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unpopular opinion but i'd like to see more ANGST yandere fanfics where the reader/mc has given up and become numb. like, won't get out of bed without yandere lifting them, not dressing up, etc.
yandere leaves for work and when they come back, reader/mc is still sitting on the edge of the bed, where they were left that morning.
Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader
Joker x Reader with Anxiety
Word Count: 17,654
Warnings: murder, Joker, robbing banks, minor age gap, implied stalking, technically breaking and entering
Summary: !!Request!! All Y/n wanted was to deposit money into her bank account, but what happens when the bank she arrives at gets robbed by the Joker? And what happens when she catches his eye?
(MASTERLIST)
- (Part Two)
A/N: This was a request from the lovely @Evergreenbellaaaz
I hope you enjoy this one as I love the Joker so much, like I would die for this man.
Joker is a bit OOC, but he's a bastard, so what can you do?
And I did not mean to pop off like this, but here we are! I wrote so much more than I was supposed to but when the words flow, they flow~
I hope you enjoy this, thank you for the request my dear, and love you all đ
-
The bustling streets of Gotham seemed to close in on Y/n as she walked with purpose, her steps echoing the persistent beat of her anxious heart. Her fingers clutched the small envelope containing a substantial sum of cash, the weight of responsibility bearing down on her. She repeated the words she had rehearsed countless times under her breath, a mantra to calm her nerves.
"I would like to deposit some cash into my account, please," she whispered to herself for what felt like the hundredth time. The crowded cityscape provided an indifferent backdrop to her internal struggle.
The decision to go on this seemingly simple journey, a mere 30-minute trip to the bank, had transformed into a two-week-long ordeal of procrastination. Y/n, who usually had her parents help with mundane chores like this, now found herself standing in front of Gotham City bank. The money she had saved over the past year burned a hole in her pocket, a tangible reminder that it was time to step into the realm of adulthood.
As she approached the imposing facade of the bank, its polished exterior seemed to mock her insecurities. The daunting prospect of facing the unfamiliar banking procedures left Y/n grappling with a sense of unease. Yet, she pressed on, her internal resolve battling against the knots tightening in her stomach.
Entering the turnstile door of the bank, Y/n hesitated at the threshold, momentarily overwhelmed by the sterile environment and the rhythmic hum of conversations. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task at hand.
Getting in line, her voice still a quiet whisper as she practised, "I would like to deposit some cash into my account, please."
"Next!" The call from the person at the counter pierced through the ambient hum of the bank.Â
Determination etched across her features, Y/n navigated through the maze of anxiety, reaching the counter with a mix of apprehension and resolve. She placed her trembling hands on the smooth surface of the counter.
The bank employee, a woman with a practiced smile, looked up from her paperwork. "Hi, how can I help you today?" she inquired, her gaze meeting Y/n's with professional courtesy.
"I-I..Um.." Y/n stuttered, feeling the weight of her own vulnerability. The words she had rehearsed so diligently seemed to evaporate in the heat of the moment. "Can I put my cash in my account?" she finally managed to articulate, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
The heat radiating from her neck intensified, the physical manifestation of her anxiety. Despite her efforts, Y/n couldn't escape the self-imposed judgment. After all the practice and mental preparation, she berated herself for stumbling over such a simple request. The bank employee, however, maintained a neutral expression, accustomed to the occasional nervousness of customers.
"Could I get your name and acc-" The woman at the counter was abruptly cut off by the jarring eruption of loud shouts, disrupting the calm atmosphere of the bank.
Y/n's gaze darted towards the source of the commotion, her heart pounding anew as an unforeseen disturbance unfolded, shattering the mundane routine of the day.
A sudden jolt reverberated through the once-calm bank as the turnstile doors spun, revealing an ominous group of men adorned in clown masks. In their hands, they held large guns.
"Get on the ground!" The command was barked, the harsh echo of gunshots accompanying the directive.
Panic erupted, and the bank's atmosphere plunged into disarray. A cacophony of terrified screams reverberated through the air as patrons and employees alike scrambled to obey, dropping to the ground in a chaotic symphony of fear.
Y/n's heart raced at an alarming pace, the sound of her own pulse competing with the pandemonium around her. Legs weakened by a cocktail of adrenaline and terror gave way, making it effortless for her to sink to the cold floor. Huddled against the counter, she sought refuge in the shadows, her trembling form attempting to blend into the background of the unfolding nightmare.
Through the ominous procession of masked invaders, a figure with an unmistakable presence emerged. A man with a face painted in ghastly hues, wild green hair framing his grinning visage, and a purple coat that billowed as he walked. It was a theatrical entrance that left no room for doubt, the Joker had arrived.
The room fell silent, a collective breath held as the Joker's calculating gaze swept across the terrified hostages. His painted face, a canvas for chaos, twisted into a grotesque yellow smile. In that unsettling moment, the Joker had seized control of the bank, turning a routine day into an unforeseen dance with the anarchic force that was the clown prince of crime.
The Joker surveyed the terrified hostages with manic glee. His eyes gleamed with delight as he strolled through the bank, his henchmen maintaining a menacing presence at his side. The air crackled with an unpredictable energy, the tension escalating with each step he took.
"Greetings, my fine friends!" the Joker declared, his voice resonating with a twisted mirth that sent chills down the spines of the hostages.
He paused dramatically, allowing the weight of his presence to settle upon the captive audience. "I hope you're all having a splendid day! I know I am!"
He gestured to the chaos around him, as if orchestrating a chaotic symphony. The hostages, cowering on the ground, exchanged fearful glances as the Joker continued his morbidly cheerful monologue. "You see, life is just a series of unexpected events. One moment, you're withdrawing cash, and the next, you're starring in a show you never signed up for!"
A twisted grin etched across his face as he revelled in the discomfort of his captives. "But fear not, my dear friends! The Joker is here to add a splash of color to your dull lives! And what's life without a little chaos, eh?"
The Joker's eyes scanned the crowd, and then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they locked onto Y/n. The corners of his mouth curled into a wicked grin. The Joker's voice cut through the tense silence, a raspy symphony of madness that sent shivers down the spines of everyone in the bank. His unnerving smile widened as he surveyed the captivated audience.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he mused, his words dripping with malicious amusement.
His eyes, obscured by the chaos-inducing makeup, seemed to fixate on Y/n huddled near the counter. "A little bunny who wandered into my little party. What's your name, darling?"
