#and law doesn't know how to cope

[whatachaos]

I was listening to Taylor Swift and lawlu happened

I'M 12 ALL OVER AGAIN

I'M CRINGE BUT I'M FREE

[nighttimescribbles]

worst part of my job is being up to my eyeballs in contract review. literally stepping away every half hour to do something else and bemoaning the slow crawl of time for my billing quota 😭 yesterday i had to work on litigation documents and the DIFFERENCE??? i sat there for 7+ hours straight doing the thing because i was having so much fun.

[bullet-prooflove]

Mood: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @gabsgabsvaz @fadeinsol

Summary: Jack reacts badly when you surprise him with a trip to Germany.

Companion piece to:

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

Go Your Own Way - Jack struggles with his feelings for you.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Messy - John doesn't mind getting a little messy when it's with you.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Nadine - Jack's sister in law is a real piece of work.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Sucker - Jack pulls out all the stops in order to win an important race.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Champagne Gold (NSFW) - Jack never thought he'd marry again.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Blood (NSFW) - Jack takes care of you in the aftermath of Pittfest in his own special way.

Life Raft - Jack reaches out when he sees that you're struggling.

Bread - Jack finds his own way to cope with almost losing you at Pittfest.

Overcompensating - A problem with Jack's prosthetic leads him to overcompensate during his shift.

Good Boy (NSFW) - You use alternative methods to get Jack to agree to take care of himself.

A Goddamn Miracle Worker - You always know the perfect way to take care of Jack.

Jack’s in a mood. He’s been in a mood ever since you woke him up and told him you need to get your asses to the airport because you’re flying to Ottobock’s clinic in Munich to get his new prosthetic leg fitted. He sits in the window seat of the plane, his arms crossed over his chest with a pout on his features that reminds of the early days of your relationship, when you thought your colleague hated you.

“You shouldn’t have surprised me like this.” He informs you, shoulders drawn up as he stares at the back of the seat in front of him. “I’m serious, you shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not apologising for solving a problem that is literally effecting your day to day existence.” You inform him as you flick through the magazine you picked up in the airport. “So suck it up buttercup, this is happening.”

“It’s not fair of you to use your connections like this when there are hundreds of people ahead of me on the waiting list. Why is my need greater than theirs?” He argues and you toss the magazine into the empty seat next to you before you turn to face him.

“Because your current leg is slowing you down Jack. You know it and I know it.” You erupt, gesturing at the space where his prosthetic resides as months of frustration seeps out of you. “There’s going to come a time when it fails you, when you can’t get to that patient quick enough or you can’t do what you need to do and that is going to haunt you, it’s going to eat you up from the inside out and I do not want that! I don’t want you blaming yourself for a faulty piece of equipment that should have been replaced months ago!”

“It’s still not right.” He grumbles, collapsing back into his seat with a huff and staring out the window. "I don't deserve special treatment."

“Well you can spent the next nine hours being super mad about it or you can lift the armrest and we can nap together so we’re fresh when we get to the other side.” You inform him, removing your headphones and sleep mask from your carry on.

His jaw clenches, the corded muscles in his throat prominent as he swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the clouds outside.

“I don’t need a nap.” He tells you putting his elbow on the armrest, keeping it firmly in place. It feels like a slap in the fucking face, just like he intended.

“Fine you wanna be an asshole, be an asshole.” You say, jamming your headphones into your ears. “I’ll still be here when you decide not to be.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #13 死

† the wound that always bleeds †

"Like a mathematical equation, turns out sleeping next to a warm body has always been the solution, which to Jungkook is ironic. Just how ironic it is to Taehyung, that Jeon keeps pretending he's above everything and everyone."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6,5k

rating: mature

content: walk of shame (not), sharing secrets, best friend gossip, 8 hours of sleep for jeon (yay), v's sadistic streak shining through, v being a psychotic lil' shit, takama stepping in to save the day, v ruining lives for the fun of it and jimin being too soft for his own good (why do i always do this shit to jimin bro)

☠ author's note ☠

First of all, Kiki Nation on Tumblr is FUCKING UNHINGED. The goal was 200 notes and it took y'all less than 24 hours. I'm flabbergasted. But also it was smut so... understandable. I see you, horny little gremlins. I respect your dedication.

So here's chapter 13! (I had to proofread this while revising tax law so if something doesn't make sense, it's your fault somehow. Don't question my logic.)

AHHHHH I finally got to show off V's more psychotic nature! His little sadistic side coming out to play! He's such a little shit I love him. Writing characters with mental instability is my emotional support activity.

Well well well, things are slowly unveiling, huh? So what the fuck happened?! Who is Sylvia?! WHAT IS GOING ON?!

That's for me to know and you to lose sleep over for now (◕‿◕✿)

You know, sometimes I genuinely forget you don't have access to the absolute chaos that is my brain. Like it's genuinely hard for me to understand this from an outside perspective because I have the whole plot mapped out in excruciating detail, but you're still in the dark and it's like—is it too obvious? Is it too vague? AM I BEING COHERENT?

The eternal struggle of writing mysteries when you already know the answer. It's like trying to play poker while everyone can see your cards except you think they can't but maybe they can a little bit?? This is why I don't sleep.

Anyway, that's it for now! Love you all, you enablers of my questionable coping mechanisms! (ง •̀_•́)ง

EDIT: If you haven’t read the prologue… you must. Otherwise this is going to be hard to understand bahahaha.

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The alarm rips through your dreams like a knife, and god—you've never hated a sound more in your life.

Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead, your body heavy with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from... well. Last night's activities.

The blankets are so warm, and you smell like pine and sex and masculine. Just five more minutes...

Then reality bitch-slaps you awake. You're in Jeon's tent. At dawn. Which is exactly where you're not supposed to be.

His leg is thrown over yours, arm draped across your waist like he's trying to keep you there. It's almost... cute?

No, not cute. Definitely not cute. Just annoying. And inconvenient.

You nudge him with your elbow, trying to wiggle free without fully waking him. The grunt he makes is surprisingly soft.

"Stay still..." His voice is rough with sleep, half-muffled against your shoulder. "Just five more minutes. Let me doze off again before you go."

You huff but stop moving. It's just five minutes, right? Not like anyone's awake yet anyway. And he's so warm, his breath steady against your skin.

It's... nice. In a way that's probably dangerous.

His breathing evens out quickly, dropping back into sleep. The mighty Chief Jeon, passed out and cuddling. If you weren't so tired, you'd probably laugh.

When you finally ease out from under him, his body twitches slightly—this tiny, unconscious movement that's so unexpectedly human.

It's so weird seeing him like this, soft and sleep-warm skin. Almost makes you forget he's the gang's deadliest assassin.

Or one of them, if you consider V.

Better not tell Jeon you thought that, anyway.

You wiggle back into your clothes as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him—leggings, panties, bra, that stupid crewneck that started all this. No need to give the rest of the camp a morning show.

You crawl out of his tent like the trained seductress you are—silent and graceful. Well, as graceful as anyone can be at ass o'clock in the morning.

The camp is dead quiet except for the occasional snore from distant tents.

Your heart doesn't stop hammering until you're safely away from his tent. The morning air hits your skin, fresh and sharp, washing away the lingering scent of pine and sex.

With each step, you build up that sense of normalcy that someone who didn't fuck a chief last night should wear. No walk of shame here—just a perfectly normal morning stroll. Nothing to see.

The portable table catches your eye as you pass—someone's left out water bottles and snacks like offerings to the gods of late-night hookups. You grab a bottle, the plastic cool against your palm. The water helps, but it doesn't quite wash away the taste of him.

Not that you're thinking about that. Nope. Not at all.

You take another sip of water, trying to convince yourself you're totally fine with how things went down.

(You're not.)

Because seriously—what kind of assassin doesn't carry protection? The absolute audacity of Jeon, walking around looking like that, with those hands and that mouth and those fucking bedroom eyes, and not being prepared?

Criminal. Actually criminal.

Not that you're thinking about his hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd worked you up so perfectly, taking you apart piece by piece until you were shaking.

You drain half the water bottle in one go, but it doesn't help. Your body's still humming with leftover want, still craving more than just grinding and kisses.

Because fuck—it was good, but you know it could've been better. Could've had him filling you up, stretching you open, making you see stars...

If only he had brought condoms with him.

"Fucking hell," you mutter, slightly crushing bottle. The plastic crackles satisfyingly in your grip.

You can't even properly be mad at him. Not when he'd made sure you came first, not when he'd been so attentive to every little sound and movement.

But still.

The fact that you'd been this close to getting properly railed by Chief Jeon, only to be cockblocked by his own lack of preparation?

Infuriating.

Your core throbs at the memory of his cock pressed against you, at how big he'd felt even through layers of fabric. God, the things he could've done to you if he'd just—

Fucking stupid sniper. The audacity of leaving you wanting more.

And oh, there will be a next time. You're getting that dick properly, even if you have to staple condoms to his fucking forehead.

Because someone who looks like that and kisses like that and uses his hands like that? Yeah. You're not done with him yet.

"Good morning."

JM's soft voice yanks you out of your definitely-not-horny thoughts. He looks adorably rumpled, all oversized sweater and messy salmon hair. His cheeks are pink from the cold morning air, making him look even softer than usual.

"Morning," you manage, grateful that your voice sounds normal.

He takes a sip from his own water bottle and you mirror him, mostly to have something to do with your hands.

"Sleep well?" You ask because it's polite, and also because talking about sleep is way better than thinking about what you were doing instead of sleeping last night.

His smile is warm and genuine. "Yeah, I did. And you?"

"Yeah." You nod, aiming for casual.

Like you didn't spend half the night grinding against Chief fucking Jeon. Like you're not still feeling the ghost of his hands on your skin.

Just a normal morning chat. Nothing to see here.

You give JM a quick wave and head back to your tent, trying not to look suspicious. Like you didn't just spend the night getting railed—well, almost railed by his coworker.

God, that's weird to think about.

When you peek inside, Yunjin's already stirring, one eye cracked open in the dim light.

"Y/N?" Her voice is thick with sleep.

"Yeah, it's me." You whisper back, watching her untangle herself from Eunchae, who's apparently decided Yunjin makes an excellent teddy bear.

It's kind of adorable, actually.

She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes. When she looks at you again, her brow furrows.

"You didn't sleep here?"

You open your mouth, ready to spill everything—about Jeon's hands and his mouth and how fucking good he'd been—but snap it shut. Not exactly tent-appropriate conversation.

"No."

Her eyes go wide, and she leans in close. "Did you sleep outside? In the freezing cold?"

"No, no, I didn't sleep—" You cut yourself off, suddenly very aware of all the sleeping bodies around you.

The tent walls might as well be tissue paper when it comes to privacy. A quick check outside confirms you're clear.

You duck back in, keeping your voice low. "We can't talk about this here."

You can see the exact moment sleep leaves Yunjin's eye, replaced by that familiar spark of gossip-hungry curiosity. Her lips curl into a grin that says she knows something juicy is coming.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 5." She's already reaching for her clothes, suddenly very awake.

You duck out of the tent to give her privacy, leaning against a nearby pine tree. The bark digs into your back through your clothes, but you welcome the discomfort. Keeps you from getting lost in memories of other things that were digging into you last night...

