his thumb circling against your clothed side and the suddenness of standing makes your head spin. In a moment of striking clarity you reach to grab one of the bottles, certain in your choice.

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm.” You grin up at him, squeezing his hand as you lace your fingers with his. 

The bottle of yellow pills rattles in your hand as you two make your way to his room. The blue pills sit forgotten, almost screaming out for you to change your mind, to think things through again. That you needed to at least leave cracks in the wall you created to protect yourself, just in case. But you didn’t. You coated it in shiny protective layers of something in your mind, causing your chest to surge in feelings of love and all things gooey and over the top. Just stars left shining in your eyes as you look at him. 

The month of taking the yellow pills passed, they made you lethargic like the doctor said they would, causing you to get mass amounts of sleep. But he was right, they made you feel good as new. 

You sit cross legged in the townhome, leafing through pages of your book as Uvogin shuffles around in the kitchen. He’d insisted that he’d make dinner tonight, which you told him takeout would be just as satisfactory (and probably better anyways). 

After multiple interventions on your part you two finally sit connected at the hip as your weekly show plays, food in hand. When Uvo finishes he tucks an arm around your waist pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your hair. A heaviness in your chest suddenly becomes apparent, each time you swallow the food seeming dry and tasteless. 

“Uvo?”

He sensed the tension in your small body immediately, but didn’t say anything as he knew you were still adjusting. While physically you could handle a lot from long walks or eating actual food, mentally you were still catching up with the changes. 

“What’s up?”

“Can I tell you something?” You ask meekly. Your fingers feel sweaty, you have to set the food down on the coffee table immediately. A storm rages within you. One side telling you to spill, the other telling you to let this be a secret you die with.

“Anything.” 

“The- You remember the blue pills I could have taken instead of the yellow ones?” More screaming within you to stop. Like hands were physically trying to drag your voice back down, that this would only anger him. 

“I do.” 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, focusing on your hands in your lap. You’re more aware of his hulking presence holding you to him than before. You’re more aware of his steady heartbeat and breaths as you wait for them to speed up, to show his anger.

“You can’t get mad.”

“Mad ‘bout what? You end up taking any?” 

Your heart is hammering in your ribs, like it’d burst out ripping you and all your biggest fears into the open. It’s giving you away, you know it. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating you until you took a deep breath in. No lies. You were given a new chance at life and you would not keep this from him. Couldn’t. It was best it came from you rather than someone else somehow down the road. 

“They would have actually killed me.” 

Silence. 

“Uvo?”

“Yeah?”

He’s not reacting how you thought he would. He starts to fucking laugh and you’re staring at him like a deer in headlights. It makes feelings of annoyance bubble in your chest, anger as your nose flares and your pupils dilate. 

“Why… Are you laughing? It’s not funny.”

“Course it’s not, babe, but I already knew.” He shrugged. 

“How?”

“Shalnark. Guess he got curious what was in them after you said you wouldn’t be taking them. I said he could have ‘em to do whatever that tech freak does.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“Came to me and told me they would have regressed your pneumonia and caused you to pass in your sleep eventually. So I assumed you were aware of that, the doctor probably lied to me, and you made the choice to live. Of course I had to wonder what if you didn’t know and it was all luck you didn’t take them, now I know it wasn’t.”

“That’s why you didn’t say anything?”

“Yep, figured if you didn’t know you’d have flipped shit.”

“Why are you acting so calm? You’re freaking me out.”

Uvogin forced you to look up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss, “Because you chose me. You had all that time to think about it so you must have known for certain you wanted to be with me.” He grinned deviously, “Course I’m a little irked but, I do deserve some shit still for kidnapping you. I’d say it all worked out though, huh?” 

You playfully smacked his chest, unable to hide your grin, “You know I looked at the blue pills as a way out if the medical coma and pink pills didn’t work. That if I was back in pain, I couldn’t believe it almost, I was ready to suffer again. Not once did I want to use them because I wanted to be away from you. Sure I wondered if you deserved to suffer for the shit you do, but I love you. I wanted help from that doctor because I want more time with you, I could have said no to Chrollo three months ago. So I knew what my choice was from the start. You’re all I wanted those months with Bates, I had time to think, unravel my feelings yet you’re it for me Uvo. Guess you’ll get your karma in another way.”

“So fucking cute, wife.” His lips crushed onto yours again, his tongue shoving inside claiming you. He pulled you to straddle his lap before he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, “You had me believing in that stupid karma shit, you know that? Glad you’re finally passed me being a mass murderer and all that.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You groan, shame prickling the back of your neck making you go warm. The wall is still strong in your mind, keeping you happy, keeping you from fully feeling that shame that should have made you go comatose. Instead it allowed you to kiss him with all your might, tugging at the shirt he wore. A kiss turned to desperate chaos as teeth gnashed and lips fought for dominance, saliva shared and dripping as lewd moans began to fill the air. Carnal touches. Salacious grunts. Swirling hot sex filled air controlled you two as clothes thrown discarded and forgotten, unneeded. 

You’d made your decision. How much of it was really your own, was left up for discussion. You’d never know how much of this you really wanted, or if you’d fallen in love out of necessity for survival. Or if Uvogin really was who you were meant to be with. But all you knew as Uvogin forced his swollen cock passed your tight unprepped walls, you’d never want anything more than this man as you cried. You who practically passed out as he breached your aching cunt and to the hilt of your cervix, outlining your tummy and pushing to stretch you even more as he yelled out for you. This man who loved you furiously and would destroy the whole world for you if you asked. And that- wasn’t that the grandest declaration of one’s feelings you could receive? 

Right? 

authors note on an alternate ending— i view it as if reader were to die than this would head towards canon where uvogin dies by kurapika’s hand and he’s all content because he gets to see you again :))

[smh-yoon]

Addicitive - Sakura Haruno

a/n: another smut prompt fulfilled!! sakura is prob my fav girl to write for because she is hated on by a lot of the naruto fandom for shitty reasons! also i find a lot of writing for her is not my favorite style, so i write what i like to read :) ALSO IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

genre: smut, romance, wlw

prompt: "i want you. all of you."

pairing: adult! sakura haruno x fem! reader

warnings: porn!, minor angst in the beginning, makeup sex, cunnilingus, fingering

MDNI - nsfw below the cut

"I'm just saying, it would be nice to have some time to ourselves, Sakura! You're always running around for the Hokage or offering to help for other shinobi and take on missions and I know that you like to help but-"

Sakura let out a loud huff and continued shimmying her thigh pouch up her leg, reaching for her headband with her free hand as she listened to you argue. "This is my job, you knew that when we met, you knew that when you became a genin!"

"I never knew I was going to sign up to be second best to your job!"

"I save lives! I fight to protect the village, to protect you!"

"What will there be left to protect if I don't stick around for it?" you were nearly shouting, tears stinging your eyes as you tried to bite back the knot in your throat.

Sakura froze by the door, staring at you with eyes swirling in emotion. For a few tense moments, neither of you said anything. The possibility of you really leaving, being gone from your shared home, from her life entirely had never crossed her mind so abruptly as it did just then.

