#the perfect person they make up in their mind

[fortheharbingers]

caleb thoughts (loosely on trying to make him fit & first time) on the mind... minors do not interact !!!

caleb helping you prep and stretch before your first ime

though you do feel a tad weird, it doesn't come off as condescending. just a pang of insecurity sweeping over at your lack of experience, how even now you're still that little kid.

he takes his time with you, mouth on you for more than you can count, the wet of his tongue spreading a cold sensation over your body, how he touches you down there with lithe touches and you feel chills down your spine from his fingers- rubbing your thighs together and trying to push him away with a yelp, mumbling about the cold and he chuckles, just how adorable you are.

it goes for so long you've forgotten what was supposed to happen, that this is just the warn up to the real thing. you feel spent already, cummed too many times for your body to catch on, you feel dizzy, barely here, eyes locked onto his face but there's nothing else between your eyes, not a single thought left forming.

caleb is caring, always have been. with your best interest in mind, he wants your first time to be perfect, to be easy, enjoyable. he wants you to feel that stretch, your bodies adjusting to each other in perfect unison, how you'll wrap around him and his dick will twitch inside of you in return. two pieces of a puzzle, finally together without a single thing separating the two of you.

by the time it comes down to it, you don't even register, nor have you considered the possibility that he'd be big too. sure, it was to be expected from his frame and height, even from the bulge you could make out on the days he wore sweatpants but seeing him in all his naked glory, red and painfully hard at the sight of you, for you, you feel something in your chest- there is excitement that comes with the fear of barely having him fit inside of you, how he'll maybe bruise your cervix in the process, you lick your lips without even noticing, how he might not even manage to bottom out the first time, that you'll feel his presence in you for days after...

while your mind runs a thousand ways, countless ways you'll have his mark on you, he watches your lips glistening with your spit, how your breath hitched when you took a good look at him and ran your fingers through his lenght, from the hazy look you were wearing to your now-dilated pupils, how your hair stands on end- skin prickly and cold as all blood rushes down to your groin and the sight of your nipples hardening.

caleb is a patient person, or tries to be, when it comes to you. however long it may take, he'll make sure to take his time with you.

[kugikizuchi]

"The doctor and his devoted assistant."♡

Warnings: I decided to make it so that the character in our story is not the main character in the game, two different personalities. Our character is a girl. This is done for convenience. Yandere. Partial Stockholm syndrome. Obscenity towards a young female employee. Sexual pressure. Slight compulsion. Excitement games. A vibrator. A weak current through the body. Binding. The girl's submission to the doctor. Murder and brutality. The orange text is Harley's words, the pink text is your words. English is not my native language, I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Volume : 8,2k. Sorry, I overdid it.

Have fun reading! 🐉

"Everything has to be perfect" - these were the words that were on your mind when you laid out Dr. Sawyer's supplies on the table, finally receiving the position of assistant to such an honorable person in the company. In your eyes, he was the epitome of rigor and perfection. His calm and tired voice could overshadow any fears that you might not be hired for this service, but also make you wake up and jump from his harsh cold tone and rare shouts at employees who did not satisfy his desires.

But you tried so hard to become the perfect employee by literally learning the doctor's daily routine. You were willing to do anything to stay in such a prestigious position at a toy manufacturing company. And unfortunately, Harley Sawyer knew about your fanaticism to prove to your family that you are an independent person.

The first few days were hard. It's even too hard.. Your legs are shaking from constantly wearing heels and running around the floors, but I would like to deliver certain reports to different employees. It annoyed you deep down that you looked like a dog on wheels even to yourself, forced to run back and forth just to earn the impossible trust from the owner. But despite the Doctor's indifferent gaze and the sometimes sarcastic smiles of other employees, you just smiled, brushing off all the problems.

What a pity you didn't see how Sawyer liked that you could barely walk on your already aching legs. It might have given him the motivation to finally give you a reward, but he was giving himself the opportunity to delay the moment to the peak of its accomplishment.

And unfortunately or fortunately, the "Peak Height" was reached after almost half a year of your working shift with this young man. You're tired of being the secretary who was always described in jokes and anecdotes as the boss's girlfriend, who was ready to do anything for his pleasure, descending even into the very niche of debauchery. The way you tried to talk to Harley at first, always saying respectfully, "Dr. Sawyer, please, could we talk a little bit about my work shift and my responsibilities?" You always got a calculating look from under the glasses of the man who filled out the next document for you and his slight manic smile that made you twitch a little. "No, Assistant, I don't have time for idle conversations right now if they have nothing to do with the idea of improving the company. And judging by your words and body gestures, you clearly don't want to talk about the happiness of the company, so please take this document and don't try to disappear for more than 10 minutes. It's just another building. You'll get there fast. "he said it over and over again, while you were biting your tongue in your mouth, so as not to spit out the poison. He never even addressed you by your first name, although it was always written on the badge like all employees, but he took it for a special occasion.

And now your patience was over, you were ready to start swearing if you even needed to turn on your artistry, because it's not just your boss who can pretend to be a second person. But as soon as you crossed the threshold of his office, closing the door behind you, the man seemed to be already ready for this meeting and, without looking up, ordered you to close the door in his usual empty manner. You did so, as if out of habit, which was reflected on the doctor's lips with a smile and a relaxed look, to which you flinched slightly, not knowing how you spoiled him with your obedience. As soon as you got closer to the main figure in this room, your body was pressed against the table, your hips were painfully pressed against the table, and your hands were twisted behind your back, while the second man's hand covered your mouth, preventing you from uttering a whisper or a cry of pleading for help, judging by your frightened darting eyes, while you were trapped between the table and the tall figure. "Don't shout or deny it, the more resistance you put up, the more brute force I'll have to use on you, Assistant. " he was talking and you couldn't understand - your legs were shaking so much from fear because of the current situation or from the discharge of excitement, being in such a precarious position that it was not clear whether you would really quit tomorrow, or remain an obedient assistant.. Unfortunately, you both knew the answer from his calm smile and your heavy breathing when the dialogue began, although no one let you out of the man's strange embrace.

And now you have achieved your goal. Isn't that right? Now you didn't have to run around the floors, rub your feet to the knees and whine to your friends about the idiot boss. No, you didn't even have to wear heels now, because they would only get in the way while you were sitting on the elder's hip, watching his well-honed hand movements with a listless look as he drew another monst- ...toy for children. The silhouette of a huge purple-colored cat loomed while you read its name, sometimes disinterestedly swinging its legs dangling from the edge of the chair. Your hips, waist, and hair suffered the most. When someone infuriated the doctor by bringing him to a white knee, you could only stifle a groan, which the elder never liked, while his hands squeezed your hips, moving to your waist and hugging tightly, as if the child did not want to let go of his favorite plush toy at night, which could ensure his safety in the dark. The most unexpected thing was when the sadist's elegant hands found their way to your chest, squeezing it, and someone else's lips stopped right in front of your ear, red with embarrassment and shame." What do you think is worse for those employees who can't even complete their assignments properly, like being fired or getting a lot of work, much more than usual? " he asked you, massaging your chest through the fabric of your shirt, forbidding you to wear any additional fabric in his office in the form of a jacket, vest or dressing gown, " I think it would be better for them to do more work than usual" you say, swallowing, having already learned that your words could often acquire weight and leave employees with torn nerves and a nervous breakdown, or, which was rare, because the company needed employees, to throw out completely poorly working people from the company.

But the worst part, as you convinced yourself, even though you were grinning nervously alone, was remembering the events that happened to you when you unknowingly flirted with some of the staff, leaving Dr. Harley in a bad mood. What can you say? He was furious. You could get used to the compressions that left bruises on your body later. But you couldn't get used to the man's jealousy when you re-entered his office, kicking off your heels and closing the door, as per the usual ritual. You wouldn't have entered this room knowing what was waiting for you. In less than 15 minutes, you were standing on trembling legs, leaning your torso on the table, not completely, but only with your waist and arms, whimpering and slightly swaying your hips from how pleasantly and painfully the elastic and smooth head of the vibrator slid, caressing your femininity, and the body of your boss pressed close did not give you a chance to move. And all I can do is choke on moans and sobs. Sometimes getting slapped on the hips, you twitched, whining, but rather from how at such moments it was pleasant and humiliating for a toy to torment your clitoris, pressing against your labia, but focusing on a lump of nerves, bringing you to tears and removing the vibrating object from your body again when you had a little bit left before climax, and your natural lubricant was already flowing down your legs, staining the floor. "Repeat what a good assistant should do and how he should treat his boss, even if he is not in charge of the company, but in charge of a subordinate" the man whispered threateningly in your ear, hearing with sadistic pleasure your hoarse apologies for allegedly cheating, which you did not allow, but in the perverted mind of the elder, you could do anything wrong, just to untie his hands and give him a reason to torment you and bring you to the edge of ecstasy. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Dr. Sawyer" you apologized in a trembling voice, moaning, rolling your eyes with treacherous pleasure when men's hands squeeze your bare breasts thanks to your removed shirt and bra, which makes you bite your tongue, which you shouldn't have talked much to other people, while your knees are weak from rough play with your nipples. "Please forgive my assistant, I will never again pay so much attention to those who do not deserve anything, but I will give all my attention only to the genius of science and surgery, you, Harley Sawyer" you begged with a hoarse voice, pleasing his ego, rolling your eyes when the toy returned to your clitoris. get the long-awaited orgasm, but the doctor's silence never ended such evenings of punishment and obedience. You could only lie down on the table with your chest, trying to catch your breath, and with excitement and horror you could hear the sound of your fly being unfastened and the almost lightning-fast pressing of the elder's erection with a languid sigh, which meant that for you it was not at all the end of re-education.

"You got what you wanted. You're not overworking anymore" the man said carelessly, holding you in his arms, while Rob ran a pencil over a piece of paper, drawing out different poses for an entity called "Yarnaby." "Yes, it's true and I'm grateful to you for that, but maybe you'll still give me at least a little contact with the staff, I spend time with you from morning until late at night" you timidly answer, looking away and not daring to get up from someone else's lap while his head rests on your shoulder. your shoulder, and your back is pressed against his chest. You hold your breath, hearing that grin right in your ear again, "Is there something you don't like, Y/N? You really wanted to avoid running around platforms and seeing the smirks of some employees. I'm just fulfilling your wish. "he was saying, which made your toes feel a little tight, because even though he fulfilled your wish, he did it in such a sophisticated way and turned everything around to his advantage, as always. Once again, you were left without the opportunity to argue your answer, sighing and continuing to rest in strangely caring and proper hands. You could only bite your cheek and reflect that both you and the young man know about your situation with trying to appear as a higher person in other people's eyes and that Harley would use this against you every time you had at least one thought about leaving him. Only sometimes, glancing at the notes on different sheets left at some time to the owners of this office, you are distracted from dark thoughts. And an intriguing question for you was - who is Riley and why do I need to check her every day on.. bouts of aggression?

You were distraught when you were fired from your job right after Sawyer went missing. You couldn't answer what hurt you more, the fact that he ran away, the fact that you were fired because of him or because of his possible report on you, because if he's not in the workplace, then you shouldn't be either. At least that's what he kept saying when he dragged her into his bed, arguing that if he had a day off, so did you. And it means that you will limp again later in the evening from making love to him. But now. You were broken and confused, returning to the apartment, which was now so lonely without yours.. A lover? You didn't even know what kind of relationship you were in with him before he disappeared. That's all you could say for sure. You've become more attached to him than you planned, wanted, or could have been.. It scared you and made you cry without the affection of your beloved doctor. And his sometimes persistent kisses.

But here. After almost a few years, returning to the factory with your employee, having overcome so many dangers and living creatures that you saw only with children and only with smiles, thinking that they were harmless. You could only realize with horror that all this was an illusion, and judging by the tapes that you listened to with bated breath with your colleague, each of the experiments suffered. And you suffered the same way because of your former boss Sawyer, which made your heart sink into your heels and you were ready to collapse on the floor, not realizing that you had always been so close to a real monster.

And now. While you heard your friend running away from the mechanical bodies, you only screamed faintly into the fabric of your skirt, which was torn off at your bottom and covered your mouth from the way the wires bound your body, tightening the same on your miniature figure, clasping your hands behind your back again, while other bare wires slid over your though and a body covered with clothes, but still sensitive to weak electric shocks. And these blows were imitation kisses, while you stared wide-eyed at the humanoid creature standing above you, not allowing you to move or get up from the table on which you were sitting like a prisoner. Just the way he likes it... You just stared with horror in your eyes at the TV, which displayed a single eye that described all your features and the fact that you had hardly changed in any way over the years. His mechanical hand rests on your chin and with deliberate tenderness presses on it, forcing you to swallow out of habit from the learned signal sign - to be closer to the boss, which you do, leaning towards the figure, not even giving yourself an account of the actions, but only mechanically doing the work itself. "I've been waiting for you for so long, my beloved assistant. You've missed and missed me too much, Y/N, but don't worry. I won't leave you alone anymore. Never. "

[bubbleggum444]

—LO۷ESTⱤUCK F𐌀N

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis now that you've started accepting fan mail, damian jumps at the chance to send you something (though, honestly, he’d send himself if he could). pt 2 of "unexpected crush!?" (@liabiamiakiawia hope you like it 🫶🏻)

No. Freaking. Way.

Was this a dream? A hallucination? Some cruel trick of the mind?

There was no way she actually posted her address. But as he blinked at the screen, rereading the words for the hundredth time, the reality hit him like a Batarang to the chest:

"Accepting fan gifts/letters! Address & city number: xxxxx. Can't wait to see what my luvies gift me :)"

His heart stopped. Then restarted at double the speed.

He. Was. Ecstatic.

Well—ecstatic in a very Damian Wayne, son of an assassin and the Dark Knight, kind of way.

A normal person might be pacing, grinning, maybe even screaming into a pillow. But Damian? He just sat there, staring at the screen, his grip tightening on his phone as his brain raced a thousand miles per second.

This was huge. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The only chance he’d ever have to send her something, something meaningful—something that would make her smile.

Immediately, he started skimming through her videos, mind buzzing with possibilities. What did she like? What did she need? What could he give her that would stand out from the rest?

Something perfect. It had to be perfect.

After intense (possibly obsessive) research, he finally settled on three things:

1. A Beauty of Joseon skincare set—not that a face as flawless as hers needed skincare. If anything, the skincare needed her.

2. A cute hairclip set—he remembered her gushing over some in a video. Hers were old, but she hated overconsumption, always mindful of her brand collaborations (another thing about her that made his heart do weird things: her caringness for the planet).

3. Some top-tier Chinese makeup—only the best for her.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he saw the total.Just a casual $1K. Nothing much for a Wayne.

Then again… if she asked, he'd get her the moon and stars. Nothing was ever too much for her. Ever.

By the time he finalized his list, it was nearly noon. And by the time he finished hunting everything down in-store, it was noon.

Now, back in his room, Damian sat cross-legged on his floor, staring at the disaster zone of wrapping paper around him.

He exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up as he crumpled yet another piece of pink wrapping paper—now a casualty of way too much tape—and chucked it aside.

This was so new to him. He barely ever gave gifts, and even when he did, Alfred was the one who wrapped them.

With a sigh, Damian pulled out his phone and searched, How to wrap gifts (EASY and pretty).

Following the tutorial with painstaking precision, his thoughts started to wander.

It wasn’t like he was an idiot. After a full week of stubborn denial, he’d finally accepted it—he had a crush. A real, actual crush on a girl he’d never even met.

And honestly? That annoyed him. Apparently, there was some illness where people obsessed over their favorite celebrities or internet personalities.

But he wasn’t sick! Sure, there were plenty of things wrong with him—a packaged deal that came with being the son of his parents—but this? This wasn’t an obsession. And he was definitely not a stalker.

He just... really liked this girl.

Pausing mid-task, he set down the half-wrapped package and reached for a pen and paper.

"Dear ___,My name is Damian Wayne. I'm a teen from Gotham..."

Hours passed—writing, re-writing, crumpling papers, fixing the bow on the package that would soon be crossing oceans.

Finally, Damian collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He sighed.

Please let this work.

Sitting up, he picked up the now perfectly wrapped gift box, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the frilly bow.

And then, without thinking, he brought the box to his lips, pressing a light kiss against it.

Oh. Oh.

A wave of déjà vu hit him— reminding him of the air-kiss he tried to catch through his laptop screen a week prior.

For a second, he just sat there, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips before he scoffed softly at himself.

Damian Wayne had officially lost. He liked her. Like liked her.

