#physically and emotionally all in on a deep love

[mrstsugikunik]

KOKUSHIBO HEADCANONS

Pairings...Kokushibo x Reader

I see him as being really mean with his partner at first. Like stand-offish, doesn’t really talk as much, and no physical touch. Like NOTHING at all. 

The only type of ‘love’ you’ll be getting from him is when you’re around him. He’ll only acknowledge that you’re there and that’s it. Like you’ll just be like: 😐🧍‍♀️Then he’s like: 😐👍

Another example of him avoiding it would be if y’all’s hand would brush against each other he’ll pull away hastily and walk away. And it’s weird too because he doesn’t make any noise when he walks…

So many stares…it’s so unsettling how he will stand or sit in place with all SIX of his eyes staring intently at you. He could almost burn a hole right through you if he could…AND what makes it worse is that he never BLINKS! When he does he frog blinks 🐸 . No one can’t convince me he doesn’t- It adds to the demon characteristics. 

He has long, sharp claws. Period. The anime nor manga depicts him having them but I will. All demons in my head do.

Whenever Kokushibo speaks (which is almost rare in itself — You almost thought he was mute upon meeting him) it lowkey shifts all your organs because it’s SO DEEP. Like why the HELL is your voice that deep, it doesn’t make sense! Sometimes, it scares the life out of you when you think you're alone when you're not. You’ll just be doing your own thing and BOOM 💥 The most intense, heavy, heart shaking voice is suddenly filling the space.

Even when you and Kokushibo eventually become a couple, he will still refer to you by your name. The only time you're addressed as something else is when he’s addressing you as his wife. 

No joke, but I see Kokushibo taking really good care of his hair. He combs thoroughly, washes at least 2 times and conditions his hair and lets it sit for 30 minutes. In conclusion, he has soft, fine hair.

Kokushibo likes complete silence. He likes to meditate and in order to do that silence is key. If you were to make too much noise around him he would open all 6 of his eyes from his meditative state and stare you down until you get the idea. 

👁️👁️

👁️👁️ ⇦Him

👁️👁️

—

You: ....Sorry....😓

He will not show physical affection for a long while. It is not in demons to love especially when it’s their prey of all things. It sometimes bums you out but you understand. When he’s past that barrier it’s awkward at first. Kokushibo did not know how to give a proper hug. He was so stiff, and what made it worse was when he patted you on the back 2 times which were kinda rough. He doesn't mean no harm by it, it's just weird having someone show him affection. 

And don’t get me started on y’all’s first kiss…mans cheeks are literally covered by eyes and you're just looking like: 🤔 Like how does that work? Kokushibo just closes his bottom eyelids and lets you do your thing. 

Random but if you’re lying to Kokushibo about whatever his top eyes will squint in judgement

We know this man is for the most part emotionally unavailable but I think his eyes will give him away before he speaks out his true emotions. Even being with him for quite a while you will learn to pick up on this. From the occasional slight eye twitch when he’s annoyed, to his eyes narrowing in question or irritation, or when he closes a pair or two of his eyes to not get sensory overload.

Please don't ignore him, he takes it to the extreme to where you won't see him for weeks or if he's petty enough MONTHS. He rather you talk it out instead of creating unnecessary drama and tension.

Demons do not need to sleep, like at all. It's really a choice whether or not they do or not. Kokushibo will sometimes indulge on this...One night you had woke up because the heat was getting to you and when you turn towards Kokushibo you had paused to look over him, it looked as if he wasn't even breathing. And to make it even more perplexing is that he sleeps like a mummified Pharaoh. Unmoving, stiff, and very quiet. You of course knew that humans and demons were not the same but seeing them act upon their unnatural ways always was very interesting.

The eyes on his sword do indeed give him secondary vision. It's never confirmed whether they do or not but I think they do. Its canon in my world 🙂‍↕️ If he's in battle and there's a lot going on he will use his sword to his advantage in exterminating the threat faster. He also uses his sword as a means to look over you if he's not there. Its kinda creepy...

If he meditates outside, he would not mind if some birds land on his head.

You had feared when your cycle would come by because you just KNEW he could smell it. And the most EMBARRASSING thing of it all is that he would never mention it at all or give any hints. You: "You're aware of it, aren't you?😣😅 Him:....Yes....😐 Then you'll just stare at him a second or two longer and he ever so slowly turns his head to look at you...

A/N: Might do part 2 sometime in the future...these are hard

[whatislovevavy]

"A little blood never hurt anybody"

Jake helps Caledonia with her period cramps in the best way he can.

WC: 2.7k (I don't think I'm physically capable of writing something less than 1k for these two lmao)

Warnings: Smut, fingering, period sex, Jake being a wonderful boyfriend, you get the gist

Masterlist

Author's note: This is a fun little idea @cherrycola27 brought up in my DMs :) and I’m on my period, so art imitates life I suppose lol. It's been a while since I last posted something for these two, so apologies for the wait

You gently rubbed at your lower abdomen as you reached for your car keys. The slight drizzle and overcast skies seemed to echo the blanket of hormone imbalance and steady bass of dull pain in your body as you walked to your car. Frankly, all you wanted to do was get home and curl yourself into a nest of blankets after a long day at the lab.

You rubbed at your forehead, taking in deep breaths. Your phone buzzing as your ignition purred to life. 

Well-fed Raccoon <3: Hey Lass, I’m making lasagna tonight. You want to come over? Couch is pretty lonely without you ;)

Your grin spread. Lasagna did sound amazing, and spending time on the couch with Jake sounded even better. 

Sending him a quick text, you shifted your transmission and headed towards Jake’s home near the shore. 

—

Jake’s head perked up at the sound of the front door lock clicking out of alignment. He finished putting the lasagna on the stovetop, stripping the oven mitts off of his hands with a soft thump on the counter. 

“Hey, Lass, dinner’s ready.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, as you got your shoes off. You moaned out. “Thanks, I’m starving.”

His lip quirked as he poked his head around the corner to meet your smile. 

You leaned down to dig out a pad from your purse, wincing as the pain throbbed in your abdomen.

“Everything going alright, Lass?”

His eyes were comforting as you looked up at him, that same molten, evergreen shade of green you loved. 

“Yeah, I got my period today.” You winced trying to shrug it off, but the pain was starting to weigh down on you. 

His eyebrows furrowed, a slight frown tipping his lip. “Take a seat,” he gestured to the sofa, “I'll grab you some dinner.” His soft tone eased your mind as you took a seat on the plush cushion. 

The ache of your abdomen pulsed throughout the rest of your body. Letting your body lean back and eyes drift shut to salvage some comfort in this state. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. Your mind had been what felt like a dinghy in rough seas; no control and being easily swayed by the emotional waves that rivaled the accompanying pain. 

“Here you go, pretty girl.” His comforting tone opened your eyes to him holding out a plate of steaming lasagna, a small bottle of painkillers, and a hot compress. 

His smile grew as he saw your eyes light up at the sight of food. The term of endearment almost makes you tear up. You’d been feeling like God’s perfect little monster the entire day, ready to take a bite out of someone for looking at you the wrong way.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, giving him a half hearted smile. Jake gently laid a blanket around you as you continued to eat, leaving you to get a slice for himself. As he settled himself on the couch next to you, he offered you a glass of water for your meds. You thanked him, before nestling into his side with a deep sigh, bringing the heat compress to your abdomen, searching for any form of relief as you finished off your lasagna.

“Cal,” he said softly. You hummed in acknowledgement. He placed both of your empty plates on to the coffee table. “Come here,” his broad hands grasping your waist, encouraging you to lay with your head on his chest. You nestled further into his body heat, letting his warmth soothe the steady ache in your womb, your compress nestled between you both. His fingers gently running through your hair, each comforting glide of his fingertips through your hair easing you that much more. 

“Feeling any better, Lass?” His tone soft as he began rubbing his hand along your waist and stomach, trying to ease any discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, tipping your head up to look at him. “Yeah, a bit. My cramps are still bothering me. They’re always the worst on the first day.”

Jake gently pushed some stray strands away from your face. “I know something that can help with the cramps.” His lip tipped up at the corner. 

You furrowed your brows at the spark in his eyes. You knew that spark all too well. Playfully shaking your head. Frankly, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about that remedy during your day at the lab. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He smiled, giving your thigh a squeeze. 

“Sex on your period feels pretty fantastic from what I've heard, Lass. Makes all of the pesky cramps go away.”

Pesky is one way to describe them. 

“I'm game if you are,” he said after a beat of silence. His green eyes were bright as his hand rubbed soothing circles on your waist. You bit your lip, fighting with your limbs feeling like jello and your core heating with excitement. 

“I don't know, Jake, it sounds kind of messy, and I don't want to clean up blood right now.” Your lower lip pouting out slightly as you soothingly rubbed your stomach, holding the compress in place. 

“Who says there’d be a mess?” He grinned. 

“Besides,” he drawled, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips, excitement dancing beneath his eyes. “A little blood never hurt anybody.” 

—

Jake let your bra fall to the tile floor of his bathroom. His hands clutching at your hips and exposed tits as he littered your neck with kisses. “Jake, they're sensitive,” you whimpered out as he gently rolled your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, stiffening in the cool air conditioning. 

“Sorry, princess, just got a lil excited,” he murmured into the soft skin of your neck, his thumbs softly strumming over the sensitive, taut flesh. Your nails scratched at the back of his neck and thick shoulders. He guided you inside the shower stall, twisting the knob to bring on the onslaught of warm water onto the both of you. You bit your lip as he backed you up against the wall, letting his mouth and hands claim you as you ran your nails along his back making him shiver. He littered kisses along your neck, softly sucking hickies onto the flesh. His broad, warm hand opened up your thighs, wrapping one around his waist. He gently brought his hand down to your pussy, letting his thumb run over your puffy clit in electrifying, tight circles. Your head leaned back against the wall, hums of contentment leaving your lips. Jake brought his forehead to rest against yours. 

“So wet, baby,” he cooed, gently easing in a finger, letting you adjust to him with a soft moan as you pressed your lips to his. He gingerly added a second one, watching intently as your eyes fluttered shut at the thickness of his digits. He tenderly began thrusting, setting a slow pace, giving you time to savor each wonderful inch of his fingers. 

“That feel nice?” he cooed. 

You feverishly nodded, bringing your hand up to his hair, before pulling him down to meet your lips. He groaned into the kiss as you bit at his lower lip. His fingers increased their tempo, his lips swallowing your moans making him smile into the kiss. He gently pulled away from your lips, your teeth hanging onto his lower lip making him smirk. He looked down, watching his fingers hypnotizingly leave and enter your flushed folds. He increased the tempo, feeling your walls clutch at his fingers. Your pussy drooling beautifully for him. 

“There we go, such a good girl, Lass.” 

You panted as his two thick fingers diligently fucked into your welcoming cunt. The cascading water barely drowning out your moans and the sopping wetness of your flushed pussy. Your head leaned back against the tiled wall, your lower lip trapped beneath your teeth, eyes clenched shut. 

“God, I can't believe I haven't fucked you in the shower till now.”  He groaned out, bringing his lips to your neck. His fingers changing their angle to hit that delicious spot unimaginably deeper. The overwhelming feeling made you moan as Jake continued his assault on your neck and pussy. His body and bulging arm separating your quivering thighs, preventing you from clenching them in oversensitivity. 

“Jake.” You moaned out. 

“Shh, sweetheart, I know. I can feel how close you are-don't want my fingers to fuckin’ leave.” He graveled out a chuckle. 

“Fuck, I love feeling you fuck me with your fingers.” You mewled out with that same simpered tone that had Jake's cock stirring against your inner thigh. You were sure the water was getting cooler now, but you were too preoccupied to care.

“Fuck, baby, you just need someone to take care of your pretty, little cunt, and you’re just right as rain again. Isn’t that right?” He cooed, grinning smugly at your pleasure-struck face. You feverishly nodded, lips parted far too prettily, and nails gripping into him harder with each glide of his fingertips against your walls. His salacious words and intoxicating lips along your neck make you shiver, and your walls clench harder around his fingers. His grip tightens around your thigh enough to leave marks. Your nails digging into his shoulder and base of his neck, his taut muscles flexing under the sharp impressions of your nails, the pain spurring him on. His bulging arm moving like a piston, pushing the engine of your impending orgasm into overdrive. The thick blanket of condensation making your mind hazy, mixing with lust into a potent infusion that had you clutching at his body, your mind spiraling higher and higher.

“I got ya, pretty girl, I got ya.” 