You two had had this fight more than once, a few times in fact, and usually it ended with Sakura leaving to cool off and work and coming home with some treat as an apology. You had never threatened, or implied, that you would ever leave before.

"[Y/n]..." Holding your hand out, you clenched your eyelids shut and let out a sigh.

"I just.. I feel like I haven't had a real conversation with in you months. You're always running off to do more. There are other shinobi in this village who can pick up the slack if you take one day off a week. Every time I bring this up it's like you don't even take me seriously."

Shrinking into yourself, you let Sakura's silence twist your stomach in knots. On the other hand, Sakura was trying to pull herself from the shock. It wasn't like you were wrong. Maybe she had pushed all of your concerns aside to avoid addressing it again, thought maybe the problem would go away. She's a smart woman, she should've known better than that.

"I mean, do you even want to be with me anymore?"

"Of course I do! What kind of question is that?" Sakura was finally snapped out of her stupor, dropping her weapons pouch and striding over to you. She reached out to you and hesitated, sighing as she brought you into her arms.

Your body melted into her embrace, hugging her back tightly. As hard as you tried to push back the tears stinging in your eyes, they started to leak from your eyes anyways.

Sakura shushed you, petting the back of your head as she tried to hold herself together, her brain swirling with guilt at her neglect of you. Once you had calmed down, she leaned back to rest her forehead against yours.

"I want you. All of you." she whispered, leaning in to gently graze her lips over yours.

Maybe it was the tenderness of her voice and the smell of her hair, maybe it was her hands on your hips or the softness of her pink lips, maybe it was that you hadn't had sex in over a month and the tension had built up so much that just her words had you melting.

You were hesitant to lean forward, connecting your lips to hers, pressing harder against her as she gasped into the kiss. Soon she was leading you backwards, pressing your back against the wall as your hand reached around to the nape of her neck, her hand kneading your hips and trailing up your sides.

When you finally parted to breathe, she was tucking into your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses over your skin, nipping and biting the most sensitive parts she had come to learn of in the time you'd been together.

"Sakura," you gasped out, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed over your clavicle, her hands trailing under your shirt and ghosting over your breasts. You were silently thanking yourself for not putting on a bra for the day as she cupped your tits in her hands, leaning back up to bring your into a hot kiss.

She was pressed against you, her upper thigh inbetween your legs, hips pressed flush against yours, her fingers toying with your nipples as you moaned into her mouth.

It was getting too hot, your brain was getting fuzzy, fingers itching to touch her bare, soft skin, to feel her bare body pressed against yours.

"Take this off," speaking inbetween kisses, your hands lifting her shirt over her head, quick to let her strip you of yours. You paid no heed to the bindings she was wearing, tearing them off as quickly as you could.

The both of you moaned as her bare breasts pressed against yours, nipples brushing against each others as she swiped her tongue over your lips, slipping it into your mouth to exchange spit in the most intoxicating way.

Your knees were getting weak, but before you could say anything, Sakura spun you around, shuffling you backwards until your legs hit the couch. Falling backwards, she settled herself between your legs and went straight to your chest, taking a nipple into her mouth as you bucked your hips up to her.

God, you felt like a horny teenager all over again. Sakura was an overachiever in every aspect of life, so of course each orgasm she stole from you was mind numbing. After a month of little to no touch, you were already dripping in your panties.

She trailed down your stomach to the waistband of the athletic shorts you had been wearing, tugging them down along with your panties in one quick movement.

Wasting no time, she delved into you, teasing you with featherlike touches of her tongue, fluttering kisses over your inner thighs.

The buildup was nearly torturous, your heart pounding as your thighs trembling with anticipation. Finally, she licked a stripe from your opening to your clit, making you nearly sob in relief.

She wrapped her arms around your thighs, pulling you into her mouth, tongue swirling and flicking quickly against the underside of your clit, making you spiral in pleasure.

You were crying out her name, gripping her hands that were digging into your thighs as she moaned against your pussy, enjoying your taste for herself. It had only been a minute, but you swore you were going to burst at any moment with the amount of pleasure she was giving you.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, she moved one hand to press on your lower stomach, using the other to slip a finger into you, pressing against the top side of your pussy.

The mix of the sensations were so strong you came just seconds after, crying out her name and shivering in the aftershocks of your orgasm as she continued to eat you out. "Wait, too much.."

She paused for a moment, eyes glimmering with lust as she pulled away for just a second. "I'm gonna make it up to you, I'm not done yet."

<3 <3 <3

[forestshadow-wolf]

Tw: offscreen mcd (Price), suicidal ideation, grief, implied mcd (soap) (at the end)

"Hi, uh I'm looking for someone, I'm told this is where I can find them?" He had to clamp his hands behind his back to stop his fidgeting.

"Well then, let's see what we can do, shall we?" The nice lady who'd opened the door for him gave a kind smile. Too kind for him, but she didn't know that, and there's no joy in taking it from others so he kept his mouth shut and gave her one as well. "If I could just get a name for who you're looking for?"

"Kyle. Uh Garrick. Kyle Garrick, Ma'am" nerves were eating him alive, and he really wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment, but he had to do this.

"Of course, just a minute."

The woman, maybe in her 60s, returned inside. It felt like an eternity, but John had only counted to one hundred and ninety five and a half before the door opened again.

"Hello?" Gaz's voice carried through the door before soap saw him with his own eyes. He looked. Good. Better fed. He cut his hair short. Shorter. And he was. Older. Like he should be. Older but still young. He looked good. Really really good. And happy.

And John was about to shatter it all. In a moment he was going to take away all that happiness. That youth. The civilian. And replace it was an older, battle-hardened, was traumatized soldier. It made his throat dry up.

"Kyle." It was all he could manage. He wanted more than anything to not have to do this.

"Soap!" And then Kyle was wrapping him up in quite possibly the warmest hug he'll get for the rest of his life. He even smelled good. Like- warm and fuzzy something. Not sweat and fear. "Christ, I've missed you man."

"Yeah, you too." It was a weak response as Soap's ever given, but gaz was here and he'd understand. "Listen," he extracted himself from the embrace after a long, reluctant moment, "I- do you wanna go on a walk with me?" He was stalling, and they both knew it.

Gaz followed him out the door and down the road. It was a long few blocks before either of them said anything. Partially soaking in eachother's presence, Partially soap was greiving both the information he had to give and the moment he was in.

" I have some bad news."

"Okay. Yeah." Steady as always.

"Price..." they stopped walking. "I'm sorry, man, Price is... he didn't make it. I'm sorry. Im so sorry. I'm sorry, Kyle." He was rambling, and he couldn't remember who pulled who in, but they were hugging again, and crying. And it was cold and neither of them had coats. And price wasn't here. And he never would be. And soap just couldn't comprehend how it had all gone so wrong so quickly.

They may have made an odd sight, but there was no one out to see them, so it didn't matter anyway.

It was a long while before Kyle pulled back, the had both gotten cold by then. Soap wanted to claw him back in. Hold him just a little longer. Protect him a little more. He had gotten out. How could Soap just drag him back like he is. It was unfair. Soap hated it. Hated himself for it.