And now, all he could do was hope—pray—that this box, this dumb little package of gifts, would somehow, someway, connect them.

Maybe. Just maybe. Something real would come out of this stupid crush.

"Tch… emotions suck."

He laughed under his breath, though there was no real bite to his words.

Setting the package on his bedside table, he turned off the light and crawled into bed.

Tomorrow, he’d send it.

And then? He’d wait.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

Guess I still have a long road to go then

Because as an absolute statement I can not take that seriously. Since I doubt that that does work with everyone under all circumstances.

Or are you really telling me that „NO NAZIS“ is not a legitimate rule because it has to be enforced with a threat?

But maybe you meant in the raising of children

Still doesn‘t work

Humans aren‘t born perfect little empty vessels that then one day turn in to unreasonable grown ups.

Humans are born with personalities.

Some of these people are reasonable.

Some aren‘t.

Children are different because children are people

Some can be reasoned with.

Some can‘t

Some children thrive under Montessori education. All you need for them to learn everything is to put them in the proximity of books and step back.

Some children under Montessori education learn to read and nothing else.

Acquaintance of mine went to a Montessori school. And learned to read and nothing else.

He parents watched that for a year but no amount of

sit {ing her} down and explain to {her} seriously why it was wrong and what impact it had {would} caused for {her}. {no amount of} (...) ask {ing} what motivated {her}, and why {she} acted on those feelings in that specific way.

Would make her learn math

She just didn't want to

It wasn't that deep

Eventually her parents decided to put her in a conventional school, because clearly only a system with … at the end of the day we can call it the threat of punishment I think … , would teach this child math.

And she said herself that yes, that was the only way

Left to her own devices she would never have learned math

She doesn‘t like it

She doesn‘t want to

Yes she sees the necessity

She is grateful she did learn math

She still wouldn‘t have if it was up to her

Or take my school

Rule was: Dirty shoes have to be removed before entering (we had carpet in the entire school)

Threat was: If you leaf dirty marks you will have to clean it.

Most of the kids didn‘t care that leaving dirty marks would make more work for our caretaker. Most of them DID care that they would have to fix it themselfes

Therefor that rule was enforced more by threat then anything else.

People are different

Some people are thoughtful and mindful or at least can be reasoned with

Some people can‘t

'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate'

Only works with the first kind of people/children

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[tarotbyjam24]

You and your future spouse's 1st valentine's day date

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Masterlist\pick a cards

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ?

Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

This reading a collab between @tarotbyjam24 and my girl @winisayswhat 🖤 don't forget to check her account loves

Pile 1

Pile 1 : your first valentine's day date might possibly be a 50-50 date like you couples splitting your bills or it could be like you both are always so busy so it took effort from both sides to have a valentine's day date together finally. It's gonna be a very planned and calculated date . You guys might also not show your truest self to your spouse on this date because either of you or both can have your guards up even though you're married. I also feel on this date you could also fight with eachother 😭 probably because of hiding something. I see 'hide' word is so prominent here . I wonder how you guys are so mysterious to each other . Mostly I see you guys could be trying local street foods , trying drinks here n there. Although I feel you both will be dressed perfectly for a date to bring the date date vibe . Having drinks on this could help both of you to loosen up a bit and open up to each other . This date will be a start for something new probably you could think of starting family or something else . This pile seems like both of you love eachother but also don't show it and hide it very well that you both seem to each other like enemies ✨ that's all pile 1 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 2

Pile 2 : your first valentine's day date is gonna be amazing I swear . They'll make you feel like a prince\princess . Almost worshipping you and giving all the power . I also feel your spouse will be older than you . So ofc they gonna spoil you it's natural to them and you gonna enjoy it . They'll surely take you on various activities for this date like taking some fun classes in day , eating local foods , taking you on shopping, then dinner night at a perfect place probably by river or seaside . This date will grow more love between each other . I get the vibe of ' material girl ' from this pile and I support you for this lol . You go guys . You deserve it all . Now from another perspective if we see this than your spouse could be bit more domineering in this date like those ceo and their girlfriends where ceo likes to eat at three Michelin star hotel and you enjoy your ramen and drinks but you're forced to go on the three Michelin star hotel date lol. I feel you'll act like a disciplined kid when in real you're so spoiled 🍃 and you just don't listen to anyone but you'll have to listen and follow them .that's all pile 2 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 3

Read by @winisayswhat

Okay, babes, this date is going to be mind-blowing . Like, expect some serious sparks flying, and that's just not from the table. The man or woman you're going on a date with has a provider energy. It's like a very fancy place, with a fancy setup. This person is jacked for sure. They're serious and will bring lots of stability and maturity into your life. They're the real deal, honey .The Two of Cups is all about harmony and balance. So, expect some beautiful, heartfelt connections. You'll feel fulfilled. This place feels like a rooftop restaurant with dim lights, and you're drop-dead gorgeous . You're dressed up, drop-dead gorgeous that day. Oh la la, that person is going gaga all over you! They're very chivalrous. They're going to spend all their money on you without thinking twice. You'll feel luxurious, wealthy with them This person is a provider, wild, and dressed to impress . Both of you are excited to meet each other and already know you're the "it" deal. It's like you both were meant to be together, like two puzzle pieces . You both love, value, and cherish each other. It's like you both have manifested each other. The God has led you both to each other .This person is very straightforward, and whatever they say is going to be very real. They'll be honest with you, and you'll love that about them . They're the type of person who'll have many surprises in store. If they take you out for dinner, they'll make sure there's music, a big bouquet of roses, jewelry as gifts, your favorite champagne, food, and good photos to be clicked . Oh la la, this person is also a great photographer! Your Instagram feed is sorted ! Every time this person walks into a room, people look at them and go, "Oh my God, who is that?" They drip with money and luxury 💸. This person is going to be so nurturing and caring. Expect some serious TLC from this person, honey! It's going to be wild, but guess what? This is just the beginning. The journey is much more exciting and spicy!

Pile 4

Read by @winisayswhat

This Valentine's Day date is going to be EVERYTHING and more! The energy is mutual, excited, and respectful. You both love and adore each other, and you're ready to spend quality time together.

The ambiance is romantic, probably at a favorite restaurant or spot. The air is filled with a sweet scent, and you both feel harmonious and in tune with each other. You're thinking about how lucky you are to be in this relationship!Conversation on the date is all bout goals, future plans, and excitement for what's to come. You both are magnetic, high-achieving individuals who are planning out your adrenaline-fueled life together! Eye contact is intense, and you both feel a deep sense of connection and understanding.This is a couple who will be the life of the party, so in love and into each other that they won't even notice what's going on around them! You're best friends, despite being different, and you complement each other perfectly.

Oh, and there's red velvet cake involved somehow! And maybe some red fruits or wine? Whatever it is, it's going to be a night to remember!

You'll spend the evening planning your life together, discussing kids, cars, homes, and all the adventures you'll have. And guess what? The universe is going to make it all happen!

Get ready for lots of kisses, gentle touches, and admiration from your partner. Their love language is touch, and they'll show you love and affection in the sweetest ways.

This person is going to adore you, honey! They'll be captivated by your smile, lips, eyes, and entire aura. And they'll appreciate you for the rest of your life! You will be like one of those couples from the Hollywood 90's-2000's Romcom movie aesthetic for sureeee!!!

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem 🩷

Exchanges : open , collabs for pacs : open

[fangdokja]

A love letter: from a guy who’s watched every movie, probably knows your underwear size.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Word Count. 1,037

♡ Yandere! Fanboy who's a highly successful and respected CEO. He's young, attractive, disgustingly competent, and everyone kisses the ground he walks on. But deep down? He’s a terminally online fanboy who has spent an unhealthy amount of time overanalyzing every single role you've ever played.

♡ Yandere! Fanboy who's in board meetings discussing billion-dollar acquisitions, yet his mind is occupied with that one interview where you casually mentioned your favorite brand of tea. He's definitely the type of person who has an entire Reddit archive dedicated to dissecting every subtle micro-expression you make.

♡ Yandere! Fanboy who has been in the trenches of fandom wars over you. He's argued on forums, destroyed lesser mortals in Twitter debates, and singlehandedly written an unhinged 100k-word dissertation about your artistic choices. His assistant knows better than to bring up your name in his presence unless they want to hear a three-hour lecture about "symbolism" in your performances.

♡ Yandere! Fanboy who definitely has a burner account where he trashes your haters. The fact that he owns entire media conglomerates and could just buy out any publication that slanders you? Irrelevant. The thrill of obliterating someone in an online debate is far more satisfying. His employees whisper that he turns into an eldritch beast when someone misinterprets one of your characters.

♡ Yandere! Producer who has been in charge of your career since you were too young to know what a contract was. Who molded you into the perfect performer, ensuring that no matter what role you played, you would be the best in the industry. He's the reason you're the heir to an empire instead of some washed-up has-been.

♡ Yandere! Producer who's a ruthless perfectionist. If you even THINK about slacking off, he appears out of thin air to personally drag you back to work. You’ve never once seen him take a break. You’re not even sure if he sleeps. His entire existence revolves around making sure you're always at your peak.

♡ Yandere! Producer who definitely doesn't have romantic feelings for you. Absolutely not. That would be inappropriate. He’s just extremely invested in you. Extremely protective. Extremely willing to ruin anyone who dares to speak ill of you. But it’s not love. Nope. Not at all.

♡ Yandere! Producer who would rather perish than let you retire. You want to take a break? Go off the grid? Live like a normal person? Cute. Real cute. But no. Not happening. He’ll personally drag you back to set himself if he has to.

♡ Yandere! Rival who's your childhood best friend turned arch-nemesis. The two of you were supposed to rule the industry together. Instead, you betrayed him. You left him behind. You chose your career over him, and now he despises you. Except he doesn’t. He just wants to strangle you and kiss you at the same time.

♡ Yandere! Rival who is the only person who truly knows you. The deadpan, asocial, walking existential crisis that exists beneath all the roles you play? He’s seen it. He’s lived it. He’s watched you go from some awkward kid who just wanted to escape reality to the living legend you are today. And he hates it. He hates that you succeeded without him.

♡ Yandere! Rival who makes it his personal mission to ruin you. Not out of malice, of course. Just… intense, aggressive, deeply personal spite. He'll buy out companies just to sabotage your projects. He'll challenge you at every turn, making sure you never have a moment of peace. And if you ever show weakness? If you ever show even a hint of wanting to run away from all of this?

Yeah. No. He’s dragging you back himself.

♡ Yandere! Hater who is, objectively speaking, your most logical critic. He doesn’t simp. He doesn’t fanboy. He doesn’t give a shit about your popularity. He just thinks you’re a fraud.

♡ Yandere! Hater who has made an entire career out of analyzing and criticizing you. He's one of the few people who sees past all the personas, the roles, the carefully constructed images you create. And he calls you out for it constantly.

♡ Yandere! Hater who roasts you mercilessly. He sees through every act, every calculated move, every attempt you make to distance yourself from reality. He calls you a coward for never playing roles that hit too close to home. And you hate how much he’s right.

♡ Yandere! Hater who definitely doesn’t have feelings for you. Absolutely not. Just because he keeps tabs on all your projects? Just because he watches every single one of your performances with an almost obsessive level of scrutiny? Just because he memorized your entire career history down to the most obscure details?

Yeah, no. He just thinks you're a hack. That’s all.

And you?

You’re just here. Existing. Barely surviving the sheer insanity of these people. You grew up in an industry where everyone wears a mask, so you became the best at it. You play roles because it’s easier than being yourself. You disappear into characters, because facing reality is overrated.

You’re the dead-eyed, sleep-deprived, existential crisis-ridden heir to an entertainment empire, and somehow, you’ve collected an entire legion of obsessive psychos who can’t decide whether they want to ruin you, worship you, or lock you in a gilded cage.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Oh oh what about soft!dom remus and reader who’s upset over a conversation with her family and doesn’t know how to let it go and he helps distract/regulate her???

Not sure if this is soft!dom, but he definitely helps reader relax and work through it mentally

“You’re stewing dovey.” Remus murmurs as he reaches for you on the settee.

He’s got a plate in one hand, bread pudding you’d been asking for all weekend and some fruit on the side.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, they’re so mean and it’s fine when they do it. But when I stick up for myself suddenly I’m a raging bitch.”

Remus shakes his head, kissing your temple as you start to get angry all over again. “You’re not a bitch. They’re just close minded.”

He placed the plate in your lap and you sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I just get so pissed because why it’s okay for them but I’m a pariah when I do it? I’m not immune to bad moods, I just don’t take it out on everyone.”

Remus knows from Sirius that family relationships are tough. Sirius’ situation was different but he can see similarities between yours and his.

Your family, mainly your siblings, expect you to be this perfect golden child and you can never make a mistake and it weighs on you.

It’s why Remus and you only see your mum when you visit and your sister sometimes. Your brothers are another story.

“And you’re better for that dovey. You’re not a pariah, you’re allowed all of your feelings even if they try to make you feel bad. You won’t get censorship here.” Remus nudges your knee with his. “C’mon, eat before it goes cold.”

You take a bite and your shoulders drop a little- Remus is a wizard at bread pudding. It’s somehow never sopping wet on the bottom. It’s a comfort food of yours and after today it was necessary.

Remus chooses his words carefully while you eat.

“I know you care what they think of you, but I think sometimes they need the reality check you just gave them. They can’t walk all over you and expect it not to get tiring.”

You nod, “I just, I don’t want to be a bad person.”

Remus smiles at that. “You could never be a bad person dove.”

You roll your eyes as you offer him the last bite. “You’re biased, and you’re supposed to think highly of me.”

Remus speaks around the bite, “I am biased, but we both know I’m not going to let you be a bad person if I thought that’s what you were becoming.”

It’s true. Remus has stopped many spirals and many mean rants the moment they got deprecating.

“So you’d tell me?”

Remus kisses your temple, “If I ever got a feeling that you were being a bad person I’d tell you.” You seem content at that. Remus holds you closer to his chest. “For the record, I thought you could’ve stood to be a tiny bit more stern on the phone, but I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

You smile as you tip your head back to his chest to look up at him. “Ah, I had help learning how to do that.”

Remus rubs your chest at the admission. “Whoever they are, they seem very smart.” There’s a cheeky smile on his face, but mostly he really is proud of you for standing up for yourself.

“You would think so.”

[ylangelegy]

true hate’s kiss 💋 chan x reader.

★ first seen in svt x reverse tropes. dedicated to @chanranghaeys and, of course, the birthday boy himself. word count: 905.

It started with the ribbiting.

The first time it happened, Chan had thought it was a hiccup. Some weird sound caught in the back of his throat. But then it kept happening, and happening, and happening, and no amount of water could fight it down. 

What a horrifying thing to realize— that he was slowly but surely turning into a frog. 

It’s the type of fuckass situation that Chan thought only existed in fiction. He’d seen the Disney movie, of course. He even gave it four stars on Letterboxd. 

To have it happen to him, though? Insane. 

All because he’d gotten into a spat with someone at the park. He’d thought the old hag was crazy when she screeched about being a witch, when she waved a stick at him and claimed he could only be cured by ‘true hate’s kiss’. Not true love, mind you. True hate. 

There was really only ever one person that Chan loathed with every fibre of his being.

You’d understandably been skeptical when he came up to you. In hindsight, starting off with “I need you to kiss me” may have not been one of his stronger openings.

“This is a weird way to confess,” you had shot back, and he laughed so hard he thought he might cry. 

He called you delusional. You retaliated by slamming the door in his face with a scathing remark of “Enjoy being a fuckass frog, then! Ribbit ribbit, bitch!”

‘Ribbit ribbit’ he has been doing, much to his utter distaste. The trilling has been driving him mad. He’s convinced his palms are getting more clammy by the day. And is it just him, or is his skin taking on a more greenish tint? 

Chan swallows what little pride he has left and does what he has to do: He grovels. 

He gets on his knees and grits out pleas for just one kiss. (No tongue, even, he says, unless you want some. That earns him an upside smack to the head.) 

He promises to leave you alone for a week, a month. That’s not enough; he can tell by your stoic, unwavering expression. 

“Anything,” he blurts out. “I’ll give you anything.” 

It’s a dangerous thing to promise, but it’s what lands. “Anything?” you repeat, tilting your head to one side. 

You’re the perfect picture of everything he’s despised. Composure, ridicule, smugness. 

Chan shifts from down on the ground, his knees pressing into the cool wood of the floorboards. “Anything,” he confirms with the solemnity of a man accepting a death sentence. 

You feign like you’re thinking about it, fingers resting at your chin. The litany strikes up in Chan’s head. A chant of I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I—  

“Deal,” you say. 

