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#for needing a lot of distance emotionally
rikichie · 2 days
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Just don't ask me how that huge plush was thrown there
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Under the cut, things I imagine in YOI pre-canon, with the ways my thoughts tie into canon to explain why I think them. These are personal headcanons and interpretations.
With Viktor, I imagine his family being high achieving, and Viktor having a lot of expectations on him. And he matches then successfully. But this means his parents think he's doing well, even in moments where emotionally he isn't. They look at achievements rather than looking at him. It's not intentional neglect, they just don't have the awareness of mental wellbeing. He has a bed and food and he's doing well in school and skating, so everything must be okay. It's fine when he's fine, it's lonely when he's not. And it's the first environment that teaches him to match himself to what's expected and wanted of him, fulfilling a role rather than just being.
When he's older, he quietly creates distance. Not cutting them off, but not reaching out. They don't mind. They follow news, and they can show off his success.
When he's young, Viktor loves having fans and being known and admired. Af first he doesn't see downsides to it. And then something happens, as simple as "did you see him throwing the flower at Christophe Giacometti? He was flirting, how cute" - and Viktor realizes his fans will draw their own conclusions and won't believe him if he tries to say they're wrong.
So he starts adjusting his approach. Building a persona, and building walls. Charming smiles that get him anything he wants. Practicing the skill of giving people what they expect. Being what they expect. And then flipping it on its head and surprising them.
If you're focusing on matching and subverting expectations, you're not necessarily being yourself. Any personal exploration of identity is hidden and alone. But on the ice, when he's performing, he can be honest. He can be seen. Because they're going to take it as fake. Think of how Minako reacted to Stammi Vicino - Viktor's earnest plea for someone to stay by his side, well, he's too charming for this to tug at the heartstrings. So he can play with stories that he won't share with anyone any other way, and he knows they'll take it as pretend.. The walls he builds don't allow him to be truly close to people. He has good relationships with other skaters, but emotionally keeps them at arm's length. He doesn't notice he's isolating. Chris and he have fun joke-flirting, but when Viktor steps away from the ice Chris doesn't seem to realize he needs this, isn't close enough to know what he's struggling with. He talks like Viktor is taking away the motivation he's entitled to by choosing to coach Yuuri. His rinkmates see him on good and bad days so they know when he struggles, and Yakov is the only person close to knowing him deeply, but even he doesn't take it seriously when Viktor burns out, so that is still limited.
For Yuri, I think his mother was going through a lot to let his grandfather take care of him. He has a lot of responsibility in that setting, and it all starts when he's so young.
I think, with Viktor being present in his life consistently from such a young age, Viktor is one of the people he sees as family. He absolutely looks up to him, just like he absolutely looks up to Yuuri. And I think he resents the emotional distance Viktor maintains.
He's not very attentive to people in general, but he's the one that explains to us how Viktor feels early in the show. When Viktor left to Japan so suddenly, I think Yura felt abandoned beyond just Viktor forgetting to choreograph a program for him. If it was just the program - he did end up getting Agape, he could have just asked for that, but he tried to get Viktor to go back. I feel like he hates that Viktor went to look for a way to get his spark back somewhere else, instead of staying and finding a way out of his slump with his rinkmates. If what Viktor needs is to coach someone, why isn't Yuri good enough? He's a talented skater and he sees himself as continuing Viktor's legacy, but Viktor chose someone else for that role.
And Viktor did choose Yuuri to continue his legacy. Because Yuuri skates so beautifully, because Yuuri has so much love for Viktor's skating, because Yuuri has drive and ambition and pride and skill and he finds joy in skating, and Viktor wants to nurture all of that into the performance Yuuri deserves to show.
And along the way, he learns how to connect with people as himself. His relationships with Yuuri and Yuuri's family open doors for him to better and deeper relationships with Yuri and Chris and anyone else he wants to be close to.
About Yuuri, there's very little I can say because we know so much. So I'll just share a lighthearted headcanon a few friends and I came up with as a story idea and I just adopted.
I don't share the fanon that Phichit got him into pole dancing. In my mind, he either started himself, or it was Chris - unintentionally. I think they're friends, because of how Yuuri reacted to him in the show, like he's used to him. And I like to think Chris kept saying things that made Yuuri feel competitive. Talking about how it's great for core strength, "but it's probably not your thing." Sent pictures of himself performing difficult moves, and got pictures back because Yuuri was trying to match him or do more difficult things than him. And meanwhile Chris thinks they're showing off to each other for fun. It's how Chris knew Yuuri can keep up with him at the banquet.
I still want to write something for that last bit.
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dotieeee · 22 hours
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The Gamemaker's Apprentice
Level 16
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Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader
Overall Warnings:
NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added
Masterlist
Level 16 Warnings:
Non-consensual dom-sub dynamic (belt-flogging), alcoholic consumption, bullying
Replay Level 15
Ready? Level 16 Start:
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You didn’t really want to be here. Not at all, no sir.
You were a big fan of routine. Every day from Monday to Friday, Ms Rosenthal would come by at your home to supervise your studies. You’ve heard her compliment you many times to Uncle Cas about how you’re quite a few levels too advanced for children your age; you’ve been getting perfect scores in all your arithmetic tests; your reading and writing skills are superb.
Two months ago, however, Uncle had decided to take a pause on the routine and mentioned it was perhaps time to try something new: going to school for a day to see how you’d like it. This, you didn't understand. You’ve been doing exceptionally well with your studies, kept your nose clean and everything – so how come Uncle had to disrupt the way things were just because your psychologist told him to?
“Nellie is just eight and she needs to spend time with people her age, Mr Innis. She may be intellectually gifted, but besides her tutoring sessions, you may want to see her enrolled in any of our elementary schools and be around with other kids to prevent emotionally stunted growth.”
According to your research, the psychologist just called you aloof and immature.
But Uncle Cas pleaded that you give this day a chance. Just this first day of school, and he said if you didn’t like it, he wouldn’t pressure you to stay.
So far, except for odd stares from the other kids on the playground, you’d been left alone on a stone bench reading a book you had brought for comfort.
Algebra I For Beginners.
You wanted to be like your uncle working with computers one day, and he said if you wanted a leg-up, Algebra was the way to start. You took out a notebook and a pencil, intending to begin with an equation on page thirty-one, when you spotted several kids convening around the base of one of the slides, whispering among themselves. One of them, the blonde girl with pigtails in the middle, pointed to someone on the swing – a boy with thick brown curls and downcast brown eyes – followed by everyone else’s laughter. Anyone from a distance like yours could easily see that they were making fun of him for whatever reason – all of them except the tall boy with blond wavy locks and bright blue eyes, who ignored both the laughter and the boy on the swing, merely hanging back to observe. There was something a tad snobbish in his facial expression, but you couldn’t really tell. Maybe that’s just how he usually looked. You’d later discover how correct your initial assumption would be.
One of the kids, you didn’t see who, pelted the boy with brown curls with a pebble, but it hit the sand near him, loud enough to attract his attention.
From across the short distance you heard one of them say, “Hey, is it true they eat babies in the districts?”
Everyone, save the blond boy, burst into raucous laughter and went on to call him names you’ve only heard on television before, which made you frown a bit.
The boy was clearly minding his own business. Why would they bother him at all by calling him needlessly cruel names?
You abandoned your book and your bag and approached them.
“Excuse me,” you politely interjected. “What did he do?”
The girl with pigtails in the middle said, “Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” you said.
They whispered among themselves, which you only caught glimpses of.
“You think she’s District too?”
“She doesn’t sound like it…”
“I haven’t seen her before…”
One of them quipped, “He’s District. Are you?”
“That shouldn’t matter, either. Everyone should be treated fairly.”
“You know what my father calls your type? A rebel s-sin..synthesiser,” a brown-haired girl said with contempt.
“I think the correct word would be ‘sympathiser,’” you replied with a tilt of your head, which earned an eye roll from the girl.
“Whatever, freak,” she said snootily. “Ugh, I’m leaving, this isn’t fun anymore.”
Everyone in the group groaned but they dispersed. The blond boy, however, stared at you with mild interest, which he tried to hide using a blank expression. You ignored him in favour of talking to the brown-haired boy – he could’ve stopped his ‘friends’ from calling him terrible names, but instead, he just stood back and did nothing.
“Don’t mind them,” you gave him what you thought was a friendly smile. “They’re all just huge shitbags.”
Both the boys seemed taken aback by your language. Your uncle always had to tell you not to say things like that, but you hear him use that kind of language all the time, especially in the kitchen. “My name is Prunella Innis. You can call me Nellie.”
You held out your hand to the brown-eyed boy, which he shook tentatively.
The blond boy confidently strode over to you and took out his palm. “Coriolanus. Coriolanus Snow.”
“Hi,” you flashed him the same smile and shook his hand lightly. You then turned to the other boy, who got out of his perch on the swing and introduced himself, sniffling.
“My name’s Sejanus Plinth.”
“I know,” Coriolanus said matter-of-factly. “I heard your family just moved to the Capitol.”
The boy named Sejanus nodded, but there was something sad behind his eyes. To try and make him feel better, you said, “Sejanus, huh? Mine did about two years ago.”
Both the boys gave you surprised looks; you shrugged it off and said, “So what? It certainly didn’t do my parents any favours.”
Sejanus actually cracked a smile, but Coriolanus’s real expression remained masked behind what you could tell was a fake smile.
A word you recently learned, ‘elitist,’ crossed your mind. You’d discover much later that assumption too, would be correct.
“You’ve been here since the middle of the war? I haven’t seen you in school before,” the curious blond asked.
“I’m homeschooled.” And if you had anything to say about it, you liked it better that way.
Sejanus bashfully showed a tiny brown bag. You peered inside and saw gumdrops. Your uncle didn’t hoard gumdrops as much as he did with chocolates, so you suspected that he didn’t like them very much. You took one, saying ‘thank you’, and Coriolanus took some after you.
“Am I going to see you around?” Sejanus asked you, looking somewhat hopeful.
Your smile faltered a little. “Probably not.”
Sejanus’s brows drew together. “Why not?”
“My uncle says I don’t have to stay if I don’t like it. And I’ve decided that I don’t.”
“So you’re going to keep studying…at home?” Coriolanus wondered with a tone that sounded like it was a foreign concept to him.
“Yes.”
You smiled at them both and went back to your bench to pick up where you left off in the book. Your uncle emerged not much later from the building with an expectant look on his face. That look immediately morphed into exasperation once he saw you begin packing your bag.
“Let me guess: the place didn’t even stand a chance.”
Nodding, you added, “The kids here are hostile; therefore I think the environment may be cutthroat.”
Your Uncle Cas sighed to himself and commented under his breath, “You know, sometimes I think your vocabulary is a punishment for my past actions…”
Ignoring this, you glanced up at your uncle with an innocent grin and asked, “So, do we get ice cream after?”
“A big, whopping ‘no.’ Not a damn chance.”
Uncle Cas only laughed at the pout on your face, but you glanced back at the boys named Sejanus and Coriolanus, nodding farewell to them both. The corner of Coriolanus’s mouth twitched upwards and Sejanus gave you a small wave. Your gaze lingered just a little on Sejanus’s warm brown eyes.
You would see both of them again in a few years’ time, but that little girl walking away from the schoolyard didn’t yet know that the boys would remain a permanent fixture in her life: one of them, taking her heart with him to his grave, and the other, forcibly twining with and shaping her entire future for the worse.
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Nine fifty-eight on a Friday night is quite a busy time for Club She Said. The girls-only membership club is already packed with well-dressed rich Capitol women with pretty drinks in their hands, chattering about and giggling among themselves. The company whom you invited seems to have arrived surprisingly earlier than you have and is sitting at the bar seemingly engaged in a lively conversation with the lady bartender.
“You’re early,” you comment as you take the seat beside her.
“It’s called ‘growth. You should try it sometime, it wouldn’t hurt,” Livia Cardew jabs at you as she sips her drink.
Your maid of honour, casually dissing you. You roll your eyes in mild amusement as she orders a drink called The Dark Lady on your behalf – a blackberry-lemon smash – and say, “This is a nice place. It feels cosy and...safe.”
Your eyes dart around the club, spotting nothing but female staff – waitresses, DJs, bouncers – plus the numerous cliques who seem to be having a blast catching up with their girlfriends over drinks without the presence of their male partners. You’re thankful Livia chose this place on your behalf – even with your fiancé’s money and influence, this is a place he’ll never be allowed to enter.
Livia grinned smugly at your compliment. “Well, with your ridiculous time limit, I figured we both deserve to spend it wisely and without your boyfriend breathing down your neck.” She gives you a dead-eyed look and adds, “Honestly, he’s the only man I know who gives his girl just a measly one hour and thirty minutes to be out and about on a Friday night. So, unless he’s horny and he wants to fuck all the time, he’s just being an ass.”
This, you can’t agree more.
The lady bartender arrives with your drink, elegantly presented in a tall, slender glass, garnished with fresh blackberries and a lemon wedge. You thank her and turn to Livia to reply, “What can I say, I hit the jackpot. Oh my, this is amazing.” You had just taken a sip of the drink, which is by far the best you’ve ever had, to which the bartender beams in thanks.
Livia lets out screech of excitement. “Wait till you try Better Than Sex...”
She then proceeds to explain the drink’s etymology in great detail – a drink made of coffee liqueur, chocolate liqueur, full-cream milk and cherry grenadine, garnished with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. She goes on from She Said’s cocktails to showing you photos of bridesmaids’ gowns which she fishes out of her purse.
“I think this one fits your theme best,” she says as she points to a photo. “Besides, I look fucking fabulous in that colour and cut.”
Then she starts pointing out to you who’s sleeping with whom in the club, right before she jumps into the topic of arranging your bachelorette party.
“What? Absolutely not,” you say. Images of you passed out, drunk, and being hauled home by a displeased Coriolanus cross your mind. You shiver inwardly in horror at the idea.
“And why not?” she retorts, clearly outraged. “How could you fucking pass on your own hen party? That’s like, the hen’s only chance to have a bit of fun before the cock locks her in a cage and throws away the key. Pun totally intended.”
She takes a long swig of her drink and holds out a pointer finger for emphasis. “Read: by ‘fun,’ I meant strippers.”
With your eyebrows raised, you shake your head and respond, “Try mentioning that when he’s around and see if you get more than the icy stare.”
“Oh, boo-hoo. He used to hire escorts all the time. Honestly, he’s such a hypocrite.”
It takes you quite a bit of convincing for her to finally drop it and relent.
“Ugh, fine. Forgive me for trying to take my role seriously,” she sighs as she rolls her eyes dramatically and curls her lips in mock disapproval. “Don’t blame me down the line if you start feeling unfulfilled for not trying out other dicks for size.”
