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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Uvogin NSFW Profile

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of non-con, masturbation, non-consensual aiding of masturbation (? not sure what to tag this but you'll see what I mean), excessive cum-play, snowballing, facials, stalking, kidnapping, mentions of degradation, exhibitionism, implied that Nobunaga jerked it to you I'm so sorry for your loss, kind of allusions to breeding but nothing explicit, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

HABITS:

In general, Uvogin is no stranger to sex. He’s had his fair share of hookups over the years, and while he’s never really had a long term partner (being a criminal and always on the run makes it a bit difficult), he’s got a good, solid amount of experience under his belt.

And so, while he may be intimidating and a bit scary, there’s always plenty of drunk women at the local bars or clubs who are more than willing to take their chance at managing to take him.

And for the most part, Uvogin is completely satisfied with this – hookups and flings are fun, and he’s able to get his rocks off whenever he pleases.

However, once you step into his life, his frequent sex with strangers take an abrupt and very strict hiatus. Not only does it feel wrong to sleep with any woman besides you, he simply doesn’t find the allure anymore – if he were to sleep with anyone aside from you, he’d spend the entire time focused on all the things that are different from you rather than actually enjoying the experience.

Maybe their hair is different – yours is prettier, he thinks.

Maybe your voice is different – it’s not as annoying and shrill and whiny as the other woman’s, and Uvogin can very confidently say that he likes yours much, much more.

Maybe their body is different – your curves are different, better for him, and you’re softer and warmer and just better.

Hookups are out of the question once he really decides that he wants you – but unfortunately, the same can’t be said of his hormones. He still craves sexual contact and release, perhaps even more so now that he has you to actively imagine and think of and desire, but his tried and true method of finding someone random to relieve some pent up stress isn’t an option anymore.

And so, once his obsession develops, he finds himself masturbating much, much more often.

It’s not as nice as having a living, breathing person there to help him out, but it’s his only option – you’re not an option yet, as much as he desperately wishes you were, because while he’d give anything to sink into what he’s sure is your tight, warm, soaking wet cunt, he doesn’t want to reserve the progress he’s made in worming his way into your life all for one night of pleasure.

And so, he falls back on pleasuring himself with a bit of an aid – it’s not enough to simply fist himself and imagine your body or your sounds.

No, it’s not nearly enough – so instead, Uvogin finds a way to seamlessly involve you in his self-pleasure, all with the wonderful caveat of you having absolutely no idea of your role.

Uvogin’s already reaching for the hem of his shorts as he plops down onto the ratty couch in the living room of his current hideout. He’s quick to shimmey them down, all the way down to his ankles, only to unceremoniously kick them off to some corner of the room.

His cock is already semi-hard, the knowledge of what’s coming next unconsciously exciting him. He sighs and lets his head roll back slightly, resting on the frame of the couch, his hand sneaking down the plane of his abdomen and settling lightly over his cock.

Idly groping at his balls (just soft, teasing squeezes – nothing too serious yet, not when the action hasn’t begun), his free hand reaches to the next cushion and picks up the cheap burner phone Shalnark had provided him with last week. There’s only three numbers saved in it – Chrollo’s, Shalnark’s, and yours.

With a sharp swallow, Uvogin presses on your contact listing, listening as the familiar dial tone rings through the speakers. Your voice is surprised as you pick up, a delighted little oh, I wasn’t expecting a call from you!

It makes him bite his lip, squeezing at his balls just a bit harder.

Yeah, sorry, but I was bored and wanted to hear your voice. He smirks at the soft little sound of surprise you make at that.

Oh! Oh, sure, yeah! Okay, well, uh, how has your day been?

And although you’ve said absolutely nothing even remotely suggestive, Uvogin’s cock twitches against his forearm, making his thighs tense slightly.

Good, drank some beer and watched the hockey game, the usual. I want to hear about you, though. Tell me everything about this week, yeah?

And with that, he settles back further against the couch, truly getting comfortable as you start telling him about how this week you’ve done this and that, then this, then that…

He’s not really listening, and some part of him – the part not currently imagining the way you’d look with his cock down your throat – feels guilty about not giving you one hundred percent of his attention, but as you suddenly gasp and say oh then this happened he finds himself not caring.

Soon he’s transitioning from groping his balls to wrapping his fingers around his length, careful not to hiss into the phone receiver as he slowly, almost painfully slowly brings his fist up to his tip, squeezing a bit, then bringing it back down.

Your voice is a constant through the phone, the familiar lilt and pace of your words only slightly distorted through the device, and as he slowly works himself, he closes his eyes to listen more carefully. He likes the way you pronounce things – occasionally you say his name, and his hips jerk up a bit to fuck up into his fist each time you do, making him hold in a grunt each time.

Slowly he picks up the pace, moving his wrist a bit faster with every sentence you say, letting his eyes flutter closed again while his head lolls back slightly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

He can practically imagine you here with him – the way you’d be straddling him on this couch, your soft thighs pressing against his hips, your pussy rubbing and grinding against him because you want to tease him, your hands splayed across his chest as you tell him that you want him, that you need him, that you need him to touch you and taste you and feel you and fuck you –

Uvogin? Uvogin? Are you okay? You sound like you’ve just run a marathon…

Your voice brings him back to reality, and immediately his eyes are snapping open and his hand freezes, his heavy breaths ringing through the receiver. After a beat, he swallows and reassures that he’s fine! Sorry sorry, that stupid neighbor of mine just stood outside my front door – you know how loud he breaths. Don’t worry about it, keep going. I like listening.

You seem a bit hesitant, but you keep going, and Uvogin makes sure to mute himself this time. Now he can listen to you talk and not worry about being too loud. Immediately he’s picking up where he left off, hips coming up to help fuck up into his fist, grunts and groans of your name slipping past his lips all the while you chatter on about last Wednesday.

Uvogin’s feet plant flat against the floor as he uses them for leverage to thrust up, pretending you’re perched in his lap with his cock buried between your legs, your pretty tits squished up against his chest while you gasp and moan and cry out his name, his thrusts only getting deeper and harder and stronger, the desire to truly fuck you and mold your cunt to the shape of his cock getting the better of him.

Soon he’s fully groaning out phrases into the phone, going on about how you’re so damn tight, fuck baby just like that, shit clench just like that, oh fuuuck! His hips are making an audible sound as they smack back into the couch cushions with every thrust, and with wild eyes he stares down at his lap, imagining the sight of his cock sinking into your cunt over and over, your slick spilling down your thighs and getting everything wet and sticky, the sound of his balls clapping against your ass over and over.

He's close, feeling the trace edges of his orgasm approaching, his toes beginning to curl and his abs starting to tighten and his balls starting to clench and oh –

I missed you that day, Uvogin, I wish you’d been there.

He comes with a near shout of your name, his hips pistoling into his fist as ropes of cum spurt onto his chest, his breathing heavy and uneven as he shakes, his hand trembling slightly as it grips onto the phone so tightly it nearly breaks.

You’re still speaking, but Uvogin’s not listening as he replays your words over and over in his head – you wanted him there, wanted to see him, wanted to be with him. He’s still saying your name over and over, his breathing slowly calming down as his cum slowly dribbles down his chest, and he lets a smile sit on his lips. Running a hand through his hair (still slightly stained with cum, but the euphoria swimming through his veins makes it hard to care), he swallows, saying your name one last time with a small chuckle.

Fuck, only you can make me like this, huh? You’re making me into a real loser, you know that? Fucking himself and pretending you’re here with me. God.

Soon, once he’s gotten enough of a grip on his breathing, he unmutes himself, just in time for you to finish up your report.

That’s about it, sorry for rambling! But anyways, what are you up to?

He smiles at that, giving his cock one final squeeze and licking a bit of cum off his finger.

Just wondering if you wanna get dinner tonight, how about that Italian place you were talking about the other day?

And when you agree, eventually hanging up, Uvogin can only sigh and slap his thigh.

Soon, very soon, he’s sure he won’t have to imagine anymore – soon it’ll be your hand instead of his.

Just the thought makes him groan, blood already rushing south again.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Ass

Uvogin likes every part of you, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t have a special spot for your ass.

It doesn’t matter the shape or size – it’s yours, and by extension, Uvogin wants to touch It and squeeze it and grope it.

Constantly.

He’s generally a touchy person, both in and out of sexual contexts, and while his handsiness is often innocent regarding you, his hand finds its way to your backside much too often to be considered truly accidental.

He’s a bit fan of idly groping you, letting a hand wander down and give a playful squeeze, only to feel you jump a bit out of surprise.

(He’ll always send you this toothy grin afterwards, telling you that he can’t help it baby, it’s just right there and it’s so damn cute and fuck, if you could see it you’d understand.)

He likes to come up behind you and hug you, pressing himself directly against your backside – your heights likely mean that his cock doesn’t directly sit against your ass, but even feeling his legs against the soft area makes him lick his lips, already imagining the way the soft skin would feel under the rough pads of his fingers.

He likes to smack your ass when you walk by him – it’s always, always light, of course, just enough to startle you but not enough to actually hurt.

He likes the way you get irritated and swat at him, telling you with a cheeky wink and grin that you can always return the favor, babe.

And when you’re actually intimate with one another, this habit of his certainly doesn’t change – he’s always slapping your ass when he’s fucking you in doggy style, going on about how you look so pretty from this angle, all the while groping and squeezing at your poor cheeks until they’re nearly purple.

He’s always cupping your ass when you’re riding him, helping move you up and down with a palm on each cheek, squeezing and holding you so tightly you nearly have no control over your own movements.

He’ll fuck you in a prone bone position, all the while staring at how your ass jiggles with each smack of his hips against it, his fingers (that he’d intertwined with yours above your head) clutching onto yours even harder at the sight.

He’s just genuinely in love with the way your ass looks and feels, and although he wouldn’t bring it up unless you wanted to, Uvogin would love to have you sit on his face, letting your pretty ass be the only thing he sees as you grind and scoop and use him, letting his tongue brush across your clit over and over again all while he gets to admire.

(He wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to scoot forward a bit, letting your pussy rub against his chin while his tongue works diligently at the tight, taboo little hole you don’t normally let him touch. He’s sure it'll feel good, that you’ll enjoy it, that he’ll enjoy it, because it’s just another way to be close to you, another way to claim something of yours as his his his.)

Expect your ass to fondled and groped and smacked at least twice a day, if not more – he just can’t control himself, and surely you understand?

If you were as deeply obsessed and attracted to yourself as he is, you’d have to understand that he physically can’t help himself – not when you’re so goddamn tempting.

His mouth

Because Uvogin is such a pleaser in bed, he’s very quickly exploring the variety of ways he can utilize to get you off.

Of course, he likes the tried and true fucking, making you melt on his cock, but something about it feels a bit barbarian, a little bit too rough sometimes, even if he’s addicted to the feeling of your pussy.

Even his fingers are sometimes a little too much, just because you always tense up so much, your walls clamping down on him and making it difficult to move, the stretch from them alone feeling like the size of any of your previous partners.

Of course, he still likes fucking you and fingering you, but there’s something about using his mouth on you that he simply can’t get enough of.

Maybe it’s because it’s so much more intimate, like something special the two of you are sharing. He’s tasting the most private part of you, a place only a handful of people have ever gotten to see (much less taste), and something about that knowledge makes him swell with pride, a smirk settling across his lips.