He blinks. Dread shivers down his spine, though it’s quickly replaced by something more akin to relief. Better one bad kiss than be a frog for life. 

“Okay.” His words are an exhale as he scrambles to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height. “Alright, then.” 

Chan has never been more grateful to be a couple of inches taller than you. It’s always been the topic of his jabs, and now it gives him both literal and metaphorical leverage. 

“Let’s make this quick,” he grumbles even though he’s in no position to be making demands when he’s the one cashing in a favor. He can only hope and pray that the anything you might want is somewhat reasonable, that it won’t shatter his already wounded pride. 

You roll your eyes. He bites back a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. 

Chan rests his hand on the column of your neck, because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it right. Don’t overthink it, a voice in the back of his head wryly advises, and so he doesn’t. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and leans down, bracing for the worst. I hate you, I hate you, I hate—

—green apple lip balm. 

The refrain screeches to a halt. Chan never thought he’d use the word ‘soft’ to describe you; he knows you for your rough edges and sharp wit. Nothing about you is subtle or mellow, most especially when it comes to him. 

And yet. 

You’re not even touching him. You haven’t laid a single finger on him, and yet Chan is holding his breath like he’s underwater.

When your mouth parts ever so slightly— he doesn’t have the time to analyze that, to wonder if it’s impulse or pleasure— he responds in kind, his tongue briefly tracing over your lower lip. 

His earlier jab must register in your mind because you begin to pull away, your part of the deal fulfilled. The feeling of loss is instant. 

Don’t overthink it, his conscience had yelled. He didn’t realize it might translate to Don’t think at all. 

Chan’s fingers flex at your neck. If kissing you felt like being underwater, being apart felt like gasping for air. 

Gone is the chorus in his head. Why did he hate you, anyway? 

He doesn’t have to say a thing. His body acts for him; instinctively, he leans forward, chasing your lips for another kiss. 

(Later: A doctor’s visit reveals that the ‘ribbiting’ was, in fact, hiccups. An electrolyte imbalance, the attending tells a mortified Chan. Might be good to drink Gatorade. 

When Chan’s first thought is the apple-flavored variant, he knows he’s screwed.) 

[manmuncher777]

Nanami basically has two personalities when it comes to your sex life. Sometimes you might behave certain ways to ensure you get the… treatement you want

Nanami is always a gentle and loving partner, his first priority being you and you well being. This is his soft dom side, pleasure dom even. He loves to worship you, and has no problem doing so. So on those evening where you’ve been so sweet for him, he cant help but lay you out on your shared bed, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Let me have you darling” he whispers against your neck, kissing the word into your sensetive skin. He’s memorised your skin like a map, permanently burned into his mind. He knows every little spot that makes you shiver and whine. Nipping gently on the spot just against your collarbone that has you quivering under his touch.

“You have me ken.” Your hands clinging onto his skin, trying to tug the shirt off of his toned body, needing to feel him.

“Eager darling?” He chuckles at your rushed hands, pulling the shirt over his head. He’ll let you do that, but other than that, he does all of the work. All for his pretty girl

Stripping you down, laying you on the bed. Eyes trailing over you like it was the last time he was going to see you like this. Savouring every inch of perfect skin he could see.

Wasting no time in kissing his way up you legs, never taking his eyes off of your beatific face, loving to see how he was making you feel. Making his way to where he needed to be.

Planting gentle kisses over your dripping pussy as you mewl beneath him.

“More ken~ please.”

Oh how well mannered you were, who was he to deny such a polite request?

No need to say anything, no wasting time. His tongue quickly finding its way through your folds, slurping up your juices.

Pretty nose bumping against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, letting you buck your hops and tug on his hair in any way you needed

However, you soon found that Nanami had the ability to change, like the flick of a switch. Of course you were an angel in his eyes, but there were certain occasions where you would push your luck, and he needed to remind you that you were meant to be his well mannered wife, not a little brat.

“Ken~ m’ sorry” you cried out, begging. You had been begging him for hours now, the was no room for you to worry about how pathetic you were being, you didnt care. You just needed him.

“Too late for that my love.” That stern look forcing you into silence.

You had gotten a little bit too spoilt today, and Kento wasnt going to put up with your attitude. So here you were pathetically grinding against his thigh while he had his hands on your hips, stopping you from cumming every time you came close

You were quivering from the overstimulation of being brought to the edge so many times, tears streaming down you pretty face as you husband cooed at you. You had no idea he could be so … harsh. But there was something about his unforgiving attitude that had you craving him even more

“Please ken, m’so sorry. Please- let me cum” You cry out, hips rolling again and again, those waves of pleasure never stopping. The faint build of your orgasm once again.

You couldn’t keep up any more, pausing your hips to give your soaked cunt a moment to recover.

“I don’t recall telling you to stop darling.”

[canideformed]

To all the transfems that bring up forced sterilisation when a transmasc talks about forced impregnating and a loss of bodily autonomy: stop.

Transmascs also face forced and coerced sterilisation. In many places, it’s only recently that any trans person can change their legal gender without being sterilised. This is not a problem specific to transfems.

The issue is more complicated for trans people who can give birth (including some intersex transfems) because cis people want them to become baby machines so bad. This introduces more barriers when somebody wants to make certain legal and medical decisions for themselves!

All trans people are directly victimised by a restriction of reproductive autonomy. But the issue tends to be more central for trans people who can give birth, since giving birth is nearly a year-long process that can ruin your life and health. Being forcibly sterilised often is less focal in transmasc activism because, especially as people who might have dysphoria around getting pregnant, being forced to endure that for months, being forced to have permanent and sometimes harmful alterations to your body made, being forced to go through an incredibly painful process where they will almost certainly be repeatedly misgendered, being forced to produce a living being you never wanted to produce, etc., might seem like a worse fate than never being able to have kids in the first place.

This is not me saying one group or another has it worse! And I am not downplaying the pain of transfems (or trandmascs) who were forcibly sterilised. It is still a very serious issue that can cause a lot of pain for many.

But this is me saying that this specific issue is one that much more often impacts transmascs. And if it is not something you will ever be at risk of experiencing, then you have no business taking about how “bad” it would be or comparing the issue to some “equivalent” transfem problem.

Bigotry often does not have perfect equivalents. Transmisogyny and transandrophobia are distinct forces of oppression. Just because one group experience one type of problem doesn’t mean they’re More Oppressed or something. I say this as somebody who experiences both. It’s ridiculous to compare a trandandrophobia-specific problem to a general trans problem or a transmisogyny-specific problem because they just manifest differently. Neither is worse or better. They don’t have perfect equivalents. Don’t let your mind be tainted by oppositional sexism and give your fellow trans people room to discuss their fears and anxieties and experiences with issues that are unique to them.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Discrediting the canon because the author's a bigot is, frankly, rather stupid. You're not making it any less "problematic" by completely changing the characters' personalities, especially if you're still using the characters' names, and making them "queer". And I'd argue it's a very poor, uninteresting version of queerness, especially when you take the canon into account and how much more potential there is to explore those characters as queer.

Sirius Black, hyper-masculine to a serious fault. Aggressive, abusive, everything about his family that he hates but that he's not taken time to unlearn. Why not explore him, in his mid thirties, watching as everyone looks at him with something akin to pity, because poor Sirius, acting like this in such a grown age, poor man is rather pathetic, isn't he, and starting to question why. Why does everyone see him like that, and not how he wants them to see him? And he ends up slowly unlearning his toxic behaviour that way.

Or Sirius, being a trans man. The start of his battle with his mother over his very identity as a boy, not the perfect daughter she wanted. And it's established in his mind very early: womanhood, feminity itself, is bad. And he doesn't unlearn that in Hogwarts. He bullies Snape, who's clearly feminine in his very nature, unable to fathom why someone born a man would ever behave in that way, unable to understand his viewpoints are wrong, skewed by his childhood resentment and trauma.

Remus, he could so easily be queer, and had to hide it to fit in with his friends. Joining in with bullying Snape, as a way to make up for his "wrongness". Heck, even Peter could be queer and still in line with his canon personality.

Severus Snape? He's written like a female character. He is easily the queerest one. Heck, the bullying he faced even lines up with it.

Take those characters with their true flaws and faults, make them queer, and you've got a far more complicated story than the fanon version. Then again, perhaps they're too "flawed" for you. Perhaps they're too real, too human in those flaws.

This fandom is a fun place to do what we want, yes. But if you have to completely remove the characters' personalities, bring people in via the medium of ooc fanfiction, and even hound on people who actually point out the canon personalities of the characters and who want to see said canon, then you're in the wrong fandom. Full stop. And for all JKR's bigoted attitudes, she still wrote the story. You can't take that away just because she's a bad person. That's not how people work. Horrible people can create brilliant things. Bad people can create good stories, good characters. It's childish to immediately view something made by a bad person and ignore everything they made while still using it. You're not "reclaiming" it, or flipping the bird at JKR for creating this ooc fandom in any way.

You can like the series despite the author who wrote it. And if you can't, if you have to change everything to like it, then you don't like the series, and you need let go of the names taken from it. Call it an AU, even.

But don't go acting like there's no canon, and that people are wrong for wanting canonically accurate interpretations, because they fell in love with those characters, despite the author who wrote them

ppl be posting shit like "I miss canon Marauders"

Babes, there is no "canon" Marauders. Most of the shit ya'll think is canon, are just old headcanons that used to be widespread before other (usually queerer) headcanons gained popularity.

There is so little information about the "canon" Marauders - and even the info we have cannot be trusted because it's usually memories, influenced by a character's bias - that trying to make a somewhat comprehensive character out of the given material is impossible, let alone 4 characters.

Everything is fanon. Everything is headcanon. And that's the beauty of this fandom.

(Ofc my favourite part is when something actually is canon via the books or movies, and people reject it as fanon.)

[slimybeth69]

Girl Dinner: Part 4 of 4- Goodbye

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

W/C-10.3K

Chapter Warnings: kidnapped/mean/dark!Joelx hunginged/crazy/mentally ill/dark!reader. dub-con, period sex, crying, altered mental state, graphic depictions of violence and death, animal death (not graphic but mentioned), alternating POV's, creampies, cock warming, unprotected P in V. No happy ending? This is DDDNE-- don't forget!!

Reader warning/ potential trigger warnings: mentions of readers past-- with gory and sad details. Mentions of sex as payment, impregnation, child loss.

PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS.

There was never a question about why you forgot your name, or how that could happen to a person. Mister-man never asks you again. He never peppers it into conversations, or late night talks when you’re wrapped in his arms. 

It doesn’t matter– you’re his crazy girl. His sweetheart. His baby. 

Mister has his hands on your knees, holding them open. His fingers dig into the soft skin as he plants soft kisses on the soft nest of curls on either side of your sopping pussy. He’s moving slow and deliberate as he licks and sucks your lips into his mouth one at a time, then nipping at the junction where your legs meet your hips.

“Love makin’ you feel good sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, sucking dark marks into the supple skin of your thighs. “You like when Mister makes you feel good, dontcha?”

You do. 

The answer is caught in the back of your throat, so you nod, whimpering feebly at his endless teasing. He’s been kissing, and biting, and pinching you for what feels like an entire lifetime. He teases you, gets so close to your aching, throbbing clit, and then suckles and licks everything BUT that.

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him, how could you? He propped up pillows and leaned you back so gently and said ‘enjoy the show’ before kissing down your chest, sucking your nipples into his mouth greedily. His hands explored every single inch of your body as he licked and sucked those dark marks into your skin.

Claimin’ you, Sugar.

He could, he can. He can do whatever he wants to you. Every time he touches you it’s like an entirely different experience.

Perfect every time.

It’s like he knows when you need him to be gentle— and he knows when you need him to take control. It’s like he’s tuning into your wavelengths through your cunt.

The tears come sometimes regardless of how he handles you. His touch doesn’t always stop the bad feelings, the bad memories, but tonight they aren’t sad tears, they aren’t fearful or filled with shame.

Tonight they’re just confusing tears, too many emotions inside of you to process all while he’s been torturing you relentlessly.

“I know, babygirl,” he rumbles against the top of your slit, his hand moving from your knee, up your quivering thigh. “Relax for Mister.” Hot, thick fingers push into your folds, tracing the outside of your cunt before the thickest, and longest one pushes inside. “I’m here… I gotchya,” he whispers before he seals his lips around your clit, sucking slowly, lapping with his tongue as he thrusts a second finger alongside the first.

You let out a choked sob as his digits plunge into your wet heat. “Oh fuck,” you whine, the stretch is sublime, bordering on painful in the most amazing way.

He chuckles darkly, the vibrations traveling across your skin. "That's it, crazy girl. Let Mister-J take care of you." His voice drips like molasses– thick, sweet and slow. It’s tantalizing how just his words, his tone can make you feel crazy. 

Your fingers thread through his graying curls, tears streaming down your face as he works you expertly. “I- Ohh fuck, I-” He’s stoking the fire building low in your belly already- you’ve been wound so tight and are ready to snap.

Mister’s grip tightens on your thigh, holding you open as he drinks you down like a man starved. “You what, baby girl?” He sucks your clit into his mouth, teeth scraping the delicate bundle of nerves, tongue lapping at it.

Say it, Sugar.

Don’t.

Your hips move on their own accord, grinding against his mouth. Your cunt clenching his fingers because you can feel it building, the pressure, the need, the want. Your nails dig into his scalp, pulling him closer. “I- I love you,” you whimper as he adds a third finger, stretching you to capacity.

Your whole body tenses, the last of your resistance shattering as you come violently around his fingers and on his lips. He groans against your pulsing clit, swallowing your cries as he milks every last drop of pleasure from you.

“I know,” he hums, resting his head on your hip. His large hand rubs the outside of your thigh. 

There is a moment of silence, and you’re expecting him to either do it again, or lay down and ask you to get on top, but he doesn't. 

His fingers trace the scar on your lower stomach.

“What’s this?” Joel asks as his fingertips trail across the slightly raised, white line of skin just above the swell of your cunt. 

“They wouldn’t let me keep it,” you sigh down to him casually as the aftershocks of your pleasure run their course, carding your fingers through your hair to push it out of your face. “I tried to hide it,” you push yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him. “They found out though.”

Joel blinks up at you as you get ready to speak again, he wants to tell you to stop, to shut up– to be quiet and he’ll make you come again, but he can’t form the words. 

“They said it was too dangerous– too stupid.” You roll your eyes and pick at the sink on the side of your thumb. “Said I couldn’t take care of it– Which is bullshit because I’ve taken care of Puddin’ for so long and nothin’ bad happened to him.” You grumble. 

Joel’s mouth is so dry it’s painful. It’s like swallowing shards of metal, or fiberglass insulation. 

“And there was Lou and Bud! I took such good care of them–”

“Who are Bud and Lou?” Joel croaks softly at what the heart breaking answer could be.

“Bud was a squirrel with a broken leg, and Lou was a baby raccoon that I nursed back to health after a real bad wind storm– they both got knocked out of their nests.” You explain with a smile on your face. “They didn’t stick around like Pud, though.” 

“How’d you find Puddin’?” Joel asks, four flat fingers covering the scar so he doesn’t have to look at it. 

“Puddin’ found me,” you grin, combing your fingers through Joel’s hair now. “Sweet lil thing came up to me while I was comin’ home one night– basically beggin’ me to bring him back here. All cold ‘n ‘bout to die. His momma must’a lost him– or couldn’t take care of him… and now I’m–”

“You're his momma,” Joel chuckles, finishing your sentence with the thought running through his head. 

“Yeah, exactly!” You exclaim happily. 

Joel doesn’t want to ask, but he can’t keep the words in, he can’t hold it back anymore. “Who did this to you?” He runs his fingers along the scar one more time. 

It’s quiet for a long time, and Joel wonders if he shouldn’t have asked. You don’t answer right away, but he can hear your breathing change, quicken– go shallow. 

“The guys at the QZ in Wichita,” you whisper. 

Joel has to strain to hear the words. He knows that you know he can’t hear all that well, but he isn’t going to tell you to speak up. “Doctors?” 

Wishful thinking. 

You shrug your shoulders, “I dunno– some of ‘em could’a been doctors– but that’s not what they were in the QZ’s.” 

He just looks up at you, still laying between your legs. “No one was takin’ care of ya’?”

“My mom and dad were bowling the night of the outbreak—” you explain, eyes darting everywhere but Joel. “It was jus’ me ’n my brother that night– and then for a long time after that.”

“He didn’t know what was goin’ on?” 