Nope. Not thinking about Jeon's hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd—

Fuck.

When Yunjin finally emerges, her pink hair is a mess and she's practically vibrating with curiosity. You tilt your head toward the edge of camp, where the trees grow thicker. Perfect for spilling secrets that definitely shouldn't reach certain ears.

You find a fallen log away from the other tents, tucked between snow-dusted pines. The wood is freezing through your pants, but whatever. Some things are worth a cold ass.

Yunjin plops down next to you, already leaning in close. She smells like campfire smoke and cotton candy.

"So, what's going on? You look like you've been through hell and back."

More like heaven and back, but you're not about to say that out loud.

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. The memory of his hands, his mouth, his everything makes your pulse skip.

"Jeon happened."

"Jeon?" Yunjin's eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear into her forehead. "As in, Mr. I'll-Kill-You-With-My-Thumb Jeon? That Jeon? What the hell did he do now?"

There's teasing in her voice but you catch the flash of concern in her eye.

Sweet, but unnecessary.

"He didn't do anything... wrong." God, your face is burning. "We were alone and things got... intense."

"Intense how?" She draws out the words, scoffing. "Did you two fight each other to death—?"

"It's not like that." You cut her off before she can get carried away. "I mean, we did fight at first but then—well—"

You gesture vaguely, like that explains everything.

"We didn't plan it. It just... happened."

"What happened?"

She crosses her arms, looking supremely unconvinced. Then, presses her lips together, biting back a smile.

"So what, you got stuck and stepbro came to your rescue—"

"Yunjin!" You slap a hand over her mouth, mortified.

Your skin's still tingling with phantom touches and she's out here making porn references? You drop your hand with a scowl that's only half-serious.

Looking anywhere but at her knowing grin, you mutter, "it was mutual."

The words come out barely above a whisper, like saying it too loud might summon him. Or worse—his ego.

Yunjin's smirk turns absolutely feral. "Oh my god, I knew there was something brewing between you two since the croissant thing. Come on, spill the dirty details."

You laugh, but your neck's getting hot just thinking about it. Leaning closer, you drop your voice even lower.

"Well, one minute we were fighting, and the next..."

You tell her about his hands, his mouth, the way he'd taken you apart piece by piece. How every touch had felt like lightning under your skin.

"He's like a fucking storm," you try to explain, but words feel inadequate.

How do you describe the tempest that is Jeon?

"And?" She's practically bouncing now, pink hair falling in her face as she leans in.

"And it was... intense. Like our bodies just clicked, you know? The way he touched me, the way he moved..."

"Holy shit." Yunjin lets out a low whistle. "Sounds like Chief Murder-Eyes knows how to fuck. I'm almost jealous."

You can't help but laugh, relief flooding through you at finally being able to talk about it. "I mean, we didn't actually—you know. No condoms. But still, with everything going on... with the gang and the rules..."

"Well, it's just fucking, right?" She cuts in, voice matter-of-fact. "You didn't break any rules."

Her words hit different, reassuring—exactly what you'd said to Jeon last night.

Right. No strings attached. Just two people scratching an itch.

"Yeah." You shrug, aiming for casual. "Just some good ol' fucking."

Yunjin's laugh is warm, understanding. "Well then, there's nothing to worry about. Just be careful. Jeon's not just any guy. From what I've heard, he's got layers, and not all of them are pretty."

You snort, rolling your eyes.

"Pffft, I know." You lean back. "I only have eyes for the pretty. And his dick."

That sets you both off cackling like teenagers sharing secrets behind the bleachers. It feels good to laugh about it, to make light of something that could've been way more complicated.

Yunjin stands, brushing pine needles off her pants. "Well, I gotta head back before they start sending out search parties for us. But we'll talk more about this later, yeah?"

"Yeah, later."

You're grateful she's not making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Just two adults having some mind-blowing- well, almost mind-blowing sex. No feelings, no drama.

She punches your shoulder playfully before heading back to camp, leaving you alone with memories of callouses on your skin and that fucking lip ring against your mouth.

Not that you're thinking about round two.

The early morning light bleeds through the tent, and for the first time—his eyes are not open to perceive it.

Jungkook stirs slowly, consciousness creeping in like the dawn. His hand reaches out, seeking the familiar cold touch of his phone screen.

Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Eight fucking hours without a single nightmare clawing at his mind. No cold sweats, no jolting awake with a scream lodged in his throat.

Just... peace.

His eyes drift to the empty space beside him, still holding a ghost of warmth where you had been. The indent in his pillow, the lingering scent of chai tea mixed with his pine—evidence that last night wasn't just a fevered dream.

Interesting.

The tactician in him can't help but analyze this development.

Eight hours of proper sleep, achieved simply by having another body next to his. The data suggests a correlation worth exploring. It's purely scientific interest, of course —nothing to do with how your quiet breathing had somehow matched his own, creating a rhythm that had lulled him into the deepest sleep he'd had in months.

His lips twitch, almost forming a smile.

Who would have thought that the solution to his insomnia would be so... straightforward?

Just add another warm body to the equation.

Simple.

Efficient.

The gang's best sniper, finally getting proper rest because of a quick hookup.

There's probably irony in there somewhere.

Jungkook stretches, feeling unusually light. His muscles are loose, relaxed in a way that has nothing to do with the previous night's activities.

Well, not entirely due to them.

Eight hours.

He could get used to this.

Jungkook sits up, letting the cool morning air hit his skin. Eight hours of actual sleep has him feeling... different. Not better, exactly. Just less like death warmed over.

He takes his time straightening his tent—a habit drilled into him and not voluntarily.

When he makes it outside, the camp is quiet except for the occasional bird call. His hands find his pockets as he heads toward the mess area, following the siren call of caffeine. The neat row of coffee cans almost makes up for sleeping on the ground.

Almost.

But then he sees V.

And just like that, his rare good mood evaporates.

Evaporates fast.

Jungkook's tongue clicks—automatic. His body already tightens before his mind even catches up. For a second, he considers turning back, caffeine be damned. But no. That'd hand the bastard a win, and Jeon doesn't hand out victories before breakfast.

V's lounging like he owns the clearing. Hair a tousled mess, skin flushed from either a fight or a fuck—Jeon doesn't care which. He just notes the details, stores them. It's habit. Just another target to assess.

The bastard tracks his approach with lazy, half-lidded eyes and that signature smirk—like he already knows he's about to ruin something.

Jungkook grabs a can off the table. Doesn't even look at V yet.

"Had fun last night?" The words come out dry, flat. No bite. Just noise.

V lifts his chin, amused. "Some of us don't need to buy intimacy with imported espresso machines."

Jungkook opens the can with a sharp hiss. Keeps his eyes on the label. "Didn't realize desperation was charming now."

"I call it efficiency." V stretches his arms overhead, exposing fresh marks on his throat. "In and out. Simple. No cleanup. You should try it—might loosen that iron rod you've got jammed up your spine."

Jungkook takes a slow sip of bitter coffee and finally looks at him. "You're bleeding self-worth all over the ground. Try wiping it up before someone slips."

V laughs, delighted. "There he is. I was starting to worry you'd gone full ghost. Thought maybe you finally snapped and joined the meditation club upstairs."

Jungkook doesn't answer. He's already turning away, walking slowly toward the edge of camp—toward the trees. Not far. Just enough distance to mute V's noise.

Of course, V follows. He always does.

"You know what your real problem is?" V's voice floats lazily behind him. "You think control's the same thing as peace."

Jungkook says nothing. Another sip. The coffee's still shit. V's steps crunch through the grass behind him. Closer now.

"But it's not. You're not calm, Jeon. You're just buried."

Jungkook stops. Just briefly. Looks up at the sky like it might offer patience.

V grins, eyes glittering. "Bet it gets lonely. All that quiet. All that nobility. Ever wonder why no one's lining up to warm your bed these days?"

Jungkook doesn't flinch. Just watches a bird take off from the trees. "Didn't realize we were counting bodies now. Thought you preferred keeping score in blood."

"Oh, I do," V murmurs, stepping beside him, too close. "But you—God, you used to have heat, you know that? Used to burn. Now it's all smoke and mirrors. All that rage shoved behind protocol and detachment."

Jungkook doesn't look at him, but his hand tightens around the can.

V keeps pushing, voice sweet as poison. "You used to laugh. Fuck, remember that? You'd stay up past curfew, cheat on drills, get into knife fights for fun. Now look at you—clockwork killer with a loyalty complex."

"You done?" Jungkook's voice is sharp now. Controlled, but edged.

"Not even close." V steps in front of him, cuts off the path. "See, I get it now. You stopped fucking because you can't do casual anymore. Too dangerous, right? Someone breathes near you and you start imagining futures."

Jungkook's jaw tightens.

V leans forward. "What was it RM said? 'Attachment makes you weak'? Or did you have to learn that one the hard way?"

"Careful," Jungkook says, low.

V just smiles. "I'm not touching your secrets, Jeon. Just pointing out the obvious. You're terrified of getting close again. You think if you fuck anyone, they'll catch feelings. Or worse—you will."

Jungkook doesn't blink. Doesn't speak. But the can in his hand dents slightly under his grip.

V notices. Of course he does.

"I mean, maybe that's why no one touches you anymore." He tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. "Not because you're intimidating. Not because you're better. But because they all see it—the grief in your bones. The guilt. Like it might rub off."

"You talk a lot for someone with nothing to say."

V grins, stepping aside, letting him pass. "And you say nothing hoping it makes you mysterious. But guess what, Jeon? I see right through that bullshit."

Jungkook exhales slowly through his nose. The air is cool, the trees just ahead. He keeps walking. He doesn't rise. Not yet.

But V's still behind him.

And he's not done.

Jungkook moves, calm steps through dew-soaked grass. The can in his hand hisses with pressure, dented from his grip, but he doesn't look back.

"You know what your problem is, Jeon?" V's voice cuts through the morning air, sing-song soft. "You're so far up your own ass you can't see what a joke you've become."

Jungkook doesn't bother with a glance. Just takes another sip of his shitty coffee. Tries to drown out the taste of chai from his tongue.

"The perfect soldier," V continues, pacing a few feet behind, voice louder now. "Marching in lockstep behind Commander like a good little ghost. You think if you bleed enough for RM, he'll forgive you for what you let slip through your fingers?"

Still no answer. Just another sip of that bitter, mass-produced garbage. Jungkook focuses on the taste—the chemical bitterness coating his tongue, sharp and synthetic. Easier to focus on that than the ache V's voice digs up.

"Nothing to say?" V's tone lifts, faux-curious. "Come on, where's that famous discipline now? Or did you leave it behind in your tent last night?"

The can pauses mid-sip. Barely a hitch. Just one second too long.

Jungkook lowers it slowly. "Your obsession with where I sleep is weird. Maybe try journaling."

V grins wide behind him, practically skipping to keep up now. "You're right. I should write this all down—'Jeon, once fierce and unfiltered, now drinks piss-coffee and pretends not to feel anything.' Bestseller."

"You done with the poetry?"

"Almost," V chirps. "Just wanted to make sure you knew everyone sees it. The way you're chasing scraps of forgiveness like a dog with its tail between its legs. You used to lead the escapades. Now you just brood and play pretend."