Y/n's throat tightened, fear and uncertainty mingling within her. She stammered, "Y-Y/n," the words barely audible over the palpable tension in the air.
"Y/n!" the Joker exclaimed, drawing out each syllable as if savoring it. "Such a lovely name for such a lovely surprise! Welcome to the show!" He chuckled, the sound echoing like eerie music in the confines of the bank.
The atmosphere within the bank was suffocating, thick with fear and tension. The masked henchmen moved with ruthless efficiency, pointing their guns at helpless hostages and demanding compliance as they forcefully filled bags with money. The metallic scent of panic lingered in the air, and the dissonance of terrified sobs mingled with the Joker's maniacal laughter.
Yet, in the midst of the chaotic tableau, the Joker's focus remained fixated on Y/n. His eyes, obscured by the painted mask, bore into her with an unsettling intensity that sent shivers down her spine. The manic energy surrounding him seemed to warp the very air, making the atmosphere oppressive and surreal.
The Joker's henchmen continued their menacing work, but the Joker himself stepped closer to Y/n, the unnerving smile on his face never wavering. It was as if the rest of the bank faded away, leaving only the two of them locked in a macabre dance.
"Y/n," he purred, his voice a dark melody against the backdrop of chaos. "You're a breath of fresh air in this dreary city. I can't help but feel a certain... connection between us. Don't you?"
Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, the gravity of the situation intensified by the Joker's unwavering attention. The menacing environment and the Joker's unpredictable nature created a concoction of fear that gripped her, making her acutely aware that, in the midst of this criminal spectacle, she had become an unwitting focal point in the Joker's deranged performance.
The menacing henchmen continued to patrol the terrified hostages, their eyes devoid of empathy. The Joker, however, maintained an unsettling focus on Y/n, as if sensing a peculiar energy in the air.
"Now, my dear Y/n, since you're the guest of honor, how about you do something special for me?"
Y/n's eyes widened with trepidation, her mind racing to comprehend the surreal situation. The Joker's unpredictable nature made every second feel like an eternity.
"I-I don't... I don't know what to do," she stammered, her voice barely reaching the Joker's ears.
He threw back his head in laughter, the sinister sound reverberating through the bank. "Oh, darling, that's the beauty of it! Surprise me! Dance a little, sing a song, or maybe tell me a joke. I do love a good joke!"
Caught between the threat of violence and the Joker's eccentric demands, Y/n felt the weight of an impossible choice. Little did she know, her unassuming visit to the bank had transformed into an unexpected performance in the Joker's twisted carnival of chaos. The Joker, seemingly unbothered by her hesitation, circled Y/n like a predatory cat closing in on its prey.Â
"No worries, darling. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words," he mused, his voice carrying an unsettling blend of whimsy and menace.
Y/n, caught in the crosshairs of the Joker's peculiar attention, remained frozen, her anxiety immobilizing her like a deer in headlights. However, the Joker, never one to let an opportunity for chaos slip away, decided to take matters into his own hands.
With an abrupt motion, the Joker twirled Y/n around to face him. "Since you're not in the mood for words, how about a dance?" he suggested, a maniacal glint in his eyes.
Without waiting for a response, he began to move, his own twisted rhythm guiding Y/n's hesitant steps. Everyone in the bank now bore witness to a macabre dance between the Clown Prince of Crime and an unwilling participant. Y/n stumbled through the grotesque waltz, her movements a stark contrast to the Joker's fluid, unpredictable motions.
The masked henchmen paused in their looting, their attention momentarily diverted to the unexpected spectacle. The Joker's laughter blended with the discordant echoes of the bank, turning the once-sterile environment into a nightmarish stage for an impromptu performance orchestrated by Gotham's most infamous criminal.
Within the chaotic vortex of the bank, Y/n felt the grip of anxiety tightening around her like an invisible vice. Her chest constricted with each strained breath, and her pulse echoed loudly in her ears, a relentless drumbeat of fear. The oppressive weight of the Joker's attention bore down on her, intensifying the already overwhelming sense of vulnerability.
As the Joker's manic laughter reverberated through the bank, it echoed in Y/n's mind, amplifying her sense of powerlessness. Her thoughts became a cacophony of self-doubt and fear, drowning out any rational response she might summon.Â
Her mind, usually a refuge, had become a battleground of conflicting emotions, where anxiety and terror waged a relentless war against any semblance of control. In that moment, Y/n found herself caught between the stark contrast of the Joker's madness and her own silent struggle with the debilitating grip of social anxiety.
The Joker's gloved hand, cool and unsettlingly steady, closed around Y/n's arm like a vice. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, the contrast between his cold grasp and the warmth of her own fear-ridden skin intensifying the surreal nature of the encounter. His fingers, adorned in faded purple gloves, curled possessively around her.
The wad of cash in an envelope, her hard-earned savings, nestled uncomfortably in the pocket of her coat. The crinkling sound it made served as a cruel reminder of the mundane purpose that had led her to this twisted encounter with Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime.
âWhatâs this bunny?â the Joker whispered, reaching into her pocket.
In a swift motion, the Joker took the envelope from Y/n's pocket. The Joker's painted eyes lingered on the crumpled envelope, a twisted fascination dancing within their depths. His gloved fingers traced the edges of the paper, feeling the texture of the cash hidden within. The manic grin on his face widened, a malevolent satisfaction painting his features with an unsettling glow.
"Well, well, well," he mused, his voice a sinister purr. "Looks like we've got a bit of money here. What were you planning to do with all this pretty money, hmm?" His tone, mocking and playful, cut through the air, adding another layer of discomfort to Y/n's already fraught nerves.
The Joker's eyes, still fixed on the cash, momentarily flickered up to meet Y/n's terrified gaze.
"You know, pretty thing, money makes the world go round, buT chaos... chaos gives it that extra spin," he declared, his words carrying a perverse wisdom.
With an unexpected gentleness, he placed the crumpled envelope back into Y/n's trembling hands.
"There you go, darling," he sneered, his voice dripping with faux courtesy.
"You're pretty, and you get to keep your money. Consider it a gift from the Clown Prince of Crime himself!" The Joker's laughter, sharp and discordant, echoed through the bank, leaving Y/n to grapple with the bizarre reality that she had been granted reprieve in the midst of the madman's carnival.