The lady bartender brings another round of cocktails for two, and you both clink your glasses together before sipping. This is the most alcohol you’ve consumed not just in one night, but also your entire life. You haven’t even gone through your second glass halfway and you’re already feeling the proverbial buzz.
“Okay, Innis. Spill. I know you didn’t invite me out for drinks just to shut down my hen party-hosting skills. Plus, we’ll get to meet at that cake-tasting thing tomorrow anyway. What is this about, for real?” Livia, ever the sharp one, rests her chin on the back of her hand and stares at you inquisitively.
You meet her gaze nonchalantly and reply, “Nothing. I was just bored. Can’t wait to try the cakes out.”
There is truth to that, somehow, because aside from the wedding preparations, college classes, and Coriolanus dragging you along to these events he’s always invited to, he still hasn’t allowed you to freely roam the city, perhaps fearing you’d attempt to contact your uncle and make a run for it again.
Livia squints her eyes at you while inching closer and not breaking eye contact. “You’re a good liar,” she concludes, leaning back into her seat and nodding in approval. “I like it.”
She gestures to the bartender for another round of drinks – your eyes widen when you realise she just ordered shots – and says with a mischievous grin as they arrive, “Luckily for me, I have methods of extracting valuable information – methods, mind you, that have, so far, yielded me with satisfactory results.”
You shake your head in mirth, accepting the drink from her. She raises her glass as if taking you on a challenge.
“Mark my word: you are going to fold, Innis.”
“Bite me, Cardew.”
Both of you burst into fits of laughter and throw your heads back in unison as you empty the shot glass. Two more of those and eventually you tap out of the drinking spree, earning the scathing comment ‘lightweight’ from your drinking buddy, who isn’t too far from your level of tipsiness despite what she brags about. You decide to order a basket of bacon-jalapeño poppers to nibble on, and you manage to get through half the basket before Livia takes it away and places it behind her, well beyond your reach.
“Easy on the grease, will you please?”
You pout. “Hey, I wasn’t done with that.”
She just replies with a frown, “Watch your figure. Tigris won’t like it if she makes adjustments to your dress at the last minute.”
You finish off the piece you’re holding with a single bite and lean on the bar with a slumped posture.
“Or not. You know, maybe if you let yourself go, your boyfriend might just – ”
“It’s Sejanus’s second death anniversary tomorrow.”
A pause passes between you two, with Livia staring at you as if she doesn’t know how to react or what to say to what you just blurted without warning.
“‘District boy?’” When you shoot her a half-hearted glare, she corrects herself, her tone a little more mellow, “Sorry, force of habit. And not to be a bitch, but why do you care?”
Why, indeed? The first year, you had no trouble going through, but the second somehow seems like another empty hole in your heart, slowly growing and gnawing away at the rest of it. Like all the aches you experienced just a few months after his death has come back in full force.
“Shit.”
Livia’s curse is followed by a slump in her posture as she leans on the bar and processes the information. “So, you really love him.”
“I do. Or did. I don’t know anymore.”
She motions for two glasses of water which arrives instantly. You’re only too happy for something without any trace of booze in it and drink the entire glass in one go.
“So, you called me here,” your drinking buddy says carefully, “Because you don’t know what to do and you can’t really talk to your boyfriend about it because he’d get jealous.”
Once again, she’s spot-on. Except she missed the part where you suspect that your boyfriend might’ve also killed him. You give her just a single look and she instantly confirms her hypothesis.
“He won’t get jealous; he’ll just shut me down.”
“That’s the same thing.” She sighs audibly and stares at you sombrely.
“You’re a sucker for self-punishment, you know that?”
You merely shrug in response.
“I’m not invalidating your feelings and shit, but this isn’t helping you at all in this Snow-situation.” Livia empties the last remaining shot glass. “I know you miss him, okay? It’s pretty clear. But that’s not going to bring him back. Just because your first love is gone and you’re stuck with your sociopathic fiancé doesn’t mean you have to be miserable.”
Livia gives you a look that can only mean ‘get your shit together’ and orders one more set of cocktails. When they arrive, she takes one for herself and hands you the other.
“But that also doesn’t mean we can’t toast to his memory.”
You take the glass and raise it. “To Sejanus Plinth.”
She copies your movement, muttering, “To your District Lover Boy, Sejanus Plinth.”
You both empty your glasses at the same time and you almost slam the glass back on the table. Never in a lifetime did you ever think toasting to your dead friend over a fruity-boozy drink could feel so cathartic, but here you are.
“There. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, get your shit together, Innis. You’re smarter than that.”
Despite her harsh reprimand, you find yourself chuckling, to which she just rolls her eyes, smirking exasperatedly.
“You know, he gives me so much grief for asking you to be my maid of honour.”
Livia lets out a shriek of glee. “I’d pay a fortune to have seen his reaction when you told him.”
“Oh, he was beyond m-miffed.” Your words are beginning to slur, indicating you probably had way too much of your capacity. “I was jus’ wondering why you accepted. Curious, ‘is’all.”
“If you’re asking if I’m over’im – ” her own garbled words are interrupted by her loud burp, which startles the waitress passing by – “Yes, I am. I’m over him, swear. But if I can get laid while I’m at it, why the fuck not, right?”
Guffawing, she adds, “Jus’ wanna see him suffer. ‘Magine the guy losing you? He’d spiral the fuck down. Honessly, I tried, m’kay? All this wedding prep – I already bumped into him sooo many times, made a loooot of passes, but no-ooo, he only has eyes for you.”
Side-eying you in jest, she adds, “No accounting for taste.”
You giggle. You actually giggle along with her as she shoves your arm playfully. Then, both of you share a look and dart like lightning to the washroom, throwing up in separate cubicles in unison. Having let some of that out, you begin feeling just a tad better even if the buzz still lingers.
You’re on the sink washing your hands when you notice the time on your watch.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I have to go.” According to the time, you’ve gone thirty minutes over your fiancé’s time limit.
Livia lets out a groan as she emerges from her stall. “Yeah, me too. I’m so hammered. I already paid, you get the next one. And you better not pull a District and go cheap on me, Innis.”
“Trust me, Cardew. When I pay, you can go drown in it for all I care.”
She snorts in laughter on the way outside the She Said Club, where she says her driver is waiting in the parking lot.
“Look sharp, Innis. Your executioner has arrived,” she mutters so only you can hear.
True enough, you look into the icy blue glare of Coriolanus Snow, leaning against the service car door, the stone-cold smile on his face concealing his ire.
“Did you have fun, sugarplum?” he says as he approaches.
From behind you, Livia fakes a retching noise.
You, however, are rooted to your spot as you try your best to appear sober.
“Livia, pardon me, but I have to take my fiancée home.” Coriolanus’s falsely cheery tone is disarming, as usual.
“You heard him. To the gallows, you go.” Livia pats you on the back and mumbles a ‘good luck’ under her breath before addressing the male. “See you both tomorrow. Try not to tire her out too much tonight, will you, Coriolanus? She can’t miss this; you know how she lo-oooves cakes. Loves them.”
Inwardly, you groan the way she just tries to rile him up, but he seems to keep a level head as always. In fact, he goes on to give her a wider grin.
“You shouldn’t concern yourself too much with what my fiancée and I do behind closed doors, Livia, and I am well aware how important this is for her.”
Livia just blows a loud raspberry in his direction before getting inside her car and driving off. A firm, large hand immediately grips your arm and the now stern voice of your fiancé chills your blood.
“Come, Nellie. We will talk when we get home.”
And you all but get shoved into the car before it drives you both home, where you suspect he might just pop off.
To the gallows, you go, alright.
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Coriolanus Snow had never thought he’d see you again, but here you were, in the same year as him and in his class, sitting just a few seats before him to his right, listening aptly to Professor Cecil drone on about a linear equation on the board that he was well aware you’d be able to solve blindfolded and with hands tied behind your back.
You had left an impression on him when he met you in that playground all those years ago. Even if he remembered you using such colourful language unbecoming of a girl, there had already been something behind your eyes and in the way you spoke that he couldn’t pinpoint then.
He'd later discover the correct adjective: erudite.
Everything about you perplexed him to no end: your perfectly natural Capitol accent, your exemplary manners, your sharp wit, your gifted mind…
Your District origins.
Coriolanus had never thought someone of your calibre could emerge from such a place, yet here you were: an enigma he didn’t know what to feel about.
Festus elbowed him discreetly, distracting him from his thoughts and passing a crudely written note.
u crushing on district-homeschool freak?
Festus sniggered behind a closed fist to avoid drawing attention to himself. Coriolanus grinned imperceptibly and wrote down below the scribble a tasteful reply before handing it back to him:
Fuck off, kindly
The note comes back with more of Festus Creed’s infamous chicken-scratch handwriting:
really pretty though. too bad she’s district.
Coriolanus crumpled the note and tossed it in his bag and went back to staring at the back of your head.
Now, Festus’s former observation he could firmly attest to. You were undeniably easy on the eyes and considered one of the prettiest in his class. Over the next few weeks, he would find out that even the boys in the upper class agreed, with the way they would throw stares at you when you walk by them in the hallways. Unfortunately, he can’t confirm the part about you being District; you weren’t really forthcoming about your personal life to anyone yet. He’s heard of rumours circulating about you being born to a former Capitol actress, though, so the thought that maybe you’re not even District. Maybe someone else spread the idea of your District roots out of jealousy, and maybe you hinting at them when he first met you was just a way to make the real District rat feel good about himself.
Because if you were indeed not of Capitol origins, then that meant the Districts had the capacity to produce more children like you, which they could one day weaponise to try and overthrow the government once more. An army of district kids like you, putting the ones like Arachne, for instance, from the Capitol to shame…
Coriolanus shuddered at the thought.
He’d later discover another aspect of you: that underneath your well-mannered demeanour, you hid what he can only describe as intellectual savagery.
It was lunch break sometime in the first semester. You were alone at a table as usual, declining the nicer girls’ offer of sitting with them at their table.
Coriolanus sat with Festus Creed, Sejanus Plinth, and some of his other male classmates were sitting just a few tables away when Arachne Crane, for whatever reason, had just decided to cause a scene in her usual fashion, backed up by Juno and her other lackeys. The group seemed to have come from the Talent Show rehearsal and approached your table looking just about as menacing as a pack of squirrels ganging up on a rattlesnake.
“Hey, district-homeschool freak,” he heard Arachne call out, as she leaned on your table.
Coriolanus saw a hint of danger flash in your eyes before you stood with grace and an uncannily calm air.
“Oh, so she thinks she’s so tough, huh?” one of the girls quipped behind their leader, but he didn’t see who it was.
“Not at all. I’m just supposed to stand when somebody’s addressing me,” even your tone came off as non-confrontational. “It’s called courtesy, you might’ve heard of it.”
Arachne sneered. “Is that what they teach you at home? What else did they teach you, how to fold your laundry? How to be more submissive to your future husband?” The group laughed with her in a jeering manner.
Plastering a cold smile, you responded, “On the contrary, Arachne, they teach me Algebra II. We’re currently on the radian measure which you wouldn’t know because you’re not on that level yet. I could ask you what they teach you here, but judging by the way you talk, I’d say not that much. In fact, I fear for the state of the Capitol Academe.”
Arachne’s eyes narrowed at the insult. “Just because you have money for tutors doesn’t mean you’re smart.”
“True,” you said. “Money can’t buy intellect.”
“Well, it can’t buy class, either,” Arachne countered a little more loudly.
“I know. I can tell,” you said, clearly unfazed by her increasingly hostile behaviour. “Because you clearly have neither of the two. Are we finished?” You took a quiet, demure sip from your juice pack, before continuing, “Because this is boring me. That’s great Talent Show material, by the way: boring people to death.”
Arachne hid her hurt by scoffing, muttering, “Come on, this is pathetic.”
As they left you alone, you sat back down with the grace of a princess and continued your lunch like nothing happened. Festus kicked him under the table, grinning obnoxiously, and said, “What’s the matter, Snow? Scared that she’ll bite?”
Coriolanus curled his lips in a challenge and kicked him back, while the rest of the table chuckled, still in disbelief at what they just witnessed. He could’ve sworn it was this very moment that made you earn his classmates’ respect, even if you eventually revealed your underlying intolerance for blood and gore during a Hunger Games rerun in History class.
With his eyes glued on you across the mess hall, he couldn’t deny that the way you maintained your cool while hurling witty insults was a form of art you seemed to have mastered.
Later on, he would have his first proper conversation with you in an empty classroom when he arrived earlier than he had planned for a math period. You had been there earlier than he was, your razor-sharp focus on a fourth-year pre-calculus problem written on the board, your arms crossed in full-concentration mode. He watched you take a piece of chalk and attempt to correct what seemed like a solution written by a student.
It took him ten seconds. Ten seconds before he could stop himself and break the silence.
“What made you change your mind about attending school?” Coriolanus asked.
“Hello to you, too,” you turned to face him with a smile momentarily before shifting back your attention to the problem on the board. “Psychologist’s orders. She said I needed to spend time with people my age.”
As if he wasn’t already curious about you – or at least, matters concerning you – you had to add this to the mix.
“Why are you in freshman year?”
“As opposed to what, being locked up in an insane asylum? They have pretty rigorous qualifications that I haven’t met yet.”
It was this moment that he decided he liked your humour immensely. Coriolanus let out a genuine laugh, and you turned to grin at him before you writing a few more lines and returned the piece of chalk to the side of the board.
“No, I meant, why aren’t you in a higher year?” He clarified. “That’s clearly senior-level material.”
“It’s just math,” you shrugged. “Outside that, I’m just like everyone else.”
“I highly doubt that,” a voice said.
You both turned to the voice at the same time to find Sejanus Plinth standing at the classroom doorway.
Ah yes. The District rat.
Now, Coriolanus could confirm that he was, beyond a reasonable doubt, full-blooded, cloddish-accented, one hundred-percent District. The blond quickly masked the sneer of disdain forming on his face with his usual grin as a greeting. He spared you a glance and you both catch each other’s eye. He had thought for a moment that he’d seen a flash of recognition behind them – had you caught that scornful look he had for the District rat? But before he could even confirm, you were already smiling warmly at the other boy – that other boy who was leagues below who you deserved (even if you were part District). That boy with a bag of gumdrops you both briefly interacted with about six years ago who needed you to come to rescue him from almost being ganged up by a bunch of other children.
Sejanus Plinth, who would later grow closer to you and thus would divulge to his best friend the tragic events that would explain your need for a psychologist. Sejanus, who’d later reveal to him that he’s developed a crush on you. Private Plinth, who’d be too chickenshit to tell you until before he left for District 12 and ultimately stayed there.
The teenage Coriolanus might not have been aware then, but the two would have profound, lasting influences in his life: the girl, he’d fall madly in love with and force into marriage, and the boy, very much dead yet he’d still be competing with for her love.