"How?" Kyle's vouce was rough, and shakey. Fragile. It broke Soap's heart. But suppose he deserved it.

"There was a bomb. They- the files will say the blast killed him, but-" Soap's voice broke, but Kyle deserved to know. "It was a bullet to the lung. It was agony, Kyle. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to. I had to. I- he was in so much pain. I had to, Kyle."

"It wasn't your fault, John. You had to." Kyle cupped his face in firm, but trembling hands, and lifted his face to meet his eyes. And it was that look. That damn look he got every time he stood by Soap's side for every beating and punishment and battlefield. The fierce determination. And it should have been soap comforting his best friend, but instead he was the one being comforted. And it felt so good. "How's Ghost with this?"

"I haven't- he doesn't know yet. We haven't spoken in... a while." An understatement, but it got the point across.

"What happened? I thought you two were inseparable." And they were. They had been. Before everything fell apart. Before everything soap touched in the military started to tarnish. Went bad like rotten eggs. And it left sulfur in its wake. So soap stopped putting his grubbly hands on things.

"He retired, as well." It's true. Four years and ninety-three days, not including this one, Ghost had handed in his retirement request. And it had been approved not an hour later. And Soap wouldn't ruin him if he was far away. So he didn't follow. Couldn't. He heard he'd moved somewhere in the scotland hills. Soap had always wanted to live there. He hoped he was happy.

"You didn't...?" Kyle had a, rightfully, confused look on his face. Soap knew it was compartmentalizing, what he was doing. Filing it away to deal with later. Pulling the more appropriate out. Like Soap and Simon not being in orbit anymore.

".. my life... is out there." It wasn't an untrue thing to say. It's what kept him alive after Simon. But he would've been much more alive without an after Simon. But he kept his distance, for him. Didn't want to watch him curdle into lumps and mold.

"We have to tell him." Kyle's voice was quiet.

"I'll tell him. You shouldn't have to." Soap ignored the thing that remained him he needed Gaz. Needed help hunting the bastard who put Price in the ground. And put him there too. He wouldn't do it. Wouldn't drag Kyle back into it. Won't drag Simon back into it when tells him either. He'll do it alone if he has to. Even if it kills him. Retribution. For killing Price. For not saving him. For not killing the bastard who made him kill Price. For trying to drag Kyle back into this. For breaking Kyle's heart. For daring to go near Simon again. For breaking his heart as well.

It didn't feel right to leave so soon. Not after the news he'd broken. Not with how fresh the wound was. And. He was eager to linger. Always was. Almost never denied himself a linger. Wouldn't now. Especially when he wouldn't be allowed to later.

He took Kyle home. They got in sad and chilly, but they made it. And Kyle poured then drinks when they were settled. And they sat and they talked. And they drank. And the drinks kept coming. And the cried. And hugged. And talked. And cried. And hugged some more.

It wasn't early in the morning anymore when John woke up. His head was pounding, and his heart was heavy. Kyle was sprawled on his couch, and John couldn't leave him like that in his own home. He carried hom to his bed, tucked him in all neat, like his Ma used to do for him when he was a kid. And no doubt Kyle would feel much better when he woke, so John set a tall drink of water and a few aspirin on the nightstand beside him. And John couldn't make him breakfast to say sorry, but he cleaned up their mess from the night before oh his way out, and made sure Kyle would see the note that said he was sorry. For everything.

And when he couldn't waste any more time he was catching the soonest train to scotland. And it didn't take nearly enough time, because suddenly he was renting a car. And then he was surrounded by brilliant green hills. And then he was rolling down an unfamiliar driveway. And the knock on the door feel like signing his own death warrant and he didn't know why?

The door opened less cautiously than he'd expected, and it both hurt and it made him smile. Because it meant that Simon was okay. Better even. Relaxed. But not with John. Never with John. Would be impossible with John's filthy touch.

"Hello?" Simon's voice was gruff, and he looked... softer in a way. Still that battle-hardened soldier, but with a layer of softness well underway.

"Simon."

"Johnny?" Simon, evidently, was surprised to see him. And for good reason. They hadn't spoken in four years and ninety-four days, not including today. Today when John broke that silence. Today when John reset all that progress that Simon had clearly made.

"Can I come in?" He didn't know how to act now. They hadn't spoken in over four years. How would simon react? Was it- did John want to be trappen in Simon's space when he did this? Would it ruin Simon's efforts to be comfortable in his own home by telling him here? Simon stepped back to let him.

"What are you doing here?" Straight to business. Good to know that hadn't changed.

"I have bad news about Price." They both sat down in hilarious synchronicity.

Simon tensed up, full attention on John now.

"He um- we were on an op and... he didn't make it. I'm sorry, Simon. I know how close you were to him. I'm sorry. I-"

"Why are you here, Johnny?" Simon cut him off, and John didn't know how to decipher it.

"I- Price- he-"

"But what are you here?" Oh god he knew. He knew. He knows John was here to drag him back. And he's angry. Angry for not speaking. Angry for the four years of silence. Angry that he finally got out and now John wants him back in. Angry that he finally escaped Soap's touch and now he's back to ruin him again. He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows Soap is back to ruin him. Again. No. Ne can't. He won't. He already decided that yesterday. He wouldn't do that to them. He wouldn't bring them back there. He can do it himself.

"I had to be the one to tell you... I-" I need you. I love you. I'll miss you. Goodbye. He said none of those things. "I'm sorry." Is what came out as he stood and retreated towards the door. He needed to leave behind he tarnished anything more. Before he dragged Simon back into this. Before he rotted everything Simon had built.

"That's not why you're here." Simon stood. Soap froze. Simon's eyes narrowed at him. Scrutinizing. "You're going after whoever killed him." Soap's breath didn't catch in his throat, but his heart stopped. No. Simon couldn't know.

"What? No. No I couldn't. Wouldn't even have the clearance to do that, and plus-" he was already shaking his head, and he retreated another few steps.

"You are. And you were going to ask me to come."

Yes. He was. He was going to rip up and tear apart everything that was Simon Riley and put him in a box and bury him again.

"You didn't ask. Why didn't you ask?" Simon turned his head at him like a perplexed animal. It would be cute if he wasn't reading Soap to filth. "You going to go after him alone." Soap saw the moment realization settled in. And, almost hilariously, horror followed immediately after. " You're going to kill yourself, Johnny. It's a death sentence."

Soap wanted to smile and tell him that was a good thing. Tell him it would only bring good. Soap wanted to show him it would stop the tarnishing and the rotting. He wanted to make him feel the retribution it would be for his sins. One last kill. One last sin. To remember a man who saved so many lives. A man who had changed so many lives. Maybe you can't kill the curse, but you can lock it in a box and bury it in the ground until it's not your problem anymore. It would be a good thing.

"It won't be. I know why I'm doing." Not a death sentence, but a final sacrifice.

"It is. You know it is."

"I have a flight to catch. You look good, Simon, sorry I couldn't see it sooner." But he really couldn't have. He shouldn't have this time either. But he's selfish, and he wanted to experience life one last time. "I'll catch you on the flipside." He gave Simon his last genuine smile, and was out the door.