The Joker abruptly stopped dancing, releasing Y/n with a dramatic flourish. As the eerie music of chaos continued to play in the background, Y/n, drained and disoriented, stumbled and fell to the unforgiving floor. The Joker, seemingly disinterested, began to saunter away, his vibrant purple coat trailing behind him.
Y/n watched the Joker's retreating figure, a mix of fear and confusion etched across her face. His manic laughter echoed through the bank as he distanced himself, leaving her in the wake of the strange encounter.
Just when Y/n began to believe the nightmare might be over, the Joker, in a surprising turn, paused and turned back to her.
"On second thought," he said, his painted eyes fixated on her as if reconsidering something.Â
With a swift movement, he approached his henchmen, and Y/n's breath caught, fearing he might grab a weapon.
To her bewilderment, however, the Joker reached into the bag of ill-gotten gains and pulled out a handful of cash. He approached Y/n with a malevolent smirk, crouching down beside her, holding the money out before her like an offering.
"Treat yourself," he quipped, the words dripping with a macabre generosity. "Buy you something pretty, bunny," His yellowing teeth flashed in a grin that sent a chill down Y/n's spine.
Y/n hesitated, glancing at the proffered money, her mind reeling from the bizarre twists of the encounter. The Joker, seemingly satisfied with his whimsical act of kindness, stood up again and walked out of the bank, leaving Y/n alone on the cold floor amidst the remnants of his chaotic performance.
The minutes that followed felt like a surreal blur to Y/n. The bank continued to echo with the disjointed sounds of the robbery, the erratic footsteps of the henchmen, the muffled cries of hostages, and the lingering aura of fear that permeated the air.
As she struggled to regain her bearings, the presence of law enforcement gradually became apparent. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment. Uniformed police officers, their expressions a mix of urgency and determination, streamed into the bank, ushering bewildered hostages towards the exit.
Y/n, still seated on the floor, felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, the touch snapping her back to a hazy reality. A police officer, their voice calm and reassuring, urged her to stand and guided her towards the exit. Her movements were mechanical, her mind a foggy labyrinth of emotions.
The daylight outside the bank entrance felt harsh against her dilated pupils. As Y/n emerged, she blinked, trying to return to the real world after what she had just experienced. The police ushered her to safety along with the other hostages.
As they moved away from the scene, Y/n instinctively slipped her hand into her pocket, the touch of cold, crumpled paper grounding her in the midst of confusion. Fingers tracing the contours of the secret wad of cash, she was jolted back to the disconcerting reality of the encounter. The bills felt real, tangible, serving as an unsettling reminder that the Joker had indeed been there and given her some sick kind of special attention.
The police officer continued to speak words of reassurance, but Y/n's attention remained fixated on the unexpected gift nestled in her pocket. The cash became a tangible link to the bizarre dance with madness, a connection to the maniacal clown who had momentarily disrupted her ordinary world.
As they moved further away from the bank, the distant wails of sirens and the controlled urgency of emergency personnel gradually replaced the dissonance of the robbery. Y/n's gaze remained distant, her mind grappling with the unnerving realization that, in the pocket of her jeans, she held a token of the surreal encounter that would continue to haunt her thoughts for days to come.
-
The revelation of the secret wad of cash tucked away in her pocket served as a haunting memento of the surreal encounter with the Joker. Y/n couldn't shake the eerie feeling that the crumpled bills held a weight beyond their monetary value.
To her muted surprise, the Gotham City police remained oblivious to the extra bit of money concealed in her pocket. Y/n, having seen the police's shortcomings on the news, didn't expect them to figure out what happened after the Joker's bank robbery.
Yet Y/n hesitated to use the money. She knew better than to tempt fate by using the illegal bills into her routine transactions. The very nature of the Joker's strange generosity hinted at potential consequences, and Y/n, despite her limited understanding of the intricacies of money, sensed the looming risk associated with its dubious origins.
Her reluctance to touch the Joker's gift stemmed not only from the fear of being caught but also from an inherent understanding of her own luck, or lack thereof. The dodgy bills, like a ticking time bomb, held the potential to unravel her ordinary life in a city that seemed to thrive on chaos.
Surviving the close encounter with the Joker left Y/n in a state of disbelief. The fact that she had danced with the Clown Prince of Crime and emerged unscathed defied all logic. The disconcerting notion that countless eyes had likely observed the bizarre spectacle haunted her thoughts, yet she felt a sense of relief that the aftermath of the incident remained shrouded in a peculiar silence.
As the days passed, Y/n couldn't shake the lingering shadows of the encounter, each quiet moment a reminder that the Joker's presence had brushed against the edges of her reality.Â
-
A week had slipped by since the bank incident, a span of time that, thankfully, saw no follow up from the police. However, the absence of police activity also meant the unsettling reality that the Joker remained on the loose, and the thought haunted the edges of Y/n's consciousness. She fervently prayed that she would never find herself entangled in such a dangerous situation again.
On this particular late Thursday night, Y/n found herself navigating the dimly lit streets of Gotham. The late hours found her consumed by a craving for lollies, the lengthy study session still lingering in her mind. With the hood of her jacket up, she set off towards the nearby dairy, nestled conveniently around the corner from her university dormitory.
To her dismay, the familiar glow of the store's neon sign was conspicuously absent as she arrived at her destination. The store, known for itâs convenience, stood shuttered and silent. Faced with the closed doors, she felt a pang of embarrassment at the thought of returning empty-handed to her dormitory.
Refusing to let disappointment deter her, Y/n forged ahead. With a sigh, she continued down the street, her mind racing to recall the location of the next closest dairy. Though her steps were fueled by determination, a flicker of unease danced at the edges of her awareness, a lingering reminder of the precarious nature of life in Gotham.
Y/n's unease proved to be justified as she approached a group of men ahead. Despite her attempts to keep a low profile by bowing her head and hoping to pass by unnoticed, fate had different plans for her that night. As she drew nearer to the group, one of the men stepped forward, blocking her path with an unsettling certainty.
"Hey there, girly. What brings you out at this hour?" the man taunted, his words backed-up by the laughter of his companions.
A wave of numbness washed over Y/n, her instincts screaming at her to flee. Yet, as she tried to navigate around the imposing figure before her, he moved deliberately in front of her, effectively halting her progress.
"Whoa, hold on now. Where do you think you're going?" the man demanded, his voice laced with a menacing edge.