Your eyes clenched shut, your upper body curling into his own. Whimpers and moans leave your lips as Jake littered soothing kisses along your neck as your high washed over you, electrifying your fingertips. 

“Such a good girl, sweets.” He murmured into the soft skin of your neck, his lips grazing your ear as your breathing settled. His body heat radiating onto you, an atmosphere of comfort along each inch of your body. 

“Ya feeling better, Lass?”

“Much better.” You murmured, feeling out of breath and like your cheeks were on fire. 

You smiled, feeling him smirk into your neck before raising his head, cheeks flushed and pants leaving his lips as he gingerly let his fingers leave your pussy. Words were lost on you as a hiss left your lips at the new feeling of emptiness settling in your stomach. He gently let your leg come down to the shower floor, his hands holding your hips steady. Running your fingers through his soaked hair, you nodded languidly, a content smile on your lips with hazy eyes. The sight made him chuckle as his hands teased their way to the underside on your thighs that felt more like jelly than anything. 

“Do you trust me?” His lust-blown eyes met yours. The water soaked his dirty blonde tufts of hair to his forehead as he kept his comforting, but firm grip on the underside of your thighs.

You nodded, gently running your hand over his forehead to push his hair back. Your nails tantalizingly scratch at his scalp, making his dick twitch against your inner thigh. 

“I trust you, Jake.” You simpered out, the cool tile at your back making goose flesh start to rise along your skin. 

Jake suddenly lifted you up, holding the underside of your knees as leverage, keeping your back pinned to the tile wall, a muffled gasp leaving your lips against his own. His biceps and shoulders bulging at the exertion. 

“I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He graveled out against the shell of your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders and upper back. You had no doubt he would. Being around him and feeling his body heat against your own was enough to help soothe the ache that followed the arrival of your monthly visitor. 

“Jake,” you whimpered, feeling him try to line up his cock at your soaked entrance. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tried to angle his dick inside of you. Pinching the inside of your cheek with your teeth in amusement at his failed attempts.

“Here, let me,” you simpered, reaching between the two of you, grasping his fat cock, giving him a few corkscrew pumps that had his breath stuttering and eyes threatening to flutter shut. Leaning up to kiss him as you led his aching, bulbous tip to your entrance. “Fuck, Lass, so fucking hot,” He groaned at the feeling of your flushed cunt, grasping and pulling him like your own siren call, leading him to the depths of the ocean. He let his hips rest against yours, his thick length fully encased within you, making you giddy with lust. He pushed your thighs closer to the wall as he found a rhythm that had you mewling against him, your nails digging ever so deeper into his taut shoulders and triceps. 

Moans and slapping of skin on skin ricocheted off of the walls of the tiled bathroom. Breathing in each other's breath, consuming each other through your kiss swollen lips. 

You lathed kisses at his neck, biting into the thick column and taut muscle of his shoulder, spurring on his groans and thrusts, and leaving marks that Jake would wear with pride in the locker room tomorrow.

“Fuck, Jake, always fuck me so good.” You moaned out as he hit a particularly deep spot inside of you. Your period pain ebbing away with each rub of his cock against your walls holding him in a chokehold. He held your thighs in an iron grip, making you take each inch Jake gave you. His teeth scraping against your neck with each kiss. Your eyes drifting shut, focusing on the feeling of his strong, warm body pressing you against the tile. His heavy pants, guttural groans, and the thickness of him inside you makes your head spin and cunt wrap ever more so tightly around him. Your nails gripping harder into his biceps and thick shoulders as he claimed you.

“That's it sweetheart, that's it-fuck.” He graveled out. Your lips agape as the tell-tale molten heat spread from your toes and fingertips to your clit, your head spinning impossibly faster as your high hit its crescendo. Your lips parting in a silent moan as your walls clamped down on his throbbing cock. “Fuck, Lass, squeezing me so goddamn tight.” He groaned out as tremors wracked your body as he steadily eased you through your high. Your nails clutching at what felt like every inch of his body as his pace slowed, but still hitting deep inside you. Savoring the intense throbbing of your walls around him as he found his high. 

“Oh-shit!”

He pressed his hands harder into the backs of your thighs, his hips coming to a halt against yours as he spilled himself deep inside of you with a groan. His eyes clenched shut as he gave a few languid thrusts inside of you. You softly opened your eyes, seeing his closed ones as his breathing came back to him. His gaze met yours as you rubbed soothing circles on his cheeks with your thumbs, a content smile on your lips as you brought his lips to yours. He sighed against your lips as he melted into the kiss, swallowing your whimpers at the new feeling of emptiness as he let his softening cock slip from your flushed pussy. His release following as it dribbled down your folds and inner thighs. He gently lowered your legs till they reached the ground, effectively breaking your kiss as he smiled down at you. You both looked down at the streaks of red flowing down towards the drain, moving along with the shower water. 

“Sorry, about that-” 

Your breathless, guilty tone made his eyebrows furrow.

“What for? You don't need to apologize for having your period, sweets. Plus,” he leaned down to kiss you, whispering against your ear, “It's my job to take care of you when you're hurtin’.” He drawled, his smile growing with the blush on your cheeks. “And if that means I fuck your pretty brains out in a shower stall, then that’s what I gotta do.” 

-

Thank you for reading <3

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[jungkoode]

CODE : EPITAPH | 01

“perfect match, death protocol”

"You've always known how you'd die. Not the when or the where—just the how. The Consortium would catch you. They'd execute you. What you never counted on was this precise flavor of fucked."

next | index

˗ ✦ chapter details ✦ ˗

word count: 4.2k

rating: mature

content: 100% genetic matching, forced proximity, rebel capture, & that bone-deep certainty you're trapped with the architect of your nightmares

|| veyrah sectors || consortium territories || the verge wastes ||

˗ ✦ author's note ✦ ˗

Ohhhhh boy. Ohhhhhh Kiki Nation. You thought I was done tormenting you? Foolish. Delusional. Have you met me? You really thought I’d let Jungkook carry all the emotionally constipated weight of fanfic war crimes on his impossibly broad back? No no no. It’s Namjoon’s turn, baby. That’s right. Brainy. Brutal. Built like the consequences of my own unresolved issues. The man is a walking philosophical contradiction in tactical gear and I said, “Yeah. I’m gonna ruin him.”

So welcome to whatever the hell this is.

First of all, let’s just get one thing out of the way: this story is NOT set on Earth. I made up a planet. A sexy, miserable, tragic one. Aurora cycles? Check. Weird tectonic atmospheric vents? Obviously. Heat cycles??? Look. Listen. It’s not ABO. I’m not an animal. But also… smut. And Namjoon. And a knife against your throat at a molecular compatibility clinic. You get it. This fic is rooted in completely unhinged planetary science that exists only because I had a horny idea and then overcommitted to the worldbuilding.

And that’s not even the most psychotic part.

Combat pheromones.

Yes. I said it.

Combat. Pheromones.

Did I take the concept of primal attraction and militarize it like an emotionally damaged sci-fi gremlin? Absolutely. Did I then pair it with a death countdown, political rebellion, algorithmic executions, and a traumatic proximity-monitoring setup? You bet your ass I did. Because nothing—and I mean nothing—gets me going like forced emotional vulnerability under survival pressure. I wanted a story where “I hate you” and “I want you” and “I might die because of you” are all part of the same sentence. I wanted two people so viscerally repelled by what the other represents they can’t even breathe in the same space without getting physically affected… and then I made them share tactical missions. :)

This fic is… well. It’s messy. It’s brutal. It’s horny in the way trauma sometimes is. Namjoon here is not the safe space. He’s the algorithm. The architect. The man who built a machine that decides who lives and who dies—and now he has to sit across from the one person who might break the whole system. And Y/N? She’s not soft. She’s not gentle. She’s angry and calculating and hanging on to her humanity by a thread that keeps fraying every time Namjoon opens his perfectly calibrated mouth.

So yeah. Sixty days until one of them dies. Or both of them fall apart trying not to.

This is not FMU. This isn’t “oops we’re roommates and now I hate how hot you are.” This is “I will gut you if I get the chance but god help me I want to kiss you in the fallout bunker.” This is my love letter to high-stakes intimacy, psychological warfare, and the terror of being seen by the one person who was never supposed to matter. If FMU is messy 20s trauma rom-com, this is “what if Romeo and Juliet had access to explosives and machine learning?”

I am not well. But I am writing.

So buckle in. Because it’s going to get real nasty real fast. And I love that for us. Let the mutual destruction begin.

Love,

Kiki (who clearly has a god complex and no intention of using it for peace)

˗ ✦ socials ✦ ˗

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

You've always known how you'd die. Not the when or the where—just the how.

The Consortium would catch you. They'd execute you. Public, probably. They like the spectacle of rebels bleeding out under aurora light.

What you never counted on was this precise flavor of fucked.

The readout on the terminal blinks, sixty seconds of staring doing nothing to change the numbers: 100%. A perfect match. The first in recorded history.

You rip the connector from your wrist, the medical port leaving a perfect circle of blood welling up where the needle pulled free. The diagnostic bay smells like antiseptic and metal—the universal scent of bad news.

"Run it again," you tell Yoongi, who's hunched over the stolen medical interface like it might suddenly bite him.

"Wouldn't make a difference." His voice carries that particular Hollow Crest flatness—half sarcasm, half resignation. "System's triple-verified the sample against the database. It's real."

You pace the cramped confines of the abandoned medical outpost. Three steps. Wall. Three steps. Wall. The ceiling leaks something dark that's not quite water, hitting the concrete in a rhythm that matches the pounding in your skull.

Through the cracked viewport, the atmospheric glow shifts from deep blue to amber. Kindle's ending early today.

Fuck.

That means Wane in two hours, maybe less. The tunnels turn into hunting grounds when the light dies.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is who you’ve been paired to by the Epitaph System.

Perfect genetic match with Commander Kim Namjoon. The fucking architect himself.

The man who built the algorithm that decides which matched pair lives through Transference and which one dies. The machine that's slaughtered thousands while claiming to save the species from Veris. The coldest bastard in the Consortium's command structure.

And apparently, your genetic twin. Your perfect fucking match.

"This is a joke, right?" Your laugh scrapes raw from your throat. "The great rebel hacker and the Consortium's prize tactician? What, did they manipulate my profile in the database?"

Yoongi doesn't bother looking up, fingers skimming over the interface. His hands are scarred from years of working with explosives, chemical burns mapping a history of missions across his skin. 

“Database is clean. This is a primary pull, not from the central network. Direct sample comparison."

The reality sinks teeth into your gut. "He'll know."

"Already does." Yoongi's voice drops lower. "Alert went system-wide the moment the match registered. They'll be hunting you."

"They've been hunting me for years." 

You check your gear reflexively—blade at your hip, pistol in its holster, backup knife in your boot. The weight is familiar, comforting in its lethality. 

"This just changes the price on my head."

"This isn't a bounty adjustment." Yoongi finally looks up, and the rare direct eye contact makes your spine stiffen. "This is different. The Consortium needs you alive now. Intact. For Transference."

The word hangs between you like a death sentence, which it is. 

One match survives the procedure. One dies. 

The Epitaph Algorithm determines which—its selection criteria known only to Namjoon himself.

"I'm not surrendering to that death lottery," you say, checking the ammunition counter on your pistol. "Especially not with him on the other end."

"Not asking you to." 

Yoongi rises, tucking the portable interface into his pack. You catch the faint scent of explosives that always clings to him, metallic and sharp. 

"But Jimin's on his way with news. High-level Consortium chatter. We need to know what we're dealing with."

Your jaw tightens. "We're dealing with me on a countdown to either execution or unwanted immunity."

The door to the outpost slides open with a pneumatic hiss, admitting a gust of cold air that tastes like steel and chemical runoff—the familiar breath of Hollow Crest's lower levels. 

Jimin steps through, silver-blonde hair stark against his stealth gear. Despite the urgency, he moves with no wasted energy.

One look at his face tells you everything.

"They've adjusted the standard protocols," he says, not bothering with greetings. "Consortium's deploying specialized units. They want you within the hour."

"They can keep wanting." You check your comm unit, scanning frequencies for Consortium chatter. "I'll be halfway to the Scorch Rift by then."

Jimin's hand closes around your wrist, his grip stronger than his frame suggests. "You don't understand. They've instituted a Protection Protocol. Anyone harboring you is marked for immediate execution. Anyone helping you escape—the same. They've already deployed squads to known Shroud safehouses."

The implications wash over you like acid. 

"They're forcing allies to become hunters."

"It gets worse." 