[utopicwork]

>finds really cool project

>creator is trans! i love to see that!

>checks blog

>creator believes that if i say that like "hey trans men have some of the highest rates of sexual assault in the trans community, and the erasure of the daily violence that happens to trans men because they are both trans and seen as fertile women as well as predatory in the same way as butch lesbians in the eyes of perpetrators and have their meds restricted because they could possibly ever get pregnant as well as be forcibly impregnated as conversion therapy" then im a horrible evil theyfab monster who thinks that trans women are predatory

i know im like an evil horrible hysteric theyfab tme feminazi or something who should be ousted from queer spaces everywhere and doesnt deserve to be lesbian, gay, or trans (as im chosing to be the oppressor gender) because my existence is disrespectful to womanhood and i will forever exist as a wolf in sheeps clothing but like, fuck, i dont know, im tired of being seen only as an afab (tme), and being told i could never experience systemic violent misogyny indistinguishable from systemic violent transphobia i also experience. i dont see why being beaten, raped, and killed in the dark is somehow any less violent than the same thing happening in the light.

itd be really fucked up to imply that one group of trans people is violently invading feminine spaces w their masculinity or to gatekeep oppression from a marginalized community or to imply theyre exaggerating or are a poser and simply couldnt have experienced the type of oppression theyre referring to.

i dont know, i thought your project was cool enough to try, even though i know i cant code switch away from the tone that historically hasnt ever gone over well for anything ever because something something girls cant have autism something something, idk, if i ever saw someone excluding a trans woman in a group irl id damn well do something but bc of the way i am i know that id be excluded first. i dont know. theres no acceptable trans group to call violent and predatory and privileged by virtue of gender.

i wish they made programming for trans guys too, something unaccounted for by the representation of trans people in cs and women in cs

Well okay but counterpoint, putting words into my mouth, completely lying about what I believe and having this whole whatever this is in my inbox is exactly representative of the problem tme people have with transmisogyny.

[cephalon-celaeno]

update i REALLY didn’t like this quest. it’s just that usually i consider warframe to be a game with extremely competent writing and this is… hmm. not.

huh! I already knew I wouldn’t like this quest so my opinion doesn’t count but I don’t like this quest!

[chron0ph0bia]

im sorry the way ur talking about carini is just giving misogyny… she’s literally apologised for the way she acted, not shaking khelif‘s hand etc. she never said a single thing against khelif, she said she had to end the fight bc it was too much for her. but nothing against khelif & nothing abt her being trans/intersex. be mad abt the way khelif is being treated, but why r u calling carini a bitch and a crybaby for deciding to end a fight she felt unsafe in. she didn’t start the transphobic & misogynistic conversation around khelif.

I'm calling her a bitch cause she singlehandedly started a global witch hunt against a poc? I'm calling her a bitch cause she called the fascist pm who DID say all the transphobic misogynist things (and who RAN on them) her mother? I'm calling her a bitch cause she's a cop? I'm calling her a crybaby not because she got out of the fight which she has every right to do, but because the veiled comments she said and the way it was handled was fuel for the entire shit storm we saw. I'm calling her a bitch for acting in a way far right SALVINI would endorce.

She didn't even apologise for the entire shit storm she caused. She paid lip service, but an apology for the witch hunt you instigated? A personal apology to the actual person she hurt instead of stuff to the media? It isn't enough, she just covered her own ass. She should know better. She should've acted better. It doesn't take a genius to see what effects her actions would cause.

I called her a crybaby cause I was really fucking mad.

I'm calling her a crybaby for using her white woman tears to HURT a poc woman. I don't understand why you felt the need to come to her defense? I'm a nobody on the Internet, if I see her down the street I'll call her a bitch to her face but Italys a big country.

Also.. her safety? Bitch her safety? It's the Olympics, a televised event, a regulated sport. There's regulations, rules.. She got scared and quit, that's alright, but to act as if she was on the floor with a rabid dog (or a Dangerous Man, which is what the words you're using imply) is straight up false, and I want you to analyse your biases the same way you asked me to analyse mine. Why did you feel the need to rescue her, after all the support and media attention she got? Why were you so quick to excuse her, say "ohhh no she didn't mean it, she said sorry, seeee" when she didn't even "properly" apologise at all. Why were you so quick to take the responsibility off of a woman? It's giving infantilisation, when no, she's 25. She's older than me. She's in the public eye. She shakes hands with fascists publically and gives herself deniability by letting the others say the quiet part out loud.

Also I have the right to make fun of an athlete representing my country pulling out in the most pathetic way possible, causing a media shit storm and acting as if she's not a fucking BOXER. Who signed up to get beat up by the best punchers in the world. And. Most Importantly, WHO GOT A HUNDRED THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS FROM THE TRANSPHOBIC ORG AFTER THE FACT. She PROFITED. off of this. As if she'd won gold, if this isn't a spit in the face to female boxing I don't know what is.

I would love to have a conversation about internalised misogyny with you but I don't believe it applies here, I may not express myself 1000% coherently all the time on my own blog but I beg you to read the room. I don't have anything against you btw, this is all in good faith. I've done self analysis and I don't think what I've said was misogynistic at all, but a strongly worded answer to the veiled misogyny that was so frustrating to see. Anyway have a good one

[gawkgokgok]

I'll say this one last time

Viserys is the the main problem of this whole story

first of all hes the most passive ruler of all time, he may be The Peaceful one, but Otto Hightower made him the king that he was

if it wasnt for him constantly torturing his wife Aemma to get a male heir she would be alive

if it wasnt for him remarrying (and yes im aware that Otto implied this just to get hands on more power - but doesnt everybody.. theyre all hungry for the throne so i understand his acts)

Viserys is a grown man, a king, he couldve declined, he couldve reject the "need" for a king to remarry.. but no - he decided to steal Alicents youth and freedom, he groomed her, raped her, made her carry his kids and then not even be a proper father to those children (he made her sacrifice everything)

if it wasnt for him remarrying and having male children, the throne which he intended for Rhaenyra would be hers without the complications of her brothers becoming usurpers

if it wasnt for him making Rhaenyra his heir (like they said themselves - they would rather make everything burn and thered be no throne at all than a woman sitting on it), yes he didnt want Daemon on throne, he loved his daughter and thats why shes the heir..