Regardless, Uvogin takes every opportunity to use his mouth on you that he possibly can – the two of you are sitting on the couch while you read one of the few books he picked up for you and he watches TV, and suddenly he’s between your legs and pulling down your lounging shorts, looking up at you and licking his lips with a positively feral expression, murmuring that he’s feeling a little hungry, yeah?

Every sexual encounter between the two of almost always including Uvogin’s lips against your cunt in some capacity – he’s a very firm believer in the necessity of foreplay (particularly due to his size), and he spares no expense in making sure that you’re properly wet for him, that you’ve come at least once his tongue, that you’re as prepared and ready as possible in order to take him with minimal pain.

And Uvogin is good with his mouth, too – he’s got amazing stamina, and is able to stick with a consistent speed and tempo.

His fallback is to lick small, tight circles with medium pressure, but he’s always stealing glances up at you to check your facial expressions, adjusting anything and everything he think she needs to in order to get your eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He’ll start with light kisses spanning along your inner thighs and all around your core, pressing butterfly licks against your folds that are barely there and leave you wanting more more more.

He’ll press kisses against your clit, coming down to kitten lick and stare at you the whole time, a smirk sitting on his lips each time you bite your lip or keen.

He'll slowly add more pressure, building up the pace a bit too, until he’s licking shapes against your bud and occasionally sucking it into his mouth lightly, feeling the way your thighs tense up a bit around his head, loving the way your eyes flutter closed and you grasp onto the pillow underneath you.

He’ll occasionally dip down to lick long stripes along your folds, dipping his tongue in to tease your entrance, making lewd, obnoxious slurping noises just to hear you get embarrassed.

He loves it, and as soon as he gets to a pace he thinks you’re liking, he’ll stay down there for as long as it takes to get you coming, whether that be five minutes or an hour – it’s worth it, because when you get all doe eyed and shake and writhe and cream on his face, you look so fucking pretty, so perfect he can’t help but grind against the bed, anything to relieve some of the ache.

DRIVE:

In general, his sex drive is high. It’s always been that way, really, even before you stepped into his life – the thrill of combat and sex are two of his guiltiest pleasures, and he’s absolutely no stranger to hook ups.

He’s not unbearably horny, but he toes the line quite well, needing to get off at least two times a week in order to stay functional and sane.

So really, once his obsession with you forms, sexual thoughts revolving around you are very, very quick to follow.

Frankly, when he first realizes that he’s drawn to you, that there’s just something about you that he can’t seem to leave alone, he genuinely believes it’s simply a sexual attraction to you that’s messing with him. He rationalizes these infant stages of his infatuation with you as simply wanting to fuck you, rather than wanting to have you.

And Uvogin is a man of opportunity – he can’t not imagine stripping you bare and cupping at your tits, smacking your ass, perching you on his lap and bouncing you up and down like you’re just some glorified sex toy.

The images come quickly and startingly easily – too easily, really, because imagining all the different ways he wants to get you screaming his name and gushing for him really should’ve clued him in to the fact that his feelings for you go way beyond physical.

And eventually, once he decides that you’re more than just a hot piece of ass, he can’t just forget about the multitudes of nights he’s fantasized about spending hours with his face between your legs, or the number of times he’s soaked his fist with cum from merely thinking about how you’d look with your pretty face pressed into the mattress, his form caging you into a prone bone position while he absolutely destroys your tight little pussy.

He can’t – won’t – forget, and so as his obsession becomes richer, deeper, more hopeless, Uvogin’s sexual fantasies revolving around you become harder and harder to control and fight. Because really, how can he not imagine even more once he’s realized he’s in love with you?

Sure, he still wants to shove his cock down your throat and hear you choke and struggle with his girth, but now he also wants to trace his tip along the shape of your lips, to see your pretty eyes sparkling up at him with a few tears dotting the lashes, to feel you moan around him at his taste.

Sure, he still wants to bend you over and feel that perfect, tight little pussy of yours, but now he also wants to thrust softly and sweetly, to get deeper and brush against the spot he knows you like, to make you cry out his name rather than just scream and gasp.

The sexual fantasies are still explicit, but they’re more loving, more like making love rather than just animalistic fucking – and of course, once these thoughts develop in their entirety, Uvogin has to exercise an extreme amount of self-control to not act them out.

He’s painfully aware of the fact that you likely aren’t clamoring to sleep with him, partially because you’re infuriated at him for kidnapping you, and terrified of him because of his physical stature and criminal status.

He’s sure you don’t particularly want to be with him in a sexual way (though he hopes, desperately, that one day you will), and the last thing he wants is for you to be even more afraid of him, or to hate him even more.

And so, Uvogin won’t force himself onto you.

He won’t force you onto your knees or strip your clothing off of you or anything of the sort. He wants to, of course, so badly that it nearly drives him insane, but he won’t do it out of respect for you and a selfish desire to get you falling in love with him.

What he will do, however, is make it perfectly, abundantly clear that if you’re ever in the mood, he’s more than willing to oblige.

He’ll tell you, pretty much from the beginning of your captivity with him, that if you ever desire absolutely anything physical at all, he’ll be naked and eagerly waiting for you within seconds.

And that includes everything: simply using those massive palms of his to grope and squeeze at your breasts, calloused fingers gently rolling a nipple between them and listening to the way you sigh out.

(He’ll approach you with this particular offer when he knows your menstrual cycle is nearing, when you’re bloated and soar and desperate for any kind of reprieve – you need someone to hold those for ya, babe? They’re looking awfully heavy, and you’d be surprised how gentle these fingers can be.)

He’ll offer to finger you when you seem stressed, that grin of his wolfish and eager but also strangely genuine, as if the prospect of pleasuring you isn’t just some sexual urge and rather something he wants to do, as if it pleasures him, too.

(This offer is always accompanied with a rather showy wiggle of his fingers, making sure the veins and tendons in his hand are visibly flexing, just to try and entice you even more – and it works, because although you shake your head and tell him that you strongly pass, he can see the way your eyes are glued to his fingers, how your thighs press together ever so slightly, how you can’t hide the desire swimming in your eyes.)

He’ll offer to let you sit on his cock when you’re feeling lonely, telling you that he’ll be there the whole time, how you can’t possibly feel lonely when there’s literally someone inside of you, patting his groin – with pants barely holding back his straining erection – and telling you that he won’t try anything funny he promises.

(And he’ll stay true to that promise – it’s actual torture to not fuck up into you, to not bounce you up and down in his lap and feel the way your walls desperately clench down on him, but he holds himself back. Besides, feeling you slowly, slowly work your way down his length is a treat enough, each inch stretching you further than you though possible, your little hisses and whines and whimpers making him physically throb inside of you.)

He’ll even offer to fuck you when the mood feels right, telling you that he’s never left a partner unsatisfied, that he knows how to treat you, that he’ll be slow and gentle and soft and sweet, something that he means with every fiber of his being.

(At least, he’ll be all those things the first time he gets you naked in his arms – after that, anything goes. He can’t always be expected to control himself, after all.)

It’s mildly intrusive and will make you uncomfortable in the beginning, but as time passes and he doesn’t actually force anything onto you, merely offering, slowly your walls will start crumbling.

If you’re stuck with him, maybe it isn’t the end of the world if you get something out of the ordeal – you’re trapped with him, but does that mean you aren’t allowed an orgasm?

Sure he’s kidnapped you and keeps you locked away in a modestly furnished home, but is it really so wrong of you to accept the pleasure he seems more than happy to give you? Does that make you a bad person, or a selfish person?

With time you’ll start thinking no, that perhaps letting Uvogin eat you out for hours and bring you high after high wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world – and he’ll be very, very happy to oblige.

(And you can tell, too – the way he groans and growls against you makes it hard to ignore, as does the way something warm and wet and thick splatters against your thighs when he’s got you hovering over his chin.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Size Kink

Uvogin is more than aware of the size difference between the two of you.

It doesn’t matter how tall you are, or how large you are – he is bigger than you, both in stature and presence and every other measurable way. He’s a hulking figure that takes up the entire side of the dining table you share meals at, needing to wear shirts that literally fall off your frame, dominating and bigger than you in every sense of the word.

And he knows this - he’s completely aware of how you’re so small compared to him, so tiny and adorable and breakable, and when it comes to really anything between the two of you, he has a tendency to take this fact to heart, to be beyond careful in making sure that he does absolutely nothing that could ever put you in harm’s way.

Though he won’t admit it, having you hurt or afraid of him in any way is genuinely one of his worst fears, and although he knows he can do nothing to change his physical appearance, he takes care to come across as least threatening and as welcoming as possible.

And when it comes to the bedroom, Uvo is even more hyper aware, because when he’s buried inside that tight, cute little cunt of yours, his orgasm rapidly approaching, it’s almost disturbingly easy to lose control, to just pin you down and fuck the absolute shit out of you, until you’re nothing more than a quivering, split open mess below him.

He has to keep an incredible amount of focus when his orgasm looms near to make sure that he doesn’t dig his fingers into your skin too hard lest he leave bruises, or that he doesn’t fuck into you at the pace he truly wants to lest he push a little too far and tear something.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he tries his absolute best to keep you on top, to keep you controlling the pace and everything else in order to keep you safe and feeling good.

(Besides, he’s got a great view when you’re on top – he can see, all in the same glance, your pussy sucking in his length over and over, your breasts bouncing and jiggling, even your face all twisted up in ecstasy as you ride him as hard as you can. He’s not particularly hands-off during sex, but often he’s tempted to simply lay back with his arms crossed behind his head, content to watch your show and let your cunt bring him steadily closer to orgasm. His desire to see you gasp and stare wildly at him in shock and pleasure often outweighs this urge, however, because he almost always settles his hands on your hips and helps guide you, suddenly thrusting just a hair deeper into you and hearing your cry of a-ah Uvo too deep!)

However, that isn’t to say that Uvogin doesn’t enjoy the size difference between the two of you – on the contrary, he thinks it’s beyond cute, that it’s adorable just how tiny you are in comparison to him.

And while the fear that he could hurt you is very much omnipresent, he can’t deny how it makes his heart race and blood pump to his cock when he sees how just one of his hands engulfs your entire thigh, how you struggle to straddle him because his waist is just so muscular and wide, how your breast is completely engulfed by his palm when he roughly fondles and kneads at it.

It’s endearing in a way, how cute and small you are beside him, and even more obvious when you have your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers not able to close completely around his girth.

Seeing you struggle so much to simply jerk him off makes Uvo smug, a smirk falling across his face while he groans, little murmurs of your name tumbling past his lips while you work at him, trying desperately to get him to come, to get him to tell you how you’re a good girl, fuck look at your hands, ngh wanna – gonna stretch out that tiny little cunt with this fat cock, you want that?

It’s most definitely a guilty pleasure, something that makes him feel big and strong and important, and in the context of your sexual relationship, there’s just simply no way to get around the fact that Uvogin quite literally towers over you.

(Especially when you’re on your knees, staring up at his imposing stature and the large, swollen, veiny cock sitting at eye level, his voice teasing as he tells you to go on, it won’t bite, I promise. Only I do that.)