You chuckle, but Joel can tell you don’t think it’s actually funny in the way you pick at the side of your thumb like there’s the cure to the infection inside of you. 

“He knew,” you huff. “He got hooked on those pills in the QZ, the big white ones– I don’t know what they were called–”

“Hydro.” 

“Hydro,” Joel explains, looking into the eyes of the Lee, the FEDRA guard he’s been supplying to for as long as he can remember at this point.  “How old?” Lee questions curiously.   “Three months,” Joel nods his head. He doesn’t have time for this, he’d rather be back at the apartment.  Lee inspects the pills, like he doesn’t trust Joel. “From Atlanta?”  “I dunno know where he gets ‘em from. I just know they’re real,” Joel huffs, narrowing his eyes on the FEDRA badge on his chest. 

“Yeah! He really liked those,” you roll your eyes. “Didn’t wanna work though, so he didn’t always have a way t’pay them… so when I couldn’t get ration cards to help him, he’d offer me up–”

“Well, the more you shoot people, the harder it is to sleep, I guess.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans quietly. He closes his eyes, crawling until he’s lying beside you. He doesn’t want to look at that scar again, or honestly hear anything else you have to say. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, sinking as far into the mattress as your body will allow. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to–” you whine quietly, but he presses his lips to yours, silencing you in the process of trying to comfort you. 

Joel wraps you up in his arms and pulls you close to him, something inside his chest vibrates and like the deepest note of the guitar he has back in Jackson.

“They all dead?” Joel growls in your ear. 

“I dunno,” you shrug, wiggling your hips as you attempt to scooch closer to him. 

Joel’s mind is racing, but his body betrays him. He’s raging hard behind his jeans, restricted behind the tight denim. It doesn’t matter to you; that he still has his pants on or the topic of conversation that had just been had– you’re reaching into his jeans, wrapping your warm, perfect hand around his length and pulling him free. 

“Wanna fall asleep with it inside me,” you murmur, shifting your body all around, jutting your hips out. The tip of Joel’s head stretches around your tight cunt, and he groans into the back of your hair. 

He wants to fuck you, wants to thrust deep inside of you, but he can’t– he’s too focused on Puddin' who is laying on your side of the bed– his tail hugged close to his body as you rub your index finger between his ears, and down between his eyes. He's asleep, and snoring softly.

Joel holds you, his fingers trace your belly button once, move up to the space between your breasts and back down again. His voice is shaky when he speaks again. “Why don’t you take me back to Jackson… you can stay there with me– you and Puddin’.” He offers, brushing the hair away from your face carefully with his free hand.

“Why?” you murmur sleepily. 

“I got family–”

“Tommy?” Every single piece that makes up the parts of your body freeze, and it’s almost like you’re playing dead like Puddin’ would in a stressful situation. 

“Tommy and his wife Maria– ” Joel tries to paint the picture for you, tries to show you what could be waiting for you if you would just let him go. “I got a nice house and a porch we could sit on, a bed we could sleep in every night– a big giant wall t’keep the infected out…”

Everything feels thick, and it’s hard to breathe like during a humid summer day– but it’s getting cold now and the air is crisp and Joel can see his breath most of the time, especially at night. “S’a lot of people behind that wall?” You whisper after a painfully long silence.

Joel lies. “A few, yeah. But Maria and Tommy run things– they’re good people–”

“Maria is good?”

“Yeah, she’s real good– real fair.” He nuzzles the back of your neck with his nose softly.

It ain’t her fuckin’ fault– and you know it. 

“Maria’s good– Tommy is good– they’re kind.” Joel whispers, holding you, squeezing your middle to keep the two of you connected for as long as possible. 

“Ellie?” 

He hates you for saying her name, but he hates himself more for letting it slip one drunken night. Joel knows that if Ellie ever found out about what you did to him out here, she’d kill you. Painfully. Slowly. 

Tommy would never let Joel live this down– getting snared in the mall because he wanted to sit in a recliner? Then he might help Ellie kill you.

“I could take you on dates– bring you down to the bar, we could drink whiskey with a real roof over our head,” Joel hums lowly, giving your stomach a pinch but you don’t laugh, or giggle or shy away. 

“How many people?”

“I dunno, a couple…we wouldn’t have t’see them often. Keep to ourselves, mind our business– just like we do here, just safer,” Joel feels like he could be getting somewhere. He’s never offered this before, he’s never even asked for you to let him go. He’s always just gone along in hopes of one day getting home.

Oh is that what you’re tellin’ yourself? Alright, alright. Gotta cope with this all somehow…

“Safer this way, less things t’worry about. Been doin’ it long enough to know that this way is better.”

Joel shakes his head, the tip of his thumb brushing across your eyebrow. “Long enou– how long have ya' even been out here? A year or two?” He watches as you subtly turn your head to give him more access to touch your face, caress you. 

With your eyes closed, you shake your head no at him, pinch your brows together like your thinking or– counting. Joel can see your lips moving as you silently recall whatever it is you're trying to remember. 

“Twelve,” you say confidently.

He hugs you closer to him. “Twelve what?” 

“Twelve winters–”

“No fuckin’ way,” Joel snorts in disbelief, but his eyes never leave your face. They’re searching for the joke, the punchline, something that will tell him that you’re joking. “What happened to the other people ya’ came here with?” 

You blink at him. “There was no one else…” 

"How many other guys have you done this to?" Joel asks quietly.

"Three," you murmur, as he gently drags the backs of his fingers down your face.

"What happened to 'em?" He probes, feeling like he already knows the answer. The fear coils in his gut like a snake ready to strike.

"I killed 'em…” you whisper into the dimly lit room. 

"Why?"

"They wouldn't stop tryin' to 'kill me…" you murmur.

“You built this?” 

Joel is in awe. He’s seen a lot, a whole lot in the thirty years since the outbreak, but you continue to surprise him. Impress him too, more than he thought was possible for a lady who had captured him and was holding him hostage in the woods. 

It’s a greenhouse– but that’s not what he’s impressed about. You built your own heating system for it out of a distillation set up– he doesn't do much to hide the look of bewilderment on his face.

Smart girl.

The smile that spreads across your lips as you take in his dumbfounded expression warms Joel’s heart even though the weather outside has cooled off drastically. 

“A couple years ago, yeah.” You explain, opening the door for him to step inside. 

The vinyl wrapped cord gets caught on the doorway, and the prongs on the choke chain dig into Joel’s neck painfully. He sucks air in through clenched teeth, his calloused fingers desperately try to put space between the metal and his tender and angry red skin. 

“Careful,” you murmur, untangling the rope for him so he can walk further inside. You hold the slack of his tie-out rope in your hand and carry it in for him.

Sweet girl.

Joel takes in everything. How well constructed this place is, how neat you have your rows of vegetables and fruits. Rows of raspberry bushes line the perimeter of the greenhouse. “How’d you get all this shit up here?” He turns to look at you, shoving his leather-glove clad hands into the winter jacket you brought him a couple weeks ago. 

Loves you.

Joel tries not to think about it.

You blink at him for several moments and then a flicker of uncertainty washes over your face. “Ya’ really wanna know?” You ask like you don’t believe that he could be interested in what you’ve been doing out here for the twelve long years you’ve been out here.

“Yeah I wanna know,” he nods his head to the entire structure built up around him. He knows that distillation set up outside is at least a couple hundred pounds, if not more.

He can see it on your face, the worry. The fear- as if telling him the truth, or telling him anything at all would send you spiraling.

Spiraling somewhere Joel isn’t sure he wants you to go.

He hums, turning his gaze to the rows of onions and potatoes. “Did your other fellas help ya’?” Joel teases.

You shake your head from side to side. “I had help–sometimes,” you finally admit, drawing the word out, eyeing his face and body as you whisper it to him. “I had some help, but mostly did it on my own,” you look like you're waiting for him to hit you, yell at you— pounce on you.

He doesn’t do any of those things. It just feels like someone knocked the wind out of him— stole all his air.

“Brought me up here to help you?” He offers, kneeling next to the garden bed to start digging up carrots, or celery or anything that he can throw into a stew for tonight’s dinner.

He loves to cook. It gives him something to do. Something to think about and look forward to. Joel likes that you eat what he makes for you. You eat a lot of it, and have actually put on a couple pounds since he got here.

You place one gentle hand on his shoulder and tug him away from the garden. “No, no— stop it,” you kneel down beside him, wrapping your hands around his and removing them from the dirt. “I didn’t bring you up here t’help me,” you smile at him happily. “You jus’ kept asking where I was gettin’ it all from… I’m showin’ you.”

Your eyes glimmer with something he hasn’t seen in a long time—trust. The look that makes him feel like maybe you’re not crazy- not a murderer- just scared. Fearful, but not anymore.

You trust him.

“Where you been hidin’?” Mister’s voice echoes off the tiled bathroom walls and floors.

You flinch under the stream of warm water and pinch your brows together at the sound of him coming closer. “I haven’t been hidin’. Been here all day,” you roll your eyes even though he can’t see you from behind the door. The water suddenly shuts off.

He’s kinked the hose, preventing the warm water from flowing freely.

“What’re you doing!?” You open the stall door, and poke your head out.

Joel has both of his eyebrows raised, looking at you incredulously. “Ya’ been here in the bathroom takin’ a shower all day?” He huffs at you. “Liar. Where ya’ been?”

“Let go,” you nod your head at the hose he has bent between one hand.

“Tell me where you were,” Mister narrows his eyes at you, unwilling to back down.

It’s cold in the mall, and you worked so hard to make sure that your shower would be warm in your irritable state. Everything has been miserable the last couple of days, you’ve been cramping. Teary and sad for no reason. Now you’re shivering, and a sense of rage floods you.

“Leave me alone,” you grumble.

Joel snorts, letting the hose fall to the floor and the warm water sputters out of the shower head attached to the side of the stall.

“Thank—” you start but hear his belt jingle and hit the tile.

Is he coming in here? He can’t! You’re unclean, undesirable!

“What’re you—” you put your hands on the stall door as he tries to push his way into where you’re naked, and bleeding.

“Need t’shower— I stink, been a couple days-” He starts, eyes narrowed on yours but you don’t let him finish and shove the door closed. “Hey! Let me in,” Mister wraps four thick fingers around the edge of the door to stop you from shutting it completely and locking him out.

“Get…out!” you huff as you push your shoulder into the door, using all of your body as a counterweight.

Mister pushes the door open easily, as if you weren’t even trying. “Th’fuck is wrong with you? Don’t like me anymore?” He frowns dramatically, the crease between his eyes deep.

“I- wha- no- yes, of course I still like you!” You exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest and pressing your legs together tightly. “Just- I don’t… I— please just go. I don’t want you to see me—”

“I see you. I been fuckin’ seein’ you, so th’fuck is your problem now?”

The frustrated tears burn at your eyes. “Get. Out.” You growl.

“You ‘bout t’cry?” He raises an eyebrow at you again, but with less anger etched into his face, and more worry. “What’s the matter, crazy girl?” He purrs, stepping into the small, crowded stall with you, letting the water wash over his broad shoulders and down his chest.

“M’just gross right now,” you groan, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Don’t want you thinkin’ I’m dirty or nothin’…”

“Dirty? What you been gettin’ up to?”

“I’m bleedin’…” you whisper up to him shamefully.

Why would this handsome, perfect man want to touch you during your monthlies? No one else ever did, and none of them were nearly as incredible as Mister… none of them seemed to have any standards— but this was one thing none of them wanted to go near. Like you were cursed because of what was happening between your legs.

It’s all right Sugar, he’s a real man.

“Where- what happened?” Mister looks more worried than he was a moment ago, eyes scanning the length of your body looking for something. “Ya’ hurt?”

He’s real. Real simple.

“Please just go away,” you whine as he inches himself closer to you, caging you into the corner of the stall with his strong body. The heat creeps up your neck and chest, your eyes fill with more tears uncontrollably.

“Y’really want me to leave?” He whispers, his warm, soft lips ghost across your forehead, his stubble scratching gently in their wake.

“S’just… gross,” you offer weakly, your resolve shattering with every careful touch he gives you.

“What the hell are you talkin-” Joel starts, but cuts himself off quickly. He tilts his head down to look at you. “Bleedin’, huh?”

All you can do is nod silently, avoiding his gaze.

“Thinkin’ Mister ain’t gon’ wanna touch you, that right?” He coos as he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Why would… you?” You wince, clenching your teeth together as cramps overtake your lower stomach and back.

Joel nuzzles the side of your face, pulling you back under the steady stream of warm water, letting it wash over the front and back of you as his free hand slips between your bodies. “Let me help you,” he nips at your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth.

Pulling your head back to look up at him, the water washing through your hair and down your back. “Wh-what? How…” you trail off as he slips his hands between your legs, fingers pushing through your swollen, aching lips. It’s uncomfortable and makes you whine and hide your face in the crook of his neck as he pushes two fingers deep into your cunt, curling them against that spot that has you seeing stars.

“Mister knows things too, crazy girl,” his deep voice vibrates in your ear and makes your knees weak. "Know this'll make ya’ feel better." He nudges your legs further apart with his knees and you don't fight him.

The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as he strokes that spot inside you over and over, again and again. "Oh god— don't…please, you'll get dirty-" you groan, your walls clenching around his fingers anyway despite your weak and meaningless protest because you love when he touches you. It’s impossible to fight.

You hate having to hide from him when this happens— it's easier when there isn't snow on the ground and you can leave the mall for a couple days. Hide in the woods and keep watch from a distance… in the shadows. Like before he was yours.

"I don't give a fuck about blood," he growls into the crook of your neck, moving the hand on your waist to the back of your head. His fingers leave you suddenly, and he pulls back, holding your head down so you can watch his already throbbing cock fuck into his partially open fist. 

Mister always takes your breath away, no matter how many times you see it, or put your mouth on it, or take it deep inside of you. It curves slightly up towards his stomach from a thatch of thick dark curls. Swollen tip already drooling with precum.

He gives himself a few slow strokes, coating himself in your slick and blood. "I'ma grown man. Don't matter to me," he groans. His fingers grip your hair and tilt your head up to look at him now. "Turn around, sweetheart," He purrs, licking at your bottom lip teasingly.

"Okay," you sigh, head bobbing up and down as you try to regain some sort of composure. Your eyes drop back down to his hand, still stroking his length slowly as you turn around and rest your palms on what used to be a toilet-paper dispenser, knocking over your small collection of soaps that smell nice and make your skin feel soft.

Joel pulls your hips out, and grinds every inch of him through the folds of your pussy slowly. One of his giant hands moves to the globe of your ass and pulls you open, the other guides the tip of him into your aching core.

The two of you groan together as he sinks himself into you, not letting you adjust or open up to him at all. He splits you open each and every time like it's the first, and it's heavenly.

You rest your forehead against the wall while Joel wraps one hand around your throat and leans over you, his chest pressed against your back. His thumb caresses your jaw as his fingers press into the artery on the side of your neck.

When you're with Mister like this, it all goes away. All the sad, and the bad, and the angry and fear— he replaces it with something else. It's good, and warm and it makes you feel small and weightless.

"S'my crazy girl," he grunts as he starts to thrust slowly but deeply, the tip of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as his hips grind into yours. You clench around him, and he moans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. "God damn, you feel so fuckin' good," he rumbles.

"Don't stop," you mew, the lightheadedness taking you exactly where you want it to. Weightless and free of all thoughts, fears and inhibitions. The blood isn’t real, the pain is numbed and Joel and you are the only ones to exist right now. 

Everything else doesn’t matter.

Mister chuckles against your ear, his breath warm and inviting and pluming down the side of your face. Joel’s like the pyroclastic flow from a volcano; hot and all-consuming, taking over every one of your senses. “Don’t stop fuckin’ you?”He purrs deeply as his free hand slides down your stomach to your slick cunt. “Or don’t stop callin’ you mine?” He teases, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucks up into you from behind. 

You don’t even remember what he’s asked you, it’s all too good, the way every inch of cock seems to know the inside of your cunt so intimately, it’s like he’s fixing something inside of you. It’s only temporary, but it feels good while it lasts. "Yes," you gasp, pussy pulsing around him with every beat of your heart, tilting your hips to take him even deeper. 

He just laughs, low and from deep in his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head as his fingers work your clit faster, urging you higher and so quickly. Then his hand from around your throat is squeezing tighter– your vision tunnels just as he brings you to the precipice. 

Mister lets go of your throat just as you orgasm, it tears through you and he never lets up, fucking you hard and fast through the whole thing. “Oh I know, babygirl.” He growls. “Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?” The tips of his fingers trail down the column of your throat and through the valley of your breasts until he palms one, groping gently at the tender flesh, pinching your nipple and tugging. 