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Behind you, you hear the apartment door slamming close and you almost jump at the noise.
You sit on the loveseat in the living room, where Oscar the cat greets you with a head bump on your leg. Before you can pet him, however, Coriolanus picks him up gently and exits, presumably to put him back inside his playroom. He soon returns, pausing on the other side of the coffee table and staring down at you with an utmost displeased expression. Nowhere near comparable as when he found you crouching inside a wooden crate in the middle of a botched escape attempt, but it’s still significant.
“Explain why you went over thirty minutes beyond what you were allowed to spend outside.”
With his hands inside his pockets, he draws to his full height and glares at you icily while he waits for you to speak up and defend yourself. You rub your face with your palms to appear more sober than you really are, but so far, the buzz is still there like an annoying fly you can’t swat off.
“How much did she make you drink?” He asks, crossing his arms in his growing impatience.
“Wha-no, she din’ make me do anything.”
Great. Because slurring your words when you’re being interrogated by a former peacekeeper leads to excellent results. Still, you can’t help but frown at the way he makes it sound like Livia forced you into it.
“Fine. How much did you drink?”
“Much.” Dammit. “I mean, plenty.”
Coriolanus pinches his nose bridge and exhales audibly. “You know you’re not a heavy drinker. You shouldn’t have allowed her to goad you into this. How could you be so irresponsible?”
“Stop talking to me like ’mma child,” you bite back and cross your arms. Inebriated or not, you will not be reduced to an invalid without an agency of your own. “I can think for myself.”
Letting out an aggravated sigh, he gives you a condescending glower. “This is exactly why I told you not to pick her. She is not a good influence on you, Nellie.”
You blink once or twice to process what he just said. You get to your feet, finally realising why he’s so upset with such a simple thing as you drinking out like a normal young adult on a Friday night.
“No, you don’t like her because I’m actually having fun with her. There’s a difference,” you conclude softly. The idea is so absurd, it sobers you up a little. “Remember when you said, I needed to reconnect with old friends or some shit? This is me doing that.”
“This is not about you making friends,” he admonishes in the same patronizing manner. “This is about who you chose as your maid of honour.”
You choose to stand your ground and glare at him. “I made it clear I’m not changing.”
“And I made it clear that I do not approve of your choice,” he says roughly. “Get her off the list and call Clemmie or Lys.”
“Or just call off this fucking wedding, how about that?”
As you harden your expression, he, in turn, gives you a look that you are aware does not bode well for you.
“I don’t like your language, Nellie.”
At this moment, you find yourself agreeing with Livia.
Who cares what he thinks?
“It’s my wedding too, okay?” you snap. You exit the living room quickly, intending to just get the argument over with and lock yourself in your room where he can leave you alone. Unfortunately, he follows you at once. “I can choose whoever I want in my own damn entourage. It’s the only thing in this...this charade that I get choice in and you’re not going to take that from me.”
Coriolanus catches up on you and grabs your arm, which you yank back without much force. “Do not talk to me that way – ”
“She’s the first real friend I’ve ever made since Seja – ”
But there’s something within you that catches you mid-speech. the temperature in the living room seems to drop several degrees, which matches the tone he uses.
“Carefully choose what you say next.”
So, you’re really not even allowed to talk about him as a friend, now. It almost physically pains you that even the man he once considered to be his best friend now refuses to even speak of him.
“Coryo, it’s his second death an – ”
“I know what fucking day it is,” he draws close and hisses in your face. “And you don’t get to use that tone on me. You don’t get to endanger yourself this way and step out of line.”
After his menacing tirade, Coriolanus pulls away. In a second, his fury instantly dissipates, replaced by a blank, even serene expression.
The calm before the storm.
“I can’t have my future wife misbehaving like this,” he says with a tone enough to chill your blood. He then closes the space between you two in a calculated manner, stopping merely inches away from you to stare down at you. “I should be nipping this in the bud.”
Your vision spins next, and you wonder for a second if the alcohol you consumed finally has gotten the better of you – until you notice an almost painful grip around your thighs: your fiancé had just hauled you off the floor and placed you over his shoulders. Before you can protest, you’re dumped unceremoniously into a soft surface. Disoriented, you make a feeble attempt to get off the surface, but you’re harshly flipped over on your stomach, unable to lift yourself off owing to being pinned down by something you can’t shake off.
You’re filled with dread the instant your mind processes what just happened: Coriolanus had just carried you to his room and is keeping you in place on his bed with his entire body draped on your back.
It's the alcohol you’d have to thank for your delayed response time.
Desperately, you claw at the pillow, as if it’ll help you out from underneath him, but you freeze when you feel his breath fan your ear with a whisper that sends shivers down your spine:
“I want you to count to from ten when I say so, sugarplum.”
You feel him pull back, the bed shifting slightly. It takes the rustling of a belt behind you to send you into hysterics; the feel of the cold, night air on your ass as your dress is lifted, revealing you in just your underwear, is enough to make you beg.
“Coryo, please, no – ”
Your words die in your throat as a sharp, white-hot pain lands on the swell of your ass, almost at the same time you hear a loud crack.
He's just hit your almost bare backside with the softer side of his leather belt, and it fucking burns to high hell.
You’re still reeling at the shock of it, but your hair is bunched and pulled, not enough to hurt but to gain your attention.
“Start counting,” he commands from behind you.
Ten. That means ten lashes of his belt. Nine more of this and you can barely handle one.
You sob out of fear, but you don’t know if it’s out of fear of pain or of him.
“Please, I won’t do it again – ”
A pained yelp escapes you the moment the belt lands on your ass again. Another hair pull, followed by his stern voice from behind you.
“Nellie, you’re prolonging this by not counting as I said. Now, I will not ask again: count to ten.”
Go to hell.
You don’t know what compels you to – perhaps it’s the thought of you being unable to sit for the next few days on any surface without wincing in pain – you inhale sharply, swallowing back the insult you’re planning to hurl, and whisper:
“Ten.”
Another cracking of the belt, followed by your cry as it hits you, followed by you shakily whispering a number. He repeats this without mercy and without reprieve – just pure malice and the intent of inflicting pain.
Sniffling, you manage to stammer “f-five,” bracing yourself for another, but it doesn’t come.
You lay flat on your stomach as you weep audibly in your helplessness and shame, belatedly realising he’s removed himself from you and has gone off fuck-knows-where. Just as you’re about to try and get up, he makes a re-entrance, having come from the bathroom. He’s completely shirtless now, eyes locked in and heading straight towards you.
You begin sobbing anew and try to crawl off the bed, but he’s instantly on you, pinning you down as he straddles your thighs with his own, taking your wrists and pinning them above you with a single hand.
“No, please…”
Directly over your ear, he whispers gently, “Sshh, shh, it’s over, sugarplum, I’m here to take care of you now.”
Despite your rather pathetic sobs, he continues cooing over your ear, while you feel something wet and cold being rubbed gently on your ass where the belt had hit you multiple times.
“It’s just a salve, my little sugarplum,” he explains. “It’ll help heal the skin faster and reduce bruising.”
The salve helps like he says, thank goodness, because after he’s massaged the area, it had numbed almost entirely – too bad it does absolutely nothing with the trembling on your hands. For the next few minutes, your fiancé strokes your hair, kisses your crown, and whispers what he thinks are comforting words, all of them a blur to you as you continue lying down on your stomach, unmoving and still trying to wrap your head around what just happened.
“You made me do that, my sugarplum,” he says, and you’re almost tempted to believe how contrite his voice is. “I will never hurt the love of my life – as long as you give me no reason to.”
You’re barely paying attention when he starts peeling off your dress entirely, even when he jerks himself off above you and spills himself on your bare back, even when he cleans you up and wraps you almost lovingly in his blanket and pulls you close to him in a cuddle you’re all-too-familiar with.
What you listen to aptly, however, is what he tells you quietly as he runs his fingers through your hair in this sick form of forced intimacy.
“I will move the wedding to a month and a half from now. Mid-October. In return, you get to keep your maid of honour, and I will lift your uncle’s exile the day before the wedding. That way, he can walk you to the aisle and hand you over to me, just like he should’ve done from the start.”
Just before you let yourself succumb to sleep in his arms, you make a mental note to ask Livia for a crucial favour as this last-ditch attempt to throw a wrench at your fiancé’s plans for the future.
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Sejanus Plinth felt a little guilty as he sat beside you on his bedroom couch. You were hunched over the coffee table poring over three open books at the same time, scribbling madly on a nearly full page of your notebook, essentially doing your part and more in this supposedly partnered effort of writing a ten-page analysis of some pre-Panem fantasy trilogy. It was obvious you had been spending the recent nights getting some work done on the paper based on the way you rubbed your eyes constantly and yawned into your palms. He was supposed to have written about three pages now, but he had barely scraped one and a half, and the open notebook he had on his lap was devoid of handwriting.
Yet he still couldn’t quite believe his luck that he had you in his bedroom, the first friend he had ever made since his family’s official move to the Capitol. His friend, the smart, quiet, sassy, pretty girl who had once defended him from one of the many bouts of name-calling by his own classmates and then vanished from his life. He had little hope he’d see you again, but here you both were in your second year, your friendship stronger than ever.
“You know, experts say that staring into paper has been scientifically proven to yield a ten-page book review.”
Your cheeky little comment did not go unnoticed, but Sejanus just flashed you an innocent smile he knew you couldn’t resist. You rolled your eyes at him and proceeded to sigh, before setting your pen down and heavily leaning back on the couch.
“I guess we could take a break,” you admitted as you rubbed your eyes, and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to yourself.
“Speak for yourself, I can go all day,” Sejanus joked. “I’ll go get us some food.”
He stood from his couch, but before he exited the door, he looked back at you and grinned, “Nellie, try not to fall asleep before I can come back, yeah? Ma worked hard on those strudels.”
You gave him a sweet, exhausted smile, and said, “Please thank her for me. Not that I won’t be thanking her later before I get home, but still.”
“I’m sure she’d like that,” Sejanus nodded when he finally closed the door behind him.
He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and straightened the collar of his shirt. As if having you alone in his room – albeit for completing the essay together – had him feeling nervous enough before you even arrived, his Ma just had to gush over you just as soon as you crossed the threshold.
Of course, he’d revealed to them how he met you all those years ago, carefully omitting a few details, but when he told her last week he’d have you over to visit, she had wildly assumed you to be his girlfriend, which you weren’t. Something he had always been so adamant with her about. Besides, he knew he had zero chances on you, as gifted and as talented and as attractive as you are.
Sometimes, he’d find himself wishing that weren’t the case.
It wasn’t your looks or your brains that had him developing some sort of…feelings for you. You were a breath of fresh air in the Capitol for him, starkly different from the other girls in the school who were either vapid, vain, or arrogant, or all those three at once.
“So? How is it with you and your…friend so far?”
He hadn’t even crossed the doorway to the kitchen and his Ma was already on his case. He loved her with all his heart, and he was extremely grateful for her hard work, but she could scare you away even before he had made a move.
He met his mother’s expectant smile with a tired grin and replied, “It’s going great, Ma.”
His mother beamed at him – he didn’t have the heart to take this little joy away from her when she was so excited – and told him a maid would carry the tray of food upstairs for him instead and shooed him away from her kitchen.
“She’s really pretty, by the way,” she added just as he was leaving to go back to his room.
Sejanus found you resting your head on the couch’s armrest, hugging the throw pillow to yourself and in blissful slumber.
He didn’t have the heart to take this little bit of rest away from you, either.
Sighing to himself, he grabbed a fresh velvet blanket and tucked you in it before sitting beside you and observing you. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face and let his fingers linger on your cheek.
You didn’t wake up until about two hours later, and by then, Sejanus had made good progress on the essay since you weren’t distracting him too much. He then spent the rest of the day doing more staring than actual schoolwork, trying to commit this day to his memory, no matter how inconsequential.
Aside from the kiss he would eventually share with you, Sejanus would constantly remember in his last days just how soft your cheek was and just how he could’ve snuck in a quick kiss on them that day if he hadn’t been so faint-hearted.
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Enter Level 17 - soon
Next on Level 17 - Wedding bells toll, Snows going honeymooning on the beach, just filthy filthy smut (fucking finally lmaooo)
Author notes:
Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated! Sorry for the delay as well, the next update will likely take about 2 weeks from now duw to work still being crazyyy. Thank you for your patience!!!
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jewishvitya · 2 days
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I posted this with my art but I'm putting it on its own.
Things I imagine in YOI pre-canon. These are personal headcanons and interpretations.
With Viktor, I imagine his family being high achieving, and Viktor having a lot of expectations on him. And he matches then successfully. But this means his parents think he's doing well, even in moments where emotionally he isn't. They look at achievements rather than looking at him. It's not intentional neglect, they just don't have the awareness of mental wellbeing. He has a bed and food and he's doing well in school and skating, so everything must be okay. It's fine when he's fine, it's lonely when he's not. And it's the first environment that teaches him to match himself to what's expected and wanted of him, fulfilling a role rather than just being.
When he's older, he quietly creates distance. Not cutting them off, but not reaching out. They don't mind. They follow news, and they can show off his success.
When he's young, Viktor loves having fans and being known and admired. Af first he doesn't see downsides to it. And then something happens, as simple as "did you see him throwing the flower at Christophe Giacometti? He was flirting, how cute" - and Viktor realizes his fans will draw their own conclusions and won't believe him if he tries to say they're wrong.
So he starts adjusting his approach. Building a persona, and building walls. Charming smiles that get him anything he wants. Practicing the skill of giving people what they expect. Being what they expect. And then flipping it on its head and surprising them.
If you're focusing on matching and subverting expectations, you're not necessarily being yourself. Any personal exploration of identity is hidden and alone. But on the ice, when he's performing, he can be honest. He can be seen. Because they're going to take it as fake. Think of how Minako reacted to Stammi Vicino - Viktor's earnest plea for someone to stay by his side, well, he's too charming for this to tug at the heartstrings. So he can play with stories that he won't share with anyone any other way, and he knows they'll take it as pretend.
The walls he builds don't allow him to be truly close to people. He has good relationships with other skaters, but emotionally keeps them at arm's length. He doesn't notice he's isolating. Chris and he have fun joke-flirting, but when Viktor steps away from the ice Chris doesn't seem to realize he needs this, isn't close enough to know what he's struggling with. He talks like Viktor is taking away the motivation he's entitled to by choosing to coach Yuuri. His rinkmates see him on good and bad days so they know when he struggles, and Yakov is the only person close to knowing him deeply, but even he doesn't take it seriously when Viktor burns out, so that is still limited.
For Yuri, I think his mother was going through a lot to let his grandfather take care of him. He has a lot of responsibility in that setting, and it all starts when he's so young.