Praise

Generally Uvogin isn’t particularly derogatory in bed. He’s not a big fan of degradation in general, both in and out of the bedroom, partially because he’s not a naturally mean person (aside from the criminal activity and murder, of course), and partly because he really does cherish and love you. He thinks you’re beautiful and perfect and everything he could want in a woman, and his honesty bars him from ever saying anything to the contrary.

He doesn’t want to tell you that you’re just a slut, that you’re a hole for him to fuck, that you should stay quiet and let him get what he wants – he wants you, in more ways than one. He loves you, in his own twisted, fucked up way, and he wants your time in bed together to reflect that sentiment.

And so, Uvogin falls on the opposite side of the spectrum from degradation – that is, there’s a nearly overwhelming amount of praise in the bedroom.

Comments about how pretty you are or how good at something you are constantly slip past his lips, his voice gruff and low as he tells that you look so damn pretty on your knees baby.

He’s got a compliment or praise ready for every possible situation in bed – you’re undressing, struggling to get the giant shirt Uvogin had forced you into this morning up over your head? He’s chuckling, grinning, slapping your ass and telling you that you’re so damn cute, princess, makes me go crazy when you wear my shit.

You’re kissing him, pinned below him with your wrists over your head? He’s licking his lips as he pulls back, planting kisses against your neck and telling you that you taste so good, you’re so fucking pretty.

You’re biting your lip and carding your fingers through your hair as he sucks and playfully bites at your nipples? He’s burying his face between your breasts and vigorously shaking it, laughing and telling you that these tits are so perfect babe, god I always wanna touch ‘em and kiss ‘em, how about no more bras around the house? Or maybe no more shirts at all – don’t expect me to control myself, yeah?

You’re sinking to your knees while he sighs and grabs the base of his cock, running his tip over your lips while he stares down at you? He’s telling you that you look so pretty babe, can’t wait to see these lips with my cum on them instead.

You’re perched on his lap, his tip barely nestled inside you while you wince and bite your lip? He’s running soothing hands up your sides, cooing at you that you’re doing so good baby, ‘m so proud of you, fuck you’re tight, feels so damn good.

You’re on your hands and knees, chest and face pressed in the mattress while he mounts you from behind, hips flush with yours and pummeling into you with no mercy? He’s leaning all the way over you and growling into your ear that you’re mine, babe, fuck don’t you ever forget, god this pussy is so good, y’so damn tight and wet, gonna make me come baby, you want that? Yeah? You want my cum?

You’re underneath him, tits bouncing every which way and body physically thrusting back and forth as he fucks into you with a sturdy hand pressing right over your naval? He’s laughing breathlessly, using his free hand to push back his hair and telling you to take it baby, fuck yeah just like that, you look so damn hot like this.

Even when he’s in the middle of coming, thick spurts of white shooting from his swollen, red tip, he’s praising you – telling you that you take him so well, that you always take – fuck, take it all, look so damn pretty with my cum in you.

He just genuinely believes that you’re beautiful, and because he’s naturally quite talkative, this shows in the bedroom – he can’t not comment on how you look, how you feel, how smell, how you taste.

It would be wrong to not let you know how much he’s enjoying being with you, how badly he’s dreamed of fucking you, or how long he’s dreamed of touching you – so really, even if his constant praise embarrasses you, you’d best get used to it. He won’t stop, and if you were to return the favor?

Well, his ego isn’t particularly fragile, but he can’t deny how it affects him any time you moan out about how good he feels or how big he is or how you’re close – oh god, ‘m gonna come, oh god Uvo Uvo Uvo-!

He can’t deny the way his cock jumps, how it twitches and pulses and oozes out precum at just hearing your voice and words, hearing his name and feeling the way your body seizes up all because of him him him.

He’s a sucker for it, so expect sex with him to be loud and full of compliments – even if they’re a little vulgar sometimes (fuck babe, these tits – I wanna fuck ‘em, get them all messy and covered in my cum fuuuck-) or oddly specific (god you taste good, those panties of yours don’t even come close…).

He just can’t help himself, so get used to it – he won’t stop, even if you beg him to.

Cum play

He’s possessive, and it shows in the bedroom.

He’s always got a hand on your body, hickeys bruising your throat, collarbone or inner thighs, handprints decorating your ass, or even a light bite mark here and there along your thighs and stomach.

He likes the concept of claiming you and physically showing that you’re his, and while this presents itself in normal ways like previously mentioned, Uvogin’s favorite form of showcasing that you belong to him is by getting his cum absolutely everywhere on your body.

He produces an insane amount of it with every orgasm – it just keeps coming, spurt after spurt shooting from his swollen tip and landing on your body or the sheets underneath you, all the while he’s groaning and his hips are involuntarily thrusting, making everything even more messy.

His orgasms last easily twenty seconds, with a constant stream of white, and Uvogin loves nothing more than to absolutely paint you with it.

When your hands – so small and cute and soft compared to his calloused skin – are wrapped around him, pulling and tugging, the slick sound of spit and lube clicking in his ears, he’ll give a warning of here it comes, shit baby take it – and immediately your hands are covered in it, pools of cum dribbling down onto your fingers, slipping down your wrist and leaving everything sticky and wet and warm, Uvogin’s chest rising and falling with both the force of his orgasm and the sight of his cum against your skin.

(He’ll always grab your hands afterwards, slipping your fingers into his mouth one by one and licking away his cum, only to kiss you afterwards and push it all into your mouth, entertained by your surprised sound and the way you squirm against him.)

When you’re struggling to fit him into your mouth, only able to take the first few inches and leaving your hands to deal with the rest, he’ll dig his fingers into your hair and hold you there, biting his lip and telling you to swallow every last fucking drop, don’t wanna see any wasted babe before letting go, listening to the way you gag and eagerly swallow everything he’s giving you.

He’ll pull away with harsh breaths, watching the way you eagerly suck in air, your lips wet and glistening with spit and cum, your tongue still painted a white color.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly possessive, he’ll instead pull back right before letting go, telling you to stay sitting on your knees while he stands, fisting his cock at a near inhuman speed before pointing it right at your face, letting go and watching as ropes land across your cheeks, nose, lips and forehead, your entire face streaked with him in a way that makes his knees weak. Often, he’ll shake his cock a bit right at the end, eager to get every little bit out and onto you, groaning in satisfaction when the last, weakest little spurt lands right on your outstretched tongue. He’ll lean in closer and smear the cum across your skin even more, his voice sounding genuinely awed as he tells you that you’re so damn beautiful baby, fuck, get on the bed, I need to fuck you. Now.)

He loves to have you take his cock between your breasts, regardless of their size – he wants you suckle on his tip and rub your skin against him, feeling your pebbled nipples and the soft plush.

When he gets close, he’ll pull back and finish himself off, having you lay on your back while he straddles your waist, painting your breasts white and paying special attention to smear it across your nipples, pinching and twisting and pulling at them.

And even when he’s actually inside you, his penchant for being picky about where his cum goes doesn’t change – nine times out of ten he will come inside you, pushing his hips all the way the hilt so that he can finish as deeply as possible, the groan he lets out sending pleasure racing up your spine.

You can often literally feel it inside of you – something warm and wet filling you up, his cock spasming with every spurt, his balls clenching and tightening against your ass as he whispers your name under his breath.

(Most of the time, there’s simply too much to keep inside of you – it just never seems to end, and eventually there’s some dribbling out of you, smearing against your folds and dripping down the curve of your ass, sometimes even leaving a small pool against the bedsheets. Uvogin is equal parts proud and irritated when this happens, though – proud because god, you look perfect with his cum leaking out of you, but irritated because all of that really should be inside of you, not wasted and sitting on the bed. So, he'll scoop it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside you and fucking it up into you until he’s satisfied, the wet shmucking noise making him grin.)

Sometimes, though, he’ll pull out right at the last minute and instead come onto your cunt, letting the white settle against your inner thighs and coat your folds, leaving everything in a layer of opaque cream as he growls out your name.

He’ll often have you keep your legs spread even after he’s finished, moving closer to peer at his handiwork, getting so close and staring so hard that you inevitably get embarrassed, especially when he uses both thumbs to spread your folds and watch the cum dip down inside, even a few drops dribbling down inside you, the sight making him inexplicably satisfied.

Really, Uvogin just likes seeing you with his cum – whether it’s on you or inside you, he will find a way to incorporate it – it helps quell his possessiveness, and he can’t deny that the sight just looks so right, like something carnal and primal and natural.

(Unfortunately, though, he is a bit sensitive about you trying to clean it up – he often won’t let you shower after sex, telling you that it's better if you keep it on you or in you, and if you were to complain about it, he’ll just grab a pair of your panties and force them up your legs, the mess he’d left between them soaking into the fabric and making them damp every time you sit down or move. Again, don’t try to fight it – you won’t win, and Uvogin will often reach down between your legs just to ensure that you haven’t cleaned up – it’s a waste, he’d say, and he knows his girl isn’t wasteful.)

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Overstimulation

In general, Uvogin loves to please you.

He’s by no means submissive, but there’s something about bringing you pleasure and watching you fall apart for him that gets him harder than he’s ever been, all the blood rushing to his cock so quickly it nearly makes him dizzy.

He just loves the way you look on the brink of an orgasm, how you look at him with such wide eyes and need, how you clutch onto him and chant his name over and over. He likes how your hips twitch and jerk in his grasp, how he has to physically hold you still so that he can keep his tongue working over your clit or his fingers thrusting into you.

It’s addicting, honestly, in some ways even better than his own orgasms – and so, Uvogin finds himself making it a priority every time he gets you naked that you find your high, unwilling to stop until you come at least once.

And that’s really the key – at least, because any given sexual encounter with Uvogin generally results in you having at least three orgasms. He absolutely loves to overstimulate you – watching you come is one of his favorite sights, those dark eyes of his always hyperfixated on your pretty face as you fall apart, and the face you make when he doesn’t stop?

When he keeps his fingers on that cute clit of yours, still rubbing and pressing and making you feel good even as you gasp and whine about how it’s too much?

Well, it makes Uvogin grin, pearly teeth on display as he tells you to take it baby, be a good girl for me, yeah?

He likes the way you squirm and beg for him, your legs shaking like crazy and your abdomen visibly clenching and unclenching.

He likes the way you get so sensitive and grasp onto him like he’s your lifeline, pushing him to get you off twice, three times, four times, sometimes even five in a single session.

Of course, he likes seeing you pleasured, but there’s a bit of selfishness at play too – because when you’re holding him so tightly and moaning out in that perfect voice of yours please – please Uvogin (he’s not sure whether you’re begging for him to stop or for more – and he suspects you’re not sure either), how can he not feel utterly self-satisfied?

How can he not feel like a good lover, not feel like your dependence on him is growing more and more with each orgasm?

He views it as a good way to simultaneously get you a trembling mess for him and to also solidify your growing feelings for him - plus, he gets to lick his fingers clean of your wonderful taste while also getting to sink himself inside your soaking wet, twitching, hypersensitive cunt already practically milking him for everything he’s got…

It doesn’t take him long to come after that, and the sight of you exhausted, twitching, and leaking thick, white globs of cum is positively droolworthy.

Femdom

But in a very specific way – you’ll never be truly in charge in bed with him, if only because there’s not a single submissive bone in Uvogin’s body.