NO, if he loved her, he wouldnt remarry, he wouldnt have more children,

HE WOULD make her part of the small council, not make her a cupbearer, he would teach her everything she needs to know on how to be a ruler, a good queen, not leave her the way he did, a pretty princess with no knowledge

(now i dont have anything against a woman in command, but in that time period, in those conditions, im surprised so many even bent the knee to her as the next ruler)

so if it wasnt for him making Rhaenyra his heir, there would be no sides, no war..

if it wasnt for him everything wouldve been different

but here we are

makin kin itself fight one another

i dont even wanna talk about his behaviour towrds Alicent and their children, or Daemon or even Rhaenyra, but everybody tolerating his doings is insane to me

(let me tell yall that men like him are everywhere around us, and behaviour like that is so normalized and thats just sick, and everyone protecting Viserys as a good person and good king is so wrong.. this man couldnt even keep his family together and learn them to love each other)

they can never make me like you Viserys

[uter-us]

"magic gender feelings"

hey yall! gonna clarify stuff abt this post

outside of and including radfems, there are many reasons a woman might not "feel" like a woman. a huuuuge notable one is that we live in a world where women are not valued the way men are and that is reflected in media and politics and interpersonal experiences and like every second ever. of course a woman or girl might not "feel" like the caricature, stereotype, or role that is thrust upon women. she might not feel the same way the rest of the word "feels" a woman should be. that is not "called being nonbinary," its just a normal reaction to misogyny

additionally, when radfems say they do not "feel" like a woman, its often heavy on the word feel, in that we simply are women and our womanhood is not tied to an internal ("magic gender") feeling. (fyi ik the "magic" part is j lighthearted and a joke, but the content of the message applies.) that is why i do not "feel" like a woman because i cannot "feel" something that is merely my reality. (i don't feel like i have curly hair, i just have curly hair.) most actual feelings i have regarding myself and my inner identity are merely aspects of my personality.

some comments:

->

(the person in the middle is being mean for no reason so ignore that)

i get the sentiment, and i can recognize that honestly in some ways it probably is much easier, but it's also not based in any material reality. and when denying (or just not completely understanding. im not attributing malice!) the subjugation an entire class of people face due to their sex, that is not a happy sparkly good vibe

i used to go by all pronouns and while never outwardly identified as "genderfluid" i heavily identified with it. and i do know that "vibe," and i cant describe the uniquely liberating experience it is to recognize that being a woman means nothing to my "vibe" or personality or anything like that.

i know the word "woman" takes on a lot, especially roles/stereotypes, but you don't ever have to reflect that in your actions. you can vibe with what makes you happy without attributing it to not being your observed sex. like you can legitimately do and be whatever you are doing while female and that qualifies as a woman!! theres nothing more to it!! its amazing!

when i hear radfems make the claim that "everyone would be nonbinary," it's more in the sentiment that no one 100% adheres entirely to the roles/expectations of man or woman, basically that to imply some people's "gender" or whatever IS binary is strange! not even the most tradwife or "alpha male" commits entirely to the role yk? not even they are 100% in either binary. it would be impossible, and every person inches out of these gendered expressions/performances/etc at LEAST from time to time (some more often than others, but it definitely is everybody)! so its just recognizing that sure there could be some "gender spectrum" but its far more real to acknowledge everyone is somewhere in the middle of these strict binaries than just a minor group of people. (at least that's my understanding of when radfems make that statement.)

lots of radfems used to be TRAs or trans-identified individuals-- even still have dysphoria-- and that contributed to their becoming radfems!! many radfems understand the pain of dysphoria, and their experience w medicalization and/or interpersonal experiences aid in their current understanding of gender ideology and what it means to be a woman. (also see below cuz i expand more on the other part, especially the last comment.)

the first comment i find so interesting because i think thats often the point. like often someone will claim they feel like a woman/man/nonbinary-person/etc or not, and are so sure of it. and because so much of this is dependent on the way you feel, one of the things that changed my mind abt gender ideology was j considering like, "how do i know this isnt the feeling of a woman? how do i know other women aren't experiencing this?" like even trans rights activists will state that not everyone "feels" being nonbinary the same way for example. so who's to say this feeling i feel is not also the feeling of a woman? yk? because chances are, theres a lot of other women feeling discomfort with their natal sex and perception/self-perception, and so much more!

so i'd ask anyone who says what the top comment says: if a woman is someone who feels like a woman, but you can't define or break down that feeling, how are you sure all of these women are feeling the same thing?

i consider myself a relatively patient person 99% of the time, but this is so aggravating! for anyone not in the loop, an egg is a term for someone who is trans but doesn't know it yet. hypocrisy is one of my greatest frustrations, cuz a huge TRA thing is that you can't tell other people if they are a man/woman/nonbinary-person/etc, and you always have to respect their identity, but apparently that doesn't apply now!!

its very invasive to push your own idea of what and who someone is onto them-- and no one can claim this "isn't pushing" when this individual has literally written (unsolicited) about a stranger's identity based off their own projections or preconceived ideas on what a woman should feel. and i get it, its the internet, people are gonna write whatever, but i have a right to be frustrated by it too!!

okay last one! if anyone knows where that post is or who made it, but basically i saw this post on here a while ago about how sometimes TRAs resemble some Christians. and the example was comparing something similar to the above circled comment, to an interaction between an atheist and a Christian thats something like. "I'm an atheist." "Oh, so you worship Satan?" and its like the idea that someone can't even consider outside of their view that their attempt to align you w it is entirely inaccurate, yk? like atheists don't worship Satan cuz they don't believe in him! and radfems/whoever don't have "a gender" cuz they don't believe in it (in the same sense tras do)!!

im sorry if i've come off super irritable writing this! i think im j frustrated for other reasons besides this, but i hope i don't come off especially unkind because i genuinly don't hold any hatred or discontentment w this person who made that tiktok, my point to this post is to clarify some of these comments because i see this idea all the time and when the radfem pov is misconstrued its much harder for TRAs to converse w us (cuz they arent really debating our ideas, but some other group w some other ideas). (i also dont speak for all radfems so keep that in mind too.) anyway if anyone disagrees/agrees or has corrections or needs clarification or anything feel free to reply!! :)

[smalltestaccount]

okay i think ive come to the conclusion that i dont really fit in with most other trans women, like personality wise, and thats okay. Like i think recently a lot of trans women, not just on tumblr, have been making me think i have to be kinky and bizarre or something, be blasé about transitioning or gender roles, or even just like be okay with some borderline harassing behavior. Its okay if that is you (except the harassing behavior some of yall need to work on that), but like thats not really me. Acting this way just makes me feel bad. Just ignoring that Im a total straightedge, that im like a 1 on the Kinsey scale now. Ever since i was like 11 my biggest desire is just like being a normal cis girl. I always am happiest embracing basic American femininity, and i only just re-realized this after after it helped me get out of a depressive episode (along with antidepressants and an increased estrogen dose). I don't care if im "enforcing gender roles", because i fucking love female gender roles (in modern American culture) cause they make me feel like not-a-piece-of-shit. Also i don't strictly adhere to many anyways. And i just don't think terfs would have any issues with cis girls who love the color pink, flowers, being boy crazy, and dreaming about being a mother. So like why should I feel like its wrong to like that stuff? I don't think there is anything wrong with it. And you know if you don't have that relationship with gender that is fine, you need to do what makes you happy, that's why feminism exists. I'm just saying I don't want to pretend like my personality is something that really just makes me uncomfortable.