I think, with Viktor being present in his life consistently from such a young age, Viktor is one of the people he sees as family. He absolutely looks up to him, just like he absolutely looks up to Yuuri. And I think he resents the emotional distance Viktor maintains.
He's not very attentive to people in general, but he's the one that explains to us how Viktor feels early in the show. When Viktor left to Japan so suddenly, I think Yura felt abandoned beyond just Viktor forgetting to choreograph a program for him. If it was just the program - he did end up getting Agape, he could have just asked for that, but he tried to get Viktor to go back. I feel like he hates that Viktor went to look for a way to get his spark back somewhere else, instead of staying and finding a way out of his slump with his rinkmates. If what Viktor needs is to coach someone, why isn't Yuri good enough? He's a talented skater and he sees himself as continuing Viktor's legacy, but Viktor chose someone else for that role.
And Viktor did choose Yuuri to continue his legacy. Because Yuuri skates so beautifully, because Yuuri has so much love for Viktor's skating, because Yuuri has drive and ambition and pride and skill and he finds joy in skating, and Viktor wants to nurture all of that into the performance Yuuri deserves to show.
And along the way, he learns how to connect with people as himself. His relationships with Yuuri and Yuuri's family open doors for him to better and deeper relationships with Yuri and Chris and anyone else he wants to be close to.
About Yuuri, there's very little I can say because we know so much. So I'll just share a lighthearted headcanon a few friends and I came up with as a story idea and I just adopted.
I don't share the fanon that Phichit got him into pole dancing. In my mind, he either started himself, or it was Chris - unintentionally. I think they're friends, because of how Yuuri reacted to him in the show, like he's used to him. And I like to think Chris kept saying things that made Yuuri feel competitive. Talking about how it's great for core strength, "but it's probably not your thing." Sent pictures of himself performing difficult moves, and got pictures back because Yuuri was trying to match him or do more difficult things than him. And meanwhile Chris thinks they're showing off to each other for fun. It's how Chris knew Yuuri can keep up with him at the banquet.
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If you're up for it, maybe Gregory being really hurt (both physically and emotionally?) and Cassie comforting him. Just flipping the usual dynamic in a nice way.
Prompt from PearlofProdigia on ao3!
Comfort from a Friend
“Dad, can Gregory sleep over tonight?” Cassie hollered back into her house almost as soon as she’d opened the front door. 
A clatter came from the kitchen, joined by some low chuckling. “I’ll set the table for three, then. Dinner’s in an hour!” 
“Thanks, Dad, you’re the best!” And with that taken care of, Cassie reached out, grabbed her best friend’s wrist, and pulled him inside. 
Gregory looked terrible. He hadn’t said a word, not even one of his usual silly jokes when she answered the door. There were bruises—a lot of bruises—littering his visible skin, and a fresh cut sliced through his right cheek, which was streaked with dried blood. More stained his clothes. 
He limped after her, silent. Cassie closed her bedroom door behind them, gently pushing him to sit on the bed. He belatedly kicked his shoes off with a mumbled apology. 
She joined him, encouraging him to get comfortable rather than simply perch on the very edge. His movements were stiff, pained. She stretched out to reach her ibuprofen on her nightstand. 
He accepted it with a weak smile and tossed the pills back dry before she could even stand up to get him a cup of water. 
“What happened?” Cassie asked quietly. And she didn’t just mean how he got injured. There was something almost frightening in his eyes. A dullness, an emptiness. Gregory was hurt far more than these surface wounds. 
He took a deep, shaky breath, then told her everything. He rushed through some of it, clearly summed up a lot, and ended with, “And then I kinda just sat in the woods behind the park for a while before coming here,” as if that didn’t imply he’d been in a state of shock for literal hours. 
Cassie trembled in suppressed rage. Someone had spent all night trying to murder her best friend, and she’d just been asleep in her safe, cozy bed, none the wiser. Enough was enough—she knew her dad wasn’t quite done with the required training to become a foster parent but like hell was her best friend spending another night on the streets. Or at the foster home he’d been sent to, which was practically the same thing when it came down to it. 
Having maintained a bit of distance for his story, plenty able to tell that Gregory hadn’t quite been ready for comfort until he’d gotten it all out, Cassie scooted closer, wrapped her arms around him, and went full octopus mode. 
He sniffled and twisted so they were facing each other and then buried his face in the crook of her neck. 
“I’ve got you, Gregory,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.” 
His fingers dug into her back before switching to clutching handfuls of her shirt. He shook in her arms, but his crying was silent. Her shoulder grew damp. 
As she rocked them in place, Cassie started to plan. There was enough time before dinner was ready for Gregory to take a shower—besides the blood, he was a bit crusty with dirt and dust—and get into some clean clothes. While he was doing that, Cassie would give her dad the lowdown so he could help with patching up the injuries that most certainly existed out of sight. Then, during dinner, if Gregory looked well enough, they’d finally share their plan to officially induct Gregory into the family. If not, they could do it over breakfast tomorrow. 
The worst hadn’t happened, she reassured herself. Gregory was alive, he was here, and if she knew her friend, he’d bounce back soon enough. She’d be there for him in the meantime, through bad days and nightmares and whatever other trials awaited them. Whether he needed hugs, distractions, or a shoulder to lean on, Cassie had his back.
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hellpupp · 11 months
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Big Sad
#kicks dirt#idk how many times i can openly ask for what i need & just. not get it. before i've just gotta Stop bc it starts feeling pathetic#and potentially even bordering on emotionally manipulative.#debating the Morality of even tag-venting on my own blog bc i don't want anyone to assume this is targeted#i just feel Deeply Lonely and like i have absolutely nothing going on in my life except work#and just lowkey like.... Unseen.#sometimes i try So Fucking Hard to have a conversation with people only to have 100% of what i say completely ignored me#* in favor of a random meme.#it starts to fuck with you after a while! makes you feel Uninteresting and Foolish and Annoying#idk.#i mean i also ran out of my (Extremely Rough Withdrawal) SNRI last week so like. that isn't helping.#but it's more than that. i've been feeling like this for a while.#it just. really sucks when you move & have no irl friends. no energy to make any new ones.#and all of your long distance friends have A Lot of shit on their plates so you feel shitty and inconsiderate for even thinking of asking#for. well Anything really. let alone some of their extremely limited time & energy & attention.#like who tf am i to ask anyone#let alone people who are all Very busy and struggling w/ their own shit#for their undivided attention for a chunk of time they could be using to take care of themselves#i don't want to feel invisible anymore#but i also don't want to be a drain on the people i care about#i hate Needing things#i wish the depth of my love and devotion to the people i've chosen to care for was fulfilling enough on its own#so i'd never need to ask for things#having emotional needs is like. sooo gross & selfish of me tbh. :/' go the fuck to therapy holy shit u would Never say this abt Anyone else#anyway. watch me delete this in 5 seconds bc the need to be seen & the mortification of being Perceived can & do coexist#χ.txt
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clingylilhoneybee · 2 years
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~
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unorcadox · 2 years
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Hey there!! i read your post about touching the core of your blog again and i just wanna say that i really hope you're doing alright and staying safe, and that if you're going through difficult time then please take time to yourself and take things slowly (unless i interpreted that post terribly)
oh hey thank you- i am trying my best right now!! LMAO but no you actually fully interpreted it correctly- not gonna get super far into it in the body of this post (see the tags for more!) but, i feel like with this blog i often lose the emotional connection i have to making wc and end up in really abstract, more artsy pieces, which are a lot less stable considering a lot of people like emotion-based wc. this month has been AMPLE opportunity for me to touch back on the base of that personal wc connection i have, and thus my edits are actually flourishing for once. hopefully this feeling doesn't fade as i move out of The Suffering and into The Recovering
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fmhobeus · 1 month
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jjk men and their red flags
a/n: i'm feeling problematic :> tell me what u think (agree/disagree/add more?) this is all for shits n giggles !! non sorcerer au kinda
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kento nanami — (over)protective
but like... to the point where it feels like he's treating you like a child! he doesnt like to see you sweat or even work at all for that matter. he loves it when you cook but has bought covers for all the knifes. if he sees a burn on your hand get ready for a 10 minute long lecture. if you accidentally fall he wont let you get up for atleast 3 days to help you ""heal."" it's almost like he doesnt trust you to take care of yourself :') he probably has like 3 separate first-aid kits everywhere.
suguru geto — emotionally unavailable
i feel like this is explainable to his character (sort of.) i dont think that he'd make you feel isolated at all, he's be an amazing listener and probably memorizes every word you say. he listens to you rant and even trauma dump with insane patience. but at some point it feels as though you hardly know him. he's talk to you a lot but very little of it is personal and you hardly know what he's thinking because his ass is not tell you. he also unintentionally distances himself from people from time to time. this applies to you too and you can feel him getting emotionally distant sometimes. it isnt something he does knowingly but it sure ass hell bothers you.
satoru gojo — very clingy and needy
this nigga. he is so utterly clingy. and at first it's perfectly fine, even appreciated by you. you still love him like crazy of course but it is just overwhelming. he is like a child most of the time, he need you around him and is always accompanying you wherever you go, and he expects you to do the same. he also doesn't believe in "me time" because why would you feel better when you're away from him: (? want to hang out with your friends? what do you need them for: (? he's right there. he is also physically incapable of listening but boy is he good at making up.
toji fushiguro — controlling
he is so controlling omfg. it's usually subtle but sometimes he will outright just say no to things he doesnt like, not caring if you like them. it gets to the point where he actually starts to change your personality. he is very caring and that's his justification for this typa stuff. it is usually harmless stuff but he gets paranoid often. he doesnt let you wear miniskirts out if you're not with him. he doesn't let you befriend people he thinks are into you. he barely lets you buy stuff on your own, he usually gifts you whatever it is youre into at that moment. borderline turned on by fear and you being dependent on him.
choso kamo — has no social life outside you
pretty self explanatory. he doesnt have many friends outside you and isn't interesting in making them either. total loser. so taking him out to events, he probably doesnt interact much and chooses to look at you the entire time, which annoys your friends. he answers their questions pretty bluntly. he's never down to have people over and lowkey hates when you are.
hiromi higuruma — workaholic
also self explanatory. he leaves early, comes home late. you barely see him on the weekdays. sometimes he goes as far as ignoring your calls when in between cases. he calls you periodically but has to have an alarm set to remind him. he loves you very very deeply but is just used to working non stop T_T
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sixosix · 2 months
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synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.
tags slight making out scene… satoru is an asshole but what’s new, satoru is also hopelessly infatuated, all the readers i write are emotionally constipated sorry, getting together(?) fluff bit angsty tho
a/n this is a little stupid and unrealistic but bear with me because this is my first time writing in a looong time to get back in the groove of writing ^__^
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Shoko wrinkled her nose as Satoru made the show of tossing a crumpled-up vending machine can into the bin on the other side of the street. It landed perfectly in the middle because why wouldn’t it? Emboldened by the impressed glances of passersby, he reached for Suguru’s pocket, where there was a balled-up paper in his bontan pants. Suguru winced when it was your head instead, where you had started crossing.
Your glare cut a thrill down Satoru’s spine. You huffed and bent down to pick up the trash, your knuckles white, like you were imagining it was Satoru’s head instead. Satoru was just appreciating how gracefully you’d bowed, the curve of your back captivating him for a moment until Suguru elbowed him.
“Stop littering,” Suguru said sternly, but his eyes spelled out that it was not about the littering.
Satoru shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it weren’t for Y/N.” 
Satoru called out after you as you dropped the paper ball into the bin directly. “Oi!” You ignored him and continued walking, a considerable distance lengthening between you and the three. “Ha, you embarrassed?”
“Anyone would be if they were seen with you,” you spat out almost reflexively, then blinked at your own words. Satoru almost swore you wanted to apologize, but you composed yourself by turning your back on him altogether.
Satoru grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “Shoko and Suguru don’t need to know I had to save your ass from a low-grade curse.”
You didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, but your shoulders tensed for a moment.
“So moody. How does your boyfriend put up with this?” Satoru snickered as he eyed the back of your head. He relished in the way a vein pops on your temple, breathed in the way you looked over your shoulder just to say—
“Shut up, Satoru. I mean it.”
He wasn’t unfamiliar with envious or hateful gazes; it came with his birth, really. Awe and fear and there are impossibles, but not for Gojo Satoru said with contempt—he didn’t care. Yours were different. He took pride in affecting people in ways where they could never ignore him, but the way you looked at him felt thrilling. He wondered if your boyfriend saw how your eyes would set ablaze for Satoru.
But he didn’t actually care, he would say. He never cared for a lot of things. It showed, at times, others would say.
“Whoa, did someone get their heart broken today?” Satoru whistled, his tone lilting upwards in what seemed to be a way to lighten the mood. No moods were lightened.
Your head whipped around to give him a look that had him frozen on the spot. His eyes widened behind his shades. He felt like that paper ball at the moment, about to be squashed flat against your palm. That look felt familiar, but not in the way that he knew he was familiar with because of you. It was familiar because of everyone else.
Suguru shot him a look that said he would’ve shoved him had it not been for his Infinity on. “Satoru.”
You walked on ahead, brushing past them with hiked-up shoulders. You looked like you were about to break at the slightest touch—it looked wrong. You had always looked so strong in Satoru’s eyes. Not stronger than him, of course, but… seeing your lip tremble like that made him itch the wrong way.
Satoru glanced between Suguru and Shoko, lost. “Am I missing something?”
Suguru said, “You didn’t hear?”
“Oh, so you know, but I don’t? What is this? Leave-out-Satoru club? You have a group chat without me?” Satoru did not mean for that to come out that bitter.
Shoko exhaled, smoke faintly billowing from her lips. She regarded Satoru with a look. “Maybe if you actually read our group chat with you, you wouldn’t be so ignorant.”
And so Satoru scrolled through his phone, wounded. Suguru and Shoko whispered among themselves as his eyebrows arched up so high that he looked elated.
“That’s it?” Satoru scoffed. “Trouble in paradise? Y/N almost got hurt by a curse because of some man?”
“Idiot,” Suguru sighed. “You’re also a man.”
Satoru knew what was going on in Shoko’s head with her expression. She was calling him trash. “They’ve been together for years. Before Y/N even met you.”
Satoru bristled. “So?”
“So don’t think of this as some chance,” Suguru said. Since when was he some love expert? “And stop terrorizing. No one brokenhearted would want to see your stupid face.”
He gaped. “So rude!”
And then he backtracked. “And I wasn’t thinking of this as a chance.” He was. “I don’t even like Y/N like that!” He does terribly. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear from that asshole non-sorcerer again. Have you heard the way he says baby? Even through the phone, it gives me the creeps.”
Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “He was an asshole.”
Shoko laughed. “That asshole got to date Y/N before you, though.”
Satoru decided to spare Shoko, feeling too delighted to let anyone ruin it.