Jungkook stops walking.

V nearly collides with him, amused.

"Touch a nerve?" he murmurs.

Jungkook's head tilts slightly, eyes still forward. "You should work on new material. The old lines are starting to bore me."

V steps around him, circling like a vulture. "That's the thing about ghosts, Jeon. They're repetitive. They just haunt the same places. Same faces."

Jungkook's eyes shift. Cold. Level.

"You sound jealous."

V barks a laugh. It's short, sharp, too loud for the quiet trees.

"Of what? Your sad, monk-ass existence? Nah. I just miss the guy who could take a punch and throw three back."

"He grew up," Jungkook replies coolly. "Maybe you should try it."

"Nah," V says, too quickly. "That guy didn't grow up. He crawled into a cage and slammed the door shut."

Jungkook takes a step forward, chest brushing V's shoulder as he passes. "Or maybe he realized some things aren't worth fighting for anymore."

"Oh?" V pivots, stalking behind again. "Like loyalty? Brotherhood? Control?"

Jungkook doesn't turn. "Like noise."

V's smirk sharpens. "Funny you mention that. Because the silence after you let her die? That was deafening."

That stops him.

One step shy of the treeline.

Jungkook doesn't move, but something in the air shifts. Not loud. Not visible.

Just cold.

Real cold.

He sets the coffee can down on a mossy rock, slow and steady. Wipes his hand once on his thigh.

"You sure you want to go there?" he says, soft as snowfall.

V's smile flickers. Not with fear—he doesn't do fear—but with pleasure.

This is what he came for.

"I'm just saying," V hums, circling again, low and lazy. "You've been pretending for so long. Pretending she didn't matter. Pretending you're fine. Pretending you're not still clawing your way out of that night like it didn't gut you."

Jungkook says nothing.

But his silence means something now.

"I was there, Jeon," V says, inching closer. "You looked at me like I'd ripped out your heart and eaten it."

"You did," Jungkook murmurs. Still not looking at him.

"And yet," V's voice softens to a whisper, "you still didn't pull the trigger."

"Because you weren't worth it."

V snickers. "That's not what your eyes said."

Jungkook turns his head slowly. "No. That's what restraint looks like. Something you wouldn't recognize if it slit your throat."

V's lips curve, crooked and violent. "But you wanted to. You still want to."

Another long pause. Jungkook's jaw flexes once.

"Not as much as I want to forget you ever mattered."

And that—that hits.

V's grin falters. Just for a split second. The moment is small, but Jungkook catches it. He always catches everything.

Then, it changes again. V watches him like a cat watches a cornered bird. Head tilted. Smiling like he knows what's coming, and he's going to savor every second of it.

"You know what's funny," V says, voice maddeningly casual, "I always wondered if that was the problem."

Jungkook doesn't bite. Doesn't blink.

V goes on. "Not the rule-breaking. Not the secrecy. But who you broke the rule for."

Jungkook's gaze sharpens. Just a sliver. Just enough.

V catches it, of course. "Maybe if it had been someone else. Someone... less delicate. Maybe then, I'd have understood."

Jungkook's jaw shifts—tightens, releases.

"You picked soft," V continues. "You always hated soft. But that's what you chose. That's who you let in."

"Don't," Jungkook says quietly.

But V's already grinning, teeth and cruelty.

"God, what was her name again? It's been so long." He taps his chin mockingly. "Right there. Tip of my tongue."

Jungkook turns away. Starts walking.

He needs to get away from that sicko before he does something stupid.

"Don't go yet," V calls behind him, voice lilting like this is a game. "Help me out, will you? Dark hair? Big eyes? Always looked like she was about to break?"

Each step Jungkook takes feels heavier now. Like the gravity around him's been recalibrated.

"Jeon," V sings. "C'mon. Starts with an 'S,' right? S... Ssssss—shit, it's gonna bug me all day if you don't help."

Jungkook stops walking. Doesn't turn.

"V."

One word. Dead calm. A warning that sounds like the moment before a trigger snaps.

But V doesn't stop. He never does.

"Wait—don't tell me—Sarah? No. Sophie?" He's grinning now, wide and unhinged. "No no no, it was something sweeter than that, wasn't it? Something fragile."

Jungkook's whole body goes still. His shoulders square. Not aggressive. Not defensive.

Bracing.

"I won't tell you again."

"Oh, don't be like that." V's voice drops to a near-whisper. "We're just reminiscing."

"You say it," Jungkook murmurs, quiet enough that the wind almost eats it. "And this conversation takes a very different turn."

"Isn't that the fun part?" He replies.

Jungkook turns back to walk away. But before he can do just that, V opens his mouth again.

"No, wait, wait, wait! I remember it now."

V tilts his head, feigning thought, acting like he just got enlightened by the powers above.

Then—

"Sylvia."

The name detonates behind Jungkook's eyes.

He moves before he even registers it—before thought can catch up to instinct. One hand fisting V's collar, the other slamming him into the nearest tree with bone-rattling force.

His voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.

"I told you," he breathes, "to shut the fuck up."

V chokes out a laugh, even as Jeon's forearm presses against his throat. His smile is bloody, triumphant.

This is exactly what he wanted.

"There he is," V wheezes. "Knew you still remembered."

Jungkook tightens his grip.

"You don't get to tarnish her name with your mouth."

"Oh come on," V gasps, grin never faltering. "You're the one who made her matter."

Another inch and V's feet almost leave the ground. Jungkook's pulse is thunder in his ears. Vision tunneled, voice low.

"You don't touch her memory."

V's eyes shine with something unholy. "Why not? You left it out in the open."

Jungkook doesn't say anything. He just breathes—through his nose, slow, controlled—because if he doesn't, he'll crush the bastard's windpipe right here and now.

"You never even cried for her," V says, voice straining now. "Not once. I watched you. All that grief, and nothing came out but silence."

"Shut up."

"She begged for you, Jeon." V's voice slips into a mocking lilt. "Right before I pulled the trigger."

His hands go up, mimicking the movement of guns. Two fingers, cocked and pointed.

"Bang. Bang." V grins. "Guess some lessons need to be learned twice."

Jungkook's fist curls tight, shakes from the effort of not slamming it into V's face.

"She looked at you," V whispers, "and said thank you."

That's it.

Jungkook lets go of his throat—and punches him hard enough to split skin across V's jaw.

Bone cracks under knuckles. Blood spatters across bark. V staggers, but he's laughing—fucking laughing—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fucking finally" he slurs through red teeth. "Welcome back, Kooks."

Jungkook doesn't hesitate.

The second punch lands even harder than the first—knuckles slamming into cheekbone with enough force to whip V's head sideways.

Blood sprays from his mouth this time, a thick crimson arc that spatters across tree bark, across Jeon's hand, across the ground between them.

Still, V laughs.

It's breathless, giddy, delighted.

"Fuck, I missed this," he rasps, tongue darting out to taste the blood slicking his bottom lip. "So you're still human, huh?"

He licks it slow, like he's savoring it.

Like it's dessert.

Jungkook steps back just enough not to kill him.

"You don't get to call me that," he says, voice low and splintered. "Not anymore."

V blinks once, mock-innocent. Then that crooked smile curls back up, jagged and satisfied.

"Oh, right." He taps two fingers against his temple. "Because I'm not Taehyung to you anymore, huh? I'm V." His voice twists around the name like it's something sacred. "Your words, not mine. Or was it mine first? I forget."

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He can't.

Not when his pulse is pounding in his ears, his vision swimming at the edges with a red haze he hasn't let himself feel in months.

V steps closer, shoulders relaxed, body loose with that particular high only someone like him can ride. His lip's still bleeding, and he doesn't wipe it off this time—just lets it drip, red on his teeth, staining the corner of his mouth.

"God, you hit harder than I remember," he says, eyes gleaming. "Must be all that repressed emotion. You're like a soda can in the sun—shaking, sealed tight. One little crack and boom."

Jungkook doesn't say anything back. He's not looking at him anymore. He's looking through him. Past the trees. Somewhere far and unreachable.

But V keeps talking. Of course he does. Because once he has momentum, he's unstoppable.

"I always knew it was still in there," V's finger digs in his chest. "That spark. That fire. You've been playing dead so long I almost believed you were gone. Almost."

Jungkook's hands are fists again.

"You've been sleepwalking, Jeon," V continues, grinning like he's high on the taste of violence. "Dead-eyed. Robotic. Miserable. Just waiting for someone to fucking jolt you back awake."

He leans in close again. Too close.

"I'm just giving you a favor."

"You don't do favors."

V cackles, loud and wild. "Sure I do. You just don't like the way they taste."

Another pause. Jungkook's breathing is steady now, but it's forced. Every inhale pulled through clenched teeth.

"You think this brings me peace?"

"No," V says, licking blood off his thumb now. "I think it brings you clarity."

There's something predatory in the way he steps back, finally, giving Jungkook space—but not out of mercy, no.

It's rather just to admire the way he's held together by muscle memory and sheer willpower.

"You pretend you buried it," V says softly, quirking an eyebrow. "But it's still there. Under the skin. Under the guilt. Under all that self-hatred."

"You're wasting your breath," Jungkook replies.

But V just keeps smiling, lips slick, eyes blown wide with delight.

"You can't kill the part of you that liked it. The rage. The power. The need. You just locked it away in a box and lost the key."

V's voice drops now, low and rich and terrifyingly gentle.

"And I'm the only one who still knows where it's buried."

That's when Takama steps in.

No warning. No sound. Just a hand locking around Jeon's bicep before the next blow can fly.

"Enough," Takama says, firm and calm.

Not a command.

A lifeline.

Jungkook doesn't resist. Not yet. But his chest heaves, and the knuckles on his right hand are starting to swell. V leans lazily against the tree now, licking the blood of his lower lip that won't stop gushing out.

"Aw, don't stop now," he drawls, voice hoarse from the chokehold and the punches. "We were finally getting somewhere."

Takama doesn't even look at him.

His grip stays tight. Not painful. Just steady. Anchoring.

"Let it go," his second in command says under his breath.

Jungkook's eyes stay locked on V's face. Not with hatred. With control.

The kind that takes every ounce of strength to maintain.

"You should've stayed buried," he murmurs.

But V just laughs. Loud, unhinged, manic.

"And miss this reunion?" He wipes blood from his jaw with the back of his hand. "Never."

He steps back, licking the burgundy remnants from his fingers as he turns to walk away.

His voice floats over his shoulder like a final cut.

"Same time tomorrow?"

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He just watches him disappear into the trees, that thorned scent of roses lingering behind like a stain you can't scrub off.

Some poisons don't kill you right away.

They stay in your blood.

Rot you from the inside out.

Blood tastes like copper and victory.

It slicks across his tongue, drips warm from the split in his lip. He doesn't wipe it off. Why would he? It's a mark of success—Jeon's control fractured, broken open just enough for the truth to spill out.

The scream he didn't let out. The grief he still pretends doesn't exist.

Taehyung practically skips through the camp, boots crunching over frost-stiff grass. His knuckles sting from where Jeon deflected that second hit, but the ache feels earned. Like something sacred.