Desperation clawed at Y/n's throat as she pleaded for them to leave her be, her voice barely more than a whisper as she continued to avoid meeting their gaze.
"Please, just let me pass," she whispered, her heart hammering in her chest.
But her pleas fell on deaf ears. In a cruel twist of fate, one of the men reached out and tugged at her hoodie, exposing her to their scrutinizing stares. As Y/n lifted her gaze, her heart plummeted at the realization that she was now surrounded by five intimidating figures, their intentions unclear and her sense of safety shattered.
Y/n's heart leaped into her throat as one of the men reached into her pocket, extracting her wallet with a disregard for her privacy. "How much cash have we got here?" the man asked, his voice dripping with malicious intent.
With a sinking feeling, Y/n watched helplessly as a couple of the men gathered around, peering into her wallet with a grim curiosity. In that moment, instinct overrode reason, and Y/n's survival instincts kicked into high gear.
Without a second thought, Y/n bolted, her adrenaline-fueled flight propelling her past the looming figures that had moments ago surrounded her. She knew she was leaving her wallet behind, but in that split second decision, the preservation of her life outweighed any material possession.
As the men's shouts echoed behind her, Y/n's heart raced with a frantic rhythm, her feet pounding against the pavement in a desperate bid for escape. With every stride, she pushed herself harder, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination.
In the darkness of the night, Y/n's gaze darted around, searching for a path to safety. Spotting an alleyway ahead, she made a split-second decision and veered off course, her feet carrying her into the murky depths of the narrow passage.
Though rational thought whispered warnings against running into the unknown, Y/n pressed on, her singular focus on outpacing her pursuers. With each step, the alleyway seemed to stretch endlessly before her.
Glancing over her shoulder, Y/n's heart sank as she realized the men were gaining on her with each passing moment. Y/n berated herself for the inevitable mishap as her foot caught on a discarded piece of rubbish, sending her crashing to the ground in a painful heap.
A scream tore from her lips as she tumbled to the unforgiving pavement, her hands and knees absorbing the most of the impact. Pain lanced through her body, tears welling in her eyes from a potent mixture of fear and agony. With trembling hands, she turned herself around, still on the ground, her gaze darting frantically to the looming figures that now stood before her.
But to her astonishment, the men's attention wavered, their cruel sneers faltering as their gaze shifted to something behind her. Confusion clouded Y/n's mind as she turned to follow their line of sight, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight that greeted her.
Approaching from the shadows was another figure, one whose presence exuded a chilling aura of authority and menace. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched the men scramble in terror, their boldness crumbling in the face of this new threat.
âA-ta-ta..â The scarred man's voice was a low, ominous growl as he continued his relentless advance, a gun trained on the men before him.
Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as the figure emerged into the dim light of the alleyway. It was the Joker, his painted visage twisted into a malevolent grin as he surveyed the scene before him.
âDrop the wallet,â the Joker demanded, his voice a cold command that brooked no argument.
With trembling hands, the man holding Y/n's wallet complied, the leather hitting the ground with a dull thud. âNow empty your pockets,â the Joker commanded once more, his gaze piercing through the darkness with an intensity that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.
The men, cowed by the Joker's presence, complied with his demands, the sound of coins and notes hitting the ground echoing through the alleyway. The Joker's eyes lingered on the scattered loot for a moment before he turned his attention back to the trembling figures before him.
A single shot rang out, reverberating through the alleyway with a deafening roar. Y/n's heart leaped into her throat, but to her relief, the bullet was aimed just past the men, a warning shot that sent them scrambling in a desperate bid for escape.
As the men fled into the shadows, Y/n watched in awe as the Joker stood victorious, his enigmatic presence commanding the darkness. In that moment, she couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of fear and gratitude toward the sinister figure who had intervened on her behalf.
Y/n's breath hitched as she watched the Joker step around her like a predatory cat, his movements unsettling. The sight of him crouched to retrieve the scattered money from the ground sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she couldn't afford to linger, the threat of her own demise looming like a dark cloud overhead.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Y/n pushed herself up from the ground, her body protesting with each movement. Pain flared through her limbs from the impact of the fall, but the urgency of the situation drowned out her discomfort.
"Where do you think you're off to, bunny?" the Joker's gravelly voice sliced through the air, sending a jolt of fear coursing through Y/n's veins.
She froze, her gaze locked on the Joker's figure as he deposited the money into her wallet. The mere sight of him instilled a primal fear in her, his unpredictability casting a long shadow over her trembling form.
The Joker's piercing gaze bore into her, demanding her attention. "I asked you a question," he repeated, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.
"M-my dorm," Y/n stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The Joker's scarred lips curved into a sinister grin, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "Without your wallet?" he inquired, his voice dripping with mock concern.
Y/n's heart raced as she struggled to find an answer, her mind racing with the implications of the Joker's words. In that moment, she realized that escaping the Joker's clutches might prove to be an even greater challenge than evading the men who had mugged her.
The Joker held her wallet up, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes as he toyed with her. With trembling hands, Y/n reached out for the wallet, her fingers hovering uncertainly in the air. But before she could grasp it, the Joker's iron grip closed around her wrist, pulling her closer with a sudden, startling force.
A strangled cry escaped Y/n's lips as she was yanked towards the Joker, her mind immediately jumping to the worst possible scenarios.
"Is my little bunny hurt?" the Joker's voice rang out, his tone deceptively gentle as he inspected her injured palm.
Y/n's breath caught in her throat as the Joker's cold fingers traced the raw scrapes and bruises marring her skin, the gritty residue of stones and dirt clinging to the wounds. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, her fear magnified by the intimate proximity of their encounter.
The realization dawned on Y/n that she was utterly vulnerable, alone with the Clown Prince of Crime in the dim recesses of the alley. The terror that had gripped her at the bank now intensified tenfold, every instinct screaming at her to flee.
Yet, to her astonishment, the Joker's demeanor shifted unexpectedly. He tucked her wallet into his own pocket, much to Y/n's dismay. But instead of furthering her despair, he shrugged off his coat.
Y/n stiffened as the Joker draped the coat around her shoulders, the weight of the fabric heavy and thick. The gesture was unnerving, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos that had defined their encounters thus far. She stood frozen in place, her mind reeling with the unsettling realization that, in the twisted world of Gotham, even the most malevolent of figures could harbor empathy.