“Did you read all the messages?” Suguru asked.
“Nah.” Satoru stared at the back of your head. “I got the gist of it seeing Suguru’s reply, ‘he was an asshole anyway.’” He flashed his teeth and quickened his pace. “Come on, before Y/N gets flung around by curses again.”
Suguru and Shoko shared a look that he missed completely.
You eyed the plastic bag Satoru was holding out distrustfully.
It was too dark already, but that was no problem for Gojo Satoru. He came here—your room, your door—with a mission in mind. That mission involved ice cream because he saw in movies that people liked to eat ice cream and cry after breakups. You weren’t crying, which relieved him, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to convince himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with tears, but he couldn’t lie to himself well when it came to you.
“Nice try,” you said, pushing it back to his chest. You startled at the cold.
“What— It’s not poison!” Satoru said. He flicked it open and showed you his gift, one you should appreciate for his efforts and thoughtfulness.
“Ice cream?” you said suspiciously. Then it dawned on you. Your lips turned up in a disbelieving smile. He'd take it much better than the look you gave him that day, even when dregs of weariness dulled your eyes. “Were you worried?”
You looked awful, which was probably the norm for someone going through a breakup from a long relationship. Satoru didn’t like your sad face at all. It pissed him off, like some puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Still, to Satoru, he supposed anything was better than not getting to see your face at all.
“Yeah,” he found himself saying before he could think about it.
Your face fell. “Satoru.”
“Just take it, or else I’ll eat it in front of you.”
Your hand gripped the door tighter.
Satoru cleared his throat. “Okay, or you can just shut the door on me and go back to sleep.” And then, silently: “You can just take it, and I’ll leave.”
You stared at him as if expecting him to take it back.
Satoru felt his face warm. “Are you gonna take it or not?”
“It creeps me out when you act nice.”
He glared. “I’m always nice, but I’m not creepy about it.”
Your shoulders relaxed. You took the bag from him with a smile that felt like a shared secret. “Do you wanna come in?”
His first thought was, holy shit, but what came out was, “Sure, I don’t care.”
He had never been in your room before. Shoko was, a lot of times, most of the time. Suguru managed to, here and there, when you needed some help with heavy lifting. You kicked Satoru every time he used to even think about it. Your room was more ordinary than he expected. No posters, flashy souvenirs, or even clothes strewn over your bed. It looked lonely.
There was a box in the corner beside your closet that looked entirely out of place. Satoru must have been staring at it for a moment too long as you said, “Those are my ex’s clothes. I stole many of it, but I don’t want to wear them anymore.”
Satoru’s curious gaze turned into distaste. “Want me to get rid of it?”
“What?” You laughed. “I’ll just give it back.”
Satoru bounded over to the box and crouched, peeling the cover open. “Why not? There’s a dumpster nearby.”
“Well, they were nice. Not my ex, I mean the clothes. Felt expensive—I’d rather he take it back.” Always the goody two shoes.
“Hmmm…” Satoru lifted his head to stare at you. “Did you like wearing them? You can borrow mine. Much better than these cheap knockoffs.”
Your eyes flashed with interest, and Satoru knew he had said the right words. His clothes were no joke.
You blinked at him, a deer in headlights holding a tub of ice cream. “Are— Are you sure? It’s not like I actually need them—”
Satoru wanted nothing more than to see you drowning in his clothes. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I don’t care.”
He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to you. He felt a gust of cold, which should’ve been wrong to him, but he didn’t pay it any mind when you took it from him and stared at it. Your gaze shifted hesitantly between him and the red fabric. Your bottom lip started trembling before you bit it between your teeth, something Satoru wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t staring. You whirled around and shoved the tub of ice cream in your mini fridge. What a shame. He was really planning for you to share it with him.
Satoru stood up, kicking at the box. He asked, “What were you doing before I left? Boring stuff? Were you watching sad movies without ice cream? It’s a good thing I came over.”
“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” you said. You slipped into his jacket, the sight arresting him for a moment.
Satoru frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe you were feeling tired? You must have been—emotions tend to wear out a person faster than any physical means. “Hey, lie down on the bed. You look like you’re about to crash.”
“I’m not,” you muttered but followed anyway because you must have felt it, too. “I’m not.”
You winced as your head collided with your pillow. It was unusual for you to succumb to rest while Satoru lingered in the same space.
“Sorry,” Satoru choked out, suddenly feeling guilty by the strong urge to embrace you. He was already crossing far too many lines today. He didn’t want to taint your memory of heartbreak from your ex with him.
You turned to face him, your hair splayed all over the pillow. “What?”
“For yesterday. I didn’t know. This, I mean.”
“You read the messages?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“That’s it? You’re not—” You yawned, blinking. Satoru was performing the highest level of restraint at the moment. “I mean, you’re not, like…”
The air was charged with something dangerous. Satoru looked away, thinking. He wanted to ask, did you expect me to care that much? But he knew the answer to that—he does.
“Satoru,” you said lowly. He shivered at the quiet of the night and how he can almost feel your voice. “You shouldn’t be so nice to someone heartbroken. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”
Satoru sat on the edge of your bed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
You looked up at him. Satoru felt want in his belly. It was dangerous, he realized, for him to be alone with you like this. It was wrong—but he never went doing everything right anyway, if it meant he could watch as your eyes flutter, as you longed for something he could never have from you once the wounds on you have healed.
“Doesn’t it?” you said. “You’re confusing me, too.”
Satoru realized his Infinity had been off already, though he didn’t know when. Was it when he sat on the bed to feel the softness of your sheets? Or was it already back then, the moment you opened the door, he was already longing for you to touch him?
“You’re so cruel, Satoru,” you murmured. “I hate you.”
Weakly, Satoru said, “I know. Get some sleep. I’ll leave soon.”
“Don’t leave.”
Satoru screwed his eyes shut, frustrated.
“Satoru.” He could listen to you say his name forever. You sighed his name in a way that felt like what aches in his heart whenever you even look at him.  “You didn’t read the messages, did you?”
“Did I miss something?”
“If you want to kiss me so bad, read it.”
His eyes shot open wide, a bit terrified. “What?” he said, dumbstruck. “Y/N— What?”
Clumsily, with no grace whatsoever, he fumbled with his phone, your words racing in his head. If you want to kiss me, read it. He bluescreened. If you want to kiss me—
you satoru doesnt read the messages here, right?
you i hate him if i never met him maybe i wouldnt have figured that i was not content with the love i had
you how do i even deal with this? i got dumped by my bf and he tells me if i love satoru so much why not just date him instead
you i love him can someone please comfort me
shoko oh no
shoko condolences for liking the most insufferable man on planet earth
suguru im sorry he’s an asshole you deserve better y/n
shoko the trashiest asshole are you sure about this?
you more than anything, unfortunately
Wait.
The asshole they were referring to was Satoru?
Wait.
Satoru jolts up from where he had been hunched over his phone, gaping at you. “Y/N,” he whispered reverently. “Y/N!”
You placed a hand on his chest as he moved towards you, preventing him from crashing into your space. He faltered. “Wait,” you laughed softly, languidly, beautifully, “not now. I’m sleepy.”
“No, fuck that,” he said, helpless. “Y/N!”
“It’s your fault for not reading our group chat.”
‘Kay, well. Satoru’s eyes narrowed like a cat prepared to pounce. “You can’t just make me read that and keep me from you like this. Why were you so mad at me yesterday?”
“Because I love you, and now my life is over,” you said, smiling.
“Say that again,” he demanded. 
“My life is over?”
Satoru was seconds away from crying. “Y/N, please,” he said, “say you love me again. Say it now.”
He held the hand on his chest and kissed it. Kissed it again, the back of your palm, your fingertips, repeating the same three words.
“I love you?” you said.
“Well, don’t sound so unsure about it.”
You laughed. “Do you even like me back?”
Satoru stared from the rim of his glasses. Instead of replying, he tugged you closer with your arm and kissed your jaw. He hoped you would get it—that you would understand. He loved you first.
“More than anything,” he echoed. He looked into your eyes, your lips, torn. “Please, let me kiss you. You’re hurting me.”
“Oh, I get a please now?”
Satoru’s eyes sharply dart down to your lips. Your grin faltered at the intensity of his stare. You swallowed, and he tracked every movement.
“You look a bit manic right now,” you said nervously.
“I’ll show you manic.”
You smiled, bumping your ankle against his back. When he glanced at it, you inched closer. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to come out and get you.
“Are you seriously going to make a move on me now? My heart is broken, Satoru.”
“Is it really?” He grinned. “Or is it just split with me?”
“Okay, smartass,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just kiss me already.”
Satoru cut the distance between the two of you. He crashed clumsily, making both of you wince, but he tilted his head and suddenly— much better. He held you closer, hoping he could wipe away any other men from your life with all he could offer—him, needy, longing, crazed.
“Satoru—” you tried, but it was swallowed by his mouth, wishing you could breathe his name from your lips to his. This was almost as good as hearing you say you love him anyway.
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lovelykhaleesiii · 2 months
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Hello!!! For the requests, can I request one for Aegon II? Pregnancy kink and maybe some family fluff with reader and Aegon's kids?
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Divine Honour.
PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader
WORDS: 1,515.
WARNINGS: domesticity, references of p in v sexual intercourse, pregnancy kink/breeding kink, lactation kink, breast play, swearing, possessive!Aegon ii, slight exhibitionism.
A/N - literally anything that involves Aegon with kids, domesticity and breeding/pregnancy kink is my weakness... I am a whore like that. hope you enjoy, I've combined these two requests :) also dedicating this as a little gift to you all in honour of the King's bday!!!!
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"Father! When can we choose an egg for the babe? Meraxes has laid a fresh clutch!"
"How much longer must we wait for this babe?!"
"B-Bub!"
The uproar of their high-pitched, eager voices left Aegon defeated, as he swiftly picked his youngest in his bulky arms, lifting the little princess onto his seated lap, where she settled herself comfortably. Babbling incomprehensible sounds [as she was still yet a babe herself, only able to muster a few coherent words] and idly pointing at your round, swollen belly. Your elder sons on the other hand, twins nonetheless, found themselves encircling their father like hounds, pouncing at his sides, desperate for answers, as you waddled yourself over to the edge of the royal bed, where they outnumbered Aegon.
"How many times must I tell you this, boys? When the babe is ready to come, it will come! Any day now, you'll have either a baby brother or little sister that you can dote on and protect for hours on end... Is that understood?"
The silver-haired boys both ecstatically eyed each other, giddy with excitement and anticipation for the newest arrival into the family, refusing to stand still. Turning towards you, your youngest only a few minutes apart from his elder, Rhaego, warmly embraced your side, careful with his grip around your protruding belly.
"You will find us when the babe is coming? Promise us, mother, that you will!"
The streak of worry tinged across his small, growing face, was enough to melt your heart. He was your exact twin, with some of Aegon's Valyrian-esque features. A smaller boy than his brother, and far more emotionally attached to you.
"Of course, my love. I will need you by my side, okay?"
"Now the lot of you, off to bed! Your mother needs her rest-"
Aegon's deep, stern voice clouded the room, before being met with the sighs and sounds of defeat from his twin boys. Gesturing for your lady in waiting, Sara, to make herself present: leading the boys, Rhaego and Aenys, out, as you warmly kissed each goodnight. Your littlest babe remained safe and sound, wrapped in Aegon's arms, desperately trying to stay awake, as she drifted in and out of sleep.
"And this little princess—”
The sudden drop in his tone, speaking in a volume only above a whisper, and far more softer, was enough to prove that your little girl was Aegon's weakness.
"My little Aelora, just doesn't want to sleep. She has far too much fun with her Daddy."
He plants a tender peck on her head, as she brightly smiles up at her father, taking much of his likeness, before rubbing her small eyes with her tiny fists, edging closer to slumber.
"Here—Here, she just needs her mother's boring touch to put her to sleep”, you tauntingly exclaim.
In exchange for his amusement, you take the babe in your arms, cradling her above your belly, as you gently sway her, lulling her to sleep. Aegon finds himself walking towards the edge of the bed, as he begins to undress, unbuttoning his tunic. Watching you from a meek distance, he feels a palpable twitch beneath the dark fabric of his pants, feels more tighter than he had noticed moments before. His thick cock stirring with excitement, as he witnesses the surreal vision of you holding his babe, whilst carrying his other unborn child.
"You truly are a divine sight, my love... You've never looked more beautiful than you do now."
His heavy words caught your immediate attention, as your focus pans from the sleeping babe to Aegon, looking rather ravenously at you. Although his orbs a light lilac shade, his gaze felt rather dark and menacing, his plump, cherry lips licked and glazing in the candle light. He looked as though he could devour you right there and then, you were rather familiar with this particular sight of your husband.
"Is that so?" You softly chuckle, turning from Aegon to the silent babe, before resuming your attention once more unto him.
"I do not feel so. I feel I am at my heaviest, Aeg. You honestly do not mean to say I am-"
Pouncing to stand, his heavy and heated footsteps pace towards you, a firm grip tugging at your silky night gown by your hips.
"Speak no more, Y/N. You cannot fathom how irresistible you look to me in this very instance... Put her down, I think she's deep in her sleep now, Mumma."
The firmness in his deep voice, almost a mimic of a growling predator, was an occurrence you saw in court, with your husband upholding his position as King. Aegon had established himself as a formidable man, despite the doubts surrounding his succession. You obeyed his command, gently lowering Aelora into her crib, as you nestled the babe in her minuscule, handwoven duvet.
"Come here—”
Gesturing you towards the end of the bed, his wolfish eyes lingered over your every inch, every detail of exposed skin, his hands wandering in sync with the insatiable lust in his eyes, as though it was your wedding night all over again.
"You think you do not look divine? Carrying my precious babe not only in your arms, but in your womb as well? Do you not think it an honour to carry and bear the seed of the King? Need I fuck you s'more and plenty, my dearest. Swelling you with as many children as your body can take, for you to understand your significance, hmm?"
Thoughtless against his lust-filled words, you hadn't even realised how swift and deliberate Aegon's sensual movements were, snaking his sturdy arms around your swollen, tender body, weak against your husband's touch. His soft lips latched to your tender skin, suckling at the sweet crevices of your neck, feeling your Grace slowly making his way carefully down, towards your busting cleavage, as he sat himself down by the end of the bed, pulling you closer towards him, trapped between his thickly sprawled thighs.
"Does your King not make you feel good? Have I failed you as your sovereign and as a husband, hmm? Need I spoil you more than I have already?"
Candidly unbuttoning the few clasps of your low-cut ivory nightgown, your tender, perky breasts instantly exposed themselves to your Grace, each tit filling with milk in preparation for the royal babe. The wintry, crisp air of the night left your skin crawling with chills, and Aegon's calloused hands, groping at each breast did not numb the feeling at all.