It does feel good– it’s relief from the aching and jackhammering going on inside of you somewhere– and you’re thankful for Mister. You could get down on your knees and worship him. You might. It’s incredible. White hot bliss in every inch of you.

Joel snaps his hips into yours over and over again as you ride out the aftershocks, keening and crying through the pleasure. You’re on the brink of another orgasm, both of his hands now palming and pulling at the soft, over-sensitive flesh of your tits as he spills himself inside of you. 

“S’right, fuckin’ milk me dry. So fuckin’ tight, baby girl.” His teeth sink into the sink on your shoulder–hard. 

It’s pain that brings you back to the women’s restroom in an abandoned mall, a couple of hours trek outside of whatever is left of Jackson, Wyoming. 

It’s the breaking of skin, and the feeling of molten lava pooling in your core, and then flooding down your legs as he pulls out of you. 

His tongue laves at the torn flesh on your shoulder as he coos soft apologies and promises, but you don’t even listen because that was the first time Joel ever came inside of you. There had been plenty of ‘times’, but they all ended with him finishing on some part of you that wasn’t the walls of your cunt. 

When you turn back to look at him, he’s leaning up against the opposite side of the stall, eyes closed, chest heaving with water droplets dripping down his stomach to his still half-hard cock covered in the mixture of your red-slick and his milky white release. 

It makes your stomach flutter, and more liquid heat pools in your core. 

“Lookin’ like you wanna get fucked again,” his eyes are barely open, but he’s staring at you with a goofy half-smile on his face. 

When you try to speak your voice wavers and cracks– and you make Mister-man laugh. A real laugh. He shakes his head from side to side, pushing himself off the wall to crowd your space once again.

He smacks your ass twice, and pulls you under the water with him, “Ain’t gotta say nothin’ sweetheart.” 

Tonight he has his head in your lap, and he rumbles happily when you run your fingers through his loose curls, and scratch at his scalp with your nails.

He's reading one of your comic books to you and Puddin' who is curled up in the big bed almost under your lap.

He's almost got the voices down— just needs a little more time. He'll get it.

It doesn't matter, just having him here is more than you could ever ask for. He doesn't fight, or argue with you anymore. Not like he used to. There are days when he doesn't want to talk, or sometimes even look at you— but he's never mean. Sometimes he's just quiet.

Today was a good day though because you brought back fresh meat again, and you cried about it in the woods before you brought it back so he wouldn't see how badly it bothered you. The first time you brought it back, you cried the whole day and refused to eat it. It bothered you so much that you'd do something like that just to make him happy.

You didn't talk to him for a couple days after, thinking about letting him go or killing him because why does he have that much control over what you do?

You like makin' him happy, Sug.

He's reading from the comic, but you're not really listening.

You've killed people for a lot less than sustainability.

There isn't much you wouldn't do to keep Mister happy, and safe here with you. He doesn't seem miserable, or unhappy. Sometimes he talks about how he wishes he could see his family.

You're his family now. You 'n Puddin'.

He has a real family though out there waiting for him… Missing him. 

The comic ends, and the silence creeps in. The strands of his hair feel like home between your fingers, so you start to rake the fingers of your other hand through it now too. 

"She must really love him," you whisper down to him. "S'why she does all those terrible things for 'Mistah-Jay'," you lighty mock Harley's high pitched crooning and smirk down at him as he closes his eyes.

Your Mister-J shakes his head from side to side, snorting from his nose softly like what you said is funny to him. "Don't know if I'd consider that love, sweetheart." He keeps his eyes closed and speaks slowly with his southern drawl.

Condescending– he doesn’t know love– not real true love. Don’t listen to him.

Hear him out, sweet girl. 

Something like vines coil around your heart when he says it, but you're not sure why, but it doesn't feel good, or nice. The vines have thorns that poke at the soft parts inside you. "Whadd'ya mean?"

"Well y'know Harley was normal once, right? She was a doctor or whatever—"

"A psychologist…" You correct him. She had been a psychologist, fallen in love with Joker, gave up everything for him… Well, maybe—You only had five comic books!! You're not really sure what happened or, why or how… just a couple parts to a much longer story, apparently.

"Oh yeah, well whatever she was— Joker goes to Arkham Asylum, meets Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzel… PhD," he nods his head, opening his eyes to look up at you. "Pretty girl, smart and witty..."

"Yeah?" It feels like every word he says could either make you laugh or start crying.

"And Joker brainwashes her— makes her crazy," he starts but there is only screaming inside your head that drowns out whatever else he says. "She loses everything 'cause of him."

Joker wouldn't do that! Not to his Harley, at least. Everyone else, maybe? But not his girl…right?

Don't listen to him, Sugar. He don't know what he's talking about.

There's a squeeze, and the sharp points of the thorns pierce your lungs and it feels like you deflate, like the world could be slipping away from you, or you could be floating somewhere else.

Your fingers have stopped moving, but still grip his hair in the space between them. "He loves her, he wouldn't do that…"

"He doesn't love her- he uses her." He whispers.

He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong. 

Now it feels like you can't breathe because that can't be true. Harley and Joker might not have always been nice to each other in your comic books, or cartoons— but he loved her. He had to love her, she loved him so much.

There was no way that he doesn’t love Harley, right?

That’s not love. That’s not love.

Mister-man doesn’t stop talking even though you wish he would. "She loves him— but she figures out that Jokers is a bad guy… a real bad guy," his hands are around your wrists now, sliding his fingers between yours to loosen the hold you have on his hair.

"What does she do then?"

Joel's eyes are so dark, chocolatey brown– wide with…fear?

You're hurtin' him, sweet girl.

Who fuckin’ cares— remeber when he hit you?

Listen to Mister, listen to him…

"She kills him," Miser-man laces his fingers with yours and pulls your hands out of his hair. 

Being shot would feel better than this. It's like your chest is caving in on itself. You can't breathe, you can barely think. 

"She wouldn't do that," you hiss at him, struggling to pull your hand free from his grasp, his fingers pinching around yours, refusing to let him go. 

"She loves Joker, and she wouldn't hurt him- wouldn't kill him…" your eyes flash between your fingers laced in his, and his big brown, perfect eyes.

Perfect baby cow eyes. 

"She smartens up— she realizes he's been abusin' her." Joel's on his knees now, cupping your face with his free hand "She's smarter than him, crazier too." He leans in and kisses away the tears that had sprung from your eyes, and are now rolling down your cheeks.

Joel lies.

"You're bullshittin' me," you put both hands on his chest and push him weakly. "He loves her, she loves him— she doesn't kill him. Why would you say that?"

"It's just how their story goes, crazy girl. It ain't real," he wraps one hand around the back of your neck and tries to pull you in for comfort but you don't let him.

You spend the night in the greenhouse that night. 

People were capable of a lot of things, you had seen it first hand. Watching it happen to yourself, and people just like you thrown into situations they didn’t ask to be in, or maybe got themselves into on accident– but nobody wants to be abused. Nobody asks to be taken advantage of. 

Look at what you’ve done. 

Look at what you were able to take for yourself. 

Ruined a man's life.

He loves you. 

This isn’t love. 

It’s hard to look at Joel after that. 

You just keep to yourself until your next supply run. 

–He’s going to die if you don’t do it.

Don’t fucking do it!! What are you thinking!? He’ll leave!

“That’s fine!!” You sob as you climb up the service ladder that takes you to the roof where you can enter the mall on the rafters. 

Joel can’t die. Not like this. Not because of you.  

All the other entrances have been boarded up so tight that it’s nearly impossible for one or two people to get in on their own, but it doesn’t matter now with how many of them are coming. 

They’ll tear this whole place apart looking for you. They saw you– got the dogs on your scent and it’s incredible that you lost them for as long as you did running in the river but they’re still coming. 

They’re going to kill you this time and there really isn’t anything you can do about it. There are too many this time, and they never stopped following you. The dogs kept barking, kept howling, and kept alerting when they’d pick up your trail again. 

Puddin’s only chance to get out of here alive is to leave with Joel right now. You’ll give him all his stuff, his guns, his gas-mask and you’ll just keep the raiders preoccupied while Joel and Puddin’ get away. 

Joel is in the bookstore when you come running in, already fumbling with the keys that will unlock his choke chain and his shock collar. 

He’s so handsome, and big. If by some miracle you get out of this alive– you can go to Jackson and find Joel. 

“Whoa, what’s goin’--” he looks concerned, and he has a good reason. He doesn’t have a lot of time to get out of here. 

“I don’t have time– you just need to get Puddin’ o-out of here, go out through the r-roof, like we do to get to the greenhouse. There are two ladders, the one in the back will take you into the woods and you can go back to Tommy and Maria, Ellie– but you have to take Puddin’!”

The words don’t feel like they’re coming out fast enough, but Mister-man is looking at you like you have seven heads and are possibly growing another one as you try to explain that bad guys are coming. 

Joel clamps his hands around yours while you fumble with the keys. “Slow down– jus’ take a deep breath–” Joel turns his hands to the side, and opens them with yours cupped in either one, the keys pinched between your index finger and thumb on your right hand. “Keys?”

Don’t tell him, don’t tell him. Don’t let them go, don’t let them go. You’ll lose him forever. He’ll kill you. He’s going to kill you. Let him die here with you.

“The gold one is for the chain, silver is for the collar–” doing the right thing. 

“You got guns? I need a couple–” Joel nods his head at you as he takes the keys from your trembling hands very carefully, like you might spontaneously combust if he makes any sudden movements.

Take them keys back, it’s not too late. Take them back. Take them back. Take them back.

There are guns hidden in the ceiling of the mattress store. Lots of guns that you’ve collected over the years. 

“I’ll give ya’ whatever you need. Ya’ just gotta–” You’re already backing out of the bookstore, stumbling over fallen shelves and debris from the ceiling caving in a couple weeks ago. 

“I’ll take Puddin’, don’t worry. M’right behind ya’,” Mister’s already got one key in one of the locks as you turn to sprint to the mattress store. 

You climb onto the counter and push one of the ceiling tiles aside, and start pulling guns and boxes of ammo out, handing them to Mister-man to get ready. 

Faintly, the sounds of dogs barking are growing closer and closer. Every warm thing about you goes cold because it might be too late for Mister-man if they get this place surrounded. 

Shouldn’t have come back here. You keep making mistakes. 

It’s okay, sweet girl. Doing the right thing by letting him go– sacrificing yourself to save him and Pud. 

The tears come and are hot, and fat and sting your eyes. 

“Please take care of Puddin’, please don’t jus’ let him go- go the second you get out in the –the woods, okay?” You try and speak over the lump in your throat but it’s hard, and it hurts, and you want to just lay down and die right here. “He’s not real good at takin’ care of himself– he needs someone.”

Joel isn’t listening, he’s loading up rifles and handguns faster than you’re getting your pleas out. He looks determined, he’s not paying attention to the things that you’re saying. 

“Hey! M’talkin–” you start, taking a step towards him. 

“Here,” he shoves a rifle in your hand and a pistol in the other. Then he slings another rifle over your shoulder. He starts loading more guns. In your backpack, you have your preferred weapon of a metal slingshot and free, unlimited ammo. Hard things

It’s deadly when used properly, silent and easy to practice with because you can never run out of rocks. Metal nuts and bolts work well too, and those are all over, fallen out of the iron skeleton that keeps the mall together over the years. 

“Puddin’?” You question, backing out of the storefront slowly. Joel waves you away as he continues to load up the rest of the weapons. 

There isn’t much you can think about besides how Joel is going to get out of here with Puddin’ safely. You don’t even know where the little guy is, and he’s probably hiding now hearing the dogs closing the distance outside. 

Make it easier for them to get in hopes they don’t go looking for another way in– Before you climb into the rafters, you push the tables, chairs and racks out of the way and make the entrance accessible from outside. 

You’re so stupid for letting him go, he could have died here with you– lived as ghosts here together for eternity. 

You take your place above the entrance, where you would come and wait for Mister-man before he was yours– where you would hide from him when you were bleeding before you knew he was a ‘real man’, or what a real man even was. You did the right thing. 

It happens fast– the doors explode open with an ear-splitting, head ringing bang, and debris flies everywhere. You can hear it showering down on the tiles of the food court, into the small puddles of still water that have accumulated with the quick-melting snow. 

The smoke and dust make it impossible to see, but you stay hidden regardless and get your slingshot loaded and ready for when it all finally settles. 

The dog's nails click on the ceramic flooring as they run inside and start looking for you. Start sniffing you out– which is easy. Your scent is all over this mall and they take off running in the direction of the mattress store. 

In the direction Joel and possibly Puddin’ if they didn’t get out in time. 

Muffled voices echo through the quickly dissipating cover of dusty smog. 

Three dark figures move quickly, following in the direction of the dogs. You pull your loaded slingshot back, aim for the pulse point on their throat, or at the base of their neck– in the spine. 

It’s usually quick and they’re down before they know what hit them, or even realize that they’re on the ground. 

The other two raiders see their friend go down, holding his neck, choking on his own blood and begin looking around the food court through the scopes of their machine guns. You load up the pouch quickly with a heavy metal nut and aim. 

Let go. 

There is a millisecond when you think you weren’t quick enough. He saw you, his finger pulled the trigger, but before the gun goes off his hand falls to his side, his rifle tumbles to the ground and he stands there like he’s been stunned. 

You aimed for his forehead, but it entered through the eye socket of his closed eye with a soft pop you could hear over the dogs barking in the distance. Then he goes down. 

There are gunshots, but not from the food court– they’re coming from a different part of the mall. Two different types of gunshots. Then it’s quiet. 

Both of ‘em dead and it’s all your fault. All your fault. All your fault. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands up, at the thought of Joel and Puddin’ being shot at, torn apart by the dogs. 

The one remaining raider looks around the food court, and then down the long, wide corridor where the dogs are still barking, and now more guns are going off. 

They’re both dead. Dead ‘cause of you. 

You toss your slingshot to the side and grab the hunting rifle, aiming at the back of the last raider's head as he turns to walk away. You take one shot and watch as he goes down, and hope that the dogs and whoever else is in the mall come your way instead of following after Joel.

You count as more people come into the mall through the entrance, stepping over the bodies of their dead friends. One, two, three, four, five, six…

Ain’t even worth it anymore. Should just shoot yourself now– end it all quickly–

Just keep moving, sweet girl. It’ll be okay. Give him time to get out of here. Keep him safe, he doesn’t deserve this, never did. 

No more people come inside– and that’s when you open fire from the rafters, moving as gracefully as you can while trying to aim. 

This rifle only holds five rounds, and you drop three of the intruders before you run out of ammo. You drop that gun, and grab the one around hanging off your shoulder. 

Their guns start going off, bullets flying past your face. One grazes your shoulder, just the skin– it burns and stings, but your feet stay deft in their movements. Remembering where to step and what spots to avoid because of the structural faults. 

More gunfire from the other wing of the mall. Near the department store with two floors. Near the bookstore. Near where you and Joel sleep together most nights– except for the past couple. 

Now you regret it, now you regret not feeling his cock inside of you these last three nights. Not falling asleep sticky with his release between your thighs, or taking advantage of the nights when he let you fall asleep inside of you.  

Three nights you can never get back. If you make it out of this you’ll crawl across hot coals for him– beg him to stay here with you forever– you can go back to Jackson to visit– to see everyone– but then you can come back. 

He won’t let you come back, you fucking cow. 

He won’t come back here, baby. He won’t– but that’s okay. This place isn’t good for you. 

This place is your home– it has been and it will be, it’s kept you safe. It’s made you smart and independent. 

Look at what it did to you, who it made you.  

You were crazy before you got here. 

“I’m not crazy…” you whisper. 

Then it happens, your foot falters, and the rafter creaks loudly as the bullets continue to whizz past you. Missing you by centimeters– but you never stop moving. Not even as the beam underneath your foot starts to sway from side to side. 

A low, echoing groan fills the mall as you move faster to get to the other side where things are still a bit more secure– you think about jumping, but falling–

It doesn’t matter, you’re weightless, everything about you feels like it stays up in the air while you tumble down to the ground. The world flips and spins– a kaleidoscope of fresh new greenery growing, and the old dingy colors of the mall's ceramic tiles, the dimming evening sky. 

Everything about you feels detached, like your body no longer exists, nothing is real; like you're suspended in a dream.

This is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with a broken body. 