He exhales, slow and sweet, watching the vapor curl into the cold morning air.

That was better than sex.

No, scratch that.

That was sex.

Pushing Jeon to that edge—watching the cold, calculated sniper fucking explode in real time? That's the closest Taehyung ever gets to euphoria.

The high is still rushing through him as his tent comes into view. The buzz behind his teeth. The heat in his skull. He's not even pretending to slow down.

He lifts the flap with a flourish, practically singing, "Honey, I'm home," as he sweeps inside.

Jimin's already there. Cross-legged on the floor like some kind of aesthetic devotional painting. His salmon hair falls messily across his forehead, catching light like spun sugar. He doesn't startle—he never does—but his head tilts just slightly in that way Taehyung always notices.

"You're late," Jimin says, not looking up from whatever he's scribbling into that little black journal. "Let me guess. You pissed off Jeon again."

"Mmhmm," Taehyung hums, swaying into the room. "It was glorious."

He doesn't wait for an invitation. He never does. Two steps and he's folding himself into Jimin's lap like a lithe, bloody jungle cat.

Jimin grunts at the impact, but he doesn't move. Doesn't push him off.

He never does that either.

"You're bleeding," Jimin says quietly, brushing hair back from Taehyung's temple before his eyes drift down. "Lip's split."

"Little love tap," Taehyung breathes against the curve of Jimin's neck.

He nuzzles there a moment, deep inhale. Jimin smells like warmth. Like brown sugar and caramel and fabric softener.

Soft things. Domestic things.

He doesn't know why it makes his teeth itch, want to take a bite.

Jimin finally meets his gaze—and there it is.

That flash of worry in his eyes. That's the part Taehyung likes. Not the sympathy. The fact that it costs Jimin something every time he pretends this isn't poison.

"What did you say to him this time?"

Taehyung grins slow, letting his tongue drag over the blood at the corner of his mouth. "Just reminded him of something he didn't want to remember."

"Don't play stupid. This is getting out of hand." Jimin's hand brushes lightly against his jaw, tilting his face to examine the cut.

The pads of his fingers are warm. Careful. It makes something behind Taehyung's ribs twitch.

"Jeon's going to snap one of these days," Jimin adds, voice low.

"He already did," Taehyung whispers.

And he can't help it—he giggles. It bubbles out of him like champagne and gunfire, bright and wrong. He presses closer to Jimin, legs tangling, arms looping around his waist. The tension bleeds out of him slowly, replaced by that delicious hum of control reclaimed. He can still feel Jeon's rage in the fibers of his hoodie. It clings like perfume.

Jimin doesn't move. But his breathing changes. Shallow now.

"You're high on it again," Jimin murmurs.

Taehyung pretends to consider it. "Maybe."

"It's not healthy."

He shrugs, lashes fluttering as he leans in. "Neither are we."

Jimin sighs through his nose. Doesn't argue.

For a moment, they sit like that. Quiet.

Taehyung lets himself rest his head on Jimin's shoulder, lets the silence expand between them. This kind of stillness is rare. He doesn't know how to hold it without squeezing too tight.

Jimin's voice finally cuts through. "Let J-Hope look at it. That lip's going to get infected."

"For you?" Taehyung draws his thumb along the line of Jimin's jaw, soft and mocking. "Anything, love."

The way Jimin flinches is small. Almost imperceptible. But Taehyung feels it.

That's the thing about Jimin. He's not like the others. He doesn't play back. Doesn't bite or snarl or shoot. He just absorbs it all, like a sponge in a slow leak.

And Taehyung knows it's cruel—knows he's twisting something tender into something sharp—but he does it anyway.

Because this is what's left. This is what he has.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Jimin says, eyes on the floor now. "With him."

"Sure I do," Taehyung murmurs, already curling into his lap again, like a cat that doesn't want to answer. "The show must go on."

Jimin shakes his head once, slow. "You're always like this."

"Good things don't change."

There's no bite in it. No anger.

Just truth.

And then, before Jimin can speak again, Taehyung presses a finger to his lips. It's light. Thoughtless. Charged.

"No more lectures," he says. "Tell me something sweeter."

"Like what?"

Taehyung smiles, eyes gleaming. He leans in, close enough for Jimin to taste the blood on his breath.

"Tell me a secret."

Jimin's lips are warm beneath his finger. Too warm.

Taehyung holds it there a beat longer than necessary, just to feel the resistance—such a pretty little line of defiance, always broken down the same way.

Gently.

Repeatedly.

"Tell me a secret," he whispers again.

Jimin doesn't answer.

He doesn't have to.

Because his eyes do. The way they drop. The way his breath skips. The way his hands twitch against the floor like they're unsure whether to push away or pull Taehyung closer.

It's always like this. Hesitation that tastes like anticipation.

Taehyung leans in. Presses his mouth to Jimin's cheek, just shy of his lips, and breathes him in—caramel warmth, a little bit of sweat, and something almost shy beneath it.

He imagines for a second biting down. Hard. Leaving a mark. Branding softness with something it doesn't deserve.

Instead, he draws back and tugs Jimin forward.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Right into his lap.

Jimin doesn't resist. He never does. Just settles into the space Taehyung makes for him like he's made of silk and apology.

God, it's addicting.

"So obedient," Taehyung murmurs, mouth ghosting along the curve of Jimin's jaw. "You always melt so easily, Jiminie."

He feels Jimin's pulse jump under his hands.

Feels it in the way his thighs tighten just slightly, in the way his spine curves—not in retreat, no.

In submission.

Taehyung smiles. The kind that never touches his eyes.

This is the part that matters.

Not the tenderness. Not the connection. This.

The aftershock. The reward.

The thing that lets him bleed out the rest of Jeon's name from his teeth.

His hands roam lazily—up the curve of Jimin's back, slipping under the hem of his shirt just to feel the skin heat beneath his palms. He doesn't rush. He doesn't need to.

Jimin's already folding.

Taehyung tilts his head and brushes their lips together—barely. Just enough to taste breath.

Then he whispers, soft and cruel against Jimin's mouth, "Let me ruin you for a bit."

Jimin exhales shakily. Doesn't nod. Doesn't speak. Just presses closer.

Perfect.

And Taehyung?

Taehyung finally feels calm.

Not better.

But calm.

The high burns slower this way.

Controlled.

Directed.

And by the time Jimin's head tips back and Taehyung's fingers slide lower, he's already thinking of the next morning—when he'll do it all over again.

Because Jeon's fists can bruise skin.

But Jimin's silence?

It lets him feel powerful.

goal: 400 notes lmao I'm not doing this shit again in 24 HOURS.

next | index

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[unfamiliaris]

what if you got stuck with a boyfriend that you don't exactly hate but don't exactly love either, but you stay with him because you've finally formed a nice friend group with your brother and his wife and then you realize ohh shit. I have a massive crush on my sister in law. so you do everything in your power to suppress it because she's your baby brothers wife and you'd do anything to keep him happy but it does start to eat away at your own relationship slowly over the years but now you're married so you're locked down for life and you try to be happy about it because you're well off and it's great. but then your sister in law that you still won't fully admit you're in love with dies horrifically and you can't grieve her like a lover because that would be selfish and wrong and also you have your baby brother to comfort now so you do. and your marriage keeps slowly spilling sand through a hole in the floor and once it runs out you know you'll hate him but you can't deal with all of this at the same time so you stick it out for your brother who is inconsolable. and in the grief your baby brother decides to go through an experimental brain surgery that will essentially allow him to cut off half of his consciousness to escape it all. and you don't think it's a good idea at all but you're not exactly going to tell him how to cope when his wife just died so there's nothing you can do. and then two years later you're pregnant and by now pretty much all the sand has fallen through the floor of your marriage but there's not much you can do anymore because you're pregnant. so you go to a birthing retreat when the time comes and you meet this stunning woman who reminds you of everything you gave up to satisfy your brother and this man you don't even really love anymore and well maybe you kind of have a crush on her. but she doesn't recognize you outside of the cabin and it doesn't even matter because you have a kid now. you're locked down. and your pretentious husband is hosting a book reading for his latest publication and you're still tired from all the post birth hormones but you decide to play nice. and then somehow your brothers other half talks to you for the first time and he's as innocent as the day he was born but then you find out that not only has your lactation consultant been your brothers evil boss this whole time but that your brothers dead wife isn't actually dead. so you try to help your brother communicate with his other half to find out if that's really true and you're trying not to hold out hope but god you miss her so bad and you need to try. and then in the span of like one hour you watch your brother have a stroke and meet his backalley brain surgeon who confirms that yes, gemma really is alive and she has been all this time. and you're trying to process that while worrying that your brother won't wake up and you hate this stupid brain surgeon lady for nearly killing your brother but she's also kind of cute and oh my god you're still married to ricken fucking hale.

[mostlymarvelgirl]

Sam Winchester' Type

Let's talk about it.

This man. He's got phases. Especially when it comes relationships.

And these phases? They're basically based upon his age and experiences in life.

So if you're someone who's meeting him for the first time, good luck trying to figure out who he truly is like.

Of course he's not evil or anything, but he's got layers. And trust me, those layers are thick and deep.

Basic layers would include his absence of a maternal figure and a proper paternal figure. (I know Dean was like almost a dad but I'm talking about an actual father and let's be honest, John sucked)

Then you'll reach tough ones, the fights, the bullying, fitting into society, not feeling normal, being the weird one, etc.

Yes, he has had experiences with struggling to accept himself as a person. (You'd know that if you watched S1 to S5. He's not exactly someone who had smooth life in a normal society)

After that, demon blood phase (addiction and coping), his brother dying, his loved ones passing away, and then being alone.

These are just a few layers. He looks simple from outside though, right?

Now, let's bring in his horoscope.

Sam's sun is a Taurus. He's planner. Likes stability. He prefers a routine. He likes order. He likes control. His moon? His moon? It's Virgo. He's meticulous. He likes to be neat. Keeps things organized. He likes to go into deep analysis. If you meet him, he's forming an opinion on you. He's analyzing you. He may not show it, but he is. He will welcome you and be friendly. But for him? First impressions mean a lot. Yes he forgives. But he doesn't forget. His Ascendant is a Capricorn. He's driven. Passionate. Loves discipline. That's why he does Law, duh.

Now this man, he may not look threatening. In fact, he seems like an adorable harmless puppy. That is, as long as you are on his good side and you probably know him briefly. You spend time with him close. You get to know him, you'll see, he's not that puppy inside at all. He's got a burning fire in him. You'd never see it, but if you do, you have to learn to accept it. If you don't, you're already sidelined.

So, say you like him. Let's say he's the type of guy where slow burn is actually slow burn. It's always going to begin as friends. Not the kind for enemies to lovers. He doesn't do that. He doesn't do irrational and erratic. If he does, it's never to last long or something he cares about. He's all about going slow and paced. You force him? Yeah, consider getting yourself therapy cause that will hurt your feelings.

He's very clear on boundaries. He keeps them. If you have them, he will respect them. Unless said otherwise. He's very forgiving. But not the type who'll forget. If you betray him and have a valid reason or whatever, he will forgive. But he'll lose trust in you. He'll never look at you the same. So don't try anything stupid.