"N-No- Ahh, Aeg—"
"So fucking sensitive, look at you... I did this, I did this to you, you do well to remember that—"
"Y-Yes, y-your Grace," You feebly whimper, one hand firmly clasped over Aegon's broad shoulder and the other tangled in the short strands of his platinum locks: desperate to keep composure, as he taunts your delicate body. Flicking his thumb over the peaking buds of your raw, sensitive nipples, deeply chuckling to himself as he earns a helpless moan from you.
"Your body knows exactly how to take, my beloved. Knows what it is expected of, made to take my seed so fucking well, huh? Look at how steady your belly grows day by day, our babe kicking healthily inside... How these tits swell with that sweet, heavenly milk of yours, hmm? You were born for this, my dear. Made ripe for the taking of the King himself."
Without a second to spare, not even so much for a breath, Aegon's ravenous mouth latched itself onto your breast. His warm, slick tongue flicking at your nipple, suckling fiercely, eager for a drop of flavour. Instinctively your hands immediately drop onto his hefty shoulders, nails digging into the thick padding of his apparel. As you gradually grew more accustomed to the exhilarating sensation, your hands travelled their way back up, busying themselves by tugging and pulling at his silver strands: occasionally even guiding Aegon's head deeper into your bosom, keen to satisfy your King's insatiable hunger.
M-My body at th-the disposal of th-the King... The g-greatest honour b-bestowed. K-Keep fucking me, keeping m-me full of his seed—"
The mouth clasped tightly around your breast, a hand remained groping, kneading at your swollen flesh, whilst his other roamed below, firmly squeezing and palming at your ass cheek.
His stout chest heaving breathlessly, as he regained himself: Aegon's mesmerizingly violet eyes fluttered shut momentarily, before gazing upon you intently, a sly smirk strewed across his handsome face.
"Hmm, that's right, my beloved... We might even populate the Red Keep alone, and everyone will know exactly who you answer to... Everyone shall know that I be the man who fucks you hard time and time again, how well your pretty cunt takes my cock and seed. And when your body shows, everyone will know how willing your body is craving to be full of me. My beloved loves the attention from her King, yes?"
"I do, Aeg."
"And I love you... And the children, even the ones you will bear in time... I love you, just as you are."
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general taglist - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1
Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11
credit for divider - @/firefly-graphics
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thusgalanthus · 2 years
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Lmao I am a clown the biggest of fools a buffoon even a mockery of a jester if you will
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Text
Girlfriend | E.M.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader
Summary: Your boyfriend is very drunk, doesn’t recognize you and tells you he has a girlfriend. 
Word count: 1k
Warnings: this is literally just 1k of fluff. There is a tiny bit of angst about the upside down, but not really. A lot of mentions of Eddie being drunk
Author’s note: Canon divergence, it’s not really ST4 Vol. 2 compliant. Also, established relationship! :))
Disclaimer: GIF isn’t mine ;))
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Eddie Munson, the notorious drug dealer of Hawkins High and more importantly your loving boyfriend, never drank very much. Sure, he’d have the occasional beer during Corroded Coffin band rehearsals or after their performances in the Hide Out, but he almost never got hammered. He much preferred the high of a – or several – joints, relishing in the fact that the hangovers weren’t nearly as bad.
Which is why you’re very surprised to see your leather clad boyfriend quite drunk during Steve’s party at Harrington Manor, as you liked to call it. It is the first time you’ve ever seen him like this.
It is a few months after the downfall of Vecna and the (hopefully permanent) closing of the Upside Down. Eleven expertly managed to defeat him and everyone’s wounds (albeit the physical ones) finally managed to heal. Emotionally though, you’d never forget seeing Eddie’s seemingly lifeless body getting dragged out of the Upside Down by Steve, mad at yourself that you couldn’t protect him better from those godforsaken demobats.
The weeks that followed were a blur of hospital stays, refusing to leave Eddie’s side, whispered love confessions in the dark and the newly reappointed Chief of Police Hopper clearing Eddie’s name. Once Eddie was cleared to leave the hospital, you went on your first date with him and you can’t imagine your life without him ever since.
Steve had decided to throw a huge graduation party. Everyone from the self-proclaimed Babysitters’ Club has finally graduated – including Eddie, you think proudly. For this occasion, Steve had decided to open his house to the Class of ’86. Though, you also think he needed an excuse to throw a party to escape from the everlasting trauma of the Upside Down. But you weren’t one to complain, ready to jump at the opportunity to forget everything supernatural for a second.
Which is how you end up with a very drunk Eddie in Steve’s well-equipped and fully alcohol-stocked kitchen. During the party itself he mainly hung out with the older guys from Hellfire, excitedly talking about the summer campaign they were planning. You on the other hand mostly hung out with Robin and Steve. You had done a few shots with them, but not too many. You could feel the buzz of alcohol, but you’re far from drunk.
“Hey hot stuff, how you enjoying the party?” you ask Eddie, grinning up at him.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, eyeing you warily. You wonder what is up with that.
“Maybe it’s time to go to bed,” you suggest. Steve had very kindly offered you and Eddie one of the guest rooms to share. That way you could enjoy the party to the fullest. Robin and Nancy would take his parents’ room to spend the night in and if other people wanted to crash, there was always the basement with the pull-out sofa and the couch in the living room.
“No, thank you,” Eddie mutters dryly at you.
You grow concerned. What could be wrong? Maybe he’s mad at you for something, but for what? You stand right in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, gazing deeply into his eyes, hoping to maybe find and answer there.
“What’s wrong, babe?” you ask, growing a little insecure.
He quickly ducks out of your arms, keeping you at a distance. Your face falls.
“I have a girlfriend. She’s very pretty and I love ‘er very much so leave me ‘lone, please,” he says seriously, interrupted by a lone hiccup. This has your frown morphing into a smile. He clearly is very drunk. You can’t help but giggle.
“Oh, really? That’s nice. What is her name?” you tease him.
“Y/N,” he says proudly.
“What a coincidence, that’s my name too,” you wink at him.
He narrows his eyes at you, clearly not believing you. God, he’s long gone and has to get to bed very soon. A plan forms in your head.
“I know where your girlfriend is, follow me, ‘kay?” you tell him. He nods his head excitedly at the mention of his girlfriend, eager to follow you along now. He’s like a puppy sometimes, you think fondly.
You grab his arm and maneuver the both of you through the heaps of dancing bodies in the living room and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Once you’re inside he looks at you expectantly.
“Let’s get you in bed, shall we? You need to sleep,” you tell him.
“But-” he starts, but you interrupt him. “If you go to sleep now, you can see your girlfriend tomorrow, okay?” you try to compromise with him.
“Yeah, ‘kay,” he mutters tiredly, the fatigue clearly kicking in. You watch as he takes of his tight jeans and leather jacket, getting into the bed in his shirt and underpants. You go into the guest bathroom and fill two glasses that you find there with water. You put one on the bedside table next to Eddie, the other one you place on the other side of the bed.
“I’m gonna sleep on the other side of the bed, is that okay?” you ask him, tentatively. You really don’t want to leave him alone in the room in this state. He gazes up at you tiredly and mutters something along the lines of “Only if there’s pillows between”. So you obediently make a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed, seeing him doze off. Then you quickly take off your pants and bra, leaving you in a t-shirt and your panties. You flick of the lights in the room and get comfortable in the bed. Luckily, sleep finds you soon.
---
The next morning you’re awoken by a whiny groan from the other side of the bed. You turn around to see him rubbing his eyes and gazing around confusedly. He looks at the pile of pillows between the two of you and looks up at you questioningly. You giggle, last night’s memories quickly flooding back.
“You didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as me, because you had a girlfriend named Y/N,” you tease him. He groans again his head falling back into the pillow he slept on. You only begin to laugh harder. He then looks up at you with a small smile and throws all the pillows somewhere in the room. He wiggles to lay next to you and wraps you in his arms, muttering “C’mere, girlfriend.”
You smile and let yourself be cuddled.
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stellarsagittarius · 6 days
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⏳️🪐 12th House and How Your Mental Anguish Affects You 🪐⏳️
Exchange readings: Open: You (Tarot) x Me (Astrology)
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12H ruler in 1H
Imma give you a hug first, okay. What you have gone through, like the experiences that you have had with the world at large, all that you have seen in your life, you internalized it all. You have sort of taken it upon you to be the witness of the suffering around you. Because you feel it all so personally. The person you have become, the thoughts and beliefs you carry are the way they are because of the absurdity of life that you have felt so deeply. It has shaped you, a lot. Next time, try to detach. It is not about you, it was never about you, it about them. You are observing, not absorbing.
12H ruler in 2H
When you are at that lowest point, second guessing everything, it really does affect your ability to manage your resources. And more often than not it can make you feel like you are not worth-it, or that you simply do not deserve to be happy. Especially if you have Chiron in the 2H too, it can feel suffocating because you keep on doing thing, trying to make it work, but you never feel like you did enough. Affirm to yourself about your successes, keep a gratitude journal and remind yourself that your need/wants are all valid.
12H ruler in 3H
You can completely obsess over finding out the reasoning behind why certain things happen the way it did. It's like you want to understand, you want to make actual sense out of it, why your problems are causing you the things that are happening. This can lead to a detachment from actually allowing yourself to feel things out and like emotionally get in a better shape first. You can get stressed out about the facts, a lot of the times. Perhpas communication is something you truly struggle with. Talk it out with someone, understand your feelings first and then a lot of the facts will start to make sense too.
12H ruler in 4H
A lot of your turbulent thoughts and experiences affect you very deeply, like the depth which can make you question your entire existence. Now, I gotta be honest with this one, you are clearing up a lot of karma from your family lineage. You are going to the very root of the issues. Because these mental anguishes aren't surface level for you, they are seated very deeply within your psyche. You have to face these deep seated demons, otherwise you can keep them shoving them down, till it becomes completely unbearable to face yourself. On the positive note, learn to be vulnerable with yourself, learn to be more accepting of what you are going through.
12H ruler in 5H
When you are at the low point in your life, you start to put a great distance between enjoying yourself and becoming completely oblivious to your childlike nature. You need to embrace your inner child. Do what you want, but do not do it because you feel like you can't do anything else with your life. There needs to be like a balance here, between enjoying yourself and knowing when it can get destructive. Too much of anything never did good. You can struggle with finding that simplistic joy in life. So try and spend time alone for a while, maybe get a coloring book or just try and bake cookies. You don't have to be good at something to enjoy it. Even if it's loving yourself.
12H ruler in 6H
You can neglect your health like nobody's business. These thoughts, stress and anguish can manifest directly in your body. That's what it is. When you are not in a good energy, you know you need to reconnect with your body. This may come initially as a bit challenging to truly get yourself to do, but, once you build that habit over time, you will realise how much you have mastered yourself. Focus on your physical well-being. This placement is very simple. You don't need to spend time spaced out and in another world. Get down and strengthen your body, you will notice that you will start to feel much more better in your mind.
12H ruler in 7H
When you get to a low point in life, the point where you are confronted with your old habits, fears and challenging emotions, it highly reflects in your relationships (more so the romantic kind). You can easily slip into unhealthy patterns with your partners, like seeing them with rose colored glasses or not having a proper sense of boundary with them. And you may even fear that true vulnerability with them. So when that happens, seek to be honest by being polite. You are not for everyone, and the ones that are for you will always understand this. Relationship can either make you or break you, choose the people wisely.
12H ruler in 8H
At the lowest points in your life, the people who aren't by your side intentionally, remember them because they are not supposed to be a part of your life. A healthy bond is where both people are there for each other, and that's exactly what life keeps teaching you over and over again. Your biggest anguishes are be caused because of the way certain people treat you and use you for their own benefit. When that happens, remember your biggest enemy is what you do not choose to see within those who take advantage of your kind nature. Yes, we can witness everybody's suffering, but at the end of the day everybody is responsible for themselves.
12H ruler in 9H
When you are at that low point in your life, you can question your faith a lot. There is a feeling where trusting your morals can become really hard. It's like when you know you truly love something, but the mere beliefs that everybody has instilled within you from birth hold you back. And you may even be the type who rebels often because of this thing. Create your own beliefs. That will require you to question what you have always been taught, don't be afraid to question it. You need let yourself see thing. At your lowest you can really see in black and white. Take a step back and observe. Read and learn.
12H ruler in 10H
Many of your mental anguishes come from you struggling with what kind of image you want to uphold between other people. You may struggle a lot with showing up between people or excessively thinking of what other people may think of you when you are at the low points in your life. You can often feel like other people look so deep within you, within the things you want to hide from everybody. When that happens, remember that what others think of you is absolutely none of your business. As long as you know that you are on the right track, you don't need anyone to tell you otherwise.
12H ruler in 11H
You are learning to trust in your dream and not hold yourself back from achievement. You know when you are at those low points in your life, there could be a deep seated fear of missing out on opportunities. You can start to second guess your own hopes, uncertain if you even deserve to have what you want or not. There could also be this sense of feeling like there is no hope left for you, like there is nothing anymore you want to have. When that happens, try to remain grateful, look at all the cool things you have achieved till now, appriciate yourself, open yourself up to something new.
12H ruler in 12H
When you hit rock bottom, it's like plunging into the deepest recesses of your mind, where you confront your fears and doubts about existence. It's a heavy burden, carrying the weight of your own struggles and the suffering of the world within you. At times, it feels suffocating, like you're lost in a maze of your own thoughts, trying to make sense of it all. But amidst the darkness, there is also potential for a lot of spiritual growth. Your journey through the depths of your psyche can lead to a greater understanding of yourself and the universe. Meditate often, and write your thoughts, talk to someone like-minded. Do not isolate yourself either.
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That's all! Thanks for reading!
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chuuyascumsock · 6 months
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I am NOT a Sadist (I am) || Minors DNI
Summary; Sorry, not sorry. I love when there’s hurt feelings with emotional make-up sex :)
Tags; Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Afab reader, Angst, Mentions Of Depression, Hurt/Comfort, I Totally Projected My Poor Communication Skills Onto The MC, Also Self Sabotaging, But She Gets Better I Swear, I Project A Lot Actually Lmao, Sounds Kind Of Like An Unhealthy Relationship At First But They Fix It, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, They Do Hurt Each Other’s Feelings A Little, Obviously There’s Crying, Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Sweetheart, Sweet Girl, etc.), Mention Of Phone Sex, Handjob, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Make-Up Sex, Creampie, Lowkey Breeding Kink If You Squint, Actually Pretty Vanilla For Once, Pussy Is Chuuya’s Therapy, Classic Missionary, Missionary Accomplished, Why Does No One Talk About Chuuya Going On His Overseas Trips And Leaving His S/O For Months At A Time, I Feel Like It’s Such A Good Angst Idea, My Longest Oneshot Yet Btw At A 5k Wordcount.