Jimin releases your wrist, pulling up a projection from his own comm unit. A holographic map of Hollow Crest shivers to life between you, red markers pulsing at key tunnel junctions. 

"They've sealed all primary exits. Secondary routes are being patrolled by drones. They're not just hunting you—they're burning the entire sector to flush you out."

"Because of a blood match?" Your voice sharpens. "They've never gone this far for a Transference capture."

"You've never seen a 100% match before." Yoongi's voice drops like a stone. "Nobody has. The implications for the Epitaph System itself..."

The words die as a distant boom shakes dust from the ceiling. Proximity charges. Consortium's getting closer.

"We need to move," Jimin says, already gathering his pack. "Safe route through maintenance shaft C4 is still clear. We've got maybe twenty minutes before they sweep this sector."

You grab your gear, muscle memory taking over while your mind races. "Where's Jungkook? And Taehyung?"

"Jungkook's creating diversions near the border checkpoints," Jimin answers, checking the seal on his mask. "Taehyung was on a supply run when the alert went out. Still no contact."

Something cold settles in your stomach. 

Taehyung going silent during a crisis never ends well.

The three of you move into the tunnel, the faint blue-green phosphorescent fungi that crawls along the walls providing just enough light to navigate by. The air grows thicker as you descend, way too dense woth mineral dust and the peculiar damp of Hollow Crest's recirculated atmosphere.

"Wait." 

You freeze, one hand raised. The tunnel ahead is silent—too silent. Even the distant hum of ventilation systems seems muffled. 

“Something's wrong."

Yoongi's hand goes to the explosive charges at his belt, a reflex born from years of narrow escapes. 

Jimin pulls a scanner from his jacket, checking for life signs.

"Clear readings," he whispers, "but something's interfering with—"

The wall to your right explodes inward, chunks of concrete and metal rebar ripping through the air. The concussive force throws you against the opposite wall, your shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. 

Through dust and debris, armored figures pour into the tunnel—Consortium Purifiers, their masks filtering the dust, weapons raised.

You draw your pistol in one fluid motion, muscle memory overriding the pain screaming through your shoulder. 

Two shots—the first catches a Purifier in the neck joint of their armor, the second misses as the tunnel fills with suppression gas. 

Yoongi hurls something toward the breach, a small device that clatters among the Purifiers' feet. 

“Down!" he shouts, and you have just enough time to cover your face before the flashbang detonates, momentarily blinding your attackers.

Your blade finds the gap in a Purifier's armor as they stumble. Jimin is now using his modified medical tools as weapons, striking pressure points. Yoongi creates chaos, small charges blasting debris to create cover.

But there are too many. 

For every Purifier that falls, two more push through the breach. 

Your lungs burn from the suppression gas, vision narrowing as your body fights the sedative compounds. 

Beside you, Jimin staggers, his reactions slowing.

A voice cuts through the haze—amplified, cold, and terrifyingly familiar even though you've only heard it through propaganda broadcasts.

"Stand down." 

Commander Kim Namjoon steps through the chaos, flanked by elite guards. 

The architect of the Epitaph System himself—a tall figure in black tactical gear that absorbs the meager light. 

His eyes are obsidian dark and assessing as they lock onto you. A streak of white cuts through his otherwise black hair—a genetic marker you've seen in Consortium propaganda. 

The mark of exceptional neural development.

"Rebel." 

The word sounds wrong in his mouth. 

"Resistance will only result in collateral damage to your associates. The Transference Protocol has been initiated."

You raise your pistol, aiming directly at his head. 

"Then why don't I save us all the trouble and put a bullet in your skull right now? No match, no protocol."

He doesn't even blink. "Because the Consortium has already deployed Purification squads to three rebel safehouses. Your cooperation ensures their survival. Your resistance guarantees their execution."

Your finger hovers on the trigger, hatred a physical pressure behind your eyes. 

You could do it. End the architect of so much suffering with a single shot. 

But the calculation is clear—he wouldn't be here without insurance policies in place.

"You're lying," you snarl, but doubt creeps in—because you know the Consortium would absolutely slaughter innocents to secure a prize like you.

"I don't lie when the truth is more effective." He responds monotonically. "Sixty days. The standard countdown for all matched pairs before Transference. Cooperate, and no one else dies today."

Beside you, Jimin struggles to stand, the suppression gas taking its toll. Yoongi has gone completely still.

"And if I refuse? If I put a bullet in your brain right now?" 

"Then you eliminate the only person with authority to call off the Purification squads." 

His lips curve in what might be a smile on anyone else. 

On him, it's just another weapon. 

"Your reputation suggests you're many things, but not someone who sacrifices innocents for personal vendettas."

The worst part is he's right. You've spent years ensuring your actions hurt the Consortium, not its victims. 

Still, your finger remains on the trigger, the temptation almost overwhelming.

Namjoon extends a hand, palm up. Empty. A gesture that should appear peaceful but somehow reads as the most threatening thing you've ever seen.

"Sixty days. Then the Epitaph Algorithm determines our fate. Until then, neither side benefits from pointless casualties."

You lower your weapon slowly, hate burning cold in your chest. 

“When this is over, only one of us walks away." 

"Indeed. Those are the terms of Transference."

As Purifiers move to secure you, you lock eyes with Yoongi. A slight nod passes between you—the signal established years ago. 

This isn't surrender. It's tactical repositioning. You'll find another angle, another weakness to exploit. 

You always do.

The Commander steps closer, and you catch his scent—cold stone and mineral water, like a mountain stream in winter. Nothing warm or human. It fits.

"Welcome to the Epitaph Program, rebel."

You bare your teeth in what no one would mistake for a smile. 

"Looking forward to watching you die, Commander."

Something dangerous flickers in his eyes—the first genuine reaction you've seen. Good. You've found a nerve. You'll need every advantage for what's coming.

Because one thing is certain: in sixty days, either Commander Kim Namjoon dies, or you do.

And you've never been good at dying.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

You're seated across from the man who built the machine that's going to kill one of you in sixty days. 

Or part of it. Not that you care what his stupid fucking job really entails.

The transport vehicle reeks of fear and industrial disinfectant, and the restraints around your wrists are some kind of adaptive metal—tight enough to cut circulation if you struggle, loose enough to maintain the illusion that cooperation might earn you breathing room.

It won't.

Commander Kim Namjoon hasn't looked at you since the Purifiers loaded you into the back of this armored carrier. He's reviewing something on a tablet, stylus moving across the screen. 

That silver strand of hair stands out like a scar, and you imagine pulling it out. 

You inwardly promise yourself one day you’ll do it.

You then catalog details because that's what keeps you alive. Emergency release on the restraints—magnetic, probably voice-activated by his authorization. Door mechanism—sealed from the outside, no manual override. Two Purifiers flanking the exit, weapons drawn but not aimed. They're confident you're contained.

Fucking amateurs.

The vehicle hits a pothole, jarring your shoulder against the metal wall. The impact sends fire down your arm where you took that hit during the tunnel breach. You don't let the pain show on your face.

Never give them ammunition.

"Impressive response time," you say, breaking the silence because you need to understand his operational patterns. "From match notification to capture—what, forty-seven minutes? Someone's been planning for contingencies."

He doesn't look up from his tablet. "Standard protocol accounts for high-value targets attempting immediate extraction."

"High-value." You test the word, find it bitter. "That what I am now?"

"You are a 100% genetic match." His voice carries no inflection, like he's reading from a technical manual. "The first documented case in Epitaph Program history. Your research value exceeds your threat designation."

Research value. 

Like you're a fucking specimen.

You lean forward as much as the restraints allow, forcing him to acknowledge your presence. 

“Let me guess—you're going to poke and prod and analyze every cell in my body to figure out why the great Algorithm paired us up. See if you can replicate the conditions."

That gets a reaction. His stylus stops moving. His eyes lift from the screen to meet yours, and for a split second you see something flicker behind the cold assessment—irritation, maybe. Or calculation.

"The Algorithm doesn't make errors," he says. "If we're matched, there's a biological imperative the system recognized that we haven't yet identified."

We. Like you're partners in this.

"Sorry to break it to you, Commander, but the only biological imperative I have regarding you is figuring out which vital organ to perforate first."

He sets the tablet aside, giving you his full attention for the first time since the capture; and the weight of his focus is unsettling—like being examined by something predatory that's deciding whether you're worth the effort to kill.

"Your reputation suggests tactical intelligence despite emotional volatility," he says. "The Algorithm factors psychological compatibility alongside genetic markers. There must be structural similarities in our cognitive architecture."

The clinical way he dissects the situation makes your skin crawl. 

"Structural similarities. Right. Because we're both such charming personalities."

"Neither of us appears capable of forming conventional emotional attachments. We prioritize mission objectives over personal sentiment. We've both sacrificed individuals we were responsible for when strategic necessity demanded it."

The observation hits like a blade between ribs. 

Too accurate. Too specific.

"Sounds like you've done your homework."

"I researched your operational history after the match registered. Hollow Crest tunnels, Mournwell extraction, the data theft from Virex Shard. Your tactical approach is methodical. Ruthless when required." His head tilts slightly, studying you like a particularly interesting equation. "Not what I expected from rebel psychological profiles."

"Disappointed I don't fit your propaganda?"

"Intrigued that you understand the necessity of calculated sacrifice."

The words land where he wants them to, and you realize he's testing you. 

Probing for reaction points. 

Two can play that game.

"Calculated sacrifice," you repeat, letting mockery creep into your voice. "Is that what you call the thousands who've died in your Transference chambers? Calculations?"

Something shifts in his expression—subtle, but you've spent years reading micro-expressions in combat situations. His jaw tightens by maybe half a millimeter.

"Every death serves species survival. Individual casualties are regrettable but necessary to prevent extinction-level population decline."

"How convenient that you get to decide who's expendable."

"The Algorithm decides."

"You built the Algorithm."

"I built a system that makes optimal choices without emotional compromise."

You lean back, studying him. "And what happens when the system decides you're expendable? When we're strapped into those chairs and your precious Algorithm picks me to survive?"

For several seconds, he doesn't respond. It’s just your breathing, his, and the vehicle’s engine.

"The Algorithm doesn't account for personal preference," he finally says. "If it selects you, the result serves optimal biological continuation."

"That's not what I asked."

His fingers drum once against his knee—such a small gesture you almost miss it. "I've prepared for all possible outcomes."

Bullshit. Nobody prepares to die, not really. 

And especially not someone who's spent years playing god with other people's lives.

You're about to press the point when the vehicle lurches to a halt. The Purifiers straighten, hands tightening on their weapons.

Through the small reinforced window, you catch a glimpse of Valis Core's outer ring—towering spires of black stone and steel that seem to absorb light rather than reflect it. 

The architecture is designed to intimidate, and you hate that it's effective.

"Welcome to your new accommodations," Namjoon says, rising as the rear doors unlock. "I trust you'll find them... sufficient."

The way he says sufficient makes it sound like a threat.

One of the Purifiers moves to release your restraints, and you resist the urge to test their reflexes. 

Not yet. 

You need to understand the lay of the land first, map escape routes, identify weaknesses.

Patience. Even when everything in you screams to fight.

"After you," you say as the metal cuffs retract. "Wouldn't want to miss the grand tour."

He steps aside to let you exit first, a gesture that might seem polite if not for the armed guards surrounding the vehicle. 

The Epitaph Citadel looms ahead, its central spire disappearing into the aurora-streaked sky. 

Somewhere inside that building is the machine that will determine which of you dies.

Sixty days.

You step forward, boots ringing against polished stone, and don't look back to see if Commander Kim Namjoon is following.

He is, of course. 

You can feel his presence like static electricity—a constant, irritating awareness that prickles along your spine.

This is going to be a very long sixty days.

But you've survived worse odds before. And if the Algorithm thinks it can break you down into components and variables, it's about to learn something new about what happens when you back a Hollow Crest tunnel rat into a corner.

You don't go quietly. You bring the whole fucking place down with you.

Your boots hit the ground with excessive force once you make it to the Citadel.

It’s obscenely loud, in comparison to the city. 

But that’s good. They should know you're not going quietly.

The atmosphere is sterile, a half-hearted attempt at breathable. Your lungs reject it on instinct, tasting the air in all its hollow decadence—too clean, too wrong, stripped bare.

You take three steps toward the massive entrance before Commander Kim falls into step beside you. 

Then ahead of you.

The audacity.

He walks like he owns every molecule of air in this place, shoulders straight, pace measured. Like you're supposed to follow him like some obedient fucking pet.

You stop walking.