He's very loyal. Cheating is not in his bones. And he would expect that from you. It's bare minimum after all. He'll love his partner. If they're clingy, He'll give them the required attention and praise. He likes control. But at the same time, he won't be controlling. There's a difference.

He's a practical guy. He will seek for someone who craves and bonds on emotional depth. You have to be someone who is more observant than him. And he lives for that. He loves when someone understands him without him having to explain. It's his type.

He's someone who appreciates someone who gives him an emotional depth. He craves for intimacy deep down. He wants to understood and he will give you the same. It will take long. Very long for the trust to build. So be patient, and you will cherish and thrive from this relationship.

Now, getting to the real interesting part we all have been waiting for. Sex. Is he a freak? Who'd initiate first? How would it happen? How far along into the relationship?

Now, he's a guy who builds relationship on trust and loyalty. Honesty and mutual understanding. These are important things he sees and wants in a relationship. And he's a respectful guy. He waits for consent. Never forces. So, sex will only happen when you want it. He will never tell you. Or ask you. Or force you. It's all based on your decision. You will have to bring it up.

And when you do, he will be sweet, loving, careful and understanding. The first time it happens it's purely on trust and love. He won't rush it. He focuses on pleasuring you. He makes sure you feel comfortable. If you're insecure, he will comfort you. To him, physical appearance is the last thing on his mind. He cares about what you are from inside. What you are truly. What your real self is. The first time is when things also get more intimate and deep.

The relationship begins to evolve. You both speak more openly. Talk about your needs and preferences. He won't mind if you're a little crazy or freaky. He'll match you. He will love it the more you open to him. He feels special. He's proud that you tell him your desires. He's a careful man. He keeps a list in his head to remind himself on what you like and what you don't. In the relationship, you will always be the one who decides. You are his pillar. He wants you to be treated like a queen. He will be your pillar as well. He supports your decisions. He understands. What more could anyone want?

And that, is Sam Winchester's type.

Read Dean Winchester's Type Here

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Friendly reminder this is the "found family" Nyx will grow up with.

Feyre: His mother who made "the found family" hate his aunt Nesta for "always sneering" and "letting her hunt", even though she tried to hunt and wasn't good at it, did all the housework, suffered years of physical abuse so she wouldn't have to. All the while excusing his other aunt Elain sitting on her ass because she was polite about it. His mother Feyre who threw hysterics because his aunt Nesta hung out in slums. His mother who didn't care there were slums in Valaris, poverty in Hewn City and Illyria while she built her fifth mansion, opened an art studio and occasionally spared some charity. His mother who locked his aunt Nesta away with a creepy man she repeatedly tried to get away from, who berated her, verbally and physically assaulted her, had sex with her at the time she felt completely unloved and used sex as a coping mechanism.

Rhysand: His father who is President Snow from Hunger Games to Illyria, Hewn City and probably every other Court. His father who claims to be the most powerful high lord in one sentence and whines how change takes time and he can't do anything about it in the next. His father who enforces segregation between Hewn City and Valaris, doesn't enforce the law to stop femicide, mutilation and rape of female Illyrians, lets children live in poverty and war camps. His father Rhysand who repeatedly threatened to kill his aunt Nesta over everything. His father who drugged and assaulted his mother. His father who took his mother's bodily autonomy, hid from his mother that pregnancy would kill her and didn't take the risk to allow her to shift into Illyrian form to save her life. His father who made a stupid pact to die with his mother. His father who orphaned him.

Cassian: His uncle who saw that Azriel was romantically interested in Mor, felt jealous over it, and agreed to have sex with her knowing it would hurt Azriel. His uncle Cassian who gifted his one night stand lingerie in front of everybody, including his mate. His uncle Cassian who didn't respect his mate's boundaries, threw a tantrum when she refused his present after he gifted his one night stand lingerie and nobody gifted her anything during the celebration. His uncle Cassian who always made it about himself at the time when his mate was at her lowest and told her that he hated being shackled to her, told her he didn't understand why her sisters loved her, controlled her diet, had sex with her at the time she used sex as a coping mechanism, took her on hikes until she collapsed at the time she was suicidal, laughed at her when she fell down the stairs and had to crawl back up injured, never defended her when his brother threatened to kill her, always hypersexualized her, never told her he loved her. And never apologized for any of this shit.

Mor: Who didn't emphasize with his aunt Nesta even though she was also going through trauma of being physically and sexually abused. Mor who wanted to throw his aunt Nesta to the same people who abused her. Mor who doesn't try to make Hewn City and Valaris a better place and unite them. Mor who hid from his mother Feyre that the pregnancy would kill her.

Amren: Who was bitchy to his aunt Nesta for no valid reason and advised Cassian to break her and then offer a helping hand. Which he did. Amren who is always dismissive of his aunt Nesta and commands her around even though she has done more than she has. Amren who also hid from Feyre that the pregnancy would kill her.

Every time I remember this is Nyx's family, Meet the Grahams starts playing in my head.

Edit: Since it went over some people's head, I'll clarify that I fear Nyx will grow up to be a hypocritical arsehole like the rest of them while they groom him to be Rhysand Number 2. I sincerely hope the kid will somehow break free from their influence and learn to think for himself.

[22ayla21]

Could I request the Amphoreus men with an exhausted wife? Maybe it’s due to work or just being a mother but she’s going to dig herself into an early grave and she’s to hard on herself to even notice it.

Comfort for Wife and Mother

Motherhood is hard, but you need to know your limits and not dig yourself into a grave.

He notices her fatigue before she admits it herself. Even if she insists that everything is fine, he won't let her overwork herself. If she falls asleep holding the baby, he gently takes the child and puts her to bed.

When he sees that she's on the verge of exhaustion, he takes matters into his own hands:

"Either you go rest yourself, or I'll carry you."

And yes, he really can just pick her up and take her to the bedroom. If she resists, he compromises: "Then just lie down with me for five minutes." (Spoiler: she falls asleep in two).

When she says she's a bad mother, he stops her immediately.

"You are the best thing our children have. And me."

If she blames herself for not coping, he reminds her:

"You're not alone in this. I'm your husband, not an outside observer."

If she's exhausted, he takes the children and gives her time to recover. He makes her tea, food, brings a blanket, and creates the most comfortable atmosphere.

He might even organize a "no-kids day," sending them to Aunt Aglaea (or, in an AU with a living Gorgo, to grandma (she doesn't mind, she's even happy)).

He knows that motherhood is hard, so he always reminds her that she doesn't have to be perfect. If she cries from exhaustion, he just holds her letting her vent. He tells her how much he loves her, how proud he is of her, how grateful he is for everything she does.

He arranges small romantic moments for her to remind her that she's not just a mother, but also his beloved woman. He hugs her, kisses her, tells her how beautiful she is, even if she has tousled hair and signs of fatigue under her eyes.

"You are still the one I fell in love with. And always will be."

If she blames herself for "not doing enough," he brings the children to her and says:

"Tell Mom how much you love her."

And when the children start hugging her and vying to say what a good mom she is, he looks at her with a slight smirk:

"Now try saying you're a bad mother."

Anaxa rarely interferes in his wife's affairs if he's sure she's coping, but when he sees that she's literally "digging herself into a grave" from stress and fatigue, he doesn't hesitate to take control. The phrase "Either you rest now, or I'll carry you by force" could well come from his lips.

He can easily just pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, declaring that she shouldn't think about the children for at least the next hour or two. Even if she resists, Anaxa has an iron grip and an unyielding expression.

If she's too hard on herself, thinking she's not doing enough, Anaxa uses his authority to literally forbid her from doing extra work. He might tell the children that today "Mom is queen, and her word is law," and he'll make sure his wife doesn't take on a new load of chores.

Knowing that his wife won't admit how tired she is, he might just silently start massaging her shoulders, back, or legs. And he does it so skillfully that her protests quickly turn into relaxed sighs.

He might discreetly prepare something nutritious for her and put it in front of her, refusing to take no for an answer. If she says she doesn't want to eat, he just looks at her meaningfully until she gives in.

He might let his wife sleep alone for a night (if she wants), taking care of all the children's needs himself. Or, conversely, he'll take her to his bed and won't let her go until she falls asleep in his arms.

If he notices that she's morally exhausted, Anaxa might just take her hands, look her straight in the eyes, and say: "You're doing great. You're the best mother for our children. You don't have to fight alone."

If she starts blaming herself for something, he interrupts her immediately, declaring that she's doing everything perfectly. And if she continues, he might just pull her close and whisper: "One more word, and I'll make you be quiet in another way." (And yes, he's hinting at kisses or something more.)

Sometimes all she needs is to be near him. Anaxa might sit next to her, put his arm around her waist, and silently let her lean against him. Sometimes his presence is the best way to remind her that she's not alone.

Phainon knows perfectly well that if he leaves his wife unattended, she'll really dig herself into a grave with motherhood. So he just picks her up and carries her away from the chores. She might protest, but resistance is useless.

Reminding his wife that she's not just a mother, but also his beloved woman, he says gently but firmly: "We need you healthy, not wrung out like a lemon." If she can't stop, he resorts to tricks: from pushing the children on her for hugs to kisses that make her forget what she was even thinking about.

He prepares a bath for her with oils, sets out a warm towel, even massages her shoulders until she finally starts to relax.

He literally forces her to sleep. If necessary, he'll lie next to her, stroke her hair, and murmur something soothing until she gives in and falls asleep.

On the day she finally drives herself to exhaustion, he takes over all the housework and kicks her out to rest. He threatens that if she tries to interfere, he'll do everything terribly (not really, but the threat works).

He reminds her that she doesn't have to carry everything herself, because she has him. "We're raising the children together, you don't have to do everything alone."

Sometimes he just sits next to her, takes her hand, and silently looks into her eyes, letting her know that he sees how hard she's working and is ready to help.

He has a universal remedy for stress: pull her into a hug and shower her face with hundreds of light kisses. He'll remind her more than once or twice: "You're an amazing mother. But before being a mother, you're my beloved woman. So now go rest, or I'll kidnap you."

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

On Transformers and Human soulmate tropes...

(i do personally attack starscream at the end, i'm sorry starscream lovers, i love him too, but he's just a sad, devious little guy.)

Just a little thought here, so, I love soulmate tropes. Depending on the plot, they can be really fun and take so many interesting paths as a medium used within storytelling, whether romantic or platonic.

But what i want to talk about specifically is Transformer x Human soulmate tropes. Like, you have this super sweet side to it where the bot can be like 'I have waited my entire life to find you, finally, I can hold you in my arms and we never have to part again'. Depending on the character/story/type of SM (soulmate, shortening it because I'm not gonna keep writing it out) trope of course.

Can I just say how...instrumentally fucked this is though? So you have this race of robots who live for, what is essentially millennia out in the wild unless they catch the smoke. Their soulmate ends up being this little creature that lives for 80, maybe 100 years tops before dying. -Unless we're going for some kind of mind switch body type thing, but we all know how that went with spike in g1.

Our beloved robo blorbos will eventually have to cope with the fact that their soulmate, the person or creature they're MEANT to be with via laws of the universe, will die a LOT sooner than they will.