The impact is jarring, a violent explosion of pain that sends white-hot tendrils searing through your shoulder and down your left arm. The air is punched out of your lungs and you’re clinging to consciousness with everything that you can- but the darkness is so inviting, the warm ground is so cool against the broiling pain that has you sweating. 

Puddin’ could need you, Sug. Joel might need you. 

The handgun is still somehow tucked into your waistband, and you push yourself to your knees despite all the tendons and muscles in your shoulder and back telling you to lay down– to give up. 

Shoot yourself before anyone else can– they might not be so generous. 

You can’t give up. Not now, not yet. 

It’s nearly impossible to aim, your vision is blurring in and out of focus. It’s hard to keep steady when you feel like you could be sick, and take a nap all at the same time. 

Point and shoot, point and shoot point and shoot at whatever is moving, whatever looks like a target. Your left hand hangs at your side limp, unwilling to cooperate when you think of things to do– like grab a new magazine when the clip gets low. 

Everything on your lower-half is fine, seems fine– you think. It’s not completely clear if anything hurts because everything above the waist feels like it’s on fire. Gunshots echo throughout the mall in what sounds like all directions. Everything is echoing. Everything feels so fuzzy and thick– so warm.

When you come to, Joel is kneeling over you, blood dripping down the side of his face, chin and neck. His shirt is stained dark red down the front of his chest. 

Did he eat them?

He might’a. 

“What happened–” 

A soft but deafening metallic click echoes in your ears. You’ve heard it before– it’s distinct and only one thing makes that sound. A padlock locking into place. 

The part of your brain that tells your body to move still works, your right hand starts to move to your neck– but your left arm stays limp by your side and fireworks go off in the space behind your eyes. 

You are a ragdoll being held together at the seams. Then thin, red strings that connect your shoulder to the rest of your body are hanging there limply, all the tension and tightness that allows you to move is gone. 

It’s excruciating. It’s like the grooves of your brain are being peeled apart– you can’t think, you can’t do anything but shriek. 

Joel tuts softly over the sounds of your pain, “Yeah, a dislocated shoulder’ll do that to ya’.” There is a twinge of twisted pleasure in his empathetic tone. “Planned on fixin’ it up while ya’ were still out,” he explains through your wailing. 

“Pl-Please don’t tou-t–touch it,” you’re stammering through the red-hot pain.

Mister-man shakes his head at you, his lips together in a tight lipped smile– like what he’s about to tell you is unfortunate news. “I gotta, and I can do it now… or I can go get that brick–”

The choke-chain suddenly feels like it’s ten thousand pounds, too tight and also hot; white hot like it just came out of the fire. 

Kill him. 

The brick might actually not be too bad in this situation–

“I gotta couple things t’go take care of, so…why don’t you jus’ sit tight ‘n I’ll be right back.” Joel doesn’t touch you, or fix your fucking shoulder before he stands up to leave. “Don’t go anywhe– oh wait,” he chuckles, shaking his head from side to side. 

There are parts of your brain telling you to sit still, to relax and the pain will eventually subside, to just let things happen. Bigger, louder parts of your brain are telling you that this is worse than dying. This is the least desirable outcome. You’re not sure what parts they are, or who is even speaking because all the words and sounds are blending together. 

Joel walks over the bodies of the dead dogs, the nameless raiders– he uses cautious feet as he steps over new collapsed parts of the roof. Twisted and mangled metal– sharp and dangerous as he climbs and crawls through the narrow openings. 

Joel has to look for the shock collar remote. He doesn’t know what you’ve done with it since he hasn’t made you use it since shortly after you put it on him. He hasn’t seen it in— 

Months. It’s been months. 

He’s not thinking of the countless nights of sharing his warmth with you– or how you made sure he always had something to eat– how you tore yourself apart to make sure that he was taken care of. 

He’s trying not to think about it. 

His backpack is almost full by the time he leaves the second floor of the department store. He’s careful and makes sure to not let this get jostled around in there. He was gentle with how he packed things and wanted to make sure nothing got ruined.

Puddin’ is right where Joel expected him to be. On the highest shelf of the bookstore, which is where he was before you came running in with tears in your eyes almost an hour ago. When Joel was still your prisoner. Still your captive. 

Joel grabs Pud by the scruff– unfazed by the hissing and clicking sounds of protest coming from the completely domesticated animal. Joel hasn’t seen Puddin’ hunt or scavenge for his own food once since he’s been here, and knows for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it on his own. 

He doesn’t want to bring him–

Yes ya’ do. 

No…he doesn’t.

He doesn’t even really know why he’s back inside the mattress store tearing the place apart looking for the remote to the shock collar. He doesn’t know why he’s inside the pet store looking for a new shock collar when he can’t find the old one.

When Joel returns to the spot where he left you– you’re gone. 

She couldn’t have gotten far. 

He picks the cord up off the floor, gives it a soft tug and feels the resistance– you’re still on the other end. He sets his backpack down gently and holds the cord in his hand as he lets the sounds of your pained whimper lead him right to you. 

Joel follows you into the service hallways he’s explored a million times. He wonders why you came back here, what you’re looking for that he doesn’t know about. A secret way out? Bolt cutters? 

Joel looked constantly for something that he could have used to cut through his restraints, but never found anything.

Never really looked that hard– don’t kid yourself.

He did look– he always wanted to go home. 

Could have killed her a long time ago. 

“Come on, lil puppy– Puddin’s missin’ ya’,” Joel croons, the sounds of your shuffled footsteps on the concrete floor growing louder and louder. “Hear ‘em cryin’ for his momma?” He holds Puddin’ up, and he hisses loudly in annoyance or discomfort– he’s not completely sure. 

Joel’s about to round the corner, expecting you to be there with a horrified look on your face at what he might do to the over-sized rodent in his hand. 

He’s not expecting you to be waiting for him with a knee hurdling towards his unprotected dick and balls. It knocks the air out of his lungs, and bile rises in his throat. 

“You’re hurtin’ him!” Your worried voice rings in his ears.

She’s going to kill you. 

The rest of his stomach drops down into his ass. 

Joel grabs the cord attached to the choke chain, gasping for air, and pulls on it as hard as he can and is still met with tension. You shriek and choke as he drags you to the ground—still holding Puddin' safely in your arms. 

He realizes you hadn’t even been going for the keys or his gun, or his knife. You were just trying to protect–

Her baby. 

Joel gives your restraint another good tug– he knows how it feels to have the prongs dig into the soft, sensitive skin above the collarbone. It’s horrible, but not as bad as the shock-collar. 

Joel moves as fast as he can, pouncing on you and pressing his knee into your chest.  

You look up at him with eyes so wide they're more white then iris, pupils blown wide with terror. Then you scream, it vibrates his eardrums, and splits his skull open. 

He didn’t think any human was capable of making a sound so absolutely bone-chilling.

He presses his palm over your mouth, squeezing your cheeks together as tight as he can to avoid getting bitten. With the hunting knife he points it at Puddin’-- who is currently playing dead beside your flailing body.

Joel turns your head to the side while your fingernails claw into his wrists. You go limp when you see the threat.

“Ain’t gotta say it— but you know,” Joel warns. quietly. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut– got it?” He growls in your ear. 

You whimper and nod silently in defeat.

“Good. Now you’re gon’ get up real slow– Mister’ll help ya’, okay?” He whispers in your ear. 

You nod again, body shaking underneath his with each silent sob. 

Be careful-- her shoulder.

Joel helps you to your feet. He picks Puddin’ up more appropriately– holding him like a newborn– still pointing the sharp edge of the knife towards his belly as the three of you make your way back out of the service hallway. 

Once Joel has you back where had intended on you staying– he gives you Puddin’ to hold and then gives you a stern look with narrow eyes and a strongly pinched brow. 

“You try anythin’– make one single move…and I’ll kill him; make you watch,” Joel nods down to the still stiff opossum in your arms.

"I'm real sorry--"

"Sorry don't mean nothin' out here, remember that?" He barks at you as he pulls the new collar out of the packaging.

He has no sympathy for your tears, or the way that you're almost silently apologizing over and over again-- almost like you're not even talking to him anymore.

She ain't... you know it.

He places the new shock collar around your neck and locks into place with the padlock from the choke chain. He then puts the batteries in the remote and holds his thumb over the button.

“Say goodbye t’all of this,” he motions around with the blade of his knife. The crumbling ceiling, the broken and warped rafters littering the ground now. “We’re goin’ to Jackson.” 

To be continued…?

authors note-- this was honestly one of the most fun stories to write-- and I really hope you all want me to continue this fucked up story back in Jackson.

Thank you to everyone for the love and support!! I didn't expect a little tiny drabble to turn into this big whole thing.

I hope I didn't disappoint everyone-- I didn't want either one of them to die and I genuinely don't think Joel would have just let her walk away from all of this with a nod of his head and a wave.

thank you for @pedrospookie for your amazing mood boards and knowledge of DC and Harley Quinn, and @almostempty for your help with this last chapter. I really needed your words of encouragement and support because I felt like I was fucking it up all the time.

@probablyreadinsmut your love for Puddin' kept me going and I love you for that.

tag list:@pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories @evolnoomym @valkyreally @youdontknowe @corazondebeskar-reads @pastelpinkflowerlife @tobethlehem @lumpatto @shivispunk

again, i'm sorry if I forgot anyone. I have a little hamster brain and I forget things.

[winisayswhat]

💗You and your future spouse's 1st valentine's day date PAC💗

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

This reading a collab between me and this cutie @tarotbyjam24 💗

don't forget to check her account !

Pile 1 by @tarotbyjam24

Your first valentine's day date might possibly be a 50-50 date like you couples splitting your bills or it could be like you both are always so busy so it took effort from both sides to have a valentine's day date together finally. It's gonna be a very planned and calculated date . You guys might also not show your truest self to your spouse on this date because either of you or both can have your guards up even though you're married. I also feel on this date you could also fight with eachother 😭 probably because of hiding something. I see 'hide' word is so prominent here . I wonder how you guys are so mysterious to each other . Mostly I see you guys could be trying local street foods , trying drinks here n there. Although I feel you both will be dressed perfectly for a date to bring the date date vibe . Having drinks on this could help both of you to loosen up a bit and open up to each other . This date will be a start for something new probably you could think of starting family or something else . This pile seems like both of you love eachother but also don't show it and hide it very well that you both seem to each other like enemies ✨ that's all pile 1 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 2 by @tarotbyjam24

Your first valentine's day date is gonna be amazing I swear . They'll make you feel like a prince\princess . Almost worshipping you and giving all the power . I also feel your spouse will be older than you . So ofc they gonna spoil you it's natural to them and you gonna enjoy it . They'll surely take you on various activities for this date like taking some fun classes in day , eating local foods , taking you on shopping, then dinner night at a perfect place probably by river or seaside . This date will grow more love between each other . I get the vibe of ' material girl ' from this pile and I support you for this lol . You go guys . You deserve it all . Now from another perspective if we see this than your spouse could be bit more domineering in this date like those ceo and their girlfriends where ceo likes to eat at three Michelin star hotel and you enjoy your ramen and drinks but you're forced to go on the three Michelin star hotel date lol. I feel you'll act like a disciplined kid when in real you're so spoiled 🍃 and you just don't listen to anyone but you'll have to listen and follow them .that's all pile 2 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 3

Okay, babes, this date is going to be mind-blowing . Like, expect some serious sparks flying, and that's just not from the table. The man or woman you're going on a date with has a provider energy. It's like a very fancy place, with a fancy setup. This person is jacked for sure. They're serious and will bring lots of stability and maturity into your life. They're the real deal, honey .The Two of Cups is all about harmony and balance. So, expect some beautiful, heartfelt connections. You'll feel fulfilled. This place feels like a rooftop restaurant with dim lights, and you're drop-dead gorgeous . You're dressed up, drop-dead gorgeous that day. Oh la la, that person is going gaga all over you! They're very chivalrous. They're going to spend all their money on you without thinking twice. You'll feel luxurious, wealthy with them This person is a provider, wild, and dressed to impress . Both of you are excited to meet each other and already know you're the "it" deal. It's like you both were meant to be together, like two puzzle pieces . You both love, value, and cherish each other. It's like you both have manifested each other. The God has led you both to each other .This person is very straightforward, and whatever they say is going to be very real. They'll be honest with you, and you'll love that about them . They're the type of person who'll have many surprises in store. If they take you out for dinner, they'll make sure there's music, a big bouquet of roses, jewelry as gifts, your favorite champagne, food, and good photos to be clicked . Oh la la, this person is also a great photographer! Your Instagram feed is sorted ! Every time this person walks into a room, people look at them and go, "Oh my God, who is that?" They drip with money and luxury 💸. This person is going to be so nurturing and caring. Expect some serious TLC from this person, honey! It's going to be wild, but guess what? This is just the beginning. The journey is much more exciting and spicy! Don't forget to check out my valentine's tarot sale

Pile 4

The ambiance is romantic, probably at a favorite restaurant or spot. The air is filled with a sweet scent, and you both feel harmonious and in tune with each other. You're thinking about how lucky you are to be in this relationship!Conversation on the date is all bout goals, future plans, and excitement for what's to come. You both are magnetic, high-achieving individuals who are planning out your adrenaline-fueled life together! Eye contact is intense, and you both feel a deep sense of connection and understanding.This is a couple who will be the life of the party, so in love and into each other that they won't even notice what's going on around them! You're best friends, despite being different, and you complement each other perfectly.Don't forget to check out my valentine's tarot sale

[catiroll]

A Dance for Two °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Synopsis: When your daughter wants to attend the Daddy-Daughter Ball, Sevika reluctantly agrees to take her. What begins as a simple favor turns into something far more meaningful than either of you expected.

Warning: nothin rlly

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The tiny bow on Mira’s dress had come undone again.

You knelt in front of her, fingers carefully retying it, making sure it was straight. She stood perfectly still, her small hands gripping the soft folds of her dress, eyes locked on your movements with unusual intensity. Normally, she would have been talking—about the colors, the music, the way her shoes made soft clicks against the floor—but tonight, she was quieter than usual.

You noticed.

You always noticed.

“There,” you said, adjusting the bow one last time before pulling back. “Perfect.”

Mira didn’t respond right away. She turned slightly, lifting her dress in her little fingers and watching how the fabric shimmered under the warm glow of the lanterns. You could see the wheels in her mind turning, but she hadn’t yet found the words she wanted.

Then, finally—softly, hesitantly—she asked, “Mama… do I get to go even if I don’t got a daddy?”

Your hands stilled.

It wasn’t the first time she had asked about fathers. It wasn’t even the first time she had noticed she didn’t have one. But it was the first time she had linked it to something she might be missing out on—something other kids had and she didn’t.

Your chest tightened, and you forced a small smile as you tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Of course you get to go, sweetheart. You don’t need a daddy to dance.”

Mira nodded slowly, but her grip on her dress remained tight. “The other girls said their daddies are taking them.”

Your throat constricted.

Before you could say anything, she looked up at you, something hopeful flickering in her wide eyes. “Could Auntie Vik take me?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Sevika.

It wasn’t that the idea was bad—far from it. It was just… unexpected.

Sevika didn’t do things like this. She wasn’t soft, wasn’t gentle—not in the ways most people would recognize. But Mira saw her differently.

You saw it too, sometimes.

Sevika was the one who let Mira sit on her shoulders to reach the top shelf. The one who wordlessly passed her a piece of whatever she was eating, even if Mira never asked. The one who grumbled endlessly about how ‘kids were too much trouble’—only to let Mira fall asleep curled up in her lap minutes later.

Maybe… just maybe, this could work.

“You want me to do what?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Sevika stared at you from across the table, one brow arched, her metal fingers drumming against the worn wooden surface. You’d just finished explaining the situation, and judging by her expression, she was either irritated or amused. Maybe both.

“Take Mira to the Daddy-Daughter Ball,” you repeated, this time a little slower, as if that would somehow make it sound like less of a ridiculous request.

Sevika let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You do realize I don’t fit either of those words, right?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “You’re not an idiot, Sev. You know that’s not what this is about.”

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose. “Kid needs a dance partner? Take her yourself.”

“She doesn’t want that.” You hesitated. “She wants you.”

That got her.

Her fingers stilled against the table. Her jaw clenched—just slightly—but enough for you to notice.

“I don’t know how to do this shit,” she muttered, looking away. “Dancing. Balls. Dressing up like some… proper person.”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “She doesn’t care about any of that. She just wants someone who makes her feel safe.”

Sevika scoffed, shaking her head, but you saw the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of something you couldn’t quite place in her eyes.

“You’re good with her, Sev,” you continued, softer this time. “Better than you think.”

Silence.