"Can't have my bunny freezing, can I?" The Joker's gravelly voice cut through the tense silence, his words tinged with an unsettling mix of concern and mockery.
Y/n stood frozen in place, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. This unexpected act of kindness from the notorious Clown Prince of Crime felt like a twisted joke, leaving her at a loss for words.
Her thoughts spun in a dizzying whirl as she struggled to comprehend the surreal turn of events. Why was the Joker, of all people, extending such an unusual gesture towards her?
"As much as I'd love to walk you back to your dorm, I've got places to be," the Joker continued, his tone casual as he turned on his heel, his figure receding into the shadows of the alley.
âGoodbye, Bunny,â his voice echoed in the alleyway.
Y/n watched him go, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity gnawing at her insides. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to her like a second skin, her mind racing with unanswered questions.
Turning her attention to the coat draped around her shoulders, Y/n felt a wave of disorientation wash over her. It felt surreal to be adorned in the Joker's iconic attire, a stark reminder of the surreal encounter she had just experienced.
As she made her way home, the weight of the coat hung heavy upon her, its unfamiliar presence a constant reminder of the surreal chain of events that had unfolded in the dimly lit alley. Y/n prayed fervently that no one would recognize the coat she wore, fearing the inevitable questions and suspicions that would surely follow.
Each step felt like a surreal blur, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing moment. Y/n couldn't shake the nagging feeling that her encounter with the Joker was far from over, his presence lingering in the shadows of her thoughts like a haunting specter.
-
A day had passed since that second encounter, yet Y/n still struggled to wrap her mind around the surreal turn of events. The Joker, of all people, had saved her. The very same man who had orchestrated a bank robbery only days before had intervened to rescue her from a potential mugging. It was a twist of fate that defied all logic and left Y/n grappling with a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief.
As she gazed at the purple coat draped across her chair, Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her. The garment served as a tangible reminder of the unlikely alliance forged in the depths of Gotham's shadows, a silent testament to the bond she now shared with the Clown Prince of Crime.
It was a paradox that baffled her, and while the events of the past day had left her shaken and uncertain, one thing was clear. the Joker's actions had defied all expectations, leaving Y/n to grapple with the unsettling realization that perhaps, in the twisted world of Gotham, even the most notorious of villains could harbor a spark of unexpected humanity. Y/n couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at her, the weight of the garment heavy with unanswered questions.
What was she supposed to do with it now?
The thought lingered in her mind, casting a shadow over her already troubled thoughts. Would the Joker come looking for it? Or would it remain in her possession, a permanent reminder of the inexplicable bond forged in the darkness of Gotham's alleys?
Either scenario filled her with a sense of dread. The thought of the Joker tracking her down sent shivers down her spine, while the prospect of being forever tethered to the coat felt like a suffocating burden.
As fate would have it, the coat laying over her chair would soon be the least of her worries.
-
Upon returning to her dorm from a long day of lectures, Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she stepped into her room, greeted by the absence of the Joker's coat. Initially, the sight would have brought her immense relief, were it not for the unsettling realization that its disappearance hinted at a much more alarming reality that the Joker had been in her room.
A shiver traced its way down her spine as she scanned the room, her senses on high alert. With cautious steps, she made her way to her desk, her movements tense with apprehension. Flipping through the scattered belongings, she breathed a tentative sigh of relief as she realized that nothing appeared to be missing, well, aside from the mess she had inadvertently created.
But just as she began to relax, her eyes fell upon an unexpected discovery nestled within her drawer, a piece of paper adorned with a smudged smiley face, drawn in what looked like lipstick or face paint. With trembling hands, Y/n retrieved the paper, her heart pounding in her chest as she turned it over.
"Use the money, Bunny," the words scrawled across the paper sent a chill down her spine, the possible meaning of the message sinking in with a nauseating weight.
Fighting back a rising tide of panic, Y/n tentatively reached into the drawer, her fingers closing around the familiar wad of cash. Yet, to her astonishment, her touch encountered not one, but two bundles of bills, an unexpected windfall courtesy of the Joker himself.
The realization left her reeling, her mind spinning with disbelief. What did it all mean? And more importantly, what did the Joker want from her now? As she grappled with these unsettling questions, one thing was certain: the enigmatic Clown Prince of Crime had once again thrust her into the midst of his twisted game leaving her with a handful of cash and a trail of unanswered questions.
-
Once again, Y/n found herself walking down the Gotham's streets under the cloak of night, a decision she had sworn she wouldn't repeat after her previous night. Yet, the suffocating crowds of the city's daytime bustle left her feeling more vulnerable than ever, driving her back to the relative solitude of the nocturnal streets.
With her hands buried deep in her pockets, Y/n hurried along the familiar path to her usual convenience store, her steps quickened by a sense of urgency that seemed to permeate the very air around her. Despite the familiarity of the route, each shadow seemed to loom larger, every alleyway a potential trap lying in wait.
Finally reaching her destination, she breathed a sigh of relief as she confirmed that the store was indeed open this time, a small victory in the face of Gotham's relentless chaos. Snagging a couple of snacks, she wasted no time in completing her purchase before slipping back out into the night.
As she walked briskly down the dimly lit street, her senses on high alert, Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she neared an ominous alleyway, a dark abyss from which the muffled sounds of distress emanated. Her pulse quickened with apprehension, her instincts screaming at her to turn and flee.
With a sinking feeling, she realized that she was frozen in place, her feet refusing to carry her past the source of the chilling cries for help. And then, as if on cue, a desperate voice shattered the silence, cutting through the night like a knife.
"Help me!" the plea echoed through the darkness, sending a shiver down Y/n's spine.Â
Y/n's heart plummeted as the menacing figures in the alleyway pivoted to fix their gaze upon her, their predatory stares sending a chill down her spine. And then, as if materializing from the very shadows themselves, the unmistakable voice of the Joker sliced through the night air, his mocking tone dripping with sinister amusement.
"Well, well, if it isn't my Bunny," the Joker's voice rang out, a dark melody that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. âWe canât keep meeting like this.â
Without a moment's hesitation, Y/n abandoned her purchases, her only thought to escape the clutches of the Clown Prince of Crime. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she bolted down the streets of Gotham, her breaths ragged and panicked.
The cacophony of her own heartbeat drowned out all other sound, the pounding rhythm echoing in her ears as she careened through the streets. Her vision blurred with tears of fear and desperation, each stride carrying her farther from the looming specter of the Joker. It felt like everytime she left her dorm, she was being chased or attacked.