The sudden halt makes the Purifiers behind you tense, hands shifting on their weapons. But you're not looking at them. You're staring at the back of Namjoon's head, at that streak of silver cutting through black hair.

"Is there an issue?" He doesn't turn around. Doesn't even slow his stride.

"Yeah, actually." Your voice carries across the courtyard. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Now he stops. Turns. Those dark eyes scan you like you’re a broken system readout—something in need of diagnostics.

"To show you your living arrangements."

Living arrangements.

“Be deadass right now."

A slight head tilt. That’s all you get while he tries to decrypt whatever ‘deadass’ means.

And failing, because apparently fluency in rebel sarcasm isn’t part of the Citadel curriculum.

"The Transference Protocol requires proximity monitoring. You'll be housed in the Citadel for the duration of the countdown."

Housed. 

Like livestock.

Your feet plant themselves against the stone, rooted by pure stubborn fury. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Your preferences are irrelevant." He states it like a law of physics. "The sixty-day monitoring period begins immediately."

"Monitoring—" 

The word sticks in your throat like glass. 

Because now you understand. 

This isn't just imprisonment. They're going to watch you. Study you. Document every heartbeat and breath and moment of weakness while you wait to die.

"No." The word tears out of you, rough and raw. "Absolutely fucking not."

One of the Purifiers steps forward, clearly interpreting your refusal as a threat. Namjoon raises a hand—barely a gesture—and the guard freezes.

"Resistance will not alter the Protocol," he says. "Your genetic compatibility requires observation to understand the unprecedented synchronization patterns. This is not negotiable."

The clinical way he dissects your future makes your skin crawl—as if you're already dead, just a collection of data points waiting to be analyzed.

"I'd rather take my chances in the execution chamber."

"That option is no longer available."

The Purifier behind you moves—not threatening, but positioning. Ready to assist if you decide to bolt. 

Your muscles coil instinctively, mapping distances, calculating angles.

Could you take three armed guards? Probably not without significant injury. Could you reach a weapon? Maybe, if you were fast enough and lucky enough and willing to sacrifice—

"Walk," Namjoon says, and somehow that single word carries more menace than any threat. "Or be carried. Your dignity is the only variable you control."

Dignity.

The bastard knows exactly which nerve to hit.

You force your feet to move, each step feeling like capitulation. But you're not surrendering. You're adapting. Learning the terrain. 

Finding the cracks you'll eventually exploit.

Namjoon resumes walking, and you fall into step beside him—not behind, because fuck him and his superiority complex—matching his pace. 

If he notices the aggressive mirror of his movement, he doesn't acknowledge it.

"The monitoring period involves shared tactical exercises," he continues, voice neutral as he explains your nightmare. "Joint mission parameters across multiple sectors. Physiological compatibility assessments every forty-eight hours."

Shared tactical exercises. Joint missions.

The implications hit like hammer blows.

"You're saying we're going to be—" Your voice catches. Clears. Continues with forced steel. "Working together."

"The Protocol requires operational cooperation. Your survival skills complement my strategic analysis. The Consortium benefits from the collaboration while studying our genetic synchronization."

Our. Like you're a team. Like you've chosen this.

"And if I refuse to cooperate?"

He stops again, turning to face you fully. 

For the second time since the capture, you have his complete attention. It feels like standing in the path of an avalanche.

"Then you remain confined to observation chambers while your rebel associates face the consequences of harboring a Priority Target."

The threat lands exactly where he aimed it. 

Yoongi. Jimin. Even Jungkook, wherever he is. 

Your cooperation isn't just about your own survival—it's about keeping the Consortium from turning their very considerable attention toward hunting down everyone you've ever worked with.

Checkmate in three fucking moves.

You want to hit him. Want to drive your fist into that perfectly composed face and watch him bleed. Want to see if anything human exists behind those calculating eyes.

Instead, you smile. Sharp enough to cut.

"How thoughtful of you to give me such compelling motivation."

"I find practical incentives more effective than ideological appeals."

"Right. Because you're such a practical man." 

He turns and continues walking toward the Citadel's entrance—a massive archway that seems designed to swallow people whole. You follow because the alternative is being dragged, and you'll be damned if you give him that satisfaction.

But with every step, rage builds like pressure behind your ribs.

Sixty days of this. Sixty days of shared missions and proximity monitoring and having to look at his face while he calmly explains how one of you is going to die.

Sixty days of pretending cooperation while planning his destruction.

The entrance hall is honestly ugly—all polished black stone and cold light, very Citadel vibes. The sound of your booths get swallowed by the vast empty space.

"Your quarters are on Level Seven," Namjoon says as you walk. "Adjacent to the monitoring facilities. Meals are provided at scheduled intervals. Personal effects will be processed and returned based on security assessment."

Adjacent to monitoring facilities. Of course.

"And you?" The question slips out before you can stop it. "Where are your quarters?"

He glances at you—a quick, measuring look. "Level Eight. Protocol requires close proximity without direct cohabitation during the initial assessment period."

One floor up. Close enough to respond to any emergency, far enough to maintain the illusion of separate accommodation.

Your laugh scrapes raw from your throat. "How considerate. Wouldn't want to make this too uncomfortable."

"Comfort is not a consideration. Operational efficiency is."

You turn back to face him, noting the way he’s positioned himself just outside striking distance. Like he’s calculated exactly how far your reach extends if you actually wanted to drag his stupid face through the ground.

Probably has.

“You think you’re clever.” Your voice comes out rougher than intended. “Backing me into corners, limiting my options. Playing chess while I’m stuck playing checkers.”

His head tilts again—that same assessment that makes your skin crawl.

“I think you’re more intelligent than your file suggests. And far more dangerous than standard containment protocols account for.” His eyes never leave yours. “Which is why we’re having this conversation instead of proceeding with unconscious transport to a restraint chair.”

The casual mention of restraints sends ice through your veins. “So kind of you.”

“Practical.” He gestures toward the door again. “As I said, entirely your choice. Cooperation with dignity, or compliance without it.”

Choice. Like either option doesn’t end with you trapped in his maze.

But he’s right about one thing—your dignity is all you have left. And you’d rather walk into hell on your own terms than be dragged.

You step toward the door, noting the way he doesn’t relax until you’re moving in the right direction.

Smart man. You are exactly as dangerous as he suspects.

Maybe more.

The biometric scanner reads your palm print, and the door slides open. 

The room beyond is… not what you expected. Clean. Comfortable. Almost pleasant, if you can ignore the complete absence of windows or any view of the outside world.

“Welcome to your new home,” Namjoon says from behind you. “I trust you’ll find it adequate.”

You step inside, already cataloging the space. Bed. Desk. Small attached bathroom. No obvious surveillance equipment, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

“When do these interaction periods start?” 

You don’t turn around, afraid you’ll throttle him if you see his expression once more.

“Tomorrow. After you’ve had time to… acclimate.”

The pause before acclimate tells you everything you need to know. They expect you to break down. To crack under the pressure of isolation and impending death.

They’re going to be utterly, vastly disappointed.

You turn to face him one last time before the door closes between you.

“See you tomorrow, Commander.”

His eyes meet yours, and for just a moment, something passes between you. 

Recognition, maybe. 

Or the acknowledgment that this is going to be a very long sixty days for both of you.

“Indeed.”

The door slides shut with finality that feels like a coffin lid closing.

You’re alone. Trapped. 

Sixty days from either death or unwanted salvation.

But you’re still breathing. Still thinking. Still planning.

And Commander Kim Namjoon has no idea what he’s just locked himself in close proximity with.

goal: 200 notes

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© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[sssereneserpent]

❀ ‘ What do you need to hear right now? ₊˚.༄ ೃ -

Pick a pile

────────── ·  ·  ·  · ✦

About Me ♤ Paid Services

Let's start by clearing our minds. We are always so stressed with everyday life. Take this moment to relax your body, releasing the tension you've let build. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and imagine a dimly lit candle on a widow sill. What does it look like? Is the the outside dark, cloudy, and stormy? Or is it clear, and still?

Now choose a number between 1-3. Don't overthink it. This is what you're meant to hear right now.

❀ ‘ Group 1 ₊˚.༄ ೃ -

There might've been a loss to your creativity. I feel that you've lost yourself in some ways, too. Maybe due to stress, burnout, or pressure from those around you. That spark that once burned so bright has now dulled to something you might not even recognize as a fire anymore. From once receiving many opportunities in your path, to feeling like there's nothing left for you. Nows the time to find yourself again. Disconnect from the outside noise for a bit and find out what that passion means for you. You deserve happiness, you deserve to love something unconditionally and with all your soul without the judgment of others.

❀ ‘ Group 2 ₊˚.༄ ೃ -

This group of people feels chaotic. It feels joyful, upbeat, and wild. There isn't anything wrong with that at all, but I'm almost feeling like you're overcompensating for something. I think there's more hidden behind this facade that you wish to keep from the world. You might be too impulsive, too immature. Learn to slow down. You don't always need to go on a new crazy adventure. It's okay to be vulnerable and to let yourself just be.

❀ ‘ Group 3 ₊˚.༄ ೃ -

This group is distracted and may be running away from some responsibilities they have. I see you indulging in things that may not be in your best interest. Doesn't necessarily mean they're bad. They are just distracting you. I feel like some of this could be in the physical world like school, work, but almost emotionally. There's some healing you've been putting off. Are you scared? Or do you just not feel ready to face your demons?

That's it for this collective reading. I hope it resonates, but of course, take what does and leave what doesn't.

Mwah!♡

[dottysdokis]

seeing ford snap at soos would make me cry i think. i'm really glad the canon never had him do that bc the fandom would crucify him for it. but under the right circumstances and triggers like being questioned about bill he absolutely would, even dipper has gotten fed up with soos and he doesn't have half of ford's baggage. the autism on autism violence of it all...and not even scratching the surface of the potential contrast between how ford and soos' neurodivergence may be perceived...ford may be seen as "high functioning" because he has high academic + career acheivement, and soos supposedly "lower" because he's been slow to reach expected "milestones" of maturity/independence like moving out, despite his higher emotional maturity than ford. anyway, tangent aside.

stan, being a hypocrite and possessive of his other family, would probably get super defensive of soos if he saw ford yell at him. it would be in a typically condescending way, like, "even this guy can figure what's going on in your head ain't right", but soos would ofc be enraptured by mr. pines standing up for him for once and wishing he could do even more for him.

WENDYYY. UGH the part about dipper coming to embody the guarded toxic masculinity she hates in her friends and family!! i could see her throwing herself hard into physical activities, axe throwing, boxing etc. to vent her aggression, though being scared deep down that it somehow makes her no different than the emotionally constipated men and boys in her life (the eternal lesbian struggle...hang in there girl). i love her and mabel's friendship so much too and it'd definitely be a bright (albeit bittersweet) spot in all of this. depending on how long this goes on (like if mabel gets to her mid-late teens) i could see them regularly smoking a bowl together and feeling their feelings. it's such a relief to be able to cry and be earnest. but they can't escape their issues at home forever

what id love to see more of is post-series fics where bill moves in with the pines that explore how like. bad that is. i don't mean like re-traumatizing or anything but i mean like.

what kind of lesson does this teach dipper and mabel? bill harassed and abused them for months, nearly killed mabel. bills been stalking and abusing ford for decades, kidnapped him, tortured him. if ford lets bill back into his life what message does that send the children about navigating abuse? about how to respond to your abusers bullying themselves back in? about honoring your emotions and fears and acknowledging how the trauma changed you?

dipper so uncomfortable and afraid having bill back around all casual and open. dipper hiding how he feels because he wants to impress ford and he knows ford's been through way worse than him at bill's hands and ford's acting like it doesn't matter at all. would dipper internalize that to mean his feelings don't matter? dipper mistaking the way ford has compartmentalized and disassociated and grown resilient against some of the worst things a person can go through for strength.

mabel not having anyone she can talk to because ford doesn't want to talk about what he experienced, at least not more than very surface level, and certainly not to mabel. but ford's the only one who understands what she's been through and ford's pushing his own feelings away. would mabel internalize that as ford pushing her away? and then mabel trying to confide in dipper, but he's busy trying to repress, just like how great-uncle ford taught him.

would stan see how the kids have changed and force ford to leave? if you're going to let that demon keep haunting you then you have to get away from them. does he know that ford landed at bill's feet when he went through the portal; would it kill stan, to throw his brother back into bill's arms for the sake of the kids? would stan perceive ford tolerating bill as ford choosing bill over him them? would he internalize it as ford thinking his sacrifice still wasn't good enough?

would anyone be able to see how ford was being abused? how triggered he was? how far he's regressed? how bill knows how to play him like a piano and get him to do and be whatever he wants him, even if ford thinks he's fighting back? would it be like weirdmageddon part 3 again, only this time instead of just stan it's the entire family too far in their own trauma to see he needs saving? would ford internalize it as him still not being worthy of a place in this world? as his acceptance being conditional and tenuous? would he see his family turn away from him and would it make it easier to swallow the lies bill is force feeding him?

would it become a self-fulfilling prophecy that doomed their happy ending? would bill be the only one to come out on top?