Sex with him is under his terms and conditions, but he’s generous enough to care about your pleasure and your desires, too.

That said, Uvo is incredibly entertained by your attempts at dominating him – it’s not necessarily hot or attractive, but it’s incredibly endearing and sweet, and serves to make his heart melt and his cock swell with the knowledge that eventually he will be shattering this fragile illusion of control you’re creating.

He likes when you get on top of him, your poor hips struggle to straggle the expanse of his own, his cock pressing harshly and insistently against your ass while you bite your lip and steel yourself.

He likes the way you try to move his arms over his head forcefully (you aren’t actually moving them, even if you think you are – he’s letting you, manually moving them for you, letting you believe that you’re doing it when it reality it’s all him), seeing the way your eyes light up and your thighs squeeze around his hips tighter.

He likes the way you lean down to kiss him, your tongue rushing into his mouth, your kisses noticeably more aggressive than usual but still nothing particularly dominant.

And yet, Uvogin lets you take the lead, letting you control the pacing, the angle, everything just to maintain this illusion of dominance.

He’ll let you tie the blindfold around his head, limiting his vision but not hindering any of his other senses, conveniently forgetting to mention to you that he can still feel your every breath, hear your every movement, practically taste what you’re going to do next.

He’ll let you slowly sink down onto his length, pulling back every few moments to tease his length and leave him wanting more.

Uvogin will take it all in stride, entertained at the way you try to be dominant and in control, only to shatter it once he decides you’ve had your fun, once you pull off of him one too many times and leave his cock wet, throbbing and needing your pussy so badly it hurts –

It’s not hard to rip his wrists out of the dingey bindings you’d placed them in earlier, fingers immediately digging into the plush of your hips to force you back down onto him, setting a brutal pace combined with his own thrusting hips and moving your body up and down so that every brush of his cock into you leaves you gasping, panting for air because it’s all so unexpected and he’s just so deep and big and god…

You can try being dominant all you want, because he finds it entertaining and endearing, but know that at the end of the day you will be the one at his mercy, your body simply his to toy with and tease as he sees fit.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

It's no secret that Uvogin is possessive – you’ll learn this from the very moment you become aware of his feelings for you. He firmly, whole-heartedly views you as his, just as he is yours.

And in the context of your sexual relationship, this mindset of his is only more apparent, more blatantly obvious with the way he clutches onto you and tells you how much he loves his little pussy between your legs, the way he leaves bruises on your hips and ass from smacking you or holding on just a bit too tight while he’s fucking you, or even sinking his teeth lightly into the flesh of your shoulder so that you’re marked as his.

It satisfies the intense desire he feels to keep you by his side and away from everyone else, all with the added benefit of getting you writhing and moaning his name.

And so, most of Uvo’s fantasies in the bedroom tend to branch off from his possessiveness – specifically, while it would be unlikely to happen, he desperately, desperately, wants to fuck you in a semi-public space so that his fellow Troupe members can hear.

He wants them to hear you screaming his name, your pleas and cries sounding like music to his ears and showing them exactly who gets to touch you, who makes you feel good, who’s allowed to dump fresh, potent cum in your cute little hole.

It makes him giddy, genuinely, excitement brewing in his chest because he loves the idea of publicly claiming you, about making sure that everyone knows that you’re his, that every part of you belongs to him.

He likes everyone knowing that only he gets to touch you and make you moan and scream, that it’s only ever his name that’ll be leaving those pretty lips of yours.

Plus, this fantasy fulfills that possessive urge without actually letting other people see you – he can’t stomach the thought of any of his fellow Troupe members actually seeing your naked body or the way you look at the height of your pleasure – Shizuku can’t ogle like she does, Shalnark can’t fist his cock to the sight of your tits bouncing, and even Franklin can’t swallow and ghost a hand over his crotch at the sight of your body taking his too-big cock.

It’s perfect, a fantasy that he’s harbored since the early days of his infatuation with you – and while it’ll take a while for him to actually act out, he wants nothing more than to utterly claim you all while his friends can hear.

“You gonna scream for me baby?” Uvogin grunts, his hips snapping into yours just a bit harder.

Everything feels like too much – he’s holding you up against the wall, the cold brick digging into your back just mixing with the onslaught of pleasure his cock is giving you, bullying its way inside you and leaving you clenching down on him with every thrust. He’s so big – stretching you out nearly past your limits, making you drool and moan and shake, thoroughly destroying you long before he’s even bothering to reach for your clit.

You’re a mess already, and Uvogin knows it. It makes him smirk, staving off his own orgasm in favor of making sure he fucks you just right, just to make sure the rest of the Troupe can hear you on the other side of the wall.

“I can’t hear you.” He growls, burying his face in your neck and biting his lip to hold his release at bay. It’s hard to – you’re so damn tight and warm around him, and each time he pushes just the tiniest bit deeper inside you, you squeeze up like a vice, massaging and pulsing around him so well that it makes his knees weak.

“Fuck, Uvo Uvo Uvo Uvo -!” You’re chanting his name, the words slurred together and sounding strained, and it only makes him thrust into you harder, enough force landing on each push of his hips that it physically gets you bouncing, even mid-air.

He can hear faint, muffled talking from the other side of the wall, and it only makes him bare his teeth, lightly biting the shell of your ear. His fingers dig into your thighs, his grip on them firm and tight.

“Shit baby, tell them who’s fucking you like this,” He starts, only to cut himself off with a groan when you clench down on him particularly hard. His hips stutter for just a moment, and you claw at his back at the sensation.

“It – it’s you, Uvogin!” Your voice is strained and slurred, and it makes Uvogin grin.

“Who’s cock is this perfect little pussy taking? Who’s it belong to, huh?” His voice is gravely and deep, husky and making your toes curl as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Uvogin Uvogin Uvogin!” You’re practically screaming at this point, and he hears a dull thud from the next room over.

He barks out a laugh and buries his face into your neck, forcing his hips to go faster, harder, deeper, anything to get you louder.

And it’s working – you’re physically trembling, hips twitching and jerking wildly in his grasp, a non-sensical slurry of words spilling from your lips that make his heart and cock ache, each sound you make sending him closer and closer to his end.

“Tell me what you want baby, fuck fuck fuck, tell me where you want it.”

“Inside! Please Uvo, inside, need it inside me –“ You’re blabbering, but he doesn’t mind. A finger comes down to roughly press circles against your sensitive clit, and your reaction is immediate – you tense up, every muscle in your body seizing up as the pleasure mounts and mounts, his hips never stilling and drilling into that spot inside you over and over and over again –

You come with a scream of his name, your cunt fluttering wildly around him, squeezing and pulsing and massaging him in a way that gets his knees scarily close to buckling, his own orgasm right on the brink as he presses you even tighter against the wall, leaving no space to breath as he literally fucks you into the brick.

“Don’t you dare stop,” He warns you, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust.

Another loud bang comes from the other side of the wall, and Uvogin freezes for just a moment as he hears the faintest sound of panting, of someone cursing under their breath, of something muttering out an oh fuck…

He comes with a loud groan of your name, spurts of warm, thick cum settling inside you and making you cry out again, the sound music to his ears. A muffled groan sounds from the other side of the wall, and pride swims in Uvo’s gut as he watches you try to recover, your body shaking and your lips all swollen from biting them. He kisses you, hard, his tongue slipping into your mouth immediately, before helping you stand on your own and paddle to the bathroom to clean up.

Once the shower starts running, Uvogin sighs and slips out the door, walking into the other room with a smirk spread across his lips. Feitan, Phinks and Nobunaga all look at him, the first with a disgusted look, the second with a noticeable blush, and the third with dazed eyes, clearly in the aftershocks of his own pleasure.

Uvogin laughs, settling a hand on his hip. “Like what you heard, huh?”

Nobuanga nods, Phinks’s blush only settles deeper, and Feitan snorts.

Uvogin’s smile drops at that, his nen flaring up. “Too bad you’ll never even touch her.”

His cock twitches at the mere thought, and soon he’s sliding open the glass door of the bathroom, pressing your chest against the tile wall, determined to see if his friends can still hear you over the sound of the rushing water.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #hxh smut #_hxh #_uvogin #_lee's profiles

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moghedien · 2 months ago

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this isn’t meant to be judgement on what other people choose or their opinions and there are reasons why there is no actual ideal solution, but if I’m playing the game in which I want every character to get what I feel is the best outcome for them personally, Shadowheart is always ending the game with her parents alive

There are a couple of reasons for this. I’ve done both endings with the Selûnite path for her, and I literally just let her pick what she wanted the first time (which ended in her parents dead) and seeing both, I do think she’s happier with her parents alive in general. I think, as with other characters (specifically Lae’zel comes to mind in her romance) you have to kinda challenge them on what their first immediate response is when giving them an option in order to get to what actually makes them happiest and what they’re afraid to admit

But if we’re not even taking like the arbitrary measure of happiness into account, I do think that thematically, keeping her parents alive is the only real option if you don’t want Shar to win.

The options here are either let her parents die and Shadowheart is free of the pain in her wound, or save her parents and Shadowheart spends the rest of her life with the threat of the wound hurting her at any moment. Basically no parents and no pain or parent and chronic pain for the rest of her life.

Harsh options either way, and especially when you phrase it as “chronic pain forever” being the thematically correct path, but look at it from the angle of rejecting Shar and what those options really signify form a Sharran angle.

If her parents die, she has no pain, which is good, but she also has no parents. She has no way of learning about her past other than random scraps she might find or maybe eventually remember somehow. She also has no attachment to her Sharran cloister anymore and no attachment to any Selûnite community either. She’s void of everything, including the physical pain. Now there’s obviously like emotional turmoil she’s feeling, and you do get a scene where she expresses that, but it’s from her loss. She only has loss now. The Lady of Loss gave up her physical hold on Shadowheart and in doing so, made Shadowheart embrace loss. Shar might not win completely, but she doesn’t really care about her individual followers and communities as much as they want her to. This is still a win for Shar because she still got Shadowheart to make Sharran choices in the end and embrace losing everything: the pain, her parents, her community, her past.

Hell, the desire to free oneself from pain entirely is a very Sharran pursuit. It’s why we see people turn to Shar. Ketheric turned to Shar as a way to get Isobel back and free himself from grief. One of the people that can lead you to the Sharran cloister is a man who remembers nothing about himself except that the House of Grief helped him because he was very sad and now he isn’t. Nevermind the fact that he doesn’t even know where he lives now or that Ketheric didn’t get what he wanted, it’s the motivation of freeing oneself from some kind of pain that drives people to Shar.

That is why Shadowheart received the injury in the first place.

I jokingly call it a shock collar sometimes, but that is basically what it literally is. You can get Shadowheart’s dad to reveal more about it if you control her and go talk to him in camp. The wound is because Shadowheart was constantly misbehaving and her parents weren’t converting, and they needed something to keep her in line and also motivate her parents. Shadowheart’s pain was supposed be negative reinforcement for her not to act on her kinder inclinations and for her parents to finally fall in line and reject Selûne so that they would stop seeing Shadowheart in pain. The desire for no more pain was supposed to drive Shadowheart and her family closer to Shar.

And all of this on top of the fact that Shadowheart’s memory was wiped repeatedly to an extreme degree, even by standards of the evil memory wiping cult. She was supposed to be a blank slate that only desired to feel nothing by the end. The perfect Sharran.