As she approached a bustling intersection, Y/n's resolve wavered, her frenzied mind teetering on the edge of recklessness. With a reckless abandon born of sheer panic, she made a split-second decision, her foot poised to step into the path of an oncoming car.
But just as she was about to leap into the unknown, a firm grip seized her hoodie, yanking her back with a jolt. She stumbled backwards, her heart pounding in her chest as she was pulled into the safety of the man's embrace behind her.
The adrenaline-fueled rush subsided, replaced by a wave of overwhelming relief as Y/n realized the gravity of the narrow escape.
"What, are you fucking crazy? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" the man's voice, tinged with exasperation, cut through the haze of panic.
Her skin still tingling with the remnants of fear, Y/n bristled at the accusation, her indignation rising in the face of the Joker's audacious presence. With a defiant shove, she attempted to break free from his grasp, only to find herself ensnared once more by the iron grip of the man behind her.
Y/n's voice quivered with fear as she pleaded for mercy, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Please! I didn't see anything! I'm sorry!"
The Joker's gaze bore down upon her with an unsettling intensity, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Her eyes followed down his body to his other hand, her heart lurching in her chest as she caught sight of the glinting blade clasped within his grasp. With a strangled cry, she recoiled, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.
"Quit it with the screaming, okay!" the Joker snapped, his tone brusque as he silenced her.
Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she struggled to compose herself, her hands trembling with the weight of her fear.
"Don't hurt me, please..." Y/n's voice cracked with desperation, her plea hanging in the air like a fragile thread.
The Joker's response showed he was clearly irritated. "I'm not going to hurt you," he retorted, his tone dripping with annoyance.
Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze darting to the glinting blade still held within the Joker's grasp. "You have a knife!" she pointed out, her voice trembling with apprehension.
The Joker waved her concern away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Forget about the knife," he declared, his attention already drifting elsewhere.
"What do you want from me?" Y/n's voice quivered with uncertainty, her gaze locked on the figure before her.
But the Joker merely chuckled, his response cryptic and evasive. "I popped by the other day. You weren't home so I just let myself in," he explained, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at her incredulous expression.
"Yeah... I fucking noticed," Y/n retorted, looking at his purple coat.
The Joker's laughter filled the street at her remark, his amusement seemingly boundless. "How did you even get in?" Y/n demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
"With locks like those, it's hard not to," the Joker replied with a smirk, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of amusement and disdain.
"How did you even figure out where I lived?" Y/n pressed, her curiosity outweighing her fear.
But the Joker's response was infuriatingly vague. "Does it matter?" he quipped, his tone flippant as he dismissed her question with a wave of his hand.
Y/n felt frustrated as she realized the conversation was going nowhere. The Joker's vague answers only made her feel more uneasy.
"Why don't we walk back and grab your things, hmm?" the Joker suggested, his tone oddly casual despite the gravity of their situation.
Though wary of his intentions, Y/n reluctantly agreed, her steps hesitant as they set off together. But rather than walking alongside her as one might expect, the Joker lingered just slightly behind, a shadowy presence that loomed ominously in her peripheral vision.
Feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, Y/n came to a sudden halt, her unease bubbling to the surface. With a trembling voice, she addressed the Joker, her eyes fixed on the ground before her.Â
"Can you please walk beside me," she whispered, her words barely audible above the noise of the city.
The Joker's response was a flash of amusement, his grin spreading across his face like a twisted caricature.
"Aww, does the bunny want to hold my hand?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence.
Y/n was taken aback as the Joker's gloved hand enclosed hers, his grip firm yet strangely comforting. With her heart racing, she found herself being led by the mysterious figure, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her mind.
With every step, Y/n felt the Joker's imposing presence bearing down on her, making her feel suffocated. Despite feeling trapped, she had no choice but to accept the strange reality of their situation. She kept her eyes focused on the ground as they walked through the dimly lit streets of Gotham side by side.
As Y/n returned to the alley, she heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing her purchases relatively unscathed, their packaging intact. However, the same couldn't be said for the bag that once held them, it lay torn open, now unuseable.
Gathering her items into her arms, Y/n cast a wary glance down the alley, the eerie silence a stark contrast to the screaming that had driven her to flee in the first place. The unsettling thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably.
Beside her, the Joker stood with an air of nonchalant observation, his hands tucked into the depths of his trench coat pockets. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned two of his lackeys, who hurried to his side at his command.
"You got a bag?" the Joker asked, his tone tinged with impatience.
"Um, no boss," the two men replied in unison, exchanging a hesitant glance.
Clicking his tongue in frustration, the Joker's gaze flicked back to Y/n. "We can go grab you one if you need," one of the men offered.
"Forget it, just go sort that out and I'll meet you in an hour," the Joker dismissed them with a wave of his hand, gesturing down the alley.
As the men scurried off to comply with his orders, the Joker turned his attention back to Y/n, his gaze piercing. "Give me those," he commanded, snatching the food from Y/n's grasp before she could protest.
"I-I canâ" Y/n attempted to speak up, only to be silenced by the Joker's sharp interruption.
"Quiet," he snapped, cutting her off with a steely glare.
Efficiently, the Joker began to stuff the items into his pockets, reserving the larger items like chips to hold in his hands.
"Now, let's get you back to your dorm, hmm?" the Joker suggested, turning to address Y/n once more, his demeanor unsettlingly calm amidst the chaos of the alleyway.
Reluctantly, Y/n nodded. She knew arguing with the Joker would only lead to more trouble, and she was already on edge from their encounter. Clutching the remaining items tightly to her chest, she followed the Joker as he led the way to her university hostel.
As they walked, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Every step felt heavy, weighted down by the knowledge that she was at the mercy of the Clown Prince of Crime. She stole glances at him from the corner of her eye, unable to decipher the enigmatic expression on his face.
The journey back to her dorm felt endless, each passing moment filled with tension and uncertainty. Y/n's mind raced with a myriad of questions, but she dared not voice them aloud, fearing the Joker's unpredictable response.
To her surprise, Y/n didn't need to initiate the conversation. "I'm guessing you still haven't touched my gifts," the Joker remarked, his tone casual yet tinged with annoyance.
Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion. "Gifts?" she echoed.
The Joker rolled his eyes in exasperation. "The money. The two bricks of money I gave you," he clarified impatiently.