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The honeymoon phase of your relationship with Chuuya ended quicker than you had anticipated. It felt like a slap in the face in all honesty, unexpecting of what you were really getting into as a normal civilian. Being married to an executive of the port mafia had its many upsides, yet no one really seemed to talk about the downsides and struggles of the mental toll that weighed on your conscience that came with the title as Chuuya’s wife. 
Chuuya had always been there when you needed him, and you were grateful that even with his rough exterior and conflict with opening up emotionally he could empathize with your varying issues and emotional outbursts. You tried not to be emotionally high maintenance for the sake of Chuuya already having so much on his plate, and things had seemed to be going well for the time being. 
Until he went away for his first overseas trip during your marriage. 
It was normal for Chuuya to take overseas trips while you were dating, some lasting a few days to a few weeks at most and during those times you often texted him throughout the day about how much you missed him before calling later on when he was lying exhausted in a hotel room to talk about how both of your days had gone. Of course, it had often led to phone sex, ending with the camera angled against a pillow while your fingers worked in and out of your neglected, needy pussy– your face buried into his pillow and smothering your senses with what was left of his presence in your apartment. And Chuuya would stroke his throbbing length at the sight with languid motions, thumb swiping over his leaking tip as he murmured through the speaker about how he wished he could be there to feel you split open on his cock and fill you up with his cum. And every time he came back from his trips, your relationship seemingly grew stronger from the distance, spending all his free time with you whenever he got the chance. 
And then Mori sent him away on a half year mission to Europe and everything seemed to go to shit. 
It was different when you had been dating as it was for a few days to some weeks at most, but a six-month excursion made your throat clench and your heart ache with saudade. You tried to keep a positive mindset, yet it was harder as each day had passed and Chuuya grew too tired from the days’ events to even call anymore. Messages on his side grew shorter and dull by the end of the third month, only sending a small good morning and good night text with the occasional ‘I love you’.  
Instead of bringing it up or attempting to fix it, you felt a sense of hopelessness and withdrew from him as well, not wanting to burden him with your spamming messages or feelings that could hinder him while dealing with an important mission. You spent the next three months stewing in a depressive state, loneliness eating away at you as you went day to day going to your job and coming back to an empty apartment. You stopped going out with your friends, stopped bothering to take care of yourself– completely ruining your sleeping and eating schedule in the process– leaving you with dark bags under your eyes and slightly paler looking complexion. You had grown so comfortable in Chuuya’s love and had no idea how to handle the situation you were in, fearing of saying something that would upset him. 
When Chuuya had come back, he hadn’t noticed the change in your behavior– too tired himself to see the toll his absence had taken on you. But to you, your straining relationship was apparent, and it only fueled your depression as Chuuya spent less time with you when he got back home than he used to when you were dating. He was either working on other missions given by Mori within the area or spent his free time sleeping. You barely felt as if you were married anymore, your relationship seeming more like roommates who rarely ever interacted every passing day.  
Your deteriorating mental health was beginning to wear your mind and patience thin, leading to a series of outbursts and fights between the two of you. You’d snap at him with an antagonizing start, and he’d finish with a frustrating end, either leaving to cool off or going to sleep on the couch. You could tell it was getting to him because he confronted you one day after he had mentioned that Mori was thinking about sending him on another grueling months-long overseas mission in America and you gave him the cold shoulder, closing yourself off from him. 
“What the hell has been your problem lately, huh? You’ve been acting shitty for the last few weeks and it’s really starting to get on my nerves,” He gripes, crossing his arms over his chest defensively as he leans against the kitchen counter. 
“I don’t have a problem, you’re the one starting things,” You tiredly glare at the words in your novel, wanting to read and forget everything falling apart around you, but it’s hard when Chuuya persists.  
Chuuya scoffs, “Bullshit, you have this nasty attitude and it's been bothering the hell out of me– so what the hell is your problem?” He repeats, his eyes burning holes into the side of your apathetic expression from across the room.  
“Good thing you won’t have to deal with it for long, huh?” You respond flatly, avoiding his question once again. You and Chuuya have always had an issue with things like this due to him being blunt when he was upset about something while you tended to dance around it and drawl the problem on longer than it had to be than if you were to talk about your problems from the start. 
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” His jaw sets, teeth clenching behind his scowl, “You know it annoys the hell out of me when you say cryptic shit like that— answer my question.” Chuuya’s temper was something no one enjoyed testing and you once feared setting him off, but now you couldn’t find it in you to care whether he blew up on you or not. 
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your next mission?” You’re metaphorically poking more than just a bear at this point; this is an entire fucking lion you’re sticking your hand into the mouth of– waiting for it to rip you apart. 
Chuuya’s steps are heavy as he approaches you with a stern glare, “I’m not leaving until you tell me, I’m tired of these games, [name].”  
His words make you snort bitterly as you mock, “Yeah, okay– like you’re not just Mori’s lapdog– at his every beck and call.” You know he’d leave the minute Mori sent a text or called asking where he was. 
Chuuya’s face contorts in mild surprise and slight hurt at your words, not expecting you to stoop so low as to refer to him as a lapdog for Mori. “I really don’t know why the fuck you’re acting like this, but it’s seriously pissin’ me off. Can you just tell me what I supposedly did wrong to make you treat me like this? Because last time I checked, I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” His statement was ironic in the sense that him not doing anything was the problem.  
Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale in spiteful amusement, though nothing was amusing about it, because you knew you were going to regret everything you said after the fight was over.  
“Of course, you didn’t,” There’s clear sarcasm in your tone, your hands now messing with the pages of your novel mindlessly. 
“Why won’t you just talk to me!? I can’t read your mind– how can I fix a problem when you won’t tell me what I did wrong?” He starts to raise his voice in frustration. You can see his fists clenching from the corners of your eyes. 
You only remove yourself further emotionally by shutting down completely. It was common for you to go completely non-verbal in any argument, the stress of the conflict physically affecting you in ways that kept you from speaking– like your throat tightening and tongue growing heavy in your mouth. This was another issue between you and Chuuya as he was the type to raise his voice whilst arguing to make himself and his feelings known, the complete opposite of yourself. 
An inkling of doubt buries in your chest as you begin to think that maybe you’re not as compatible with Chuuya as you thought you were. 
Chuuya notices your silence and he feels his impatience growing, his foot starting to tap against the floor with agitation as his hands fall to rest on his hips, “God dammit, [name], can you just tell me? I’m not in the mood to play detective and try to figure out why you’re playing your fucking games, I have shit to do.” 
You find it in you to respond, though it’s weak and filled with animosity, “You always have shit to do.” 
An exasperated sigh leaves Chuuya as he stands in front of you, “Is that what this is about? Because I have work? A job? Believe it or not, the mafia isn’t as lenient as to give me a day off, sweetheart,” He says sarcastically, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Sorry that I have to serve an organization that will literally have my head if god forbid, I even thought about leaving!” 
“You don’t even spend time with me anymore when you do have time off,” You rasp, your eyes set on the crumbling pages underneath your fingertips. 
“I’m exhausted because I’m constantly working my ass off! Sorry that I can’t do fuck whatever and whenever like you can! Unlike you, I actually work for the things I want instead of sitting around and waiting for it to just fall into my lap!” Your brows furrow at his words, knowing it’s utter bullshit. But it still gets under your skin. 
You could easily quit your job and live off of the makings of what Chuuya has— he’s even offered the idea before— but you wanted to keep a sense of independence and to continue to be productive instead of a burden that burns cash. Your conclusion is that it was to get back at your lapdog comment. 
“And you know what? You have nothing to fuckin’ complain about because you get everything you want. Are you just bored? Is that why you’re starting shit? Or is it those friends of yours filling your head with bullshit?” He leans over to your eye level, his hands resting above his knees for support with a firm stare into the side of your face as you refuse to make eye contact with him. 
You were over this. All of it. You were tired of the tension, the fighting, feeling the way you were.  
Which led the next words to slip out from your mouth without a second thought, “I want a break.” 
Chuuya’s scowl quickly shifted to a look of pure bewilderment, to immense hurt and slight panic, then to anger, “A break? You can’t just take a break whenever something doesn’t go your way, that’s not how this works.” 
“I don’t care, I want a break,” It’s getting difficult to talk again as you feel your eyes begin to water. 
“Look me in the eyes and tell me that,” He demands, almost hesitantly. 
It takes minutes for you to finally look into his piercing gray eyes without crying and repeat your words, “I want a break.” 
His body straightens and he brings a hand to rub at his eyes, his other hand on his hip. He seems disappointed and a whole lot of other emotions, but mostly frustrated at this whole ordeal. There’s a deafening silence before he drags his hand down his face and lets it fall to his side, “You want a break? Fine, I’ll tell Mori I’m going on the mission then and be gone by tomorrow morning— you’ll get your break.” He then storms off to finish getting ready for work, leaving you to sit alone on the couch, regretting everything that just happened. 
And even when you still have the chance to stop him from walking out the door and just talk to him, you don’t. Instead, you stare down at the ring on your finger numbly, listening to his heavy footfalls as they move towards the front door and then the slamming that follows when he leaves. 
You soon break down crying after, feeling as if you’ve lost everything. You know you could easily fix it with a simple text of wanting to talk things out, but the self-sabotaging nature in you refused to move a muscle. You cry for hours until your body grows exhausted, and you fall asleep on the couch in a tangled mess of some throw blankets and decorative pillows. 
Hours later, Chuuya enters your shared apartment quietly, taking his hat off as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s tired just as much as you are with how things are going in your relationship, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and trying so desperately to figure out how to fix it, but he can’t when you won’t tell him what the problem is. He knows you struggle deep down with telling others about how you feel, and it makes him feel hopeless at times when you won’t even tell him how you feel. 
His eyes trail over the living room before they fall on you and the blankets your body is buried under, your sleeping face peeking through. Chuuya takes light steps over to the couch before crouching in front of you and taking off one of his gloves, his hand slowly reaching out to move a few baby hairs away from your face. His eyes soften when he rubs away the tear stains on your cheeks with his thumb.  
There’s a small ache in his chest from the events and words exchanged earlier, feeling a growing tightness in his throat. He didn’t mean it when he said those things and he knows you didn’t mean what you said. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt any less.  
He begins to feel guilt weighing on his consciousness. He replays all your expressions and words in his mind and starts to think about your reaction to the whole reason the fight started in the first place. It takes a few moments of him silently sitting next to the couch and caressing your face mindlessly until he finally realizes what’s been wrong the whole time. 
When you wake up hours later, you’re no longer on the couch, but placed comfortably in your bed. You rub the crust from your eyes and feel a heavy weight in your chest like a bag of stones when the spot next to you is void of Chuuya. ‘He actually left,’ You thought, but you knew you had no one to blame but yourself— even if you had hoped that he would stay. Now fully awake, you slip out of bed sluggishly and shuffle out your bedroom. 
A faint voice from the living room catches your attention and you notice that it’s the TV. There’s a small spark of hope that flickers in your stomach as you slowly creep into the living room. Relief settles in your heart to see the back of Chuuya’s head peeking from the couch. You make your way around the couch timidly until you’re in Chuuya’s sights. He stares tiredly at the TV before he sees you move into his view from the corner of his eye and looks over to you. 
“I… thought you were going to go on the mission…” You whisper, anxiously twisting and fidgeting with the end of your oversized shirt that slightly hangs off your shoulders. 
“I had Mori get someone else to do it,” Chuuya responds quietly, his eyes traveling your figure from top to bottom before propping an arm on the backrest of the couch as a silent invitation for you to sit next to him. 
As soon as you sit next to him, his arm shifts until his callous hand rests on the nape of your neck, rubbing at your skin in a soothing manner. He pulls you into his side after a few moments and turns his face slightly to press a soft kiss against your hairline.  
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” He starts off, sincere in each word as he continues, “Why didn’t you say anything?” It sounds almost rhetorical because you know he knows why on a surface level, but he doesn’t know why.  
You’re silent for a bit before hesitantly answering, “I didn’t want to stress you out by making you feel like you had to constantly tend to me.” 
“You’re my wife, not a burden. No matter how stressed out I am, I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t come to me with your feelings or just to bother me. I know I was gone for a long time, and I shouldn’t’ve become as distant as I had, but–” He sighs out in exasperation, “–Baby, you’ve gotta communicate with me. I don’t wanna fight like this and worry about our marriage. I want us to work out– I need us to work out because…” Chuuya trails off before moving his body to turn towards you and tilt your chin up with his other hand to look you in the eyes. 
“I need you, [name]. You’re my person. Okay?”  
Your chest throbs and aches at his words as his slate gray eyes flicker over your face and then meet your now watering eyes, “You’re my person too, Chuuya. I’m sorry…” You croak out through quivering lips and break down into tears, leaning forward to bury your face into his chest. “M’sorry– didn’t mean anything I said last night– won’t do it again,” You stumble over your words through muffled sobs.  
Chuuya moves his hand from your chin to hold the back of your head, pressing you into his chest as he kisses the top of your head, “I know you didn’t, sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said either. You know I love you, right?” 
You nod, your small sobs and hiccups muted by his loose tank top as you hug your arms around his torso to pull him to you as close as possible, “I love you too…” 
He pulls you back reluctantly from your embrace and cups your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, “I promise that I’ll make an effort to be a better husband, I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. I shouldn’t have neglected you like that and made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. That’s the last thing that I want.” 
“I’m gonna do better too, promise,” You sniffle, trying to hold back from anymore tears falling down your face, “Wanna be better for you.” 
“I wanna be better for you too, doll,” He murmurs before his face grows closer to yours to place a soft, innocent kiss against your lips. 
Your hands come to clasp over his own that cup your face and your eyes lull into his fond gaze, “I missed you,” You whisper with longing. 
“I missed you too, baby. It killed me not being able to wake up next to you every morning n’see your pretty face,” He exhales gently, kissing you again. 
Your heart stutters at his words and you reciprocate the kiss, refusing to pull away as quickly as before. When your lashes flutter open, you lean your face into his touch, “I need you, Chuuya,” And it’s clear to him that it wasn’t meant in just an innocent manner.  
“Yeah? Missed me that much, sweet girl?” His nose nudges against yours affectionately before capturing your lips into a sensual kiss. Feeling his lips smother against yours and the ring on his finger to remind you of his undying love and devotion to you only encourages the simmering heat in your chest and lower stomach. And when he mumbles a muffled, “C’mere,” against your lips, you’re quick to climb into his lap and thread a hand into his ginger hair. He hums in amusement at your eagerness and moves his lips to trail pecks along your jaw and down your throat, “Always were so needy f’me and I fuckin’ love it– love everything about you, doll.” He groans under his breath, hands heavily groping at any part of your plush body to keep you against him. 