[alllovenohate7]

Amen

“We are products of our past but we don’t have to be prisoners of it.”

— Rick Warren

[motomamita]

farmer!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, arranged marriage, breeding kink!

könig never thought that the love of his life would take so long to arrive, much less in such a small town where he lived and where everyone knew everyone. but yes, he just turned 30 he found himself totally alone, without a wife, girlfriend or even someone to fuck with without commitments.

being an only child, his parents rushed to find the right woman for him. they had to ensure that their legacy would continue and their lands would be passed down to their future grandchildren.

that's where you come in, also the only daughter of a couple of lumberjacks and with a long list of suitors. although you could choose any boy in the town, your parents quickly paired you with könig, who was the son of the wealthiest family in the place.

you didn't know könig personally but you had seen him from time to time on the streets driving his truck carrying fruits and vegetables to supply the businesses. you knew that he was older than you, not only in age but also in body. he always had a serious face and a look that forced you to lower your head because of how intimidating he was.

your families introduced you one day where they had lunch and talked about how beneficial it would be for both of you to get married. könig didn't contribute much, as he spent all that time looking at your breasts through your dress and biting his lip every time you dared to look into his eyes. neither you nor he spoke to each other.

after that, they organized a small wedding in the garden of könig's family and formalized the union between the two of you. you were now his wife and lived with him in a small house built by könig on his family land. however, the most important thing was missing, an heir.

you both knew that your families would not be calm until they saw you carrying his baby in your womb. that's why you and könig had to get closer to each other, both emotionally and physically. every time he came back from a long day of work, you would wait for him with a jug of fresh orange juice or even a beer. then you would prepare the shower for him, where könig would end up dragging you with him and you would shower together. he caressed your skin with excitement and you did the same but with a certain shyness. however, it never went any further, until now.

one afternoon you were harvesting vegetables from the garden until the presence of könig behind you caught your attention.

"it's time... for us to have a son."

könig was wearing his work shirt with a few buttons open and his blue jeans. he looked agitated, as if he needed you at that moment.

"könig... i, i don't know. i've never done it and i'm a little scared..."

you couldn't finish because könig knelt in front of you and grabbed your hips with his hands.

"please, please, let me fuck you. i can't wait any longer, my love, i need you.."

he begged with some pain in his voice, resting his head on your stomach and almost sobbing. his cock was throbbing inside his jeans and dripping with precum. your heart sank at seeing him so needy, so you accepted.

without wasting time, könig fucked you right there in his garden and on the ground, in a primitive way. your pussy took a while to get used to its size but soon the pain turned into pleasure. könig was on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders and his balls hitting your delicate skin.

"i knew this pussy was worth the wait... fuck, you're so tight."

könig kissed your legs, leaving a trace of his saliva and even lightly biting your skin, lost in pleasure. his grunts accompanied your moans and pleas for him to finish inside you as soon as possible, you were afraid that you would be discovered.

"these juicy tits, they're going to look even better when they're big and dripping with milk... are you going to carry my babies, huh? are you going to be a good mom?"

you nodded your head because your mouth couldn't let out anything but moans. könig increased his thrusts, fucking deep inside you until he filled you with his thick semen.

he gently lay down on top of you, careful not to crush you until his orgasm passed. he carefully pulled out of you, caressing your legs and putting the cum that came out back in with his fingers.

"i have to make sure it catch, mommy."

[sugarcherris]

Headcanon: Captain Price’s Pathetic Pillow

Captain price x fem! reader, suggestive theme, 18+, mentions of uterus and cum, and the whole team clowning price.

Everyone thinks Captain John Price is a hardened man of taste—cigars, whiskey, and tactical brilliance.

Cigars? Expensive.

Whiskey? Aged and neat.

Tactics? Lethal.

Beard? National treasure.

And yet… behind closed doors… lies a secret so devastating, so shameful, so soul-flattening…the single most disturbing artifact known to Task Force 141.

His pillow is the saddest object in the entire United Kingdom. Possible Europe. Maybe the entire NATO alliance.

And not just any pillow.

No.

It’s not just flat. It’s deflated. Like it gave up sometime in 80s and never recovered.

This pillow has seen wars, sweat, spit, cigar crumbs, cum, and the weight of an emotionally repressed British forehead night after night. It’s yellowed. It crunches a bit when you press it. There’s one suspicious bullet hole no one asks about.

The first sighting

Gaz stumbled on it once and physically recoiled like it bit him.

“Cap— what the hell is that?”

“My pillow.”

“…Is it… alive?”

“It’s broken in.”

“IT’S BROKEN DOWN.”

Soap tried to surprise him with a brand-new orthopedic memory foam one. Price took one look at it, gave it one half hearted squeeze it, and muttered

“Too soft. Doesn’t smell like mine.”

Then flopped face-first back onto his tattered parchment of despair.. the war-torn crêpe he calls a pillow with the weight of a thousand suppressed emotions and let out a groan so guttural it summoned ghosts from WWI.

Laswell once compared it to a flattened Yorkshire pudding left out in the rain.

Ghost swears it whispered something to him once. He won’t say what.

That pillow has no bounce. It’s a sock filled with despair.

But he won’t replace it.

Because in his heart, Price believes if his pillow can survive everything it’s been through…

So can he.

You

You tried.

God knows you tried.

But after three nights of waking up with your spine curved like a question mark and your neck sounding like a glow stick every time you turned your head, you snapped. (Somehow all his pillows were deflated flat and soggy. His remarkable pillow is the worse one, the founder, the disease spreader)

Price, meanwhile, is sleeping like some half-naked forest bear—shirtless, sprawled on his war relic of a pillow, beard glinting like wet oak in the moonlight.

“John,” you hiss. “I swear on your beard—if I have to sleep on any more of this limp, moist rectangle one more night, I will summon God Himself to smite this pillow.”

Price rolls over, glowing in the moonlight like a Michelangelo statue who drinks whiskey and shaves with a knife, He shifts lazily, one thick arm draping over your waist, eyes half-lidded with that glint as he murmurs, voice deep and rough like thunder rolling through and just goes.

“Careful, love. That attitude’ll have you face-down ‘n beggin’ before you even touch the sheets.”

Sir. No.

Your uterus shrieked.

Your spine whimpered.

And the pillow—the goddamn pillow grinned.

The Battle Begins

You steal the pillow.

You tossed the pillow in the bin.

It crunched on the way down

You pray over its resting place like a sacrificial offering.

He came home. Sniffed the air once like a bloodhound.

He finds it. In the goddamn trash.

Washes it. Rescues it.

Holds it like a cradled child. Looks you dead in the eye and says,

“This pillow’s older than half the squad. Show some bloody respect.”

He sleeps like a WWII veteran with his hands gently gripping the corners like a parachute cord.

You’re convinced it’s not a pillow.

It’s a coping mechanism.

Eventually everyone started taking action

Soap starts a betting pool. He names it Operation Flat Bastard.

Gaz calls it Flatline. He salutes it sarcastically every time he passes the room.

Ghost adds it to a list of “Top 5 Unholy Objects I’ve Seen.” (It ranks above a haunted mask from Karachi.)

Laswell mails you a care package with six memory foam pillows. No note.

Price tries one of them once—after you begged. The next morning, he stares into space, grumbling:

“Had a vivid dream about paying council taxes. Didn’t like it.”

New plan

You surrender to fate.

But you plan.

One day, when he’s gone again, you’ll hold a funeral.

Full military honors.

You’ll bury Flatline under a crooked rock in the backyard. Light a cigar. Tap the gravestone twice. Whisper, “Rest now, soldier.”

And when he comes home?

He’ll lie down on a new pillow—one you’ve secretly been punching nightly, stomping with boots, smearing it with your cum, and ironing flat to simulate three decades of war.

He’ll grunt once.

Press his face into it. Inhales it.

And murmur:

“…Finally. Feels just right.”

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤBLOODY LEGSㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : Would They Ever Force Themselves On r*pe Their Darling?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ WARNING : Pretty much obvious. No smut. This discussion involves non-consensual acts, coercion, and obsessive behavior. If you’re sensitive to such content, I’d advise against reading further.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Would he? No.

Bruce is the last person who would ever force himself on you. Despite his obsession, his rigid sense of morality, guilt, and deep-seated trauma make it impossible for him to cross that line. Bruce operates on control—self-control above all else. No matter how much he craves you, he will never take you by force.

However, Bruce’s obsession manifests differently—through extreme control. You aren’t allowed to leave, to date, to breathe without his permission. He isolates you, makes you dependent on him, ensures you feel like he’s your only option. He’ll gaslight you, manipulate you into staying, but physically taking you against your will? That’s a line he will not cross. He’d rather break himself than break you.

But if you try to escape? The punishment will be brutal. Not sexually, but physically restrained, locked away, stripped of any autonomy. He’ll remind you that you are his, that he is the only one who can protect you, and he’ll do anything to keep you in his grasp.

“I will never hurt you like that, but you’re not leaving me. Ever.”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Would he? No. But... it’s complicated.

Dick is a walking paradox of affection and control. He loves you—adores you—but his love is overwhelming, suffocating, all-consuming. He needs you to love him back, to crave him as much as he craves you. He won’t rape you outright, but his obsession manifests in ways that blur the line between coercion and consent.

Dick wants you to want him. He’ll manipulate, guilt-trip, and play the victim to make you feel like you’re the bad guy for denying him. He showers you with affection, attention, and when you pull away, he punishes you emotionally—not through force, but through withdrawal. Cold stares, quiet disappointment, an unbearable sadness in his voice that makes you feel like you’re the one hurting him.

However, if you push him too far—if you reject him outright, try to leave, break his heart—he might snap. In a moment of desperation, he’ll hold you down, kiss you too hard, grip your wrists with bruising force—never quite crossing the line, but so close it makes your skin crawl.

“Don’t do this to us, baby. You love me—I know you do.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Would he? No, not the way that you think.

Jason is a paradox. He hates rapists with every fiber of his being—he butchers them, makes them suffer in the worst ways imaginable. But here’s the twisted part: he doesn’t see himself as one.

Jason is violently possessive. If he feels like you’re slipping away, if you try to leave him, he won’t let you. He’ll tie you up, trap you, hold you against him, whispering in your ear that you belong to him.

Would he rape you? No. But would he force intimacy? Would he hold you down, keep you pinned beneath him, mark you with bruises, bite you, kiss you until you’re breathless, until you’re sobbing in his arms? Yes. Absolutely.

But the second he sees real, genuine fear in your eyes? He’ll break. He’ll hate himself. He’ll pull away, shaking with rage and disgust—not at you, but at himself. Because Jason may be a possessive, obsessive monster, but he will never be the thing he hates.

"I’d never hurt you like that. Never. You’re mine, but I won’t fucking take you like that. Don’t make me into something I can’t come back from, baby. Just… stay. Please."

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Would he? Yes. Without hesitation because he believes it's his right.

Damian is the coldest, most possessive, and least remorseful of them all. Damian doesn’t feel guilty—because in his mind, you already belong to him. There’s no moral dilemma, no hesitation. If you resist him, you’re wrong. If you say no, you don’t know what’s good for you.

Damian was raised by the League of Assassins, by Talia, by Bruce. He was never taught the concept of “no.” If he wants something, he takes it. If he wants you, he takes you. In his mind, it isn’t rape—it’s claiming what’s already his. You’re his wife, his queen, his possession.

Damian is calculated, methodical, deliberate. He’ll drug you if he has to, bind you in silk restraints, keep you locked away in luxury until you accept your fate. You will love him, because you have no other option.

“You misunderstand, beloved. You were mine from the moment I saw you. Struggling is beneath you.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[clioerato]

Reverse of this post.

AU Unrealistic 90s, sorry

Eddie is like: "Well, Steve is just a really loyal ally. Really… physically loyal. And caring. I guess that's just the level of friendship a popular dude has." And Steve is genuinely convinced that they've been together for a long time and that Eddie knows.