A sense of unease crept over Y/n as she realized the gravity of the Joker's words. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
"I... no, I haven't used them," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.
"Why not?" the Joker demanded, his frustration palpable.
"W-well, it's not really... my money," Y/n stammered, her nerves getting the best of her.
"Ahh, yeah it is... I gave them to you," the Joker countered sharply.
"I know that, but... it's illegal money," Y/n explained, her words rushed and hesitant.
The Joker scoffed, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Have you seen this city? Everything here is illegal. Use the damn money," he insisted.
Feeling a knot form in her stomach, Y/n could only nod quickly in response, her mind reeling with the implications of the Joker's demands.
Finally, they reached the familiar entrance to Y/n's dormitory. With a sense of relief washing over her, she paused at the threshold, turning to face the Joker hesitantly.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Joker reached into his pockets, retrieving the assorted treats he had hastily stuffed inside. With a flourish, he presented them to Y/n, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
The Joker offered her a cryptic smile in response, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Anytime, Bunny," he replied, before disappearing into the shadows with an unsettling grace.
Left alone in the quiet of the night, Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heart still racing from the encounter. As she stepped into the safety of her dormitory, she couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time she crossed paths with the infamous Joker.
-
Despite being accustomed to enduring long lectures in crowded rooms, they always seemed to take a toll on Y/n. Dragging herself back to her dorm, she could already feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on her, her mind consumed by the anticipation of the nap she desperately needed.
As she unlocked the door and stepped inside her dorm room, her tired eyes widened in shock. There, sprawled across her bed in his unmistakable attire, was the Joker.
Her initial reaction was one of sheer terror, a scream escaping her lips before she could stop herself. Hastily, she clamped her hand over her mouth, her heart pounding erratically in her chest.
"Ah! You're back!" the Joker exclaimed, rising from her bed.
Y/n's mind raced, panic overtaking her ability to form coherent thoughts. She tried to back away, but found herself trapped against the closed door, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to make sense of the surreal situation unfolding before her.
"Why are you here?" Y/n ventured, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd pay you a visit," the Joker replied casually, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Y/n couldn't help but scoff inwardly at his flimsy excuse. It was clear to her that his sudden appearance had ulterior motives, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
"Don't you have crimes to commit?" she blurted out before she could stop herself, a wave of panic washing over her as soon as the words left her mouth.
To her surprise, the Joker's response was met with a sly grin rather than anger or offense. "Not for another few hours, Bunny," he quipped, his tone teasing.
Heat rushed to Y/n's cheeks at the familiar nickname, and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling a pang of embarrassment wash over her.
"Excuse me," she muttered softly, retreating to her bed and huddling against the headboard, her eyes fixed on the Joker as he settled himself at the opposite end of the bed.
As the Joker made himself comfortable, lounging against the wall with his legs crossed.
"Take your shoes off before you put your feet on my bed!" Y/n exclaimed, her voice betraying a hint of irritation.
With a grumble, the Joker complied, kicking his shoes off and allowing them to clatter to the ground. Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of unexpected confidence at her boldness, silently thanking whatever higher power had spared her from the Joker's wrath.
Y/n found herself at a loss, her dorm now occupied by someone as unsettling as the Joker. She sat back, her gaze lingering on him uncertainly. She couldn't help but notice the scars marring his face, though she made a conscious effort to avoid dwelling on them for too long.
The scars, etched deeply into his skin, held a certain fascination for her. Even though she only caught a glimpse of the left side of his face, the wide, prominent scar demanded her attention. Despite her curiosity about their origin, she knew better than to broach the subject with someone as unpredictable as the Joker.
Suddenly, the Joker's gaze met hers, prompting her to quickly avert her eyes in embarrassment. "What are you looking at?" his tone sharp.
Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she mumbled an apology. "Sorry..." she murmured, her discomfort palpable in the air between them.
Y/n sensed movement from the corner of her eye as the Joker shifted onto his knees and crawled closer to her on the bed. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as neared her.
"Is it the scars?" the Joker's voice cut through the tense silence, his tone deceptively innocent.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend you," Y/n stammered, her apology laced with genuine remorse.
The Joker furrowed his brows in response, clearly taken aback by her unexpected apology.
"Here... Why don't I give you a better look?" Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her face, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle as he forced her to look at him.
Y/n squirmed in discomfort, but the Joker maintained his hold, his piercing gaze locking with hers. Despite her initial unease, her eyes were drawn not to his scars, but to his own intense gaze, filled with a complexity she couldn't quite decipher.
Y/n found herself captivated by the striking contrast of the Joker's eyes against the backdrop of his black face paint. They were a mesmerizing hazel, with hints of green around the edges, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.
"What are you looking at, Bunny? I thought you wanted to see my scars," the Joker remarked, his voice surprisingly soft.
Y/n blinked, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected question. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his captivating eyes.
"You have really nice eyes," she blurted out, the words escaping before she could stop them.
The Joker's lips curved into a faint smirk at her unexpected compliment. He released her face, withdrawing his hand as he settled back on the bed, his gaze still fixed on hers.
"Why, thank you, Bunny. I do try to maintain some level of charm," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.
Y/n shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare, unsure of what to make of the strange dynamics between them. Despite the Joker's unsettling presence, there was an inexplicable magnetism that seemed to draw her to him.
As the silence stretched between them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease creeping back in. She cleared her throat nervously, searching for something to break the tension.
"So... why are you really here?" she ventured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Joker's response hung in the air. "I just like you," he hummed, his tone casual yet laden with a mysterious undertone.
Y/n couldn't quite decipher the meaning behind his words. Was he being genuine, or was this just another one of his twisted games? And even if he did mean it, what exactly did he mean by it?
Her mind raced with questions, but she found herself at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond to the Joker's cryptic declaration. The Joker's grin widened as he observed Y/n's perplexed expression. He seemed to relish in her uncertainty, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Bunny. Just enjoy the company," he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.
Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. Despite the Joker's casual demeanor, there was an underlying sense of danger that lingered around him like a dark cloud.
She forced a weak smile, nodding in response, but her mind raced with a multitude of unanswered questions. As the silence enveloped them once again, Y/n couldn't help but wonder what other surprises the Joker had in store for her.
Y/n watched with curiosity as the Joker sauntered over to her shelf, his eyes scanning the various items displayed there.