I dont like when people here imply being a trans woman entails being sexual cause like i just want to be normal and that stereotype is harmful, especially to transgender children who are really likley to be targeted for some kind of sexual abuse because theyre trans and being trans is already sexualized more than it needs to be. Adults can navigate that to some extent, but not kids; I couldnt really navigate that when i started transitioning in middle school and im lucky it only stayed online. Trying to even somewhat fit in with tumblrs idea of trans women has made me encounter tranny porn on my dash and whenever i post images of myself I'm followed by gross accounts that just reblog that stuff . A lot of trans women don't hate it, because sex work is very much as part of the trans community. But honestly, seeing trans women be treated in those ways just makes me feel bad for the actresses and sick about myself and very dysphoric.

Im not saying that you cant express kinkiness and hyper-sexuality, because I dont want to dictate how you act any more than i want you to be dictated on how I act. But I also want to encourage thoughfulness in what you say. Saying you, yourself, is kinky and weird, is not that same as saying trans *girls* are kinky and weird. In the same way I'm not going to reblog tradwife content, I don't think its productive to make an "all tgirls be kinky" post. You shouldn't try to paint that image of other trans women.

As its the first day of june I'll just tie it up by saying that not all trans people fit into one personality and if you want to show support its best not to suggest trans women all act a certain way, and please don't think talking about "gock" is a good way to show support. This isn't a "kink at pride" discourse post in the very slightest cause I don't, and never have, given any shits about that, cause I've never been to pride. This is just me talking about how I fit into the trans community.

Im Alexa and I'm going to reblog and post shit i like, not what other people like or expect. That Includes not doing tummy tuesday cause i really only briefly did it out of fomo and peer pressure. And please don't say things about me that you wouldnt say about other women

[transmychem]

kicking off my first analysis…

the most “clearly trans” (or not?) song by mcr.

“Not That Kinda Girl”

this unfortunately quite literally involves gerard and how they seem themselves.

lets dive in..

“everybodys talking bout the way you left your man” not to be THAT person but… around the time this song was (most likely) wrote was when Gerard and Bert McCracken had a falling out… not to mention they literally held hands during the Under Pressure performance. so.. yeah “everybodys talking bout the way you held his hand”

now these could be interpreted as filler lyrics… however i would like to interpret it as Gerard figuratively drowning in the media’s portrayal of him and the expectations society has. kinda enough said..

ignoring the “borrowed” lyrics and the implications of that… jk.. there are a lot of implications of gerard borrowing lyrics from one of the first technically “feminist presenting” songs about a woman who is done with societies shit. sound familiar?…

“so say goodbye to all my friends” if im getting my facts right Gerard lost two good friend around this time… Frank and Bert… from my knowledge frank and gerard and well most of mcr for that matter were fighting and on the verge of quitting the band. and well i already mentioned what happened with Bert.

“i fell in love with her again” … this is obviously about Gerard and Lynz relationship.. a lot of people, even people close to him, did not want him marrying Lynz for countless reasons whether theyre valid or not. They got married around this time, and there was a lot of controversy because these things happen when youre a hot and famous rockstar especially a hot famous rockstar that kisses men… because the women want you the men want you and the gays want your representation. everyones gonna hate his spouse by default (not defending lynz (IDK anything about her)these are just facts…)

“everybodys talking bout the way you cur your hair” we know Gerard cut his hair and dyed it white for the black parade around this time. everyone was talking about it. obviously didnt give a flying fuck.

“everybodys talking bout the way you smoke that there” sensitive topic warning: … people were probably still talking about Gerards known cocaine addiction… and his path to sobriety and caring wayyy too much about what he does. they criticize him for smoking cigarettes bc ppl are insane and paranoid for some reason. i guess people are always hypercritical about celebrities especially if theyre a huge role model for vulnerable youth. Gerard has never cared too much about all that though. “i dont care at all”

now that we have established this song is clearly about Gerard, lets talk about a reoccurring line in this song

“cause im not that kind of girl”

this phrase has been kicked around for ages about women who sleep around or something. being “not that kinda girl” implies your “different from other girls” mostly in the sense that youre not a floozy or whatever… like lets not pin queens against eachother..

now why did Gerard use girl? he could have said “not that kinda guy/boy” but perhaps no one would get the reference unless they can read into the irony…

but i think Gerard likes the irony of using “girl” as a way to refer to themselves. because people have treated him and his relationship like hes just some “silly girl” or something. like they think Gerard is some kinda whore for kissing men and having gfs… the way society tends to view bisexual/queer people… (using bisexual bc theyve done things with guys and girls publicly and that makes you bisexual by societies standards..)

this song doesn’t necessarily have to do with being trans if you put it that way. Gerard is probably using “girl” to refer to themselves because of the irony.

but i’m gonna say this song is trans because why the fuck not.

thats just how i interpret it. it has trans vibes.

does not necessarily mean its about gerard, because gerard has made up so many characters for his music alone, why would this not be about just another character? the answer lies in the fact that all these things happened to him. hes talking about himself. isnt all singing, all lyrics, really about self awareness and self loathing or pondering of self? dont get me started… also the fact that all characters authors create are some fragment of themselves.. so yeah. referring to yourself as a girl (if you were born male) is just kinda trans…

now one last point after this conclusion. possibly a stretch. this song could be Gerard telling people they’re still queer even though they’re in a relationship with a woman. If this song is about Gerard being a girl then they’re saying they’re still queer for being in a relationship with another girl... tumblr dont FREAK. i said it was a stretch. (though it’s literally in the text…) but could just be like i said, just Gerard saying they’re still queer despite being in a “heterosexual passing” relationship and nothing else…

and this part i almost forgot… sorry for being all over the place i have adhd…. but this part kinda confirms my theory. “all your life i let you down”… is Gerard saying they let us down by letting society believe they are cis? idfk.

anyway. thats what makes me think this is the most off the bat transgender esque song.

transfems and lesbians this is YOUR song.

<3

[bungone]

Actually no im not done because I know it gets talked about a lot but Lolita is such an interesting piece of media; not just the book itself but people's attitudes towards it.

like, first off, there's the actual author (nabokov) who goes out of his way to talk about how childish, mokeyish, immature and whatnot Dolores is in the most unnappealing possible ways, and then specifically said that he didnt want the kind of cover that every single fucking published edition of Lolita has?? With girls who are either being sexualized or very obviously having "a good time" which is absolutely not what Dolores was doing in the book?? I really, really, don't think anyone who designs these covers has even opened the first page because what. the. fuck.

It's so obvious that my man Humbert Humbert is an unreliable narrator, but gee, I guess we learned to take everything we read at face value, and also everything that comes from a protagonist's mouth as the "correct" way of viewing things, both in the book and in real life?

And even then, maybe, just MAYBE I can excuse the people who talk about how the book is fucked up because it's "glorifying pedophillia".

Maybe they had a really shitty english teacher. At the very least, they're reading it and understanding that the actions of Humbert Humbert aren't okay? They got to the halfway point. Maybe their education sytem failed them.

Maybe they had a really shitty high school english teacher that never taught them the skills necessary to understand this kind of writing. Maybe they're just dense, that's who they are as a person, and it would take someone going out of their way to point it out for them to consider the possibility.