So if she keeps her family alive, what does she get? A life time of guaranteed pain from Shar, but also her family. Guilt over learning all she’s done to her parents over the 40 years they were held captive, but also answers about her life before Shar and kinder memories with them after Shar. She doesn’t get to not know all that she’s done and all that’s been taken from her, and she’s forced to feel all the negative emotions that come with that, but she gets comfort and positive feelings too.

The moment I keep going back to is the scene you get after she saves her parents where she’s clearly distressed. You get a similar version of this if her parents are dead, but if her parents are alive, they show up at the end of the scene when she’s crying because of the guilt she’s feeling toward all that happened to them. The specific moment in that which I obsess over a bit is when Shadowheart apologizes to them and says that they shouldn’t have to see her like this (because they just walked in on her crying). And it’s her mom’s response to that which makes me a little insane

It’s the emphasis on feeling that really gets me, and I think is the most important part here.

Because Shadowheart was apologizing specifically for them seeing her feeling. She was in this moment apologizing for them having to see her crying and in a very vulnerable emotional state over her own personal struggles and the immense amount of guilt she feels over seeing the extent of what was done to her parents, some of which she did. She’s not supposed to feel anything about that, as a Sharran. She’s not supposed to feel at all as a Sharran, good or bad.

But it’s her very visibly feeling something that her mom points out wanting to see. it’s the one word she puts emphasis on, because that alone is proof that Shar doesn’t have a hold on her. If she’s feeling something, even if it’s bad, then Shar isn’t winning and isn’t controlling her. Shar literally had to resort to trying to coax her into wanting nothing more than to be free of feeling in order to get her to behave, after all.

If Shadowheart accepts that she’ll have pain for the rest of her life in order to save her family, Shar doesn’t get anything but the shock collar she already had. And the point of the shock collar was to eventually never use it. Hurting Shadowheart wasn’t what Shar wanted. Shar wanted to eventually stop hurting Shadowheart because that meant she was a good perfect little Selûnite-turned-Sharran who had been properly corrupted. Pain wasn’t the point and was supposed to have an ending if Shar got what she wanted.

So when Shadowheart rejects the loss of the pain, that’s about as close as she can get to telling Shar to go fuck herself. Her plans didn’t work, not even a little. Shadowheart isn’t wiping her slate clean (again) and rejecting feeling things just because they’re painful. She’s reconnecting with the past that they spent 40 years trying to erase and she’s doing it even though it’ll be hurt.

Basically by keeping her parents alive, she’s doing every single thing Shar has spent four decades trying to stop her from doing and giving Shar absolutely nothing in return. Shar gets nothing besides the ability to hurt Shadowheart, which isn’t even something she wanted in the first place.

And proof of this is shown in the epilogue, where if you romance Shadowheart and kept her parents alive, you both point out what Shar hasn’t been triggering the wound much lately. She triggers it a lot and randomly in the end of the game, and it’s clear she’s pissed off, but by the time six months have passed, it’s apparently barely happening. Because pain wasn’t the point and it wasn’t what Shar wanted. The pain was Shar throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get what she wanted. Shadowheart calls it petty in the game and that’s literally what it is. Just pettiness from a god. And it’ll probably happen to some extent for the rest of Shadowheart’s life, yes, but it’s clear that Shar is bored and realizes it’s not going to work. She might try some other ways to get at Shadowheart eventually, but in making that choice, Shadowheart denied her any ounce of power that Shar actually cares about. Even if the pain is there, the fact that it’s there is proof that Shar failed.

#shadowheart #Shar #bg3 #emmeline hallowleaf #arnell hallowleaf #baldur's gate 3 #long post

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f1ghtsoftly · 4 months ago

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my head is scrambled but in Kate Manne’s “The Logic Of Misogyny” she put to words something I always, always knew was true.

Most of the time Men don’t hurt women for no reason, they punish women who assert themselves/their personhood. Misogynistic violence is a punishment, it’s a form of conditioning to get women to behave submissively towards men. To punish women for existing in public without male protection. To punish women for daring to think her intellect, athletic or artistic achievement could come before her sex.

I don’t present super femme anymore or hang around men outside my family basically ever-but when I did I was frequently targeted for sexual assault, usually by men who were frustrated they were attracted to me but couldn’t have me. They felt like I was taunting them-but asserting my right to exist as someone they were attracted to/without any sort of male protection or a male protection that didn’t involve sexual favors/submission. That wasn’t an accident, I’m sure if I meekly cowered behind a big boyfriend, I’m sure if I stayed inside, I’m sure if I didn’t assert myself as extraverted, intelligent, funny or charismatic those men would have left me alone-but that would have meant hiding myself from the world, hiding myself from other women and to me that was a bigger loss than a ‘lil danger. I made choices as a young person that I knew with certainty would bring me in closer proximity to men who wanted to hurt me, I decided that living a freer life was better than living a safe one. I don’t necessarily regret my assessment of patriarchy, I am sad that the price you pay for being an independent woman (in a social sense) in public is assault. I don’t blame women who think their safety is more important than making a statement. I’m sad for us both. I’m grateful I was able to find feminist communities because victimization isn’t just something casual you can shake off, even if it feels like men constantly target you/women in general.

Assault doesn’t just roll of your back either. It hurts. In the moment and for years afterwards it hurts. It’s always senseless. Always dehumanizing to the extreme. Always enraging. Always profoundly violating. Always a shock. I struggle to reconcile what I know about rape with what I know about people. I know people can be cruel, unthinking, insecure. I don’t know how someone can plot the rape of a friend or a stranger who has done nothing to deserve it. I don’t know how men can secretly tape their lovers, manipulate a young woman into sex she doesn’t want or do any of the things men do consistently or routinely. I don’t know how a boy could look at the face of his too drunk friend and go “this is my opportunity to have my way with her” instead of putting her to bed. Carelessness, thoughtless is easy to imagine. Conscious cruelty is not. Men know what they do and they either don’t care or like it.

I’m crying in a park in my Dad’s pickup truck. “There are worse things than this, you didn’t die-you’re alive” He says “this wasn’t your fault, I just want to keep you safe and what happened to you isn’t something I can control even though I wish I could”. “I’d feel better if you lived in Austin, because their self defense laws are better, there are lots of gay people there too”

He makes me laugh. I won’t move to Texas. He’s right, it’s not my fault, and helping me get better at self defense helps him feel like he can do something and while self defense does help-it’s not a perfect strategy. The misogynist’s prerogative is to snuff out the life force of the woman he interacts with, the only way to stop him from trying to do that is to become apart of the living dead. Even then, he’ll get your corpse.

There are worse things than rape in this life. A woman alive is better than a woman dead. I guess, but what life is it when constantly forced to battle for your right to live? When at a moments notice you can be filled from the inside out with death. Rotted from your insides out. I wish New York would let me have a gun. I wish I could make men afraid and polite in my presence the way I feel afraid and polite in theirs. I’m so tired of this.

#radblr #char on char

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ikilledyvette · 4 months ago

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(Realized I was never gonna finish this long ass 9-1-1 fic before the premiere, so today I’m doing the seriously condensed version for Tumblr—which I still have to break into two parts, ffs.)

It’s Thursday afternoon, three days before Father’s Day, and the atmosphere at the 118 is grim. Gerrard is gone, at least, and everyone celebrated with cake—specifically, a Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead! cake, complete with a chocolate house crushing little black boots—but to everyone’s surprise, Buck isn’t exactly welcoming Bobby home with open arms anymore. He hasn’t forgiven Bobby for resigning in the first place. Making matters worse, Margaret and Philip Buckley are flying in for the weekend. Also, Eddie is depressed because Chris hasn’t called since he left for Texas six weeks ago, and Eddie doesn’t expect to hear from him on Sunday, or possibly ever again.

Hen tells Eddie Christopher will forgive him. “He’ll come home. He just needs a minute.” Eddie says that six weeks is a hell of a minute, but Hen persists. “You’re a good father,” she says, ignoring Eddie’s humorless laugh. “You messed up; I’m not saying you didn’t. But that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done, too. Kids, they want you to hear them. They want you to show up, so when Christopher calls, pick up the phone and listen. You two love each other, Eddie. It’s going to work out.”

But Eddie’s gaze just drifts to the kitchen, where Bobby is quietly looking at the stack of uneaten fire-engine-shaped mini-waffles that Buck refused to eat, even though he’s the one who bought Bobby that ridiculous novelty waffle-maker in the first place

“You ever think maybe love just isn’t enough,” Eddie says, and Hen isn’t sure how to answer that.

Meanwhile, Chimney, thankfully, has the day off and is drinking a beer with Tommy. (Hen, left to deal with these weird morose vibes at the 118 by herself, quite rightly considers this a betrayal and has appropriately sworn revenge.) Chimney and Tommy talk a little about their own families: Tommy hasn’t spoken to his dad in years; meanwhile, Chimney finally gave up months ago after actually telling his dad how he really felt about being abandoned. He just needed to hear his father apologize once, just once—but he couldn’t do that, not even that, and Chimney decided enough was enough.

Tommy, who’s only ever met the Buckley Parents one time (but has quickly clocked to Buck’s wildly shifting moods whenever discussing them), asks Chimney how much of a disaster this weekend is likely to be. Chimney tells Tommy that—apart from big family secrets and the general emotional trauma—every time the Buckleys visit, someone comes close to death: warehouse fire (Buck), lightning strike (Buck), viral encephalitis (Chimney).

“Maybe don’t go up in a helicopter till they’re gone?” Chimney suggests, and Tommy says, “Jesus,” and gets another beer.

Back at the 118, things have gone from bad to worse. A call leads to Buck recklessly risking his own life to save someone. He walks away with only a few bruises, but Bobby yells at him for nearly getting himself killed. Buck snarks that he must still be that young, impulsive hothead after all. Bobby, a bit at a loss, tells Buck that he has come a long way, but he can’t put himself in danger just because he’s angry at Bobby.

“What is this really about? You can talk to me, kid. I’m here.”

“Right,” Buck says, scornful. “You’re here. For ... how long again? Seven more, I think you said? No—no, you never actually said, did you? That one’s on me. Right, Cap?”

The bell goes off, ending the argument. Bobby tries to talk to Buck again after the shift, but Buck is already out the door. He barely gets any sleep that day before he and Tommy drive over for The Big Family Dinner. Tommy tries to talk Buck into staying home, suggesting they go tomorrow night instead, but Buck insists it will be a Thing if they don’t go.

Dinner goes badly. Margaret and Phillip aren’t intentionally rude or actively malicious, but there’s still a thread of casual biphobia in much of what they say: Evan’s always going through these phases. Well, if it’s not a phase, Evan, you must have known; how could you not? Please don’t misunderstand, Tommy, of course we like YOU. Very much! Yes, Tommy, thank you for your service. We’re just saying, Evan likes to throw us for a loop now and then. Really, Evan, you’ve had so many girlfriends you’re basically straight, aren’t you?

Buck finally loses it shortly after Maddie goes into the other room to check on Jee Yun. Margaret suggests that while she’s happy that Buck and Tommy are happy, of course—happy for now, at least—she’d just hoped Buck would’ve started to settle down by now, get serious about someone, rather than start experimenting. Phillip also jokes that he’d thought Buck had outgrown making bids for attention, and Buck just—snaps.