This especially hits hard with the decepticons who, depending on continuity -- hate humanity already. Bots who've gone through so much, losing their home, friends, and their dignities; have to learn to put up with and accept this creature as their fated mate/spouse/conjux endura, whatever you want to call it- SOULMATE.

Then the decepticons just have to deal with the fact that they're going to lose this person too, just like they've already lost everything else and oh GOD. Maybe they choose to forget about them and move on, stay alone and mourn what could have been if the universe hadn't had such a fucked sense of humor. Maybe they choose to accept it, but never let their SM too close because they know they'll just be hurt so much more hurt when the inevitable comes.

Then you have to think about decepticons having to possibly protect their SM from other cons! From being taken and 'saved' by the autobots.

Imagine some bots or cons just flying off the handle, going crazy just to try and keep their human alive in any way they possibly can, afraid of running out of time.

(Starscream lovers forgive me for the angst)

And Starscream especially, Maybe he'd try. He'd have a great time, take a chance, and give it a go. But what if he's actually terrified? Maybe he'd also self sabotage a little, knowing the relationship will never last too long anyways; not in the short blink of time it would be next to his life. Maybe, he doesn't actually know what to do with himself in a positive relationship after being, i dunno, consistently dogged on by megatron and he freezes.

There's something actually good for him, and since he isn't sure how to receive or accept that fact, he's gone. And maybe he'll come back, but the cycle could repeat.

(Im sorry, unless you put a tracker on him and call his ass and really give him some therapy. get him some god damn therapy.)

But yeah. All around, the angst potential is immense for this stuff and it makes me sad to think about so I thought i would share it instead of just write about it in an actual fic because my character analysis and ability to comprehend my own thoughts is so shit.

Okay, CIAOOOOOO~

[abbotjack]

Do you think Pope could actually cope with someone genuinely loving him? Like do you think he has it in him to just let himself be loved by someone who doesn't want anything out of it?

(Hi I am anon who started watching because of your NSFW alphabet, about halfway through season 5 now, thank you for this blessing, Andrew is SO SPECIAL)

Yes. But only the way a man who’s spent his whole life bleeding learns to stop looking for the wound.

Because Pope Cody doesn’t heal. He endures. He survives. He buries. He memorizes the shape of the pain and calls it penance. And if someone were to come to him with love—real love, unarmed, unguarded, unearned—he wouldn’t know where to put it. Wouldn’t know how to let it live inside him without choking it to death with suspicion.

Because love, to him, has always been another kind of violence.

Touch was a trigger before it was ever a comfort. Care came with terms. Affection was a power play disguised as praise. His mother, that high priestess of conditional devotion, carved into him the first rule of survival: Obedience is the price of staying close. And he paid it. Over and over again. In silence. In bruises. In loyalty.

So when people talk about love—real, soft, steady love—he flinches. Not out loud. Not in a way you’d catch if you didn’t know him. But his shoulders inch tighter. His jaw sets. His gaze drifts. Because what they’re describing sounds too much like a trap. Like something that could be taken away.

And Andrew—the boy buried under Pope—he knows about being left.

He remembers what it felt like the first time someone walked out and never came back. He remembers the grief that didn’t get held. The questions that didn’t get answered. The silence that never got filled. He remembers trying to be good, trying to be better, trying to deserve whatever scraps of tenderness were rationed to him. And he remembers every time it still wasn’t enough.

Love, true love, the kind that doesn’t punish or require or mold or demand—it would dismantle him. Gently. Quietly. Without force.

And that’s what would make it so terrifying.

If someone offered that to him—love with no ledger, no warpath, no score to settle—he wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t break things, wouldn’t snap like people expect. That’s not his brand of chaos. He’d disappear. Shrink. Go still in a way that would feel almost holy. He’d answer less. Show up late. Say he’s tired when what he means is I don’t know how to hold this without breaking it. He’d sit across from them, eyes too bright, mouth too quiet, waiting for the moment they realize what he is and walk away.

Because they always have. That’s the law of his life: What you touch, you lose. What you love, you destroy. What you let in, burns.

But still—still—the wanting lives.

It’s there in every glance that lingers too long, every moment of silence that lasts just a breath past comfort. It’s there in the way he watches their hands when they talk, like maybe if he can memorize the way they move, he’ll understand something about safety. It’s there in the way he starts the car even when he doesn’t know where he’s going. In the way he drives through the night with no destination, trying to outrun a kind of hope he doesn’t have the words for.

And if they stay—if they stay through the shutdowns, the stormy silences, the volatility he doesn't mean to unleash—they’ll see it.

The cracks.

The sacred fissures in the stone.

He won’t say I missed you. But he’ll fix the loose hinge on their door without being asked. He’ll keep track of their schedule like it’s his own. He’ll bring back the brand of granola they mentioned liking six months ago, like it was a sermon he never forgot.

Because for Pope Cody, love is not a performance—it’s ritual. It’s devotion. It’s carrying someone in your every breath and pretending you’re not scared shitless they’ll leave anyway.

But don’t mistake that quiet for peace. There’s rot in the foundation. He’s lived too long in the shadow of his own sins. The things he’s done—the people he’s buried, the rage he’s swallowed, the lines he’s crossed to protect what little he had left—they haunt him. And when someone loves him anyway, it doesn’t cleanse the guilt. It amplifies it.

Because now he has something to lose.

And losing something good—something soft and sacred and real—would be the most violent thing he’s ever endured.

So he might push them away. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he cares too much. Because he sees himself as a curse. Because he thinks love from him is a death sentence.

But if they stay—really stay—something shifts.

He softens. Like something that used to be sharp learning how to hold without cutting. He starts making eye contact. He starts laughing, low and surprised, like he forgot what joy sounded like in his own throat. He says home and means it.

And eventually—slowly, reverently—he gives it back.

Not in declarations. In presence. In protection. In vulnerability.

That’s the holiest thing about Pope Cody. Not the violence he’s endured. Not the damage he’s done. But the miracle of him still choosing tenderness. Still reaching for something that terrifies him. Still offering his chest, scarred and sacred, as a place for someone to rest their head.

He’s not holy because he’s redeemed.

He’s holy because he tries.

Because every small act of love from him is a rebellion against everything that built him. Because he holds his own brokenness like an offering—and still finds a way to love through it.

And when he does love, when he finally lets himself be loved—he’ll never go through the motions. He’ll check the locks twice so they can sleep. He’ll sit beside them in silence when they cry, not trying to fix it—just letting them be, because he knows what it’s like to fall apart and not want to be rebuilt.

So yes. He could survive love.

But it wouldn’t be survival anymore. It would be transfiguration.

Because Andrew Cody doesn’t need to be saved.

He needs to be believed in.

And there is no one more deserving of holy, quiet, lifelong love than the man who thought it would kill him—and still dared to try.

(Andrew is so special. There’s something almost biblical about the way he suffers, the way he loves, the way he carries it all in silence. I’m glad you’re watching. Season 5 is brutal in the best way. Welcome to the long, slow heartbreak of loving a man like Pope Cody. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.)

[dog-bimbo]

shiu kong x fem!reader 18+ only — imagining shiu being put on a sex ban or something like that mfgghhmmfmh >////<

minors and ageless blogs dni !

a/n i love writing shiu being sleazy but im going through something rough as of late so i made it a bit fluffy, just a little though he's still a bastard in this fic <3

he hates his clients, he hates the assassins that he brokers, he hates the clean up crew and most importantly, he hates condoms. what he doesn't hate is having his balls deep in you after a long day even thinking about your gummy, wet walls has him leaking cum through his boxers. a sex ban right in the middle of his commision is just cruel...

"i'm on birth control," you meekly reply. you're usually quite open with him, he's a great guy to be around but right now? his head is practically exploding you've never seen him be THIS devastated by something... but he quickly masks it after swallowing a lump in his throat. "two weeks, i can do that." he replies with a shrug. "you can just wear a condom if you're that bothered, y'know?..." but that's the last option for him, his final resort.

the first week was hard on him. it felt like the client and the assassin wanted him dead instead of the target—this feeling really was an exaggeration (atleast to some extent) being blue balled is what really drove him crazy. he always reeks of cigarettes, for sure, but it has definitely gotten worse... with that pretty pastel blue sundress of yours, how could he not bend you over the counter and hump you in broad daylight? when you're sitting on his lap while watching a show that you both love, how could he keep his hands away from stroking your clit through your panties with his thumb? when you're reapplying your lipgloss while you're on a date with him, how could he stop himself from pulling you to his car to make you kiss his cock? restraining seemed unnecessary in these areas yet, it seems like he's taking this as a challenge of sorts... it's strangely uncharacteristic of him since he's a no BS kind of guy.

he's not a sex addict trying to recover, he's just a bit ashamed that he's thinking about nothing but sex with you out of all people. you're an absolute delight to be around, all lovely and soft and dreamlike. he never allows himself to loosen up but with you, it's quite natural for him to relax. you're more than just a one night stand—you're the light of his life. also, that condom remark felt a bit patronizing. it was like you were throwing him a bone out of pity.

him having bad days meant that you'd be put in a mating press. he could feel his stress melting away as he buried himself deeper and deeper in you with each thrust but now? he's found better ways to cope with it. all you wanted for him is to be less reserved but when he's that exhausted after sex, you don't get much out of him. he's talking a whole lot now— about the clients, about the assassins, about the stupid dinner meetings and the clean ups and the indepth reason why he left law enforcement.

the second week was considerably simpler for him. first of all, the ashtrays in your shared apartment was no longer overflowing with cigarette buds, and shiu no longer wanted to kick the client's teeth down his throat each time he opened his mouth.

but it's you who's going crazy now. he's such a gentleman, a master at being dominant and assertive even while he's not doing anything sexual. everytime his huge hand rests on your waist, hip or thigh, you want him to bunch up your skirt and pound into you already. he's all man—the scent of marlboro reds and cologne drove you insane. you wanted him to press his huge body against yours already... your slit weeps for him and he's just so, so good at licking it all up—he gets high off the sweetness of your cunt. when he lifts his head up after eating you out and making you cum on his face, his pussy drunk expression is everything.

he's also good at noticing things and he knows that at the end, you're the one who's all needy and desperate.

he wraps his hands around your waist as he kisses you. it wasn't sweet, it was rough and hot and you could feel his hands going down to reach the hem of your skirt. he was stingy with the people he tolerated and extremely generous with you—you're his sweetheart after all. it's happening... maybe he's gonna give up on this little abstaining phase of his.... but he pulls away, "just wait for three more days n' i'll fuck you till your brain melts out of your ears, yeah?" he's got that shit-eating grin when he lets go of you.

you're no saint—you're just as desperate for him as he is for you and he wants you to know that.

[yanderes-galore]

Would you do a yandere Sanji (One Piece) concept?

YES! He's single handedly one of my favorite characters so I hope I get things right!

❗️Some spoilers for Sanji's backstory in Whole Cake Island Arc❗️

Yandere! Sanji Vinsmoke Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Clingy behavior, Submissive yandere, Jealousy, Violence, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Attachment issues/Fear of abandonment, Stalking, Isolation, Delusional behavior, Blood, Implied murder, Brief mentions of marking, Tampered food, Possible cannibalism implied, Possible drugging implied, Forced relationship implied.