But then there's the fucking apologists?? Like, putting aside the whole Dolores being 12 (which, yeah, is akin to putting aside the whole book, but bear with me for a second), Humbert Humbert not only kidnaps her (illegal), lies to her for a long time about her mother (not illegal but generally shitty), but is implied to have committed murder (illegal, not sure if implied is the right word here because it absolutely happened and everyone knows it), and sexually abuses Dolores (very illegal). These are crimes. He is a criminal. Say what you want about the justice system these are crimes that absolutely should be crimes.

He's clearly not an upstanding citizen, and I fail to understand how some people look at all his behavior and go "oh yes, the the man who killed a woman and kidnapped a 12 year old girl is just misunderstood, and he did those things for true love" like fuck no.

I like Lolita. It's an objectively good book. The quality of writing (high quality, I mean, I normally hate first-person writing but I actually liked Lolita), it's a great psychological horror piece that doesn't rely on things like shock value and overused tropes. The characters are all multi-dimensional and frankly, act realistically. But that's all it is. A psychological HORROR piece. It's not romantic. If anything, it's meant to make you sympathize with Humbert, and then you're supposed to take a step back and be like, "Wait. Why am I sympathizing with him? I'm not a pedophile." Because yeah, he's a complex character but that only goes to make him realistic in terms of the kind of pedos that exist in real life.

Pedophiles are people too. Mentally ill people, really, really shitty people who need serious help, but reducing them to "not human" only makes them an "other", which makes you forget that on the outside, they look like normal people. That have friends and family and go to school or have jobs and order coffe and read in libraries and yeah, maybe you sat next to one of them an entire year in organic chemistry. They're not weird stalkers that hang out in bushes in parks. Some of them, maybe, but not all. Nowhere near all.

man that derailed fast.

[secreteviltwin]

I haven't seen bridgerton, (outside of like clips) but I am actually curious about your opinion on eloise. Everyone reduces her to a not like other girls and annoying and privelidged but personally from the clips I've seen she does makes valid points (maybe awkwardly so and a little condescending but I just can't help but roll my eyes at the people who hate her because it always seems to come from such shallow...choice feminist lense) i have plans to watch it (mostly BECAUSE of the Eloise clips ive seen ngl) but I wanted to see your opinion on her as it seems you have a different take on her compared to what I've seen.

absolutely i will take the bait i love talking about my opinions. eloise is there to discredit feminism so you can turn your brain off and enjoy the show

eloise is my favourite character she says exactly what im thinking and she's right about everything. the "marriage mart" IS demeaning. the rules and norms of polite society ARE ridiculous. she IS being restricted and oppressed because of her sex - principally she is denied education when ALL her brothers are college educated

maybe i relate more than most because i also know what it's like to have a mother who is constantly on your ass about finding a man and getting married and how it's the highest form of happiness a woman can achieve

but eloise's feminism is put there for you to mock and roll your eyes at. the script wants you to see her as annoying judgmental and hypocritical. they frame her against daphne: isn't daphne so admirable for being so pragmatic? she doesn't complain like eloise, she plays the game even though she knows it's not fair. why can't eloise shut up and appreciate she's not the only one suffering? why can't she be happy for her sister's success with romance?

they frame her against theo: how dare eloise be concerned with her own experiences oppression and not prioritize the plight of the poor? she doesn't know anything about real suffering, she just victimizes herself because she's bored and narcissistic. if she REALLY had any conviction in her beliefs she would burn her life down to make a point.

they frame her against penelope: how insensitive and bullish she is for forcing her friend to agree with her radical politics (even though penelope never says shit to eloise that implies she doesn't agree). see how penelope can be smart and entrepreneurial AND appreciate romance? why can't eloise do the same? she's just bitter and lazy when compared to the TRUE feminist: a woman who can walk both worlds. see how feminism doesn't have to come with an annoying antisocial distain for romance? see how eloise is complaining about nothing actually and everything is fine for women because she could just shut up and make money by writing?

annoying? - i don't find women speaking up about their oppression whiny but the writers obviously want you to

judgmental? - all of her judgements are correct. "why can't she understand other women want different things ☹️" choice feminism indeed

hypocritical? - it's not hypocritical to acknowledge and complain about the ways you're being hurt without testing the limits of your chains, being oppressed is not a moral fault. dignity and freedom are not actually things eloise should have to earn, they are owed to all women regardless of action. and she IS doing something: she's avoiding marriage, she's reading as much as she can, she's writing a novel, she's TALKING and facing social consequences for refusing to conform

you ever notice how eloise is the only character ever condemned for being wealthy even though all the other characters in the show are also wealthy? and she doesn't even have her own money - it's her brother's money

eloise is, consciously or unconsciously, a message to young outspoken women to shut up and assimilate and be happy for patriarchal conforming women. it's just a phase, it's silly, you'll grow out of it and find a man

she also reinforces the perspectives of women who want to disagree with her: the penelopes and daphnes and violets of real life. women who want to make decisions about romance and femininity while feeling superior and not like a vapid antifeminist. they've secretly known all this time they're more practical and intelligent and happier than those miserable radicals, and now they can happily hate eloise in the open

most importantly she's there to sell the lie of the bridgerton fantasy. the bridgerton setting is unromantic and uncomfortable for exactly the reasons eloise proports, for women to be able to enjoy the show they need to be able to banish the eloise in the back of their thoughts and the easiest way to do that is to set up a character to embody those ideas and discredit her. oh you've noticed how this premise is suffocating and nightmarish? good now that we've acknowledged that let's move on with the steamy romance

the writers said how do we frame perfectly reasonable normal feminist ideas so that women feel comfortable disagreeing. eloise is a feminist but her character is antifeminist

[lunatic-fandom-space]

You know what its past midnight Im gonna make a post critisising acotar despite never having the read the series, the only book of SJMs ive actually read was crescent city but I spend a lot of time in anti acotar circles bc its fun being a little hater sometimes and I think I know enough by now to atleast critise some of the themes. I definitely know more about this series than I should, like I know about that immortal horse whose horse wife tragically died in horse childbirth and then Im pretty sure he died of horse sadness. And yet, despite cari can read being pretty good at explaining magic shit, I still dont know what the hell syphons are or why illyrians have them or why they matter so you really never stop learning huh

Anyway, I wanted to talk about the misogyny within the universe of acotar because its really bad, both in the sense that its just annoying and insufferable to read about even second-hand and in the sense that its badly written. The thing that inspired this was this short piece of flashfiction by @feynessupremacy about an unnamed girl from the hewn city being married off and having a horrible time living in this endless cycle of misogynistic abuse that her mom is still in and that her dauggters will end up in, all powerless to do anything against this kind of systemic sexism. I thought it was good and made its intended point pretty well but it also made me once again realize how borderline comical this series portrayal of misogyny is

Like, okay, once again, I have not read these books myself but it very much seems like the sexism in this world just materialized in the second book, from the summaries Ive watched it straightup seems like it was just not there in the first book. I mean hell, the entire plot hinges on the fact that Tamlin was sending all these fae disguised as fucked up creatures out so that they would hopefully be killed by a woman so she could break the curse, which implies that women being hunters was pretty normal. (Also, dont come at me with any kind of "oh, it doesnt specify the gender of the person who needs to break the curse a guy couldve done it as well", sjm is too insufferably heteronormative to consider that)