1986:

They start hanging out. Then they hang out every day. Then they live at Steve's for a week straight.

Steve: “You can leave your stuff here, you know. Closet’s half empty.” Eddie: “Damn, you really are the most considerate straight dude I know.” Steve: “…Huh?”

1986:

They regularly sleep in the same bed. Sometimes they hold hands. Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes they kiss for a long time. Sometimes for a very long time.

Eddie (after kissing): “This is crazy. I mean, I get it, experimenting and all…” Steve: “What?” Eddie: “Nothing. I’m cool. You’re cool. We’re cool.” Steve (искренне): “Yeah. We’re the best couple I know.” Eddie: “…Couple of what, though?” Steve: “What?”

1987:

Steve gives Eddie a silver ring on a leather cord. Eddie wears it, even in the shower.

Eddie: “This is, like, a friendship ring, right?” Steve: “That’s literally a promise ring.” Eddie: “…A promise of what?” Steve: “Of us, Eddie. What the hell else would I mean?” Eddie: “Right. Us. Bros. Tight.”

1987:

Eddie: “You take care of me like we’re married.” Steve (smiling): “We might someday.” Eddie: “We might… legally non-binding kind of way.” Steve: “Eddie. We file taxes together.” Eddie: “You’re just very organized!”

1988:

Robin: “How’s your boyfriend?” Eddie: “Boyfriend? Who?” Robin: “Steve. Your literal partner in life. Your domestic co-op. The man whose shampoo you steal.” Eddie: “Steve’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… you know… post-labels.” Robin: “Eddie. You live together, you kiss. He holds your hand. He told me you're his boyfriend.” Eddie: “…He what?”

1988: Eddie: “Steve. Real question. Are we… dating?” Steve: “You’re joking, right?” Eddie: “Sorry! I didn't mean to! Maybe I misunderstood. I… I'm sorry, did I ruin everything between us?” Steve: “Eddie. We have a dog. We hosted Thanksgiving. We kiss. We have sex. You made me a Mixtape titled ‘songs that remind me of us’.” Eddie: “I thought you just needed a roommate with benefits and deep emotional intimacy?” Steve: “That’s literally a relationship.” Eddie: “…Holy shit. We’re boyfriends?” Steve: “We’ve been boyfriends for years, Munson.” Eddie: “Huh. Go figure. Guess I’m dating King Steve.” Steve: “You’re lucky I love you.”

Now that Eddie’s caught up emotionally, he’s 110% in. Possibly too in.

Eddie: “So... should we elope? Vegas? Matching rings? I’m thinking silver, with little bats engraved—” Steve (choking on his cereal): “Wait. What? Now you want to get married?” Eddie: “Well, yeah! We’re already basically married, babe.” Steve: “Don’t ‘babe’ me while talking about bat rings and eloping.” Eddie (grinning): “Too late, husband.”

*** Eddie: “So I saw this house. Big porch. Weird attic. Ghost potential’s high, but I think we can make it work.” Steve: “...Are you asking if I want to buy a house with you?” Eddie: “Well, yeah. We live together. We share a car. We kiss. A lot. I have a drawer full of your socks. I think it’s time we haunt a place jointly.” Steve: “This is how you propose real estate to me?” Eddie: “You should be grateful. The realtor loved my ‘gothic charm.’” Steve: (sighs) “We’re gonna need a mortgage... and a sage bundle.” Eddie: “You love it.” Steve: “I do.”

Grocery store, middle of the cereal aisle:

Cashier: “You want to sign up for the store discount card?” Eddie: “Yeah—uh, do I have to put my husband’s name too, or just mine?” Steve (pauses, then stares): Cashier: “...Congratulations?” Steve: tearing up immediately, holding a box of Cheerios like it’s a wedding bouquet Eddie (realizing): “Wait, you’re crying??” Steve: “You said—you said husband! In public!” Eddie: “I also said ‘Cheerios,’ are we crying about those too?” Steve: “Shut up.” Eddie (gently): “I meant it.” Steve: “I know. That’s why I’m crying.”

Later that night, in their definitely haunted new house: Eddie (quietly, as they’re brushing their teeth): “You know I really do want to marry you, right?” Steve (mouth full of toothpaste): “Mhm.” Eddie: “Not just for grocery discounts.” Steve (spitting): “I love you.” Eddie: “I love you too, husband.”

[venusveil]

Random astrology observations.

(My personal observations what I think)

✎ Taurus Moons be like Comfort > everything else.

✎ A Gemini Has 25 group chats but can’t reply to a single text you sent two weeks ago.

✎ Venus in Sagittarius Can love you from afar but don’t suffocate them or they’re gone.

✎ one think I noticed that Scorpio Sun with Sagittarius Venus is like they'll cling to you when they're feeling spicy but when that's over "who are you?"

✎ Never met a Pisces who doesn't have a issue with sleep. Either sleeps all day and night or no sleep at night. wakes up at 2 or 3 pm.

✎ Moon in Scorpio craves deep emotional (and physical) intimacy. Casual flings leave them feeling empty but they’ll never admit it.

✎You think you had the worse break up. Until your ex and you have 8th house synastry. And if you survived that? My strong babe you can do anything in life.

✎ by the way 8th house synastry reminds me of bad romance - lady gaga.

✎ My 8th house is in Taurus and I realized I can't be friends with a Taurus male. It's either we're a love/hate couple or nothing. No in between.

✎ Leo Needs constant admiration but pretens they hate being the center of attention (yeah right).

✎ I never wanna pick a fight with a Gemini Mars. I'll end up crying screaming vomiting. They'll hit you with words. will make you lose your sleep doubting your own intelligence.

✎ Sagittarius Mercury be like "let me teach you something" while offending you. "Why are you so stupid?" Probably gives (unwanted, nobody asked for) advice like It's a love language.

✎ 12th house Venus / Mars may attract people by accident then blame them for falling for them.

✎ One time I tried telling a Pisces Mars they're wrong. And he straight up was like "yeah I know I'm a bad person" ok? Thanks for knowing that.

✎ Aries Venus wants the hottest person in the room, the one looks hard to attract but when they do, They'll get bored before the 2nd date.

✎ Does Capricorn moon even cry? Once a year?

✎ Arguing with a Taurus Mercury in the 3rd house is like screaming at a brick wall. You'll be tired by the time they change their mind.

✎ Sun in Pisces/6th house is like you think working 9-10 is death. Also cries if there's no routine.

✎ I love people with Jupiter in Gemini or 9th house Jupiter. They knows a little about everything won't shut up.

✎ Sagittarius Mercury as a child I was a chatterbox talking non stop. And I've my big cousin sister (she's a Capricorn) telling me to stfu.

✎ Pluto in the 1st house : you walk into a room triggering at least 5 people's childhood trauma.

✎ Neptune in the 7th house attracts emotionally unavailable people.

✎ Jupiter in Scorpio people talks like a sexy cult leader. Can convince you to ruin your life in seconds.

✎ Neptune in the 4th house thinks their childhood was either a fairy tail or a horror movie - no in between.

✎ Mars in Scorpio knows exactly how to ruin you emotionally also sexually. And they will.

✎ Mars in the 4th house fights in the kitchen brings up childhood trauma mid-argument.

✎ You're not dating a Scorpio Venus you made a deal with the devil. Good luck moving on. Probably casting a spell to make you obsessed.

✎ Chiron in Scorpio heals people but breaks them first.

✎ Pluto in the 12th house knows the vibe is off 3 weeks ago

✎ Pluto in the 3rd house can destroy someone’s sense of self in a paragraph… and then say “I was just being honest.”

[novy2sirius]

MOON HOUSE CORE © novy2sirius

trigger warning: suicide, violence, eating, hypochondria, trauma, mental health issues ♡

this is just a random post abt things ppl with these placements could experience ♡

these r only abt isolated placements so take it with a grain of salt bc the whole chart matters ♡

a lot of these r experiences i’ve heard from my friends and ppl who’ve purchased readings from me directly ♡

moon in 1h core

not being able to hide ur emotions bc they’re literally evident on ur face, youthful beauty, constantly changing ur outlook on life depending on how u feel at the time, getting told u look young for ur age, getting mad bc boys/girls call u cute instead of hot, mothering everyone, likes to be pampered and babied, throws child-like fits if lower vibrational, being a lot like ur mom even tho sometimes u don’t wanna admit it, even if ur a boy having emotional responses like a teenage girl, growing up with parents that had anger issues so now u have anger issues, being asked if ur sad all the time by ppl when ur not even sad it’s just ur resting face, having a comforting aura, ur mood instantly being ruined the moment anything makes u insecure at all, looking good in light blue and white outfits

moon in 2h core

having a cute voice, wanting to spend all ur money bc u had a bad day and r emotional, eating bc u’re emotional af, ur comfort place being a restaurant/fast food spot, having a wife who brings lots of stability to ur life, having a good singing voice, feeling emotionally connected to inanimate objects such as ur stuffed animal, not feeling happy around ppl who bring instability to ur life, spending all ur money on things related to music/food, love language is gift giving and physical touch, not feeling loved by ur partner when they don’t hug u every second, feeling more comfortable around ppl who share the same values as u, only having a good work ethic when ur happy, caring abt ppl more when they spoil u with gifts

moon in 3h core

being extremely charming and able to persuade others easily, having a rly soft voice and being told u sound like a child, being scared to do anything when ur sibling/a companion doesn’t come with u, feeling more emotionally connected to ppl u share similar opinions/interests with, being more talkative around ppl when ur comfortable and quiet around random ppl, posting emo stuff on social media when u were in middle school, having a lot of the same interests as ur mom, being close with ur neighbors growing up and riding bikes with them around the neighborhood and selling lemonade on the side of the road, being obsessed with romance books

moon in 4h core

playing house a lot as a kid, either being rly close with ur mom or having extreme mommy issues, being obsessed with self care related things and not being able to go to sleep without doing ur skin care routine, being emotional just by existing, coming off as emotional even when ur not emotional, feeling deep emotion for ppl and feeling attached to them and then realizing that they don’t feel the same way bc u’ve literally only talked for a week and u just have a problem with getting attached to ppl easily, feeling most comfortable with people that make u feel feminine, being a talented nurse or realtor, having a very nurturing aura

moon in 5h core

having a lot of hobbies that don’t involve leaving ur house, being hot, ppl always telling u that u have celebrity/star vibes, having a bunch of creative ideas but being afraid to share them bc ur shy, being insanely dramatic and then later regretting it heavily, being a good actor, contemplating killing urself every time u got grounded as a kid bc ur dramatic, feeling happiest when ur by the ocean or water, being a hopeless romantic, falling in love w cancer placements but wishing u didn’t, loving mango/citrus flavored foods/drinks, being scared of violent video games and wanting to play sims or minecraft instead, being rly good with kids/kids naturally loving u, growing up with egotistical parents, rewatching the same films/shows over and over bc they bring u comfort

moon in 6h core

being able to tell how someone rly feels even when they try and hide it bc u can analyze ppl rly well, loves animals and feels better when they have an emotional support pet, love language is acts of service and gift giving, having rly bad anxiety any time u leave the house (and in general) these ppl r huge homebodies, being a hypochondriac and thinking ur gonna die every time u have a single bad physical health symptom and googling ur symptoms then becoming even more worried bc google says ur abt to have a heart attack, chronic overthinker

moon in 7h core

being rly charming and having a lot of secret admirers, being scared to come outside ur comfort zone without a companion/partner with u, being fruity af, making ur friends/lovers order food for u bc ur too shy to, wanting harmony/peace and hating when someone argues with u or tries to start conflict with u but unfortunately still managing to attract lots of enemies even when u try to avoid drama, being able to negotiate with others easily, trying to be nice to ppl and killing them with kindness and u still end up getting hurt, being attractive to society but insecure abt ur looks, feeling sad if u don’t look pretty at all times, moving to live near ur bf/gf bc ur too attached to be in a long distance relationship, hates hookup culture

moon in 8h core

being sexualized a lot, ppl randomly confiding in u abt their traumas when u didn’t even bring anything abt it up, not being able to hookup bc you’ll get too attached, having a lot of family trauma that has now affected u emotionally and made u rly defensive any time someone talks to u in a slightly off tone, being a witch, doing love spells on ur crush so they’ll like u, having dark humor, feeling like u wanna die on ur period and going insane and acting like another person and then when u go off it realizing how dramatic u were, getting a boob job, being sent d*ck/p*ssy pics a lot without even asking for them, getting inheritance from ur family, getting surgery when u were young, spiritually transforming the most when ur alone