Then, finally, a long exhale.

“Fine,” she muttered, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting it. “But you owe me.”

A slow grin spread across your lips as you reached up, fingers lightly brushing her jaw. “Oh, I’ll make it up to you.”

She shot you a look, but there was something warmer in her expression now, something less guarded.

She was going to do it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When Sevika arrived at the door that evening, Mira gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint.

“Auntie Vik!” she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You look so pretty!”

Sevika grimaced.

She stood stiffly, dressed in a deep navy vest over a crisp black shirt, looking like she had been physically forced into it. Her usual rough edges hadn’t disappeared—the scars on her hands, the imposing metal arm, the ever-present air of someone who had seen too much—but there was something undeniably striking about her like this.

Sevika scowled, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze. “Don’t start.”

You only smiled, stepping forward to adjust her tie, fingers lingering just a second too long. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before clearing her throat and looking away.

Mira grabbed her much larger hand and started tugging her toward the door. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

Sevika sent you a desperate, help me look.

You just waved. “Have fun!”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The ball was something out of a storybook—glittering chandeliers, soft melodies, rows of little girls spinning in their dresses.

Mira fit right in.

Sevika… not so much.

She was stiff at first, clearly uncomfortable under the warm glow of the ballroom. But Mira didn’t seem to notice. She grabbed Sevika’s hands, practically dragging her onto the dance floor, and demanded to be twirled.

And—surprisingly—Sevika did.

Not gracefully, not skillfully, but in a way that made Mira laugh, bright and loud and full. Sevika let her stand on her feet to waltz, rolling her eyes but not pushing her away. When the music shifted to something livelier, Mira pulled her toward the other children, insisting Sevika had to play tag.

And she did.

She let Mira sit on her shoulders to ‘catch’ the other kids, smirked when she won, and even—reluctantly—let her place a tiny, flower-shaped sticker on her metal arm as a ‘prize.’

It was a perfect night.

But then, near the end of the evening, as the last slow dance played, Mira—sleepy, warm, and utterly content—rested her head against Sevika’s shoulder and murmured, “I wish you were my daddy.”

Sevika froze.

Your breath caught.

Mira didn’t say it with sadness. There was no longing in her voice, no ache for something she felt she was missing. It was just a statement. Simple. Honest.

Sevika swallowed hard.

She could’ve brushed it off. Could’ve ignored it, changed the subject, made a joke.

But she didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, she murmured back, “You don’t need a daddy, kid. You’ve got your mom.” A beat of hesitation. “And you’ve got me.”

Mira didn’t say anything else. Just snuggled in a little closer.

And Sevika held her a little tighter.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When they arrived home, Mira was fast asleep in Sevika’s arms.

You expected her to pass the little girl off and leave. Instead, she carried Mira inside, walking straight to her room and tucking her in without a word.

When she turned back to you, there was something in her eyes—something raw, something hesitant.

“She called me her dad,” Sevika said, voice gruff, but there was something thick in it, something heavy. “Can you believe that?”

You smiled softly, reaching up to touch her cheek. “She loves you.”

Sevika exhaled sharply. “She’s a little brat.” But her voice cracked, just slightly.

You kissed her.

And when you whispered, “Stay?”

She hesitated.

Then—finally—she sighed and muttered, “Yeah. Okay.”

And just like that, she was home.

Masterlist

A/N: i havent made one in so long my bad sorry yall but here we go we got sevika with a duaghter cuz lowkey i can never see her with a son. have a good day wherever u aree

[moonchild1]

can i just say how i am totally captivated by this fic once again just going back and reading everything again had me mesmerized by this plot line, seriously it is so good you guy have no idea, it's written to perfection that you are completely be drawn into the story, just like a movie it plays out in front of your eyes as you read the words i am not even joking it's literally the best part about it that you get drawn into the fic like that it's magical I tell you... sorry for the babbling on but i can't fully express how much i love this fic and i can't not mention the prince and me because it just reminds me of it especially oc's personality and how she works so hard to achieve her goals i love it so much, yoon your words, how you describe oc passion and jungkook's desires it's just beautiful you build the scenes so well and not only that the emotions, their thoughts it's like you are one with the character and this world you have build it sometimes brings me to tears to read the way your wrote their thoughts like in chapter 3 I literally had tears in my eyes... I was honestly blown away and that scene in the at the cafe when they are truly just themselves, i can't stop saying this but they way you write is pure gold and i hang on all of your words, the way oc and jungkook conversations just flow and holds so much meaningful moments like i can't describe it but it feels more like just a conversation for a story it just latches on to my heart and i feel like your words have so much meaning behind them, the placement of certain words, what they talk about it's like poetry if i am being honest i feel like there should be an analysis of each line or thought that they have that's the best way I can describe it...

jumping into ch. 5 can i just say i love oc's spirals about the jungkook dating news i don't wanna spoil it but gosh i love her trying to decipher why it's that girl, why out of the people in the world it's her i really enjoyed that and her subtle inclusion of herself in the comparisons hehehehe oc i see you, also i am with Yuri and oc on the hate train, oc's just hilarious in that conversation i love it.. so the slow ass burn warning was very much needed hey wow no I still can't believe jk did a whole post with that girl and didn't tell oc, i somewhat get where his coming from but cmon how did he think she would react especially since their friendship is so strong and they clearly care about one another hehehe and jk's spiral after she confronts him ouch the slowest burn ever and the angst got me hooked, i am absolutely looking forward to how things proceed between jk and this girl and oc's take on everything will she be able to focus on her time with nel i'm pretty sure she's gonna have jk on the brain (also not sure if i mentioned it but I am sooooo not team this girl she's clearly soaking up all the influence jk brings and the complete opposite of what jk needs and she's oc's nemesis so not my vibe i can only imagine a scene where this girl just says the wrong thing in oc's presence and oc just flips and gives her a piece of her mind oooohh I hope that (also the giggle /eye roll, which i totally blame on oc by the way, that i let out when i read this man was at a party making out with this girl, jk whatcha doing my guy??????) lemme hop on into the next chapter and see jk's thought this man better explain himself 😉🤭🖤

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week. 

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures. 

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August. 

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again. 

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night.  And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning. 

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation. 

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on. 

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on. 

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead. 

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go. 

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY.  SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN…  SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth. 

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say? 

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her? 

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t. 

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her! 

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.  

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type. 

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.  

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it. 

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again. 

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history. 

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself. 

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything. 

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores. 

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.  

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate. 

He chose Adaline Dupree. 

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is. 

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures. 

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything. 

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt. 

You didn’t expect it to hurt. 

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you. 

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation. 

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning. 

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow. 

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t. 

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]:  isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least?  SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.” 

“Thanks, me too.” 

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook. 

But is he just Jungkook anymore?  

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else? 

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles. 

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her. 

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried. 

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great. 

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do. 

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes. 

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses. 

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth. 

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried. 

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago. 

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally. 

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together. 

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship. 

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence. 

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted. 

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and  to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.  

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created. 

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now. 

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world. 

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty. 

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task. 

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes.  “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point. 

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone. 

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him. 

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her? 

Oh.

Oh… 

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline. 

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why. 

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night. 

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another. 

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence. 

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far. 

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was. 

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship. 

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures. 

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand. 

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts. 

He wants real.

He wants authentic. 

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead. 

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet. 

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him. 

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too? 

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy. 

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue. 

Don’t say shit Y/N. 

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same. 

At. All. 

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.” 

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.” 

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King. 

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her. 

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice. 

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive. 

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever. 

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front. 

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him. 

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel. 

And not him. 

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend. 

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t. 

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else. 

For the person who has a boyfriend. 

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you. 

Because it’s you. 

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him? 

For being happy with who makes you happy? 

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart. 

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official. 

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to. 

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is. 

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck. 

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far. 

More, then. 

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[peppermint-monster]

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

Warning: Pet names (Curvy Goddess), Confession...?, FLUFF?, Hickeys, Jealous-ish Kunigami, Missionary Position, Reader being a little bit obsessed, Blowjob, Situationship...? Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

P.S. I write all characters over 18 and up (I should have mentioned that at the start 😅).

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

On Monday morning, while casually chatting with his friends, Kunigami unexpectedly realized that as they discussed their ideal partners, he noticed the shy, curvy girl sitting across the classroom, her eyes occasionally darting toward him. Seated at his desk, with his friends' chairs subtly turned in his direction, Kunigami couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and curiosity about the situation. 

“For me, she must have a mature charm, like Sensi.” His friend with a bowled cut fawningly smiles, thinking about Sensi. And if they’re married, it just makes it even better for cheating.”

“I would say an idol,” His other friend butted in, fixing his glasses while mentioning the idol he likes. “Her singing, dancing, just everything is perfect.” It almost seemed like steam was coming out of his nostrils.

“Idols, huh?” Meanwhile, Kunigami couldn't help but snicker at the mention of idols.

This provoked the glasses-wearing friend, who suddenly stood up, slamming his hand on the desk, and demanded, "And what are you trying to say?"

“You better watch it. You never know what these idols do backstage.”

“Tsk- alright, how about you tell us your ideal woman?” He argues back.

“Well, my ideal is…” Kunigami murmurs, bringing his hand to cup his chin while he thinks.

He starts describing his ideal woman, stating that almost everything about the curvy beauty sitting across from him completely differs from his ideal type. 

She is the exact opposite—a nerdy loner. She always has her head stuck in a book and consistently wears her winter uniform, complete with big black glasses and long, unstyled hair. It's a complete contrast.

“And also her personality must be…”

“There’s still more!?!?” His glasses friend said. “There’s no way your fantasy girl would ever exist like that.” He continued.

“At least ours are realistic ideals, right?” His bowl-cut friend includes.

And he knew that. Kunigami knew that no one existed exactly like he expected, yet if there were, he would fall for them in a heartbeat.

If only he knew…

--------

Unbeknownst to Kunigami, stuck in his train of thought he didn’t notice the sliding door opening, signaling someone walking in, until hearing a group of girls gushing over someone.

“So cute!”

“Did you get a boyfriend?”

Glancing around to see what the girls were looking at, he noticed a girl in the center gaining all the attention. 

And he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw her sitting there numerous times, book in hand, as her mind wandered into the world of fantasy. She was the usual plain-looking, chubby girl, but she was visibly displaying a new look—only this look was exactly what he mentioned to his friends three weeks back.

“I dig sweaters.” He had said.

And then a week later, “Short skirts are cute.”

Even the way she styled her hair matched his preference. 

It was undeniably her.

She made him feel something he couldn't quite ignore.

He was captivated, unable to break his gaze from her. A dryness settled in his mouth, and he swallowed hard, fighting the rush of saliva that threatened to overwhelm him.

Simultaneously, his heart began to race, skipping a beat amid the overwhelming sensation.

As soon as she drew Kunigami in, he began to question it. 

This change in her appearance—is it just a coincidence, or did she overhear what he and his friends were talking about? 

And if so, why would she change her look? 

And her appearance... It couldn't be linked to him... Could it?

Her eyes met his across the room, locking in a moment of unspoken connection before she flushed and averted her gaze, returning her attention to her book. Kunigami couldn't help but smile and quietly laugh to himself at the sweet, fleeting interaction.

‘Cute.’

Ever since returning from Blue Lock, Kunigami has undergone a noticeable transformation. The experience has left a lasting impact on him, altering his perspective and demeanor. 

The feeling of not being chosen and facing disqualification left him shattered. Soccer had been his ultimate passion and the central focus of his prime years. He aspired to be a source of inspiration for countless young aspiring athletes, but now he found himself at a crossroads, needing to seek a new career path.

He could always be a firefighter.

With him so focused on wanting to become a soccer player, he didn’t have time to socialize with his friends or interest in girls.

But now…

Strangely, Kunigami can’t seem to keep his eyes off a particular curvy beauty.

And that’s precisely what he couldn’t stop doing for almost the whole week until finally, Friday came around.

The school bell rings, signaling the final class of the day has finished.

Everyone is beginning to pack up and get ready to go. Kunigami walks toward one of his friends and says, “Yo, Yuuta, do you want to hang out?”

“Sato-kun! Please come with me to the student counseling room.” There, Sensi cuts in.

“Okay!” The bowled cut hair happily said, following after his teacher.

“And you, Daisuke?” Kunigami asks, turning to his glasses friend.

“Actually, I got tickets for my favorite idol concert. So I can't go.”

As his friend turned to leave, Kunigami nodded slightly and offered a small, understanding smile. "Ah, okay," he said softly, his gaze following his friend as they walked away. "See you around."

‘Everyone seems to have already left…’ He gingerly rests his hand on the polished surface of his desk, running his fingers along it as he double-checks for any forgotten items. As his gaze sweeps across the room, it falls upon a woman with alluring curves seated in her customary spot. 

Since the start of the week, Kunigami has been inexplicably fixated on her, following a noticeable transformation. He is also captivated by the presence of two other girls who surround her.

One of the girls turned to the curvy beauty with a hopeful expression, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Hey, could you do me a huge favor and cover for me this time? I know we're both supposed to be on cleaning duty, but you'll really be doing me a huge solid."

He could tell just by the shy girl's face that she was reluctant to agree.

“I-I guess I could…”

The group of girl's excitement overflowed as one exclaimed, "Yes! Thank you so much. I owe you one big time," beaming with gratitude. Her joy spread to her friend, who followed close behind, both wearing bright smiles.

Meanwhile, the shy girl let out a heavy sigh as she closed her book and began to tidy up the room.

‘What the hell? Why didn't she say no?’ He thought to himself, feeling unjust that the other girls had left her to clean alone. 

"Damn it,”  Kunigami couldn't bear to leave her there by herself.

She was suddenly startled by a loud thud from behind. As she turned around, she saw the man she longed for, dropping his bag and hastily overturning a nearby chair onto the desk.

"Kunigami-kun, what are you doing here?" She inquired, her voice tinged with shyness as she nervously gestured with her arms.

Hearing her say his name for the first time sent shivers down his spine.

"Uh yeah, I saw what happened. It was unfair for them to abandon you to handle all the work alone. You should have refused," He continued, methodically arranging the chairs. "Besides, I had nothing else to do."

Nervously, she bit her lower lip. Her eyes caught for a second his muscular biceps flexing under the short-sleeve bottom-up he wore as he lifted a chair with zero effort. 

She swiftly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before turning back around. A mix of relief and gratitude washed over her at his unexpected act of kindness and also a shame for catching herself lusting over his sexually frustrated physique.

She endured the relentless silence as they cleaned, each movement grating on her nerves. For more than a year, Kunigami Rensuke had consumed her thoughts. She had gone to great lengths to catch glimpses of him, whether watching him play soccer, following him through the hallways, or stealing glances at him during class. 

However, just as she was planning to confess her feelings with an envelope at hand, she received the devastating news that Rensuke was going to be away for a bit. The opportunity slipped through her fingers, leaving her to feel uncertain of when she would ever see him again.

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, she was irresistibly drawn to the vacant seat where he once sat. The memories of his presence, the sound of his voice, and the warmth he exuded lingered in her mind, making it impossible for her to avert her gaze from the void he had left behind.

One quiet morning, she settled into her usual seat with a captivating book in hand, fully engrossed in its pages. As she delicately adjusted her glasses, she turned to the next page, realizing that she was gradually adapting to life without Kunigami Rensuke by her side.

“Kunigami-sama! Long time so see.”

Her entire body tensed as the unexpected name reached her ears, causing her to tighten her grip on the book she held, feeling it crumple slightly under the pressure of her shaking hands. 

‘It couldn't be,’ She thought to herself, her mind racing with disbelief. Slowly lifting her gaze from the pages, she caught her breath as her eyes met the sight of an incredible man who made her heart flutter uncontrollably once more.

As he walked past her desk to join his friends, who were eagerly calling him over, she couldn't help but feel her buried emotions resurfacing, sparking a new sense of purpose within her.

As she walks to the closet, she hangs the broom on its hook. When she goes to put away the dustpan, it slips from her hand and falls to the ground. Unbeknownst to her, someone hears the noise, looks over, and catches a glimpse of her bending over to pick up the dustpan, unintentionally revealing her panties.

"Ah!" Startled by the sudden surprise, Kunigami, with a chair at hand, doesn't see where he is going, causing a loud crashing sound behind her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, truly," he insisted, his tone unwavering even as he struggled to steady himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to exude confidence as he rose to his feet, a slight wobble in his knees betraying his composed façade. His attention was momentarily diverted by an uncomfortable warmth at his nose, where a thin stream of blood had begun to trickle, leaving a crimson mark on his shirt. He glanced at her, desperate to assure her that everything was okay, unaware of the evidence of his struggle.