So basically what Im saying is, from my perspective it very much seems like sjm put not only systemic misogyny but like, incredibly violent systemic misogyny to the point where women being brutalized is basically completely normal, in her fantasy series for the sake of making a man look good because hes a wittle sad :( about it sometimes which is honestly pretty funny to me

But it gets even funnier because it doesnt even seem like sexism is really a widespread thing ? Like, i have never seen anyone else directly address this but its all I can think about: in the Nightcourt, the misogyny and institutionalized violence against women is literally the worst it possibly can be with genital mutilation and everything and then in the rest of Prythian its just like, not there. There are plenty of women with political power, the queen of adriada comes to mind first, Im pretty sure I read something about a woman from the wintercourt who was in a similar position of power, its unclear to me what all these fuckin priestesses do because theres no focus on the religion at all much less the institution(s) behind that religion, but they have to have some kind of power if theyre anything like priests in our world (although tbh they seem more like nuns to me functionally just with a diffrent name), especially Ianthe who was like a high priestess and directly in charge of Feyre, who shouldve been the most powerful woman in the springcourt by virtue of being with the high lord, Amren and Mor seem to be well respected outside of the NightCourt, their only deity is the MOTHER. Sure, there arent any "official" High Ladies but if being a High Lord entails being chosen by the magic of the land or The Cauldron or The Mother or whatever other kind of magic bullshit and women just dont get to have it for some reason, is that really indicative of the broader culture being sexist, or is that just God, Who Canonically Exists being sexist? Idk about you, but Im leaning towards the latter option

Thats not even mentioning the mortal lands which seem to be ruled by queens exclusively at the time of the story taking place, or Hybern which had Amarantha and I think her sister as well be these high-ranking generals and it wasnt presented as anything unusual. Like, are you telling me that the kingdom whose only value is "we love slavery, we would like to have slavery back" is more progressive than the court of fuckin Feminist King Rhysand?? I Am Going To Turn Into The Joker

Anyway, I think thats all I have to say, please correct me if I got any of this information wrong I cannot stress enough that I have not read these books and dont plan on reading them anytime soon, atleast not in english because reading the term mate a 1000 times sounds like too much for me to bear, atleast in german theyll probably use a term like "Gefährte/in" which doesnt make me think of actual animals

[robinsno1lesbian]

Okay ngl im thinking about neighbor!robins duality, like normally she’s like a hyped up puppy who needs to take a nap. She’ll see reader and be like “my love!” And wrap her arms around your waist and not let you go until like 10 minutes later.

But the SECOND reader talks back, or say their wearing something revealing again. She’s squeezing their sides or hugging them behind and telling them what their in for the second their alone…

neighbor!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 971

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content! (MDNI), implied age gap (reader is 18+!), dirty talk, use of pet names, spanking (let me know if i missed anything)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i feel like older! neighbor!robin has taken over my brain oh my god- to all those in my inbox: i see you and i promise I'll write for you too!

you have never met someone as two-faced as your neighbor before. never. one second, she's all sweet with you; hugging you from behind and holding you close. placing kisses on your cheek and nuzzling against your neck. at first, you were surprised to find out about her needy demeanor but once you got used to it, you found yourself enjoying those outbursts of hers.

you always make sure to hold her especially close when she gets like that, you hold her while she naps on your bed and cover her in kisses when the situation calls for it. but oh don't you underestimate her just because of that. she can flip like a damn switch and she will. you can hear footsteps approaching you from behind and you immediately know it's robin who has let herself in. she has your spare keys and must've seen your parents leave. you don't turn around, just call out a greeting. "honey I'm home" she replies jokingly, getting a chuckle out of you. just seconds later, you feel her strong hands wrap around your hips and her soft lips attach to the back of your neck. you sigh and lean against her. robin puts her chin on your shoulder as you bring your palm up against her cheek, stroking her skin softly. "i missed you" she mumbles, her palms roaming your sides. you close your eyes and take in the feeling of being held by her, her scent, her raspy voice this close to your ear. pure bliss. you know neither of you has really said it yet, but you can feel yourself falling for her more and more every day. it's so hard not to just hold her hand in public, to show everyone around you just how much this means to you. at least robin knows, or you hope she does. you turn around, her hold still lingering on your body, and wrap your arms around her. "i missed you too" her lips are on yours in a matter of seconds, kissing you sweetly. you kiss her back immediately, getting lost in the taste of her lips. so much, in fact, that you don't even notice when her hands wander lower and lower. only when she leans back, do you notice that she has both of her palms placed on your bare thighs. bare, because of the short skirt you chose to wear this morning. it hardly covers anything at all and if you were to bend over like this, you would give her a perfect view of your ass. you open your eyes only to find her glaring down at you already. her pupils are blown wide and her fingers are circling over your thighs. "what's this doll?" she gives your skirt a harsh tug. "a skirt" you talk back, knowing damn well where this is going. "what about it? you don't like it ms. buckley?"

over the course of the past months, you have learned just how to push that woman's button. and you have learned what calling her ms. buckley does to her. she bites her lip and gives you a somewhat hungry glare. "are you sure you want it this way doll?" she grabs your wrists and spins you around, already bending you over the kitchen counter slightly. there is a warning in her voice. a warning you choose to ignore. "what way?" you shrug and look over your shoulder. "you don't like my skirt?" her fingers tighten around your wrists and she just stares. and, while she's holding your gaze, her other hand pushes your skirt down your legs, revealing the black thong you're wearing beneath. "you wore this on purpose, didn't you? huh?" but before you can give her an answer, she lands a hard smack on your exposed ass. "answer me" she demands, before giving you another spank -harder than the first one. a whimper falls from your lips. "what was that? i can't hear you doll" "p-please" you whine, your nails scratching over the countertop in a desperate attempt to hold onto something.

"please" she mocks and laughs. "please, please, please...pathetic" the next smack causes your legs to buck, nearly giving in beneath you. but robin has a hold of you, supporting your body to stay upright and take it. "so; did you wear it for me? did you want this? wanted to get bent over and treated like a slut?" "robin i-" but she cuts you off. "answer me" you know that the marks of her hands must be forming on your skin already and, god, you hope they don't fade too soon. you give her a nod, fully aware that this won't do it. robin grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks you back, your back arching almost painfully.

"use your words like a good girl" she spits. "i- i wore it for you" you stumble over every word and it seems like your brain is too foggy to form a proper sentence. "wanted- wanted you to look" "oh i am looking" she mumbles in thought. "and i bet you love every second of this don't you? fuck i bet you’re soaked too" as if to test the theory, she pushes the little clothing piece aside and you feel her digits circling your entrance. you moan at the very first contact, your eyes rolling back involuntarily, and you throw your hips back against her fingers, practically begging for her to take you right then and there. you are punished by another smack that has tears spilling out of the sides of your eyes. "i didn't tell you to move" robin growls. "you wanted to act like a dirty slut so you're gonna be treated like one" you whimper but nod your head, willing to take all that she has to offer. she knows just as well as you do that you love this.