moon in 9h core

wanting to leave ur home country and never come back, trying to run away as a kid and packing a bag then coming back bc ur scared after only getting half way down ur street, adapting to ur surroundings quickly and easily being influenced by others, having a closer connection with ur grandparents than ur actual parents, having good ethics and not vibing with ppl around u who don’t, having ur first romantic relationship in college, feeling more comfortable around cultures outside of ur own or feeling more emotionally connected to cultures outside of ur own, cutting out ppl quickly when they’re negative and when they don’t support ur plans in life, having a thing for athletic boys/girls

moon in 10h core

having a star-like quality, finding comfort in being a workhorse and working all the time and using it as a way to distract urself from all ur problems in life, feeling like life is meaningless if ur not constantly going out and doing things, trying to keep things private but they end up getting out anyway, having a reputation of being a softie, feeling closer to ur dad than ur mom or having extreme daddy issues no in between, leaving behind a legacy that inspires others and touches them emotionally, being talented in careers that r an emotional outlet for u

moon in 11h core

having a very friendly aura and being able to socialize well but still sometimes having a low social battery at the same time, having a lot of influence on others and attracting a lot of ppl that r fans of u, being easily influenced and sometimes easily manipulated, having a lot of mood swings, being emotionally unpredictable, fearing being alone/dying alone and ppl abandoning u, being able to social network rly well, being closer to a step/half parent than a biological parent, throwing the best house parties, forming closer emotional connections online than in real life, being closer to ur online friends than in person friends, having a deep desire for someone to just care abt u and give u attention

moon in 12h core

having a lot of dreams that weirdly predict things almost perfectly, being obsessed with the feeling of nostalgia but also hating it at the same time, having an ethereal beauty, using astrology as a way to get an explanation for ur trauma so u can feel more validated, falling into a deep depression every time u run out of shows to watch, imagining fake scenarios in ur head abt rly bad things happening and crying over it when ur bored, looking like a mermaid/man, dwelling on the past a lot, being able to mask rly well and pretend ur someone ur not and doing it sm to fit in that u don’t even know who u r anymore, struggling with mental health issues ever since u were a child and feeling like u were sad even as a kid but not knowing why, hearing ppl talk randomly when ur abt to fall asleep but no one’s there, having a lot of hidden enemies that u may have had a close emotional connection with before that end up stabbing u in the back, feeling alone even when ur not alone

comment if u want more of these 🗣️

[tteotlma]

breathe you in

Dead,, needing to SMELL your lover to be okay????– GETTOUTTA HEREEEE

joel miller x reader imagine 2kwc

TW: 18+ MDNI; nsfw, post-panic attack intimacy, intense emotional vulnerability, scent as grounding, emotionally driven sex, power dynamics (consensual), begging, praise kink, desperate and talkative!Joel, soft domination, slow grinding, unprotected sex, deep emotional dependency, cockwarming adjacent energy, physical clinging, overstimulation potential

a/n: Also i’m def trying to bring back the casuality of what used to be posting on here…. There are many layers to this, which i could talk abt all day, but for now  Bc i still love Joel, so very much 

Imagine it’s late at night, you and Joel have gone to bed. You’re wrapped in the heat of your shared duvet, blanket tucked under your chin just how you like it. Joel had fallen asleep with his arm wrapped tightly around you, but that was hours ago, and… a man’s gotta spread. He’s sprawled out on the bed beside you, both fast asleep. 

Suddenly, the bed creaks with an aggressive shake, and loud mumbling turned panic fills the room. You’re ripped from your sleep when the sounds of his gasps break through your dream barrier, and you realize Joel must’ve had another nightmare. 

Throwing the blanket off your body, you sit up and reach over to touch his face, soft shushes leaving your lips. 

“Hey, hey,” you cooed, “Joel, Baby—” You tried to pacify his cries, warming your hand against the curve of his jaw as you leaned into his side of the bed. He was frantic as he looked around the room, trying to reorient himself. 

“Sweetheart,” getting on your knees, you move to straddle one of his legs, trying not to become frantic. “It was just a nightmare, look at me.” This had come out more stern than previous, and it seemed to break through whatever trance Joel seemed to find himself in. 

His sounds softened as you continued to coax his attention towards you. Soon, the only sound that left his lips turned into heavy breathing as his hand shakily grasped your wrist against his skin. His eyes widen as he finally turns to look at you. 

Cupping his face in both hands, you lean in, “Just Breathe—” his eyebrows curled, a hand on his ches,t “In and out,” your chest mimics your words. 

“I—I—I—” He tries to talk, but you gently hush him.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to talk; just…” The hand on the center of his chest pressed deeper against the warmth of his shirt, silently reminding him where to focus. His hand came to rest atop yours, and he nodded. You locked eyes, and you noticed his pupils were blown wide. 

You stay like that, still and close, for what feels like hours, though only minutes pass—as he slowly pulls himself from the fog of his nightmare.  Then, without a word, his eyes drop to his lap. One hand drifts to your hip, the other settling at the bend of your arm, his chest still rising and falling in uneven waves.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, voice rough and low. 

You hook a finger beneath his chin, gently guiding his face to yours. “For you,” you whisper, tucking a stray salt-and-pepper curl behind his ear, “anything.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek, tender and steady as you hold his face in your hands. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

The hand on your hip slides to your lower back, his palm warm and deliberate as he draws you into his chest. You go easily, folding into the hug, your cheek resting against the curve of his neck. He holds you there, solid, quiet—like the act of touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. 

His face finds the crook of your neck while your chin rests on his shoulder. You feel him breathe you in. At first, it’s subtle and slow, his nose brushing your skin, chest rising against yours as he inhales deeply. He sighs.

Then he does it again. Slower. Longer. His nose drags across the slope of your neck, and his breath leaves him shakier this time.

You feel the edge of his teeth when he speaks, his voice low against your skin, the rough scrape of his stubble trailing higher as he nuzzles along your jaw. You tilt instinctively, baring more of your neck. His hand slides up your spine, fingers splayed, holding you firmly against him.

His lips hover near your skin—not quite kissing, but close enough to make you shiver. The coarse drag of his stubble follows the curve of your jaw as his nose nudges higher. You tilt again, offering more without thinking.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth finds your pulse. One soft kiss. Then another. Then one just beneath your ear that lingers a little too long.

When you turn your face toward his, his eyes drop to your mouth.

And then he kisses you.

It starts slow, careful, almost hesitant. His lips part against yours, and one hand moves higher on your back, holding you steady. The tension breaks when you sigh into him and your fingers tighten in the back of his shirt.

The kiss deepens. His mouth moves over yours like he’s hungry for it, like this is the only way he knows how to speak. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw. His tongue brushes yours, coaxing, tasting. You whimper softly, and he groans into your mouth like the sound unravels him.

Like, he’s not just kissing you.

Like he’s trying to hold on to the only thing that, to him, feels real. 

“Every time I breathe you in, I want more.” He pulls back, eyes hooded as he stares at your now swollen lips.

“Please, baby… let me have more.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and warm, watching the way your chest heaves beneath him. He sees it—the way your breath catches, the flicker of doubt in your eyes—and he doesn’t wait.

“Only if you want it,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ll take my time. I’ll be gentle. Just… I need to be close. Closer than this.”

Another kiss, softer this time, pressed just below your ear.

“I don’t want to fuck. I want to feel. Want to be in your skin and know what it’s like to come home and mean it.”

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in again like it’s the only thing that calms the storm in his chest.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping across the stubble at his cheeks. You nod slowly, silently, teeth caught between your lips—and that’s all it takes.

Joel exhales like he’s been underwater, like he’s just come up for air. He shifts his weight and turns you both over in one smooth motion, laying you gently beneath him. His hands don’t leave your body, not once, as your thighs part instinctively to cradle his hips. He settles there, warm and solid, his full weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest hovers just above yours, his forearms braced on either side of your head, eyes locked on yours like he’s still asking for permission, even without the words.

He leans in, kisses you again—slower this time. His lips are warm and sure, his breath steadying against your cheek. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear the second he looks away. His hips roll forward, a slow drag of pressure right against the heat between your legs, and your back arches to meet him.

Even through the layers, you can feel the thick weight of him, already hardening as he grinds against you. The pressure is deliberate, controlled, but needy. Like he’s not chasing pleasure, but grounding himself in it.

"That’s it," he murmurs into your mouth, voice thick. "Just wanna feel you, baby. That’s all I need."

He shifts again, just enough to work one hand down between your bodies, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. You feel the soft brush of his knuckles against your stomach as he pushes them low, and then you reach for him too, helping him slide them off. The soft sound of fabric rustling fills the space between your breaths. When his cock presses against your bare thigh—hot and heavy—you both shudder.

“Take these off for me, sweetheart,” he breathes, thumb hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

You lift your hips, and he pulls them down slowly, carefully, like you’re something breakable. His hands linger on your thighs when he tosses them aside, calloused palms dragging back up the insides until you’re spread open for him again.

He settles between your legs and lines himself up, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds, already wet and aching. One hand rests at your waist, the other steadying himself against the mattress.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll stop. I swear. I’ll stop if you need me to."

You shake your head immediately, breathing hard.

"Don’t stop, Joel. I need you."

He presses forward slowly, easing into you inch by inch. The stretch steals the breath from your lungs, your fingers curling into the muscles at his back as he sinks deeper. His body shudders above you when he bottoms out, buried completely.

“Fuck—Jesus Christ,” he groans, the words broken against your neck. “You feel like heaven. So warm… fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.”

He stays there for a moment, unmoving. His body presses flush to yours, his hand slides under your back, palm flat between your shoulder blades like he’s holding you there, grounding both of you. When he starts to move, it’s slow, deep, grinding strokes that have you gasping softly beneath him.

Each roll of his hips pulls a quiet sound from your throat. Your body clenches around him, clinging, wet, and pulsing as you fall into his rhythm.

“Needed this,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, raw. “Felt like I was gonna fuckin’ lose it tonight.”

His forehead presses to yours as he keeps moving inside you, languid, like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You’re the only thing that feels real right now.”

He holds you so close. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider, deeper. His mouth grazes your temple, your jaw, and your lips between every breath.

“Only time I can breathe is when I’m buried in you.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heel digging into the curve of his ass as you pull him in harder. He groans, thrusts faltering for half a beat before he finds his rhythm again, slightly rougher now, more desperate.

His mouth drops to your shoulder, breath shaking against your skin.

“Let me cum inside you,” he pants. “Wanna feel you wrapped around me when I cum.”

Your answer is a whimper, your nails dragging down his back. He kisses you again—messy and open-mouthed, tongue sweeping against yours like he needs to taste every part of you.

“Let me give it to you, baby—let me fuckin’ give it to you.” He thrusts hard with each syllable. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed, thighs shaking. His thrusts grow more frantic, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge with every desperate breath.

"That’s it," he groans. "That’s it, darlin’. You take me so fuckin’ well—always do. My good girl."

He spills inside you with a broken, guttural moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his whole body trembles above you. You feel every twitch, every pulse of release, warm and deep and grounding.

"Thank you," he whispers into your skin, over and over, voice crumbling. "Thank you. Thank you. Didn’t know how much I needed this until you. Until you."

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move except to press soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek.

“Gonna hold you now, alright?” he murmurs. “Just wanna hold you for a while. That okay, baby?”

You nod, barely able to breathe.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest like he’s afraid to let you go. And for a long time, neither of you says anything at all.

--

a/n: pls don't let another one flop -- REBLOG TO SUPPORT <3

[sensualnoiree]

1st House: The Helm This is where your spiritual energy and identity take the spotlight. The 1st House governs your appearance, personality, and vitality—the essence of how you project yourself to the world. It’s your steez, your approach to life, and the first impression you make on others. The 1st House is all about beginnings, the mask you may unknowingly wear, and how you come to know yourself on a deep authentic level. The captain of this ship is the ruling planet of the zodiac sign residing there.

2nd House: Gate of Hades Your values, self-esteem, and ability to attract wealth are all tied to the 2nd House. This is where your personal resources, possessions, and financial matters come into play. The foods you eat, your saving and spending habits, and your sense of self-worth are all part of this house. It’s where your style and material wealth are rooted, reflecting how you value yourself and what you own. This house represents how you sustain for yourself, how you support all that the first house needs of you to be who you are.

3rd House: Goddess The 3rd House is the domain of communication, early education, and the mind. It governs how you gather and process information, your intellect, and your interactions within your community. This house also encompasses your relationships with siblings, short travels, and technical skills. It’s the space where your to-do list and daily mental activities take shape.