“Why did I have to work so hard to get your attention again? Right. Cause it was too hard to look at me. Cause I was the reminder of what you lost, the screwup you got left with. Maybe if Daniel had grown up and turned out bi, you’d—"

—and Margaret slaps Buck across the face.

It shocks everyone, very much including Margaret, but when Buck finally blinks and glances at his dad, Phillip automatically moves to stand behind his wife, silently taking her side. Buck, a bit dazed, mutters he’s sorry and tells Chimney not to tell Maddie what happened, right before Tommy all but pushes Buck out the door and drives him home.

Buck, still a little shellshocked, mostly can’t believe he said what he said, insists he shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and tries to brush off Tommy’s efforts to comfort him. Tries to get him to leave. Tries to distract him with sex when Tommy refuses to leave. Tommy, not having any of it, sits Buck down and talks a little about his own childhood, how he’d run away from home after his father had found out Tommy was gay, how—broken and bleeding—Tommy had never called, never looked back. Buck protests it’s not the same because Margaret and Philip aren’t abusive, have never hit him before tonight, aren’t really homophobic—at least, not in the same way—and also, Buck deserved that slap.

“Who throws a dead kid in their parents face?” Buck asks, miserable.

“Someone who lived under the shadow of a brother he never knew about for 30 years?” Tommy asks, then takes Buck’s hand and makes Buck look at him.

“Look, maybe it’s not the same. You’re never going to convince me you deserved it, Evan, not any of it—but what I’m saying is, when people repeatedly hurt you? You don’t have to look back. You don’t have to keep trying. You can, if that’s what you want—but you don’t have to forgive anyone just because they’re family. That’s not what being a family should be. And, for what it’s worth, that includes Bobby, too. Just ... maybe consider what you’re actually angry about—or if it’s even anger you’re really feeling here—before deciding to cut him off for good.”

Slowly, Buck sinks into Tommy’s side. Tommy wraps an arm around him. Kisses him gently just above birthmark.

(Part II is finished, coming tomorrow or the next day)

#911 fanfic #911 abc #my fics #bucktommy #team as family #angst with a happy ending #buckley parents #they aren't evil evil but they aren't great #definitely not working out my complicated feelings about family redemption stories

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unformula1 · 5 months ago

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it’s going to be okay (LS2 x OP81)

oscar gets the message that logan isn’t going to be with williams next year and oscar comforts logan w/c: 1734 loscar post until we get a loscar podium!! (part 48) <3 (series masterlist) a/n: i don’t know how this will continue if logan doesn’t stay in f1 also I MUST continue this one. || masterlist

Carlos is signing with Williams for 2025, 2026… and beyond.

Williams’ post first pops up after Oscar reloads Instagram. He feels his entire body jerk upward as he does a double take, he quickly cross checks with the official F1 instagram.

It’s true.

Holy shit.

Oscar stares at the phone as his mind races through all his stray thoughts. His first instinct is to open Logan’s chat, but he freezes.

He doesn’t really talk with Logan anymore.

What is he even going to say?

His fingers hover over the keyboard. All the former thoughts disappeared in a second. Oscar turns off his phone and places it on his bed.

He takes a deep breath, trying to connect all his thoughts instead of them being a messy jumble of nonsense. Somewhere in his endless web of thoughts has to be something genius he’s going to tell Logan.

He opens the chat again and doesn’t take a second thought before sending the message. His fingers glide over the keyboard, quickly typing out the sentence and sending it.

Oscar shuts off his phone right after, hoping there won’t be a sinking feeling of regret.

—

Logan lies flat on his bed, his breathing steady as his chest rises and falls. He counts slowly in his head, which is the only thing keeping him from spiralling out of control.

He places both hands on his chest, ensuring there is a constant rise and fall.

He can’t cry. Not yet. Not now.

The counting doesn’t seem to cover up the replaying scene in his head: James sits him down, the room is tense and solemn, James looks Logan dead in the eye and drops the news.

“Logan, we have decided we will not be signing you for next year.”

Logan freezes. He feels the blood in his body freeze into ice, his entire body tenses up. As much as everything prepared him for this moment, none of it really did. It’s a different feeling from just thinking about it.

Right now, he was sat in a tense, silent room, face to face with a man he once called his hero.

Logan forces out a smile and nods.

“Thank you for everything.”

Logan feels a sting in his eyes as tears start to well up. He swiftly wipes them off using his sleeve.

He’s been lying here for the past 10 minutes. He checks the clock, it’s been about 3 minutes since the world found out.

Logan didn’t know what to do anymore, the ceiling fan spun above him, slowly fading into one messy blur.

He taps his fingers on his chest and hums a generic melody. He shuts his eyes tightly, restraining himself from doing something rash.

Logan was at a loss. He didn’t like the feeling.

Last time he was at a loss, Williams was there to help him. This time, they were the reason he was at a loss.

It was like a harsh, cruel, merciless cycle.

A team which once helped him through the toughest times in his career, ended up creating some of his toughest moments. He once viewed them as his family, a team which could do him no wrongs.

Then everything came crashing down, some false and fake facade.

His phone dings and he sits up.

He checks it.

Oscar: This is so wrong. Oscar: Do you wanna talk about it?

Oscar? Oscar, of all people?

Logan takes a deep breath and opens the message. He contemplates for a while on what he should say in response.

Logan: I take it this is about the contract signing.

Oscar immediately comes online, which is pretty comforting this time around.

Oscar: Yes

Oscar: They are so wrong for that

Logan feels a warmth bubble in him. It’s from Oscar.

It’s from Oscar.

Oscar Piastri, race winner, McLaren F1 driver, prodigy, unimaginable rookie year, Lewis Hamilton reincarnate.

And what was Logan? What was Logan to Oscar now that his F1 seat wasn’t even in his own grasp?

Logan stares blankly at the screen.

Logan: I don’t know what to do

He remembered how he used to turn to Oscar for everything, now he didn’t even know if Oscar was going to be there for him.

He remembered how both of them made a promise to win a race in F1 together, to make it together in F1.

Before Oscar replies, Logan sends another message.

Logan: I’m so proud of you. Logan: You achieved our dream.

A teardrop stains Logan’s screen, he instantly swipes it off.

Oscar just hearts the messages.

It takes him another few seconds to reply.

Oscar: I hate how this turned out.

Logan chuckles as his eyes start to tear up, his vision growing blurry.

Everything he did to get into F1, all the hard work, sleepless nights, endless practice, just for this.

The friends he made along the way, the people he trusted, the places he called home. Everything came flooding back to him, all the flashbacks, just like a roll of film, all of them were replaying in his head.

This was his dream. F1 was his dream.

Oscar: You deserve better.

A soft sniffle and sob escapes Logan’s mouth. He wipes away the tears and texts Oscar back.

Logan: Did I ever do anything wrongly?

Logan feels a rising, burning sensation of guilt, regret and despair.

Oscar: Are you still in your room? Logan: yea Oscar: Stay there.

—

A few minutes pass before there’s a knock on the door. Logan lifts his head from between his knees and stands up, he wipes away his tears and takes a deep breath before going to the door.

He mentally prepares a strong front, just in case.

He opens the door and smiles.

“Logan.” Oscar’s voice is soft.

Logan’s smile cracks slightly as he lets Oscar in.

“Hi.” Logan manages.

Oscar doesn’t say anything and just as Logan closes the door, he hugs him.

His arms are wrapped around Logan, a warm embrace fuzzling between both of them.

Logan’s strong front immediately dissolves into nothing as he starts sobbing violently. He leans his head onto Oscar’s shoulding, wetting his shirt with tears.

Oscar continues holding onto Logan, his tight grip around Logan’s chest. He holds back his own tears.

He knows Logan deserved so much better.

“I should’ve checked in earlier.” Oscar admits, his voice cracking, “I should’ve asked how you were doing…”

Oscar feels his throat starting to sting.

Logan doesn’t respond instantly, but in between sobs he manages to get out a few words.

“You didn’t have to.”

A wave of guilt engulfs Oscar as he grips tighter.

“You have to fight Logan, please Logan, fight.”

“It’s over Oscar… It’s over.”

“We’re gonna figure this out Logan.” Oscar tears up, “Together, alright?”

“Give me another chance Logs.” Oscar looks at Logan in the eyes as they both take a step out of the hug.

Logan looks Oscar in the eyes and nods subtly.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” Logan says.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong.” Oscar insists, “Williams did everything wrong to you.”

Logan finds it hard to believe.

“Listen to me.” Oscar says before taking a deep breath, “You and me, we’re gonna figure this out.”

Logan can’t stop his tears anymore.

“Just like when we were kids, when we figured things out together, you know.” Oscar says.

“I messed up hard for the past year or so, but I promise that we’re going to make it through this together.”

Logan can feel despair and bitterness mixed together with warmth and happiness bubbling in his own heart.

“Please?” Oscar begs.

“Promise?”

“Promise. I promise with all my heart.”

Logan takes another deep breath and then cleans the dried tears scattered on his cheeks.

Oscar can’t help but feel the sting in his own heart. His best friend, things panned out differently for both of them, immensely different.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this…” Oscar steps closer to Logan and holds onto his hands.

Logan flinches, moving his hand back, but then holds Oscar’s hand after a second.

“I trusted Williams…” Logan says, “They didn’t even give me a proper farewell…”

Oscar knows.

“One post. One line.” Logan says, his fists clenching, “That’s all they could do.”

Oscar sighs, “They don’t deserve any part of you.”

“You’re an amazing, wonderful, and perfect person.” Oscar says as Logan continues to grip tighter onto his hands, “Williams just couldn’t see that.”

“What will I do now?” Logan says, his grip loosening slightly.

Oscar wasn’t going to lie, “I don’t know.”

Logan’s face falls.

“I’m sorry.” Oscar says, and repeats it a few times.

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’ll make it right.” Oscar says.

He was going to. There was no way he was letting Logan go through this alone, not now, not ever.

—

Both of them sat on Logan’s bed together. Logan’s head was resting on Oscar’s shoulder as they sat in silence.

It wasn’t tense silence.

It was a calm silence.

Oscar looks over at Logan and watches his breathing stabilise after that chaos of emotions talking about Logan’s own feelings.

He truly did not wish Logan had to go through this.

Oscar glides his fingers through Logan’s hair, the blonde streaks getting gently caressed by Oscar.

This is what Logan deserves.

This is what Logan needed.

Logan adjusts himself slightly and looks up at Oscar, who smiles gently.

“We’ll figure it out.” Oscar says.

And for some reason, Logan knows it’s true. He knows the warm embrace he feels next and he recognises the calm breathing on his neck.

Logan gave everything to Williams, for them to tear him apart.

“Do you think things could’ve turned out differently?” Logan asks, fiddling with his shirt.

“I would choose another version in a heartbeat, if it meant doing things with you.” Oscar replies, without hesitation.

A smile creeps up Logan’s face.

Right…

“I would too.” Logan says, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

Oscar smiles, he’s glad that his presence was something good for Logan.

It was. Oscar was comforting, everything Logan needed right now.

Logan shifts closer to Oscar, pressing himself right up against Oscar. Oscar smiles, pulling Logan in.

This is warm.