"Here, take this." She offered her napkin shyly. 

"Ah, thank you." He bashfully accepted the napkin, a hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his head and averted his gaze.

As she gracefully walks away, he raises his hand to wipe his nose absentmindedly. Still, as he does, he is suddenly captivated by the delicate and appealing fragrance lingering on the cloth. He finds himself pausing, drawn to the fabric as he inhales the alluring scent, each breath deeper than the last, succumbing to its intoxicating allure and lewd images his mind can't seem to stop fantasizing. Gosh, he’s a pervert.

It seemed as if some unseen force, perhaps fate itself, was deliberately tempting him, urging him to pay attention to details he had previously overlooked. Amidst all these captivating details, she stood out as the most enchanting.

With the chalkboard eraser at hand, she goes to do the last task of wiping down the board but can't reach the very top.

“Almost.”

She goes on her tippy toe, nearly reaching the top, but still can barely make it. 

“What am I going to do with you.”

A more substantial hand, resting against her elbow, moved across her arm and up her hand, clutching the eraser with painstaking care. The unexpected hand, which also rested against her arm, gave her the sensation of robustness and comfort.

“Here, let me.” He leaned toward her, and she could feel his warm breath brush against her ear as she finally allowed him to take the eraser and finish wiping what was left on the board.

“Thank you, Kunigami-kun.”

Her heart pounds in her chest as she turns around and devours Rensuke with her eyes. 

How his scent lingers surrounding her body—intoxicating her.

His auburn eyes gave away something she didn't know she would see directed toward her—the look of desire driving her to bite her lower lip.

His gaze flitted between her enigmatic eyes and the enticing fullness of her lips, which she habitually teased with gentle bites. The moment she caught sight of the deepening shadows in his irises, the playful nibbling paused, leaving an electric tension hanging in the air.

Suddenly calling her name, Kunigami spoke, “Want to come to my place?”

As Kunigami gently closed the door behind him with a soft click, silence enveloped the room, amplifying the tension in the air. 

Shyly gesturing for her to join him on the bed, where they settled side by side, their bodies close yet each lost in their thoughts, fingers fidgeting nervously with the fabric of their clothes. The moment's warmth was overshadowed by a palpable sense of embarrassment as they dared not meet each other's gaze, both acutely aware of the unspoken emotions swirling around them.

But this didn't deter them, they were drawn to each other. Their pinkies grazed softly, igniting a spark of courage that allowed them to entwine their fingers.

Kunigami was the first to break, whispering her name as he  leaned in while lifting their locked hand prompting her to peek, his gaze intense as he cradled the back of her neck with his hand, pulling her close. 

Their lips finally met in a fervent kiss, sending a jolt of electricity between them. The world around them faded away, and the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her, creating a heady intimacy that wrapped them in a cocoon of shared emotion and desire.

With utmost care and respect, he treated her as a true gentleman should. She was a delicate flower, fragile and ethereal, reminiscent of fine porcelain. At that moment, his thoughts became a swirling haze, struggling to articulate the depth of his admiration for her beauty and grace.

Warm soft flesh that with every time he touches her, shivers and goosebumps travel through her body as she reacts softly whimpering and moaning for him, for more.

Pulling away for a fleeting moment, their lips parted, leaving a thin, glistening thread of saliva connecting him to the panting, curvy beauty in front of him. His mind swirled in a dreamy haze, while a shadowy intensity clouded his eyes once again.

A sudden gasp slips from her lips, as Kunigami holds her, bringing her onto his lap while he slowly moves his mouth to her neck.

Very softly he began pressing kisses downwards to the crook of her neck. Growing more confident with the kisses when seeing the curvy beauty squirming, eyes closed with a flustered expression as his mouth drew small licks to her skin.

 He moves along her throat quickly, becoming lost in the moment. Her skin was cool and it tasted just as good as he imagined it would. Her scent filled his nostrils bringing him to a heated daze, as he thanked Faith for leading him to this moment.

When he got to the right spot below her ear, he felt her inhale sharply.

Slowing his kisses gently flicking his tongue out to lick at the spot, one of her hands gripping the front of his shirt, while one of his moves to cradle the back of her neck. Guiding her to tilt her head back to give him more access to the tender skin.

Beginning to focus solely on that spot, kissing and licking, then nipping lightly. Receiving soft moans from her.

Music to his ears.

She's never felt this way or experienced anything like this at all. Bodies pressed against each other, chest to chest, her thick thighs on either side of him, and his impossibly warm and solid arms comfortably embraced her soft form.

She couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the thought of doing this with Kunigami and being so close and wrapped around him it made her skin hypersensitive everywhere he touched.

His touch was feather-light, fingers lazily going down to her upper thigh massaging her thigh, doing nothing in which to soothe the ache between them.

Back arched, knuckles white from the tight grip she had on Kunigami’s uniform as stuttered gasps slipped from her lips.

He was gentle when he bit down on her sweet spot, planting his lips around it and sucking. Slowly began to suck harder and harder, she was certain there was a mark.

He pulled away slowly, inhaling sharply when he caught the bruise forming.

“I... Sorry. I think I went too far.” Raspily panted out, putting his forehead against the crook of her neck, his tanned, calloused fingers gripping her flesh, grasping her fabric ass, and crushing her against his chest.

“D-Dummy…”

She gently cupped the side of his face, drawing him closer. Kunigami could see the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her lips slightly swollen from pouting. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting a mix of longing and vulnerability as she leaned in, heart racing, to kiss this beautiful man who captivated her so completely.

“Oh-”

She cries out, feeling his hands gently knead and massage her breast.

“K-Kunigami…kun -Hmph!”

A rough hand held her chin, forcing her to face him fully to ignite a heated kiss. 

The sensations were electrifying, awakening every nerve as she surrendered to the strong arm wrapped around her waist. His fingers worshipped her curves, keeping her pinned to him.

He squeezed her breasts just enough to make her arch her back. Delicately drawing circles to her nipples through her shirt and bra.

Kunigami breaks from her lips, and his hand lifts her uniform shirt to her neck. The cool air hits her skin, giving her chills.

“A-Ah!” She softly moans, instinctively bringing her hand to grip his shirt.

“Cold?” Kunigami smirked.

Shyly nodding, she felt the mattress dip followed by his warm body over hers. He cups her soft titties with his rough calloused fingers, pinching her soft flesh causing them to peak even further at the contact.

Earning Kunigami a series of sweet breaths from the chubby Goddess underneath him.

She bit her lip when feeling Kunigami’s hot breath move closer to her swollen tits-covering each one in sloppy kisses, before pulling away while gently sucking in the skin.

Her hands, which had previously kept her lewd cries at bay and held up her blouse, now fisted his orange hair as his tongue traced her firm buds, writing out her name repeatedly.

She's going crazy, her tongue hanging out, her head in a daze, and her only thought is that she doesn't want her bliss to end.

“You’re perfect,” He raspy utters, taking her left nipple into his mouth and sucking it lightly, pulling it between his lips before letting it go.

"These," Kunigami moves to the right and keeps going, scraping the delicate bud with his teeth to indicate what he meant. "These are perfect."

Wrapping his lips once again around her right nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the juicy skin.

Soft moans and whimpers escaped her quivering mouth. She ached for this man desperately. Thighs rubbing together, panties soaked by her slick as she stares back at him with those doe-like eyes of hers. 

“Feels good?” Kunigami asked, popping off her tit while licking his lips.

“So good.” She hums, shyly feeling her cheeks heating up

“Are you really ok with this?” His warm, raspy voice teased her. 

He slowly removed the top of his uniform, gently loosening his tie and allowing it to hang freely around his neck before unbuttoning his shirt. Each undone button showed a glimpse of his chiseled, sun-kissed skin, catching her eye and making her heart speed up.

The sight of his perfectly sculpted physique, with defined muscles gleaming under the soft light, was utterly intoxicating. It clouded her thoughts and left her completely spellbound in his presence.

“It's ok… Because I want this too.” She confessed, doe-eyes visibly showing the desire she craved to receive from this man that it seemed like her irises were heart-shaped.

Damnit.

This wasn't good for Kunigami.

Why did you have to be so adorable?

With a warm, comforting grin that displays his adoration, Kunigami bends down trailing a line of kisses up her neck until he arrives at her mouth. Kissing her slowly, allowing himself the time to let his tongue explore every inch of her before they make sweet love.

However, it didn't stop there.

You and your gentleman entered a casual relationship that day. This arrangement is free of strings, removes worries about infidelity, and ensures that no one gets hurt.

Experiment with various positions, including doggie, mating press, and being pinned against a wall. And if you're feeling adventurous, add some cosplay and the setting—the school—to make it more interesting. Sneaking under the stairs for a nice fuck fest or at the top of the roof entranceway, offering the greatest sloppy toppy that made Kunigami's knees shake.

He's addicted to the feeling,  your mouth, tongue, hands just everything about his curvy goddess and the way she works him.

Cum and saliva dripped down the side of his length and down his balls as she sucked him thoroughly, even moaning around his flush tip for good measure. The sweet sensation overwhelmed his uncut hypersensitive dick, making him let out a hoarse moan but a soft whimper came out when she released him with a wet pop noise.

She giggles at his protest, letting up and ranking her nails and leaving sweet kisses on his inner thigh.

Just thinking about all they've done kept a grin on his face.

“Yo, Kunigami, why are you grinning like crazy?”

Snapping back from his drifting thoughts, he looked up at his friends, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “Hmm, no, it’s nothing,” he managed to reply, his voice slightly hesitant. He sat at his favorite spot atop his desk, a clutter of books and notes forming a protective circle around him, while his friends gathered around, their laughter and chatter creating a warm, familiar atmosphere.

Yet that didn't stop Kunigami from drifting back, thinking about what he’d do with the sexy beauty tonight.

‘Maybe we can try some cosplay today?’

Usually, she sat in her assigned seat across the room, deeply engrossed in a book. Today, however, that seat was strangely empty, and Kunigami felt puzzled. His curiosity was piqued when he caught a glimpse out the window. There, standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, was the curvy beauty he had been searching for. But she wasn’t alone; standing opposite her was a male student he had never seen before.

They were lost in a conversation that felt like a secret, their words just beyond his reach. The mystery twisted in his gut, a relentless urge to know what was being said. 

‘Who is that guy?’ he thought, a whirlwind of unease brewing inside him. 

“Is he her boyfriend?” The question lingered in the air, weighted with unspoken possibilities, stirring a mix of curiosity and jealousy that kept him on edge the entire time. He struggled to focus in class and at home, especially with her posing on his bed in his soccer jersey.

It should be stirring something deep within him, driving him to drop everything and rush to her like a man starved for connection. He ought to be showering her with compliments, easing her worries whenever she asks if he appreciates what she’s doing for him. Yet here he is, slumped in his desk chair, tangled up in his thoughts, hesitating.

Kunigami tried to reassure himself that it was just a situationship—nothing serious, nothing to worry about. Yet, with every passing moment, that gnawing feeling of jealousy consumed him. What if she found someone who cherished her even more than he did? 

No, he couldn’t let those thoughts spiral out of control.

Kunigami was sitting on the bed with her above him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Hey… that guy you were with earlier, by the cherry blossom trees… is he your boyfriend?” He glanced at her, searching for any sign in her expression.

Her heart raced at the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s okay; you can tell me if he is,” he added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and brushing his fingers against her cheek in a tender yet questioning gesture.

She was taken aback, her emotions boiling just below the surface. How could he be so oblivious to the depth of her feelings for him? Frustration coursed through her veins, and she fought to steady her breath. Did he truly not see what was right in front of him?

“I swear you're so dense, Kunigami-kun…” she muttered. Kunigami caught off guard, tilted his head to the side as she suddenly grabbed either side of his face and kissed him, initiating a full-on makeout session. 

Of course, he didn’t pull away; he could never do that. As they broke the heated kiss, he steadied her on his lap, still in shock. “W-What?” he stammered.

“You dummy! I wouldn’t do this with anyone I didn’t love!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “Didn’t you notice how much I’ve changed because of you? Every time you share your thoughts on your ideals and dreams, I listen intently, hoping to absorb your passion and make it a part of who I am. I want to become someone you can finally see and appreciate before you leave me again. That’s why I…."

Her voice trailed off as she noticed his flustered expression, his cheeks dusted with a pink hue. Realization dawned on her, and she became shy, trying to come up with an excuse for her sudden confession.

“Ah- no. W-What I mean…”

“What’s this feeling of relief?” Kunigami thought, realizing how happy he was that someone had fallen for him. It was especially surreal coming from the curvy beauty who had essentially confessed to loving him even before he left for Blue Lock.

“-Ah!” A gasp cut through her throat at the swift motion, she’s pressed against the mattress with Kunigami hovering over her.

“What is it Kunigami-Kun?”

“Sorry…”

He confidently pulls her legs toward him, his lips brushing against the delicate anklet adorning her ankle. Their eyes lock, and at that moment, the air is charged with an undeniable energy, awakening a thrilling response deep within her.

“Sorry for not noticing.”

Giving a final kiss at the tip of her toes, before he wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him closer to her and her slick heat.

Feeling the dizziness swirl in her head and the world around her blur, she caught sight of Kunigami. His hand was firmly wrapped around his cock, and the way he stroked it was both deliberate and intense, drawing her attention like a magnet until he bumped the head of his cock against her, pressing right at her swollen bud, responsive to his every move.

A low groan pulled from his throat with each inch of him she was able to take. A small roll of his hips had her sobbing and wiggling to get more of that delicious friction she ever so desired.

His hips leave hers, only for a second before slamming back against hers again, glistening juice leaving a connected thread that snaps against his own trimmed pubic hair.

Every slow action feels excessively slow for their desperate selves, yet each is deliberate. They understand how to prolong their pleasures and know the right spots to make them come undone.

Yet Kunigami held back, pretending he wasn't just as desperate for her, as if he truly had the self-control he feigned in her presence. And yet he wanted to throw all that away to throw her legs over his shoulder and fuck her in a mating press until they both passed out.

He just wants to make her completely his.

Shifting his angle, his cock was thrust deep inside of her, slow yet powerful, pleasure building and rising. 

"I won’t allow you to rest."

“Me too.”

The building in her belly reached a feverish pitch. Her abdomen became unbearably tight, her walls tightening around Kunigami’s cock, squeezing him and making him sigh in pleasure.

In a daze, she feels Kunigami's lips meet hers, igniting a passionate kiss that leaves no room for hesitation. She firmly locates his hands, grasping them with purpose as they connect in an exhilarating moment that demands attention.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was deafened by her cries of ecstasy. She whimpers, eyes rolling back and legs shaking, “Hm! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna…”

Mind going blank, lewd moans and ears ringing, her body finally succumbed to the pleasure he brought her. Her cunt clamped down on him, milking him for everything he got and forcing him deeper by insisting her legs remained locked around his waist as she continued to ride out her high. Kunigami nearly collapsed as a result. 

He breathes her name, an impassioned and urgent appeal that hovers in the air. Their foreheads meet, and for a minute, the world melts away—it's just the two of them, their breaths intertwining. Sweat glistens on their bodies, with drips falling from his moist bangs to her chest.

“I-I love you~”

Her eyes shoot open at his confession. 

“Me too. I love you so much,” she breathlessly admits, her voice trembling as she stares deep into his eyes, tears brimming in her own, shimmering like stars. With a rush of feeling, she pulls him closer, drawing him in for a kiss.

Kunigami uses this motion to slam his hips against hers one last time as he cums.

He kept himself steady as he emptied his last load, where he finally allowed himself to relax. As he enveloped her in his warm embrace, the softness of her curves pressed against him, creating a cocoon of intimacy. He felt a profound sense of comfort as if he were her safe haven, where worries melted away and only the enchanting rhythm of their heartbeats remained.

Oh, how she loves this man and how he means well with everything he's done, but with the sudden confession from the man she fell for, the heat flooded between her thighs once more.

She shifts their bodies, with her on top and a shocked Kunigami on his back. She straddles over him, Her fingers trailing along his toned chest. She gives him a lustful look and licks her lips.

“Now I believe someone owes me a night filled with restlessness; I hope it's not a lie.” She teases.

“Never.” He growls, his callus fingers digging into the fat of her thighs. 

Unable to resist her anymore, Kunigami confidently grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, capturing her lips in a commanding kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.

In the end, someone who is willing to love the person for who they are is Kunigami Rensuke's ideal woman.