“Only for you, it’s always been you,” You breathe out with a shaky exhale and Chuuya is unable to hide the small whimper that escapes the back of his throat. 
“Fuck, it’s always been you too, doll. I love you so much it hurts,” He pulls you back down into a desperate and hungry open-mouthed kiss, his tongue seeking out until his muscle is entangling with yours.  
Your face flushes with warmth as you mold your lips against his feverishly, head tilting to deepen the kiss until you’re both panting for air into each other’s mouths, “Please…” You plead, squirming in his lap. 
“I know, babydoll, I feel it too,” Chuuya groans quietly, feeling your thinly clothed pussy skim over the bulge in his gym shorts. “Wanna take this slow though, need to feel all of you, okay?” His hands cup the bottom of your thighs as he moves off the couch to stand up, your lips not parting for even a second as he makes his way to your bedroom and over to the bed. When his shins bump against the bottom frame of the bed, he leans over to lay you down on the mattress gently, lips leaving yours to move back down the expanse of your neck. You shiver, fingers messily tangling into his locks of hair whilst your other hand finds its way in between your bodies to run your hand over his erection. “F-Fuck,” Chuuya breathes out against the skin of your throat, hips jerking forward into your touch. “God, it’s been so long, I almost came,” He admits with embarrassment before latching onto a small patch of your skin to suckle at, pressing kisses to the spot occasionally. 
“Baby, please— wanna touch you so bad,” Was all you had to whine before he slips his baggy gym shorts off to reveal his stiff, throbbing cock. Your hand wraps around him, thumb pressing to his leaking slit to swipe at the precum dribbling out to spread it along his length with a few pumps of your hand. There’s a quiet “schlick” each time your wrist flicks to draw your hand back up to his angry mushroom tip before moving back down to the base of his shaft. 
Chuuya is unashamed when he lets out airy moans against your neck that’s now littered with his love marks, “Shit, you’re s’fuckin’ good, baby— just like that.” His right hand finds its way under your large shirt to grab at your underwear and pull at it until it tears off you. 
“Chuuya,” You whine in complaint, watching him toss the now torn fabric onto the floor, “I liked those.” 
“S’okay, I’ll get you more, sweetheart, promise,” His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he slips his middle and ring finger through your folds to spread your glistening sex open. “Look at how fucking wet you are, you like jerkin’ me off that much, pretty girl?” He groans, eyes glued to your hole clenching around nothing. 
You bury your face into the crook of his neck timidly as your hand pumping around his cock falters slightly from the way he talks, “C-Chuuya…” 
Chuuya chuckles before softly moaning into the side of your head, face nuzzling affectionately into your hair, “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy, look at how your sweet little cunt takes my fingers.” 
Flustered, you peek from his neck to watch his digits dip into your arousal, dragging them up to circle over your clit a few times and then slipping down to sink into your pulsing walls. Whilst his fingers weren’t considered long, they have you twitching from pleasure with how thick they are. “Feels good,” You slur out as your hand squeezes around the base of his cock. 
“Yeah? You love it when I stretch this pussy out with my fat fingers, huh?” He sucks in a short breath as he tries not to come right then and there in your hand as he fingers his digits in and out of your squelching pussy. “My sweet girl likes having her hole stuffed by her husband, hm,” His fingers work faster in and out of your cunt as he angles his thumb to draw rough circles into your needy clit.  
Your grip and stroking around his length only continues to falter as your thighs spasm softly, “M’gonna come— fuck— Chuu, noo, no, no…” You squirm, your other hand tugs his hair. 
“What’s wrong, doll?” Chuuya’s fingers slow to a stop, causing you to whimper from the ebbing buildup of your orgasm. He’s the same as you when he feels your hand come to a stop around his shaft. 
“Wanna come on your cock,” You mumble into him, “Want you to fill me up with your cum.” 
Chuuya feels his heart thrum in his throat wildly as he hears you speak before making quick work of your shirt and his tank top until you're both as bare as you were when you were brought into the world. “Yeah? Need me to fill your cute pussy up until my cum is spilling outta ya?” He hovers over you between your spread thighs as he hooks your legs over his hips.  
“Just wanna feel you close to me,” You admit with a sweet and quiet voice, your legs drawing him in until his throbbing cock is rubbing between your pussy lips with his tip nudging at your puffy clit. 
His eyes widen barely before softening, his movements becoming less erratic and eager as he leans down to place a gentle kiss against your lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll, m’gonna take care of ya like I always do.” He whispers, his right hand moving to guide the tip of his cock against the entrance of your core. Much like his fingers, his thick length bullies into your warm pussy slowly, stretching and splitting you open on his cock. “Fuuuuck, baby, you take me so well. Can’t get enough of seeing you stretch open on me.” 
Your legs tighten around him as you feel his hips press against yours until his balls are flush with your ass, “You’re s’big— it hurts every time, but it hurts good,” A small whimper leaves you as your hands grip at the bedsheets. 
When Chuuya pulls away, he watches his cock twitch from the loss of warmth your tight hole provided before seeing it stretch you back open to fill you. “God, I’ll never get over you,” He hisses through his teeth, pistoning his cock in and out of you at an agonizing pace, “Your pussy was made for me.” 
Chuuya’s gaze isn’t on where your bodies connect for long before he’s back to hovering over you, pinning your hands above your head. They’re placed palm up on top of one another before being locked in place with his left hand interlocking your fingers. The action makes your heart tighten with affection as well as your fingers when you squeeze his hand. The subtle noise of metal clinking from your wedding bands only makes your heart swell with pure unadulterated love for him further. Your eyes start to water again from the overwhelming emotions and love you feel for him. 
He squeezes your hand back in comfort, eyes studying your teary face, “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that, doll?” He says out of nowhere, “M’so lucky to have you.” 
You clench around him as you stare back through blurry eyes back into his focused ones, moaning from the way his tip kisses at your g-spot with each thrust. “Mm— Lucky to have you too— you’re so good to me, Chuu,” You mewl out, feeling your stomach twist and coil with intensity.  
“Want you to come for me, please, baby— wanna make you come,” Chuuya’s words grow more pitchy and airier as he reaches his right hand down to rub at your throbbing clit with vigor. 
“A-Ah, fuck—“ Your body arches, hips erratically bucking into his, “C-Coming..! Shit, s’too much.” You sob, tears slipping down your temples and into the mattress. Your cries are soon silenced by Chuuya’s lips swallowing your noises in a passionate, yet sloppy kiss. You muffle incoherently against his lips, but he knows it’s a repeated line of I love you’s as your nails dig into the back of his hand and you cream around his length.  
As your walls spasm around his twitching cock, a guttural groan leaves his throat and he spills his hot, viscous cum deep into your starving pussy until it’s leaking out of your tight hole and down his balls. “Atta girl…” He murmurs through pants, kissing your sweaty forehead lovingly. 
“I love you,” You repeat gently one last time as you both relish in the softness of your afterglow. 
“I love you too,” Chuuya sighs with a ghost of a smile on his face as he admires you underneath him, hand coming down from your hands to wipe away your stray tears, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere, doll? Cause I’ve still got years of loving you left to go.” 
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kalki-tarot · 5 months
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LOVER — Their Secret Desires 🖤
@kalki-tarot
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pick only one picture that call you out the most.
In this reading I'll tap into your lover's energy and their desires related to you. This does not apply for crushes. But can be applied when both parties are in love with eachother and aware about each other's feelings of love.
This reading is just for fun & entertainment purposes and i am not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of this reading.
Pick a pile masterlist 🖤✨️
Pile 01
Knight of Swords, the magician, Nine of pentacles, the Sun, Three of wands, king of wands, king of cups, death, knight of wands, ace of cups
They want to do adventurous things with you, like sneaking out or exploring and unknown city at night. They definitely have a lot of passion for you in their heart and they may not express it most of the times. But their feelings are very intense and spontaneous for you.
They want to build and empire with and for you. They want to make you the King/Queen of it. Like they wanna provide you everything you need. And will let you rest while they do the work. They see you as their team. And they like it when you both work together.
They want to travel to new places with you. They definitely want to create something with you, maybe a business or smth?
They want to control you (in 18+ way) and take charge of you. They can be very dominating and you may like it very much.
If you haven't met this person yet, then they want to meet with you while traveling. Or if you're in a long distance relationship, they want to travel to you and just hug you when you both meet.
They want to take you on dates. They want to get vulnerable with you while having a drink or smth late at night. This person is very romantic and kind. They want to give you small but meaningful gifts that you'll want to cherish forever.
If you're an introvert or a socially awkward person, then they want to help you get out of your comfort zone and they'll help you approach new people and make new friendships.
Whenever this person is at a social gathering, they feel alone at times and they just think of you all the time. I'm also getting that they want you to notice them only, in the crowd when other people are around. They can get a lot possessive sometimes. I just heard "You're mine. Back off" lol. They're very cute and possessive.
Pile 02
5 cups, justice, the chariot, the tower, the hanged man, three of pentacles, queen of cups, knight of pentacles, 4 of wands
I sense a very mature kind of energy from this person. Either they are emotionally mature or they're just elder than you and have more experiences in things. This person would fight anyone who makes you sad. Like seriously, they're gonna fight and argure for you till the end. They don't like to see you sad basically.
They sometimes wish if they could just drag you out of the hell you've been living in for a while. But they can't do anything against life's circumstances. If you're stuck in life and don't know what to do, they would like to help you out very dearly.
If you do something mischievous then they're gonna act like your mom and scold you in a very cute snd funny way. 😂 They think you're childlike and innocent but your actions are very cute and devilish lol.
It's a secret but they like it when you take care of them very lovingly. They like it when you let them put their head in your lap for a while to let them rest. 🥺 They think you are a very delicate and soft hearted person who loves everything and everyone purely. They also like it if you're into things like tarot or occult. They like your mysterious nature and they find it very interesting.
They wanna marry you, straight up. They think you'd make such a good wife/husband. They love you and want to live a happily ever afterwards with you. They also want to have a family with you. Very warm and loving.
Pile 03
5 of swords, knight of swords, three of swords, king of swords, queen of wands, two of pentacles, 2 of cups
Lot's of air sign energy pile 3! What i sense is that they want to fight for Dominance in bed like very playful energy. They wanna jump in the bed with you and wrestle with you and tickle you.
They wanna win against you but when the see your sad and pouty face, they'll let you take the charges ;) I also feel as if they wanna sweep away all your sad experience and thoughts from your mind by being funny or cracking funny jokes.
And I get 18+ energy which I can't describe here so sorry for that.
I sense competitiveness from you guys lol like you both are ready to fight and challenge each other in a playful way. Very lively couple! You both like to go with the flow.
Deep down they know that you're their lifetime partner and they can't let you go because you are the best for them and they may not always express it but they surely love you and see you as their equal counterpart.
They wanna get vulnerable with you and tell you their deep down insecurities and they hope that you won't use it against them. They trust you with their feelings very much though they may not tell that directly to you.
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loveemagicpeace · 7 months
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🎢Astrology Notes🎢
💧People with neptune in the 4th house - they almost always have one parent who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. And I always see that these people become very famous in life.
🎸People with venus in 4th house are not always happy at home. Although Venus is the planet of love, justice, peace and beauty. On the other hand, it is also the planet of finance, money, materialism. And as a child, you may often feel that your parents are too materialistic or that money plays an important role at home. You may also feel that your parents look at you as an object and as a person. Not always, but many times people with this placement go to court when it comes to inheritance.
⛵️People often accuse sagittarius of being too direct, speaking their mind and having too strong opinions. But the thing is that they just want to say things from their perspective, realistically and help. They don't really care what you do in the end.
✨A men should always have a more dominant moon than a woman in my opinion. So for ex.: woman with cancer moon should have men with taurus moon or woman with virgo moon should have men with leo moon. This is because this way the woman will feel more stable in the relationship.
🌴People with Mars in a fire sign will always look for someone who will be fearless, persistent and won't give up. Someone who will be assertive and dominant. They love challenges and they love the craziness and teenage energy. They like someone with whom they can have a teenage and passionate relationship.
🌌Neptune represents where you can manifest something. What can you achieve faster and in an easier way. Wherever you have Neptune in your house shows what you can manifest quickly. For ex.: Neptune in 1st house-your appearance, style, personality, recognition, energy. Neptune in 5th house- joy, romance, dating life.Neptune in 8th house- finances, intimacy, truth, secrets.Neptune in 11th house- social media, dreams, interests, friends.
🌙Moon can be a changing game in the chart. You can have venus & mars in leo, which can mean that you are more inclined to have fun or flirt, but let's say if you have a taurus moon, after that this could change. And you can be much more calm and serious in the group. Your energy is also much more radiated and many times you will rather be at home than in a crowd of people. Or having venus& mars in sag and cancer moon- this then makes you a person who prefers to be with people you know and many times you don't like to go somewhere where there are many unknown people (even birthdays can be a problem). Because Moon represents how you feel and also your environment, where u feel safe.
🥂If you think mercury in virgo look at the details , then you haven't met someone who has mercury in scoprio. They will do anything to investigate the person they like. And literally looked at the person from all possible angles in pictures and videos.
🎨Cancer moon people are more huggable than Taurus moon people.They will immediately hug you and the cancer moon needs a lot of love and kindness. They are really so nice and will always be there for you. Also funny thing about cancer moon is that when they don't feel good in group or in the environment they are in: they are always "I'm going home" kind of vibe. They will not even go to a birthday party if they feel that the environment does not suit them. They put a lot of effort into feeling good in the environment.
🎸Your 9th house sign can show you the types of friends you might not see very often, but when you hang out, you usually have a ton of fun & a lot to catch up on. And they can be very close to you as a person, even if you don't see each other that much. Can also show you the types of people in your life that might be long-distance friends too.
🧸Parents with a water moon will sacrifice everything for their children. Especially pisces or cancer. They know how to connect emotionally with their children. And I really like that - that whatever they will be able to understand emotionally.
⛰️I have noticed many times that Aquarius men cheat and actually I've never seen anyone who didn't -because their identity is subject to the fact that they always want to be free in some way. A combination of men with sun in aqua, pisces moon & gemini rising is often questionable.
💡The most broken signs on the inside are often the ones who don't show as much energy and openness. Or they are always emotionally strong. Placements like this are: aries moon(very very independent moon often have a hard time letting someone help them), pluto in 1st house( their problem is that they are afraid of losing their power and being vulnerable), capricorn rising( they tend to think that they have to do everything by themselves and somehow don't like to discuss difficult things with others), scorpio moon( very intense moon, problems with showing emotions), taurus moon( many times they shut down emotionally and don't like to talk about what's wrong, suppress their problems), sagittarius rising( their energy is very happy and optimistic, but sometimes they feel too much that they don't need help).
✨Ig-bekylibra✨
- Rebekah🌸🌙🎸
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