“It’s going to be okay.” Oscar says.

And Logan believes it.

Oscar’s going to fix every wound, every stab, every scar that life has inflicted on him.

Oscar’s here.

And it’s going to be okay.

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coff-in · 8 months ago

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aaAAAA I've been lurking and um um um I have brainrot from two of the previous asks >_> What if what if

Younger Sister Reader from the I love you more than I should post x Yandere Andrew post Decay route?? And they have the same toxic thing going on from that one post where Andy threatens to off himself if the reader moves an inch from his side. Like all I can think of is Andy having a shit ton of romantic feelings for reader that the reader is just coming into realization about while also reeling from the fact that, yk, Ash is dead? Andy telling his baby sister that he doesn't want to live if he can't have her (romantically, carnally, etc.) I just really want a jealousy scene where reader like...looks at another man and Andy is like "So. You want me to die?" and then reader has to comfort her older brother in a variety of ways that are decidedly not very sibling-like. Andy basically going "date me or I die" and reader is just. panicking.

notes from coff-in: i had trouble writing a ficlet or headcanons for this for some reason so it's just me fucking word vomiting my thoughts directly. also also also, thank you!!! i would've never thought people come to lurk on my blog, GUH IT'S SUCH AN HONOR!!! ur going to make my heart explode

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is 1 year younger than ashley, incest, NSFW

i think it would mostly play out the same as yandere andrew with the older sibling but with more incestuous overtones. all i can think about is andrew and baby sister [reader] going out shopping or something. baby sis [reader] asks one of the employees where she could find some seasonings or something and the employee points to the aisle and leaves, then andrew comes up behind [reader] saying “did you really need to talk to him? hm? maybe you just wanted to ogle at him up close, huh? is your big brother not handsome enough for you anymore?” [reader]’s like “no no no!! I just needed to find the chili pepper, im sorry :(” and andrew makes her kiss him with tongue in the aisle to calm him down.

they’d have to get a job together, this is non-negotiable to andrew. preferably the same position so they’re close to each other but i think he’d settle on being in the same workplace in general if reasoned with enough. baby sis [reader] hides back into her shell again like she did when nina died but she doesn’t come back out this time. faced with the loss of her big sister ashley and the possible suicide andrew threatens her with, [reader] just deems it safer for her to be as introverted as possible. she’s still has some independence and autonomy but it’s only around andrew if that makes sense. she’ll cook and clean and entertain herself at home with or without andrew but in public she’s very introverted and clingy with andrew. andrew isn’t complaining about any of this though.

andrew’s very happy that he gets his baby sister to himself now! with all the fucked up shit they’ve done together he’s not too conserned with introducing themselves as a couple even if people put two-and-two together that they’re blood related. i can see him being very physically close and intimate with his baby sis [reader]. a hand on her lower back, hand holding, a finger curled in her hair, sleeping in the same bed, and like… a lot of sex. [reader] loves her brother and he’s been respectful when it came to sex. it took her a while to properly figure out how to feel about andrew’s romantic attraction towards her but she does feel the same way too (whether it was natural or something that was fostered while on the run). he likes to leave hickeys on her neck and other obvious places so people know who she belongs to.

every morning they wake up together in the same bed and say “I love you” to each other and they do it again every night before they go to bed.

i also think about semi-public sex with them, too. andrew gets jealous somehow and drags [reader] into an alleyway and forces her on to her knees and flops his cock on her face. “how about you show your big brother how sorry you are, huh?” she tries her best to take him into her mouth but she’s just really bad at it because she’s never done this before. andrew doesn’t mind, though, and praises her for her effort and eagerness because he can’t be mad at his baby sister for that long :) he cums into her mouth and her cheeks get filled up too quickly and some of his semen spills out of her mouth as she tries to swallow it all and andrew’s like “aww, what a good baby sister you are :) it’s ok if can’t swallow it all. i’ll have more for you later.”

i love this idea, thank you ‘nonnie.

----

coff-in

#cobweb in the coffin #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #tcoaal x reader #the coffin of andy and leyley x reader #andrew graves x reader

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infraaa · 1 year ago

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KOSA 101

Let’s talk about this. This is something I haven’t seen a lot of in my end, and this new bill may be troubling to not just us as a whole, but content creators. So, this isn’t just exclusive to AO3 anymore. This can go as far as places like Wattpad, Quotev, DeviantArt, and here.

So, to put it bluntly, if you give a fuck, listen.

What is KOSA?

KOSA (Kids Online Safety Act,) is a bill within the United States that was initially created last year with the aim of protecting youth (considerably age 16 and under,) from viewing harmful content online. It has since been updated and reintroduced by Richard Blumenthal (D-CT) and Marsha Blackburn (R-TN.) Now, on surface level, it may seem like this has a good outlook, right? Not in the slightest. This bill, while it may not be passed yet rather introduced, may take an extreme to protect youth and monitor all. Yes, I said monitor.

Not only is NSFW content bound to be flagged, which may totally censor a lot of creators not just on this platform but others, a wider band that is under this new bill is LGBT+ content. According to Senator Blackburn of Tennessee, who is KOSA’s co-author, even education on race discrimination was viewed as “dangerous to kids,” and this soon branches out to race, gender, and sexuality discrimination. This also extends out to anxiety, depression, eating disorders, etc. The bill puts itself in the hands of State Attorney Generals in order for them to use tools of censorship against our rights and safety— not just for the youth, but for adults too, as we may face (giving an example,) hurdles trying to obtain things like legal documents.

How does KOSA work?

KOSA works by acting as a censor and self filter for the internet. By the hands of Attorney State Generals, they ultimately decide what is harmful to kids online. Though, this is a dual edged sword. This would also present the loss of access to information that a large sum of people may not deem dangerous. This again extends outward towards things like depression, substance abuse, etc— complex topics without a clear agreement on causes or solutions. This means that it could also filter, and possibly censor medical information, extending outward to trans medical care as well, which may lead on to silence the transgender community further. This is a very bad thing.

There would still be features like Age Verification, but it also filters legal speech. What I mean by “there will still be features,” to give an example, Tumblr has a tab in settings where you can add your birthday, which in turn verifies how old you are. Tiktok has this feature as well. About filtering legal speech, any kind of media or information that has to do with societal ills that is held on a platform, for example, Tumblr, will enable that platform to be held liable for holding that information. But… it may seem like I’m getting off topic, aren’t I?

So let’s swing back around…

KOSA has the ability to hurt creators on several different platforms. This gives the United States Government unlimited range of control over the internet.

This linktree has at least four different petitions open for you to take action against the bill, and to contact your congressmen and women. There’s also a discord server that’s dedicated to stopping KOSA from passing.

By doing this, you are spreading your voice. You are helping millions of people nationally— creators, artists, writers, everyone.

And finally, don’t just like this post. Reblog it— it helps it spread and gain exposure.

Let’s put an end to KOSA.

#infrawrites #infraspeaks #kosa bill #kosa act #kosa #stop kosa #kids online safety act #lgbtq community #lgbtqiia+#wattpad #a03 down #a03 #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #I’m sorry for the tag overload and the cookie run tags are irrelevant but that’s the community I’m in #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run overbreak #crob

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softer-ua · 5 months ago

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I think Hori did a great job showing that societal changes can happen, the world has gotten better before and it can again, but that change isn’t always linear or noticeable in the moment unless you actively choose to see it and be grateful for it

Because the fight for change takes everyone consciously doing their part as well as creating systemic changes

It will be full of loss, big and small, in the end it may not even feel like much has changed and the accomplishments don’t always measure up to amount of grief accrued

because it’s the next generation and the generations after that really get anything from our efforts

Think of society as the field where we plant ourselves, and think of the oligarchs(rich fucks in charge) of the past who stole the people’s harvests, limited what was allowed to grow, and forced overworking the land to the point of poisoning crops

They do the same now stealing the fruits of our creativity passions and dogged work ethic, they limit where we can direct those efforts so we only grow in ways that benefit them, and they demand we drive ourselves to burnout and all creativity must equal profit

You see the land and your people dying, so you work yourself to the bone to turn the inhospitable over farmed land into something farmable again and you do your best everyday to inspire others to join the cause

In the beginning crop yields are still small and people are barely surviving off the rations, so much work for so little, but you beg they remember that what they grew is heartier than the failed crop last year, the effort wasn’t in vain

You have to work with a lot of shitty people, and they don’t all get less shitty, and those that do can’t undo the harm they caused. But over all less harm is being perpetrated, pieces of the cycle have been broken off giving room for something better to grow.

This is the cycle for a few years, only small sections of land have seen change and it’s a delicate balance because it could easily be over farmed and collapse again, it feels hopeless at times but a dedicated few keep inspiring others to keep going

Then a decade goes by, nights of going to bed hungry become a distant memory for the children, even while you go to bed haunted by the memory of those who didn’t survive the winter.

Some ghosts are leave a lighter touch, it’s unfair their bodies gave out but they find rest in knowing the world is changing and you held their hand the whole way.

The worst ghosts are from those whose soul fled long before the wasting took them, the ones who festered in fear/anger/resentment/isolation . Those whose suffering made them cruel and leaked rot on to the lives of others.

They claw at your nerves, demanding the unanswerable, why? Why didn’t change come sooner, why wasn’t this all prevented, why them, why not you?

Could you have given more of yourself to save them? They were hurting others, all your empathy couldn’t change that, so you hurt them and all our empathy doesn’t change that either.

B&W thinking, or nuanced gray. Both have their place, but neither replaces grief, you can’t intellectualize away a hit nerve.

Pain demands to be felt, but the future demands your present and to get through everything you closed that door and put so many locks on it

It feels like it was a life time ago, it was such a different versions of you, the one who closed the door doesn’t seem to be here anymore and what if you can’t recognize what’s left of the you that’s been locked up for so long.

There’s ghosts on both sides, how many are malevolent? All the benevolent ghosts bid adieu, so what if that old you has soured and become the most malevolent of all?

It’s been rotting behind the door with all your unresolved fears, bloated with your insecurities, everything about yourself that you didn’t believe could survive and yet it’s still there, but you have changed so completely so is it really still there?

Pain demands to be felt, the future demands that you are present, you must make space for the past, the past doesn’t exist, you can’t move forward holding on to all this, the future is NOW

You let some of the ghosts go, some don’t let you go. Some we wish we could have kept

Sometimes building the future means you never get to reconcile all of your past, sometimes closer is just time passed

You can never be the same again, some doors stay locked, you take whatever closure you can get, and you stay grateful for whatever the future brings

You serve the children hardier meals, they grow up strong enough to keep tilling the land with the knowledge you gave them about what greed does to the land and how we hope to prevent it.

And sometimes, every so often through your life, you get to greet a day that is so different from the world you were born into that you can feel lives being saved just because they were born in a world you held create

What’s more, sometimes, sometimes you do get everything you ever wanted, and you get to share that future with the people you loved through all of it

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mushroominaforest · 2 months ago

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Hehe oc / siblings au lore drop time!!!!

(It’s kinda long sorry lol)

BEHOLD:

The Assistant!

Assistant was designed to look aesthetically pleasing. They don’t love their appearance that much, but at the end of the day, being doomed to look cute that isn’t the worst fate that a purposed organism could face. They’re Unparalleled Innocence’s messenger, but they also just sorta assist UI in general, hence the name.