Sanji himself can be an intense and clingy yandere due to his past.

He's someone who wants to please, always has been since he was young.

He's had a rough time growing up which affects how he acts with his obsession.

For example, Sanji might be against trapping his obsession in a cell as he knows how it feels.

He's loyal and caring towards you, even self sacrificing like he is with most of the crew.

Sanji would take anything you gave him with a smile.

Which isn't healthy but he doesn't care as long as you pay attention to him.

Sanji works as a romantic yandere most of the time, which is what this concept focuses on.

When he finds someone he loves... He no doubt will do anything to pursue them.

Sanji is probably one of the most affectionate yanderes on the Straw Hat crew.

He's flirtatious, sticking around you while planning ways to earn your attention

Out of all the Straw Hats, Sanji would probably be the most submissive with his obsession.

Don't get me wrong, Sanji isn't always like that.

I'm just saying if his obsession asked him to, the man is on his knees with hearts in his eyes.

Honestly to him, your word is law at times, but he's no pushover.

Sanji will definitely swap his demeanors if you asked him too.

Yet if anyone is around you, he's quick to be an intimidating presence.

Sanji can be a rather controlled yandere despite being intense.

He's possessive and easily jealous though....

Sanji wants to protect and impress his obsession, completely unwilling to watch you throw yourself into danger.

He treats you with manners, like a gentleman despite his pirate origins.

Although, considering his biological family, it makes sense.

Man... He'd do downright anything for your love.

He'll wait for you, defend you, cook for you, anything.

As long as he has your attention, he's a happy man.

Even if you just choose to smile at him or thank him for something, he's swooning.

Sanji might also fall into the pathetic yandere category around you.

However, as I said before, he isn't always like that.

There's times when Sanji will be aggressive, jealous, or overall possessive.

He'd most likely form rivalries with others, especially Zoro.

He loathes the idea of Zoro winning your heart over him.

He's not even a gentleman who's willing to observe and tend to you!

Sanji, while acting like a gentleman, can sometimes be a creep.

He stalks you, yet never likes to admit that's what he's doing.

He's a bit delusional, telling you he just... want to attend to you?

He's your bodyguard now, like it or not.

At first you don't mind because, well, the crew has a tendency to be targeted by others.

Yet you can't excuse the rumors you hear of Sanji rummaging through your clothes or belongings in general.

You just seem to know it's him when things go missing.

He probably won't really want to admit to it when you confront him either.

He might stop when you tell him to... but no promises.

If Sanji was obsessed with something, he'd probably practice being dedicated to you.

He hasn't loved someone as intense as he does with you.

It's strange for the crew to see Sanji indifferent to a pretty lady, instead focusing on you.

Normally he's a big flirt... yet it looks like you've charmed him.

It's interesting how fast Sanji can swap his behavior around you.

Sanji could be over protective or worked up over you.

Maybe he's having an argument or overall just fighting with someone else about you.

But once everything is taken care of, he's practically on his knees in front of you like he's yours to command.

Sanji could go from kicking someone half to death... to kissing you senseless.

Everything he does is for you when he's obsessed.

Even if you turned him down, even if you said you weren't ready to date...

He'll patiently wait for you, all while being incredibly clingy like usual.

Now, would Sanji kill over you?

Usually Sanji knows when to stop.

He'd probably get into fights or hurt someone bad... but usually they can recover.

However... If Sanji snapped, probably due to seeing you hurt or taken from him...

He'd snap, see red, and by the end of it is probably covered in blood.

Sanji sees no issue with this if it's for you.

It's ironic considering his father deemed him a failure for not being an emotionless assassin.

Sanji is far from emotionless, in fact he has no shame in expressing himself around his crew.

Yet the man sometimes acts like an assassin if it means he's protecting who he loves.

He hates scaring you though, often coming up to you to check if you're alright.

Even if his suit is wet with blood.

Towards most, his jealousy starts small.

He grumbles a bit or gets moody.

Although, if he feels you're getting too close to someone else, he steps in.

Even if you aren't dating, he acts like you are.

Could be his delusions, could be him just trying to scare others off...

It's unclear, really.

He'd never harm his own crew too badly but he may get in fights with those not a part of the Straw Hats.

Like someone flirting with you on the street or something? That would be enough to set Sanji off.

But murder... well... that's reserved for if he thinks he'll lose you.

Something he doesn't think he could ever accept.

Sanji has different ways of displaying affection.

It always seems to be intimate in a way, but the intensity depends on his mood.

Most of the time his affection is soft, gentle, and loving...

He likes to pull you aside in private to pepper you in kisses.

He wants to cuddle you, to show you he can be the perfect man for you.

He'll hold you close in a hammock, tell you that you're the only one for him.

He's gentle when he kisses your lips, like you're porcelain.

He'd let you take the lead if you wanted just to see you happy.

He wants you to want him too.

If he's jealous, his affection is rougher.

He nips your skin a bit and often takes the lead.

He tries not to harm you, yet at the same time he wants to show everyone you're his.

He desperately wants someone to love him back for who he is.

In fact, while Sanji would probably attempt to change himself to have you love him... if you accepted him for who he is?

He's surprised... yet is completely enamored.

All Sanji wants is for you to accept him, to be your lover.

He yearns for love as he was rather isolated when younger.

Now he's scared once he has you he can lose you.

He'd never lock you away... but he'd never leave you alone either.

He doesn't want you to leave him which is why he's so submissive towards you.

Just tell him what you want... He'll do it.

If you want me to drop some more twisted things, Sanji insists on being the one to cook your food.

Which would, y'know, allow him to slip things in?

This is rare, but if Sanji is delusional enough, I can see him putting a drug in your food...

Or even a part of him if you want to go down that route.

That seems a bit too OOC... yet it's possible, depending on how dark you want to make him.

He doesn't want to breach your trust... yet curiosity may get the better of him.

Point is, yandere Sanji can either be sweet, submissive, and insecure who wants to protect you and jealous... or a total creep if you want to go down that route.

Regardless, in his own delusional little way, Sanji adores you.

He'd spoil you with affection and gifts...

He'd make sure you know he's the only one you can love.

Overall, he can probably be a sweet boyfriend...

If you don't look into his more creepy behavior.

[transformers-spike]

Knockout, Ratchet, Megatron, and Optimus with taking care of a/their pregnant reader? Are they cuties?

Ohhh boy, mixed reactions all around

Knock Out has more trouble than the others. He may be a soldier, doctor and part time scientist, but he is not good at dealing with the human fluids involved. He is horrible at comforting you during morning sickness. It disgusts him and he can't shut his intake. He wants to help you obviously, but for now he's just as likely to empty his fuel tanks. So he's literally doing this:

After the first phase, it gets a little better. It truly starts to hit him how you're carrying his offspring and the mindfuckery of it all. He does care, he's just much better at checking in on you and ticking down the checklist of your needs than dealing with the gross stuff. He will cuddle you tho and give lots of praise

Ratchet is doing pretty well all things considered. It's just the stress that's getting to him. Ironically enough, taking care of you means he also needs to to take care of himself. Someone has to be here for you and the offspring, so he's going to do his best to make sure he doesn't work himself to scrap. He can be quite annoying when it comes to checking in on your wellbeing. He is a doctor dammit and he wants to make sure you're getting the necessary human analysis (government sponsored obv bc you broke all natural laws carrying his spawn) - and also his own because he's the only Cybertronian doctor around. He's going to rest with you on his chassis, holding onto his child's developing EM field, unable to process being a dad until his kid is actually born. He will cry Megatron is... very outwardly affectionate about the whole thing. Nuzzling his human and telling them how their spawn is going to lead the Decepticons to glory. He is very proud of you for carrying it, and he's very likely to stroke your growing belly with a digit for hours on end. He's got Knock Out (maybe even Shockwave if he's around) carrying out medical tests to make sure things are going well. You are held 24/7 for safety reasons, and he is not grossed out by morning sickness. He's going to rub your back while you puke and say it's only a small price to pay for what you're creating. Although, he is very irritable towards everyone else during this. He worries terribly for the birth, but he doesn't even fully realize it. Also impatient as all hell looming over you poking at his child's EM field. He cradles it and reassures his spawn it has a bright future in front of it. Megatron keeps you to his chassis at all times, right against his spark. Knowing him, he'll try to establish a spark bond with his kid even before it's born. Not sure if it works tho Optimus is coping. Maybe it's the other Primes inside of him, but he's handling your pregnancy quite well. Yes, he is very busy - but he does find the time to watch over you. He's very likely to just lie down and let you rest in his servo. Just covering him in pillows and getting comfy. He's very gentle with you. Willing to give you privacy during morning sickness or rub your back with a digit while you're dealing with the worst time of your life. He desperately wants his child to live in a world without war - and this may push him to uh... be a lot more aggressive towards Megatron. This bot is determined to protect his kid and make sure his offspring lives a happy life. He's going to press you to his cheek and just... cuddle you this way. Because he is overwhelmed with emotion and loves you so very much. He will also carry you a lot btw, especially during the third trimester.

[bullet-prooflove]

Jack Abbot Masterlist

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

Go Your Own Way - Jack struggles with his feelings for you.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Courting - You don’t realise that Jack’s courting you.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Ugly - Jack sees your scar for the first time.

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Messy - John doesn't mind getting a little messy when it's with you.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Nadine - Jack's sister in law is a real piece of work.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Sucker - Jack pulls out all the stops in order to win an important race.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Champagne Gold (NSFW) - Jack never thought he'd marry again.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Blood (NSFW) - Jack takes care of you in the aftermath of Pittfest in his own special way.

Life Raft - Jack reaches out when he sees that you're struggling.

Bread - Jack finds his own way to cope with almost losing you at Pittfest.

Overcompensating - A problem with Jack's prosthetic leads him to overcompensate during his shift.

Good Boy (NSFW) - You use alternative methods to get Jack to agree to take care of himself.

A Goddamn Miracle Worker - You always know the perfect way to take care of Jack.

Mood - Jack reacts badly when you surprise him with a trip to Germany.

A Force of Nature - Jack makes a suggestion regarding Germany.

Germany - Jack’s put through his paces when it comes to his new prosthetic.

Accessory - You tell Jack the real reason you won’t attend Jana’s party.

HCs:

Faye x Jana

Jack's Thoughts On Faye/Jana

On Having Kids

Competing

The Inspo Behind Nadine

Jack Abbot's Infinite Playlist

The Betting Board

Dressing Up

Lick

Submission

Zealous

[bye-bye-sugar-blue-eyes]

Plot points I hope to see in season 8b/9

(this is long because the writers have a lot to make up for)

• Airport scene

• Eddie gives Buck his St. Christopher necklace

• Buck's coping mechanism of briefly turning into slutty Buck 1.0 after Eddie leaves. Only this time it's with guys that resemble Eddie but he doesn't notice. Maddie does. And she wishes desperately that she wasn't pregnant so she could drink

• Buck actually uses the word bisexual or bi to describe himself

• Finally getting to see Eddie's sisters. And maybe while he's in Texas he facetimes Buck and they come into frame. And in true little sister fashion, they embarrass him: "Oh, Edmundo! Is this the Buck we keep hearing about? He IS cute!"

"I never said that!"