4th House: Subterranean Deeply connected to your roots, the 4th House represents your home, heritage, and ancestry. It’s where your inner life and sense of security are nurtured, influenced by your upbringing and relationship with your parents—especially the mother. This house also relates to land, generational gifts, and knowledge passed down through the family. It’s a space of femininity and the feminine energies in your life. This is the lowest point of the birth chart and can be fairly private and personal-as opposed to the 10th house. It holds up the rest of the chart and is incredibly important in terms of learning about our sense of security/stability emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

5th House: Good Fortune Joy, creativity, and self-expression flourish in the 5th House. This is where you experience the pleasures of life—love affairs, children, art, and entertainment. It’s the house of flirtation, play, and drama, where your passions come to life. The 5th House also governs leisure activities, fertility, and the pursuit of happiness through creative endeavors. A sense of nostalgia lives here too.

6th House: Bad Fortune The 6th House deals with work, health, and daily routines. It’s the space of labor, servitude, and the duties that never seem to end. This house also governs how you care for your body, deal with illness and injury, and interact with employees or pets. It’s where the unexpected challenges in life arise, requiring your attention and resilience. Look here for understanding on what great works you may find yourself committing to.

7th House: Setting Place Relationships take center stage in the 7th House. This is where you finally begin to truly engage with others, forming long-term commitments, whether in marriage, partnerships, or friendships. It’s the house of open enemies, where you face the other in life. The 7th House also governs relaxation, romance, and the deep bonds that define your connections with others.

8th House: The Idle Place Death, transformation, and shared resources are key themes in the 8th House. It’s where you confront karma, contracts, and generational lessons. This house also deals with loans, debts, and the deep psyche—the mysteries and fears that lie beneath the surface. The 8th House is a place of soul material, where you explore the unseen and the unknown. Here, you face all consequences-positive & negative- of the 7th house and the relationships, contracts, and potential enemies made there. This is the house of others esteem of you, opposite of the 2nd.

9th House: House of God The 9th House is your portal to higher knowledge, philosophy, and spiritual exploration. It governs your worldview, ethics, and the pursuit of truth through study, travel, and discovery. This house is where you connect with religion, spirituality, and the higher mind, expanding your understanding of the world and your place in it.

10th House: House of Praxis Your public life, reputation, and career are shaped by the 10th House. It’s where you strive for honor, recognition, and achievements that define your legacy. This house also relates to your relationships with authority figures, particularly the father, and how you navigate the public sphere. The 10th House is where your goals, fame, and business acumen are realized. Sitting at the very top of the chart, like the sun at noon high in the sky, all can see you here.

11th House: Good Spirits In the 11th House, your hopes, dreams, and social networks come to life. This house governs your friendships, group affiliations, and the communities you belong to. It’s where you connect with humanity, receive sudden blessings, and find support in your aspirations. The 11th House is also associated with gifts, riches, and the imagination needed to dream big.

12th House: Bad Spirits The 12th House is a place of retreat, isolation, and self-undoing. It’s where you confront your inner shadows, secrets, and hidden enemies. This house governs institutions, mental health, and the need for solitude or seclusion. It’s also a space of psychological development, where you deal with endings, sickness, and the unseen forces that shape your life journey. This house is in a blind spot to the first house of Self and that is why we can be blind to the very things that reside here. Its not so much that these things seek out to destroy you but any area of your life your are deeply unaware of can come back and disorientate you from who you believe yourself to be.

follow for more astro insights like this and head on over to @quenysefields or my etsy --> sensualnoiree to grab my new astrology guidebook on reading your own natal chart :)

[pancake404]

Character(s) Descriptions in the Limbo: Doey the Doughman

Doey is an interesting case when he entered in the limbo as the three children are separated into their own individual reflections of themselves.

Jackie: The sad but pure soul, not known for strength and often hides behind Matthew whenever scared. However, Jackie can be a clever and empathetic little guy.

Matthew: The most “Doey” looking one. Still behaves the same except this time, is fully determined to untie the toys into a second safe haven-like environment. I mean, after all, if you’re stuck here, you might as well make this place the best you can make it.

Kevin: Oddly shaped and very tall. Kevin still is the most aggressive one and most distrusting of any other toy. However, with his arms being like blades and claws, Kevin can be tough to fight with physically and often is marked as the main defense whenever anyone tries to hurt him or those he is close with.

They all share one main mirror: “THE GENTLE VOICE”

TGV is a mirror that only occurs whenever all three doey’s are emotionally deep into what torments them(Kevin: Being Hurt, Matthew: Failing Everyone, Jack: Death of his parents). It looks the monstrous Doey from chapter 4 however, it will instead lure nearby victims close by through a gentle voice, attracting them closer. Victims often see those they love like their parents and once they get close enough or don’t get tricked by it, TGV attacks. No one can die but it does hurt…a lot and once your mirror takes control, it’s hard to get control back and that’s very much true for TGV and Doey.

Fun facts: They all can fuse together into one Doey but they enjoy their additional sense of freedom from sharing a body for so long, they’re not forced into their forms, they can change how they look but for some reason, it’s these forms that draw to them, and lastly, Matthew has an odd sense of one’s soul. He could look beyond what others show to others and see what they’re really like and how they truly feel.

So that’s Doey, hope you enjoyed this character description in the AU(there is a lot of them the more I scroll).

[astrologydray]

The Lubby-dubby side of the Venus signs 🥰😍😘😫

😈Aries Venus:

They love teasing, playful banter, and a little bit of competitive flirting. If they’re wrestling with you for fun, they’re into you😭.

Aries Venus shows love through big, impulsive acts—surprise dates, random “I love you” texts, or whisking you away on an adventure.

Hugs? More like bone-crushing embraces. Kisses? Always fiery and full of urgency.

Aries Venus won’t sugarcoat things, but their honesty means you’ll always know where you stand with them.

They need excitement in relationships—think spontaneous road trips, fun challenges, or chasing each other around the house just for fun🥰.

😈Taurus Venus:

Taurus Venus loves physical touch—expect long hugs, hand-holding, and falling asleep tangled together. They show love through warmth and closeness.

Expect candlelit dinners, cozy nights in, soft blankets, and music that sets the mood. Taurus Venus loves creating ambiance😫.

They prove their love through consistency, loyalty, and little everyday gestures—cooking for you, remembering your favorite things, and making sure you feel secure.

They want to be yours and yours alone—they’re protective, a little jealous, and love when you’re just as obsessed with them😚.

They express love through gifts, delicious food, and making sure you’re comfortable—they want you to be pampered and adored🤩.

😈Gemini Venus:

Expect clever comebacks, inside jokes, and playful sarcasm—it’s their way of keeping things exciting.

Gemini Venus bonds through talking, debating, and exchanging ideas. Deep late-night talks, sending memes, and random fun facts? That’s their love language🧠.

They’re the type to randomly text you “wyd” every hour and expect a full conversation about nothing. If they overshare, they’re hooked on you❤️‍🔥.

Love should feel like a never-ending sleepover—laughing, talking about anything and everything, and never running out of things to do together.

Compliments, sweet texts, and witty one-liners are their way of saying “I love you.” They’ll always make you feel mentally stimulated and adored🥰.

😈Cancer Venus:

snuggling, forehead kisses, and wrapping you up in a warm embrace make them feel safe and connected❤️.

Cooking for you, making sure you’re eating well, checking in on your feelings—they show love by taking care of you in little, thoughtful ways.

They form deep emotional bonds and need reassurance that you feel the same way. They be emotionally attached af😫🥰.

Cancer Venus wants to build a cozy, intimate world with their person—expect sweet traditions, a shared playlist, or a comfy home full of love.

If they love you, they will be protective. They may get jealous easily, but it’s just because they feel so deeply😤.

😈Leo Venus:

Expect big hugs, dramatic kisses, and constant compliments. Leo Venus isn’t shy about showing their love loud and proud.

Posting you on social media, bragging about you to friends, wanting to match outfits—they love making their love public and undeniable. Showing you off as they should😫.

When they love you, they’re all in. They’ll defend your honor, hype you up, and make sure you know you’re theirs.

Think romantic surprises, heartfelt love letters, and planning unforgettable dates. Love with them feels like a movie moment🤩.

Once they commit, they’re ride or die. They want a love that feels powerful, unbreakable, and meant to be🤞🏾.

😈Virgo Venus:

They show love by helping, fixing, and making your life easier—whether it’s remembering your schedule, bringing you food, or handling the little things you forget. Very thoughtful 🤔.

They notice everything—your likes, dislikes, habits, and moods. If they love you, they’ll adjust themselves to fit your needs effortlessly.

When a Virgo Venus commits, they’re all in. They don’t fall in love easily, but once they do, they’re steady, trustworthy, and always there for you.

They remember the little things—your favorite coffee order, what makes you anxious, or the book you said you wanted months ago❤️.

Instead of grand gestures, they show up for you daily, proving their love through consistency, effort, and devotion.

😈Libra Venus:

Even in love, they never stop flirting. Expect sweet compliments, lingering eye contact, and teasing banter that keeps the spark alive❤️‍🔥.

They adore romance and will shower you with affection, gifts, and quality time—but they also want to be adored in return.

Whether it’s holding hands, cuddling, or whispering sweet things, they love gentle, elegant forms of intimacy😫.

They’ll create romantic dates with candles and soft music, write heartfelt love notes, or plan something special just to make you smile.

Love should feel easy, fun, and full of connection—they want someone they can talk to for hours and still feel completely enchanted by.

😈Scorpio Venus:

When they love you, you become their world. They’re not interested in casual affection—they want something real and unbreakable.

If they’re in love, they’ll make sure you’re safe, defended, and completely theirs. A little jealous? Maybe. But only because they love so deeply🖤.

They won’t always say how much they love you—but you’ll feel it in the way they look at you, touch you, and fight for you😫.

They don’t do superficial romance, but expect intense, meaningful gestures, like sharing secrets they tell no one else or remembering tiny details about you forever.

they want growth, depth, and transformation. If they love you, they’ll push you to evolve into your best self🤞🏾.

😈Sagittarius Venus:

Expect random road trips, last-minute date ideas, and a relationship that feels like a never-ending adventure. They want a love that’s exciting and free🏃🏾.

They want a partner they can grow with, debate with, and experience new things with—mental stimulation is a must!

They’ll tell you exactly how they feel, and while they value independence, they’re incredibly devoted to the person who can keep up with them.

They won’t cling, but if they keep coming back to you even with all their options, that’s how you know you have their heart.

They might not always be romantic, but when they do express love, it’s bold, dramatic, and full of enthusiasm🤪.

😈Capricorn Venus:

When they’re in love, they’re all in for the long haul. They want to build something solid and lasting with their partner.

they show love through providing, taking care of you, and making sure you’re supported. If they’re taking care of the logistics of your life, that’s love 💕.

They show up for you, day in and day out. Whether it’s supporting your career goals or just being there when you need them, they’re always dependable.

They might not wear their heart on their sleeve, but they’re extremely affectionate in subtle ways—holding your hand, offering gentle touches, or showing interest in your day.

they’re drawn to partners who are ambitious, responsible, and goal-oriented. If you earn their admiration, they’ll show love through undying support😚.

😈Aquarius Venus:

They show affection by engaging in thought-provoking conversations, debates, and sharing ideas. If they’re excited to discuss something with you, it’s a sign they’re deeply connected.

They love someone who embraces their individuality. Expect unexpected surprises that reflect their quirky nature—random gifts, offbeat date ideas, or spontaneous adventures.

They’ll love you by encouraging you to follow your dreams, be your own person, and express your full potential🤞🏾.

They may not be outwardly emotional, but their love runs deep. If they open up to you emotionally, it’s a sign they truly trust you. They express love through actions, ideas, and long-term commitment🥹.

While they care deeply, they need space and independence. They show love by giving their partner room to grow and encouraging personal freedom.

😈Pisces Venus:

Pisces Venus loves through empathy and emotional depth. They want to connect on a soul level, often feeling like their love is fated or destined.

They show love through gentle acts of care, like offering comfort when you’re down, listening to your deepest thoughts, or simply being there when you need them.

Pisces Venus is very attuned to their partner’s emotional needs. They can sense when you’re feeling off or need reassurance, and they’ll go out of their way to make you feel loved and cared for😘.

They love expressing affection through art, poetry, or music—whether it’s sharing a song that reminds them of you or painting something inspired by their love for you😍.

Expect soft touches, sweet words, and an overall nurturing energy. They want to make you feel cherished in the most gentle and unhurried way🥰.