UI is actually one of the decent Iterator parents in the au, but Assistant still got bored of running errands, and wanted to have an adventure. UI reluctantly let them go, telling them that they would be missed and were welcome back anytime.

Assistant was thrilled to have their adventure, but they were also what one might describe as ever-so-slightly privileged. They worked, yes, but they hadn’t actually had to survive on their own before, hunt for their food or fight for their shelter. So they were struggling somewhat, and considering cutting their losses and going back to their easy yet boring life with their parent.

And then Assistant met someone. Another purposed organism their age, the toughest, bravest and strongest slugcat they’d ever seen. Someone with beautiful purple eyes.

Assistant met Artificer.

Things were pretty good at first. Neither of them had really even had a proper friend before, let alone a relationship, and they rode the high of young love and freedom for a while. Assistant gave Artificer the love she’d never had before and desperately needed, and Artificer kept Assistant safe. But their happiness didn’t last, as Artificer started to go back to her old self.

Assistant eventually decided that they’d had enough, and it wasn’t worth it anymore. What followed was a messy breakup which left Assistant with a scar and Artificer with a broken heart. (This breakup happened before Artificer knew she was going to be a mother.)

Assistant was happy to be out of their unhealthy relationship, but didn’t have anyone to protect them from the unforgiving ecosystem anymore, and wound up going back to UI.

They still want to see the world, but don’t want to be on their own. if only there was somewhere they could go where they wouldn’t be alone. Maybe somewhere with a bunch of slugcats… some sort of community…

#Rw siblings au #rw oc #Rw Assistant #their nickname is Sisi btw #Lore time!!!

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solaris-lux · 1 month ago

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all the things that make it warm

SUMMARY. You thought Casey had taken to the room quite well, but then, every night, without fail, he would wake one of you, face scrunched up in distress as he asked if someone could keep him company until he fell asleep.

“It’s a new space,” Leo said after the third time it happened, nuzzling his snout against your temple in a soothing gesture. “The last base was all Case knew, it makes sense he’d be homesick. Give him some time, mi vida.”

And you try to. Really, you do.

In which you’re worried about Casey adjusting to the new resistance headquarters and Leo holds your hand through it all.

RATING. general WORD COUNT. 1.6k RELATIONSHIPS. Leo/Reader, Casey Jones II & Reader WARNINGS. none that apply TAGS. No use of Y/N, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Reader, Established Relationship, Krang Invasion Timeline (TMNT 2018), Parental Reader, Parental Leonardo (TMNT), Leonardo Acting as Casey Jones's Parental Figure (TMNT), Future Leonardo (TMNT), i think this counts as family fluff??? but it's bittersweet due to the Circumstances, mostly Casey-and-Reader-centric at first but Leo's there i promise

AUTHOR’S NOTE. the very first Leo/Reader I ever read for the fandom had them be parental to Casey JR, and it left its mark on me if you couldn't tell

btw, Leo is 27 here (also, pre-arm loss), Casey is 4, and Reader’s age is mid- to late-20s

(title is from ‘things that make it warm’ by cavetown)

The new resistance headquarters is a downgrade for many reasons. There isn’t enough space to give each member a bed, much less space for that bed, especially one in Raph’s size. Then the infirmary's ceiling collapsed two weeks into the ingress, forcing you and your med team to relocate to the war room as a temporary set-up. And now Donnie and his engineers report that heliplane production is stalled until they can rebuild the heavy machinery they had to abandon during the emergency evacuation.

Overall, it’s taking a while for everyone to settle in and stop missing a home you can’t return to, not without the promise of Krang zombification or worse.

The one having the hardest time adjusting, though, is Casey.

Because space and privacy are a privilege a resistance can’t afford, his new room is a storage closet attached to the room you and Leo took as your own. The decision makes sense, all things considered. You both agreed that keeping Casey’s quarters nearby was non-negotiable, and putting yourself between Casey and any possible threat that would try to hurt him while he slept calms the raging beast named ‘parental instincts’ in you. So, you and Leo furnished his room to the best of your abilities, and Casey gave you both a hug and cheek nuzzle for your troubles.

You thought he’d taken to the room quite well, but then, every night, without fail, he would wake one of you, face scrunched up in distress as he asked if someone could keep him company until he fell asleep.

“It’s a new space,” Leo said after the third time it happened, nuzzling his snout against your temple in a soothing gesture. He was at Casey’s bedside for barely five minutes before sliding back into your bed—which is a lumpy mattress on the floor—and telling you Casey was out like a light. “The last base was all Case knew, it makes sense he’d be homesick. Give him some time, mi vida.”

And you try to. Really, you do. But it’s been a month since it first happened, and Casey doesn’t even have to wake you anymore since you’ve learned to expect him. Tonight, when the door to his room creaks open like clockwork, you’re already sitting up in bed and turning on the lamp. You don’t have to worry about waking Leo with your movement since he hasn’t turned in for the night, still discussing tomorrow’s mission logistics with his brothers and Draxum.

It takes a while before Casey steps through the door, but when he does, you see he’s clutching Doctor Hugginstein to his chest (which isn’t new) and tear tracks are trailing down his cheeks (which is).

“Oh, kiddo,” you coo, arms stretching out toward him. “C’mere, sweetie.”

Casey takes your words as the invitation they are and leaps into your hug, burying his face into your chest. You let out a small ‘oomph’ as he knocks the breath out of you, but at four years old, Casey isn’t as heavy or tall as he’s supposed to be. When he crawls onto your lap, he’s too light, and you have to force the rage off of your face. You don’t want to scare Casey, don’t want him to think your fury is aimed at him and not the Krang.

His hitching breath knocks you out of your thoughts. “I-I tried—” Casey tries to say before a hiccup cuts him off. “It was too—”

Without thinking about it, you tuck his head under your chin and start rubbing his back. “Shh, take a breath first, Casey. I’m right here, it’s going to be okay.”

You spend ten minutes consoling him before Casey’s tears start to peter out, his breathing coming close to something even and normal, and it’s even later after he’s calmed down when you finally ask him, tone as gentle as can be, “You wanna talk about it?”

When Casey only shakes his head and hugs you tighter, you decide not to press.

“You wanna go back to your room?” You barely even finish the question before he shakes his head again, this time more adamant. “Okay, that’s okay. How about this: you stay with me and Leo tonight, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, you can tell me what’s wrong. That sound good?”

Casey pauses, considering, before he pulls away just a bit to look up at you and nod. “Yeah, th-that sounds good.”

”Good,” you say, gently wiping Casey’s dried tears away now that you can properly see his face. “C’mon, let’s get you settled in before your sensei comes and hogs the bed.”

That gets a giggle out of Casey, drowning you in overwhelming fondness at the sound. You press a kiss to his forehead to release some of that affection before sliding him off your lap and onto the middle of the bed, keeping him in your embrace all the while.

Pillowing his head on your arm, Casey turns to lie on his side to look at you. “Doc?”

You stifle a smile at the title. Despite the family’s best efforts for Casey to call each of you ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’, he still can’t help but parrot the way the resistance members refer to you all. Clearing your throat to hide your chuckle, you softly ask, “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Can I have a song, please? Just ‘till I’m sleepy.” He asks, hugging Doctor Hugginstein tight. He looks hesitant as if you’d ever deny him anything.

Smiling, you say, “Always, kiddo.” And then, just to make him laugh again, you start to sing Jupiter Jim: The Musical’s opening number.

“Noooo, not that song!” Casey whines between giggles. “The cradle song, the one with the stars.”

”Ah, that song.” You exclaim in mock-realization. “Why didn’t you say so!”

Casey pouts, and for all that Leo isn’t his natural father, you can’t help but think they furrow their brow the same way. “Okay, okay, kiddo, settle down,” you say, and you boop him on the nose to get another giggle out of him. When his face smoothes out, you start singing, but you don’t even make it to the second cycle of the chorus before Casey’s eyes have fluttered shut.

You’re finishing the lullaby, brushing back Casey’s bangs from his face as you do, when Leo opens the door without a sound. Obviously not expecting you to still be awake, Leo jolts when you make eye contact, but then he takes in the scene and his face softens. Despite the gooey, sappy heart-eyes Leo’s making at seeing Casey asleep in your arms, you still notice the worry and confusion in his expression, most likely wondering what could’ve been bad enough to have him unable to sleep alone.

On silent feet, Leo moves toward the bed, removing his knee pads and belt along the way. He props his sword against the wall near his bedside—keeps it within arm’s reach like he has every night since he was 16 years old—before sliding under the covers and curling an arm around your hip to pull you close. “Nightmare?” He whispers into the sliver of space between your faces.

“He wouldn’t tell, but yeah, I think so. Got him to agree to talk it out with me tomorrow though.”

Leo purses his lips, and you already know what he will say. “I can stay with y—”

“No,” you insist, stern but not unkind. “Casey knows you have that recon mission. He wouldn’t want to take you from that.” At your words, Leo frowns, his love for his family and his duty to the resistance vying for supremacy. You press a thumb to the middle of his brow ridge and smoothen out the crease forming there. “Watch out, handsome, your Raph chasm’s showing.”

Just like with Casey, your words pull a laugh from Leo. “Oh god, do not remind me.” He chuckles, silent so as not to disturb the boy between you.

Joy is a wonderful look on Leo, his peals of laughter making you glitter in delight in turn. Then, as an added nudge to ease Leo’s nerves, you say, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this.”

“I know you do,” Leo says, eyes going soft and sweet as he looks at you. Gently, he pulls your hand—fingers still pressed against the middle of his brow ridge—to lay his cheek against your open palm and kiss the pulse point on your wrist. It’s like magic, how he turns you into poetry and light under his hands, under his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Of course, only the best for my champion.” You tease, charmed by Leo’s responding chirp.

“I missed you today.” Leo keeps nuzzling into your palm, twining his fingers with yours. “Wish I had meetings with you instead of Barry. We’re getting sick of each other, more so than usual.”

You giggle, and when Leo pulls you close to kiss you, you hope he can taste the laughter on your lips. But the mention of meetings has you sobering, and you sweep your thumb across his cheekbone to catch his attention. “Hey,” you say, tone serious. “Be careful out there tomorrow. Come home to us.”

“Always will.” He promises, and his dark eyes hold the steadfastness of a warrior. “You’re not getting rid of me for a long time, mi vida.”

His reply has you rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “As if I’ll even try.” You say before pressing your lips to his for one more kiss.

Both of you fall asleep soon after, Leo holding your hand cupped between Leo’s own and his cheek.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. in my heart, the lullaby Casey was asking for is 'sa ugoy ng duyan' (which can translate to ‘to the rocking of the cradle’) coz I think it fits him. it's a song abt missing the bygone days with your mother because being in her arms meant safety n comfort n protection, and you think about how the song she used to sing to you is a song full of love uwu

also, don't ask me what the new resistance headquarters is coz I don't kno. is it a tunnel system they found? a bunker Donnie preemptively designed in case of a Krang attack? some safehouse in the hidden city that Draxum used in the past? idk.

can be read on AO3 here~

#.solaris writes #fandom: tmnt #fandom: rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #leo x reader #rise leo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt x reader #leo/reader #rise leo/reader #rottmnt leo/reader

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