Buck: "...you don't think I'm cute? 🥺"

• Maddie, Sofia, and Adrianna meeting and bonding over their dumbass brothers

• Everyone else finds out that Buck is in Eddie's will and they all just stand there, mouths agape cuz how THE FUCK do they not know they're in love?? Everyone else can see it!

• Buck tells literally everyone at the 118 about his feelings for Eddie because he needs advice. And Chim makes a joke like,

"He already has everyone crushing on him! Why can't someone have a crush on me for once??"

"...dude, you're my brother-in-law."

"So?? We don't have to tell Maddie!"

• Buck admits his feelings but Eddie ends up not leaving so Buck avoids him out of embarrassment like jk pranked ya!

• Buck NDE because I NEED to see Eddie lose his shit

• Or they both have a close call and later have a serious 'spousal' discussion about what would happen to Chris if they both died. And then they share a moment of comradery, trash talking Helena & Ramon and hoping they never get custody again

• Speaking of Shitty Parents 2.0 (Shitty Parents 1.0 being the Buckley's) we need more screen time hating on Helena. Ramon got multiple scenes showing how awful he is and Eddie calling him out on it. But Helena is a selfish woman that keeps trying to manipulate Eddie into giving her Chris. And even when Eddie tries to keep in contact with his son while he's in Texas she just brushes him off and doesn't try to get Chris to talk to him. All because she got her way so she doesn't care, pushing Eddie further into his pit of self-hatred. And for that she must be punished

• Eddie talking to Bobby about his Catholic guilt in relation to his sexuality. And then going to Michael for advice about the transition of believing he's straight and having a heterosexual marriage and family to where he is now. The 3 of them need to go on a fishing trip or something. They'd have it all sorted out within the weekend

• Eddie and Maddie having ANY kind of interaction on screen. The writers know that if they teamed up they'd be besties instantly and they're keeping that from us!

• Chris needing dating advice but as soon as his dad tries to help he cuts him off like: "Not from you, you're obviously gay and all of your straight relationships sunk like the Titanic. But thanks anyway. Hey Buck!"

"Wtf? His relationships weren't great either!"

• Eddie having more discussions with Hot Priest™️ about his guilt and he just smiles fondly at Eddie, "I don't know about you, but my god doesn't judge. Not when someone lives their truth. I think you're more afraid of your family's judgement. If I were you, I'd go back and think of every time I thought God was judging me and consider the possibility that I was putting Him in place of my parental figures." and Eddie just blue screens for many minutes as Hot Priest™️ patiently waits for him to catch up as if he hadn't just changed his entire fucking life

• A scene where either Hot Priest™️ or Bobby or Buck asks him: "Would you judge Christopher if he questioned his sexuality?" "What? No." "Would you tell him to go to confessional or try to pray it away?" "Of course not!" "Would you ever discourage him to be anything less than who he truly is? Or stop him from doing something that makes him happy?" "No!" "Then why do it to yourself? Why set that example? Even if it turns out your parents or Abuela aren't comfortable with you exploring your sexuality, you can always do better than them. Break the cycle for the one person who matters most to you. Be happy, be yourself, be what you want to be, not what others expect from you. And I know you, you won't do it for you. So do it for Christopher. Show him that it's okay, great even, to be you."

• Josh getting all giddy while talking to Eddie like he did when Buck asked for gay dating advice

• Eddie talking to Hen and Karen about how they coped with their foster kids leaving. Like, how do wake up every morning to a quieter house and empty bedrooms, knowing the breakfast table is going to be lonely? They exchange bittersweet looks and hug him

I will accept no less than 80% of this becoming canon. Thank you and good night.

[kiyo-cant-write]

leona kingscholar arguing w/ a male s/o ✧･ﾟ

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I felt like we needed something on this blog with Leona <3

If you see typos, pretend they're not there. I'm writing this instead of letting the mental illness get me (because the admin's having depression atm!). How do I feel better? Ruin Leona's life xD

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Summary: [Name] is the s/o of Leona Kingscholar, and what an interesting time that is. Leona is by no means perfect, but he loves [Name], truly. Sometimes, though... The two argue. And it can get heated.

TW/CW: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst

Notes: established relationship, he/him pronouns for the reader, the reader could be cis or trans, the reader is described to be tall/muscular and human with no specified class year, the reader is not explicitly Yuu/Prefect but could be

Guest Stars: Ruggie Bucchi (mentioned, discussed)

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Leona Kingscholar

Leona is not the ideal lover by any means. He needs time.

He is abrasive, rough, and opinionated. He is so stubborn that he will hold a grudge against his partner in a fight.

With a female/femme enby partner, this might be a bit less harsh, but Leona starts out seeing his male s/o as a rival in addition to a partner, sparking arguments early on.

[Name] has to keep up with Leona's moods and his anger.

Leona can be a very tiring partner to have at times.

However, there are advantages to being another man in Leona's life. Leona will not pull punches around his s/o.

He is direct with him and says what is on his mind, even mean things.

However, this can help as it puts things out in the open.

Leona tends to use his s/o like a body pillow (and feel less bad about it as due to their similar size, he isn't crushing them).

Buuut he also thinks that he can push around his male s/o more.

He tends to be rougher with them in every sense of the word.

He isn't even trying to be violent, Leona just doesn't think to control his strength around another guy, thinking he can handle it.

Leona grumbles constantly that his s/o is annoying but he doesn't mean it. He says a lot of things to his s/o that he doesn't mean.

He is still coping with his traditional upbringing as a royal.

Leona is learning how to treat his boyfriend.

[Name] has not yet met Leona's family because Leona refuses to introduce them to anyone. It was by chance that they met Cheka,

Leona doesn't know how his sister-in-law and Falena would react.

Cheka likes [Name] and considers him "Ojitan #2"!!

Leona says he is annoyed about it, maybe he is, but he's also somewhat warmed by the thought of them being close.

It's a little too mushy for him to accept at this point, though.

He never apologizes for his bitchyness with words.

For Leona, it's an act of service or a gift (albeit given a bit carelessly) that serves to be his apology to [Name].

"Ugh. Leona? Leona," [Name] tried before using more energy to increase his volume, "Le-o-na!"

He was out of breath from checking several of Leona's usual spots and not very happy about the current circumstances. And where was Leona meant to be? Class. Where was he now? Not class.

Leona's eyes opened when [Name] called out to him, looking up to see the human's tall frame towering over him from the angle. His eyes said it all, [Name] was annoyed. Great. Leona was about to get an earful from his boyfriend to top it all off.

"Huh? What do you want now, [Nickname]?"

Leona glared at the younger boy from his place amongst the foliage of the botanical garden. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep. He didn't want to be bothered with classes, [Name] be damned.

"Don't [Nickname] me right now. I was checking on you, "[Name] said, a certain level of irritation seeping through, "You have class this period, right?"

He groaned at the mention of class. It was a chore to go. He would much rather be in the garden or somewhere else, sleeping away from all the noise. But few let him enjoy it between Ruggie, [Name], and one time Jack.

"No, not going. Why don't you get back to your own class, huh?"

Honestly, Leona had a point. Or he would have if it hadn't been a teacher who sent [Name] on a Leona Hunt. Professor Trein was annoyed, and that wasn't good for any student. He had asked [Name] to step out of his class with Professor Crewel to find Leona.

[Name] thought to himself, at that moment, that it was a bit odd the teachers singled him out. Still, it made sense given the lack of a Vice Housewarden for Savanaclaw.

"Leona, you need to focus or you'll repeat another year."

[Name] was sure that Leona didn't want that either. Or did he? It was hard to say. Leona didn't like campus, he said it all the time, but he was also dreading his return to the palace... If he was being truthful, [Name] didn't know what Leona wanted anymore.

It was a bit stressful sometimes, sad at others.

"What are you? Ruggie?" Leona snapped, ears twitching in annoyance as he spoke, "Worry about yourself, [Name]."

Ruggie is a what? How dehumanizing...

But he ignored it. [Name] didn't have the time. Onto the next.

"No, but Ruggie did tell me about the risk of being held back," [Name] admitted awkwardly but with no less frustration than earlier, "Can you just go sleep in class? Your professors are asking me to get you now."

He wasn't even sure what he was arguing anymore. He didn't want to be his boyfriend's parent, but here he was, feeling that way. He knew Leona would just sleep wherever he was, so it wasn't like it was a big ask to send him to a classroom... Was it?

[Name] just wanted Leona to succeed. It was painful to see someone he had grown to love ruining his reputation amongst the faculty and students alike. It wore on [Name]'s mind as it continued.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Leona said, voice rising slightly, tail flicking in annoyance he now failed to conceal.

"Then who will?" [Name] asked, "Our professors don't even want to deal with you so they sent me to do it!"

When Leona didn't say anything, [Name] took a step closer, testing his limits and ignoring the voice in his head telling him to just back off like he always did and leave it for another day. He didn't want to. he couldn't let Leona do this to himself anymore, not again. Maybe he would listen...

"Leona, I don't know what else to do other than chase after you," [Name] told him, "I want to help, I do... But I can't say anything else. Or do anything either. I'm doing all I can and it's not working."

Leona remained silent.

"What do I do now?" [Name] asked him, voice coming out with just a slight tremble to it as if he was at his breaking point and he was.

"Leave?" Leona said as if it was the obvious answer, "Just go."

"What?" [Name] managed to ask, "What did you... Leona?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Leave, [Name]. I told you not to get involved with me," Leona told him in a drawl that dripped with indifference, exasperation even.

"Leona, you can't be serious—"

[Name] didn't get to finish his sentence.

"I am, don't test my patience."

[Name] wasn't sure if he was offended or not.

Leona wasn't listening at all. Did he hear any of this?

"Leona, I'm your partner, can't you listen to what I have to say?"

As Leona ignored him,[Name] felt a bit desperate.

How could he fix this? What would it take?

"I said," Leona's voice cut like a blade, "Leave. Now, [Last Name]."

"I..."

But a moment later, [Name] fell silent, fists clenched at his sides for a moment before the tension released. He exhaled. Like that, it was over.

"Fine. Be that way. I was just... trying to help."

Leona's brows furrowed as he looked away, not wanting to see the other man walk away from him. He shouldn't have said that. He should've kept quiet. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Now they were going to be all upset at him tomorrow. They'd scold him again, act like his mother, just about.

What happened next was somewhat Leona's own fault in the end. And there he was wallowing in self-pity, refusing to acknowledge the truth of the matter even as he felt the ramifications of his actions.

It was [Name]'s own fault, Leona would remind himself the next day when [Name] didn't meet him for lunch and Ruggie gave him the most bewildered look he had seen on the hyena's face in a while. He should have known not to get involved in Leona's business. Stupid.

It's his fault, Leona would repeat for the next couple of days, refusing to comment when Ruggie asked him again, "Where's [Name]?" Leona didn't care, or he wished he didn't. Those thoughts pounding in his skull didn't mean anything. Not a bit.

He was lying to himself. He missed [Name]. Leona wanted to be able to listen to him talk about things, ask him for little favors, and keep him close. Leona wanted to feel the closeness that they had had...

But he wasn't ready to be wrong.

Would he ever be ready to see past his own ego?

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^