"What do we have here..." His voice held a mischievous edge as he rubbed his hands together, clearly intrigued by the contents.
His gaze landed on the CD player, and a wicked grin spread across his face. "What does this little bunny like to listen to?" he mused aloud, reaching out to press the play button.
The familiar strains of music filled the room as the CD player came to life. Y/n recognized the song instantly, it was one she had been listening to earlier that day. The chorus of "Last Cup of Sorrow" by Faith No More filled the air
As the music filled the room, the Joker's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and madness. Without warning, he extended his hand towards Y/n, a silent invitation for her to join him.
"Come on, Bunny, don't be shy," he urged, his voice laced with excitement.
Y/n hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest as she weighed her options. But before she could respond, the Joker was already closing the distance between them, his hand gripping hers firmly as he pulled her towards him.
"Let's have some fun, shall we?" he said, his grip unyielding as he began to sway to the rhythm of the music.
Caught off guard, Y/n stumbled slightly, her movements awkward and hesitant. But Joker's relentless energy was infectious, and soon she found herself being swept up in the ood dance.
As they twirled and spun around the room, Y/n couldn't help but feel a strange sense of exhilaration mingled with fear. The Joker's laughter filled the air, echoing off the walls as they danced, a twisted symphony of madness and mayhem. And amidst the chaos, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that she was being drawn deeper into the Joker's twisted world with each step they took.
"Bunny having fun, hmm?" Joker teased, his eyes alight with amusement as he watched Y/n begin to smile.
The contrast between this dance and their first encounter in the bank was stark. There were no hostages, no looming threat of violence, just the two of them, alone in her room, moving to the rhythm of her music.
"Such a pretty little thing when you smile," Joker remarked suddenly, his words sending a warm flush creeping up Y/n's cheeks.
Caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, Y/n felt a flutter of emotions swirling within her. Despite the chaos and danger that seemed to follow the Joker wherever he went, there was something strangely captivating about him in this moment, something that made her pulse quicken and her heart race.
As the song reached its climax, Joker twirled Y/n one final time, their movements becoming more frenzied and erratic with each passing moment. The room seemed to spin around them, the music echoing in their ears as they danced in a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty.
With a dramatic end, Joker dipped Y/n backwards, her heart racing as she gazed up at him, their eyes locking in a moment of intense connection. For a fleeting instant, it felt as though time stood still, as though they were the only two people in the world.
But just as quickly as it had begun, the dance came to an abrupt end. Joker released his grip on Y/n, letting her fall. She screamed as the sudden pull of gravity yanked her downward, the impact jarring as she hit the floor. Pain shot through her body, but it was nothing compared to the surge of anger that flooded her veins as she looked up at the Joker.
"What the fuck, Joker?!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with fury and betrayal.
But the Joker simply grinned down at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief and amusement. "Oops, dopy me," he quipped, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant.
Y/n could do nothing but glare.
"Well, that was fun," he remarked casually, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "But I've got places to be, Bunny. Iâll be seeing you."
Y/n's heart sank as she watched Joker turn away from her, a pang of disappointment mingling with the lingering thrill of their dance. She wanted to say something, to protest or something, but she found herself speechless, unable to form the words.
With a final smirk over his shoulder, Joker disappeared out the door, leaving Y/n alone in the silence of her room. As she sat there, still thinking about him. The way he moved with her, it was unlike anything she had experienced before. In his arms, she didn't feel the familiar grip of fear tightening around her chest, instead, there was a sense of exhilaration, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Dancing with him was like stepping into another world, one where she could forget about her worries and simply be in the moment.
As they moved together in perfect synchronization, she couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness wash over her. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, replaced by a buoyant feeling of joy and excitement. In that moment, there was only the music, the movement, and the electrifying connection between them.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to let go, to revel in the intoxicating thrill of the dance. And as they twirled and spun across the room, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was something special about the Joker after all.
-
It had been a few days since Joker had last visited her dorm room, and the memory of their dance lingered in Y/n's mind. She found herself constantly thinking about him and the strange encounters they had shared. As she lay in bed, contemplating the events of the past few days, she couldn't shake the feeling that fluttered in her stomach.
Late into the night, as the clock approached 11 PM, Y/n was just about to drift off to sleep when she heard movement outside her door. She let out a resigned sigh, assuming it was just some noisy neighbors from down the hall. However, her heart skipped a beat when her door swung open, revealing an unexpected visitor.
The creak of the door opening wide echoed through her room. She froze in her bed, the darkness of the room swallowing her up as she strained to see who had entered. Her mind raced with possibilities, but deep down, she knew exactly who it was.
The figure stepped into the room, the faint light from the hallway casting eerie shadows across the floor. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched the silhouette move closer, her pulse quickening with each step. She couldn't make out his face in the dim light, but she didn't need to. She knew it was him.
"Miss me, Bunny?" his voice, dripping with mischief, filled the room, sending shivers down her spine.
Y/n flicked on her bedside lamp as Joker sauntered into the room, shutting the door behind him. "What the hell?" Y/n groaned, rubbing her eyes wearily.
Joker began rifling through her drawers, pulling out clothes and inspecting them before carelessly tossing them onto the floor. Y/n shot up from her bed and approached him, annoyance evident in her voice.Â
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, gesturing to the mess he was creating.
"Don't fret, Doll. Just for a nice little outfit for you," Joker replied casually, tossing another item aside with a nonchalant grin.
"Why?" Y/n questioned, her confusion evident.
"Because, Doll, you and I are hitting the town," Joker declared, holding up a shirt for inspection before tossing it onto Y/n's bed and moving on to her bottoms.
"But I have classes tomorrow, Joker," Y/n protested.
"Uh huh," Joker murmured dismissively, paying her complaint no mind as he continued his search.
Y/n rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, maybe if you actually went to university, you'd understand," she retorted, taking a jab at his unconventional career choice.
"I'm too old for uni, Bunny," Joker replied with a smirk.
"You're never too old to learn," Y/n shot back.
"Fucking nerd," Joker muttered under his breath, eliciting an eye roll from Y/n.
"What are you, 12? Get a better insult," Y/n retorted. "And I hope you donât really expect me to go out with you."
"I'm taking you one way or another," Joker stated firmly.
Y/n wanted to stay mad, but her heart was pounding with excitement. The fact that Joker wanted to hang out with her felt monumental. Joker eventually found a skirt to pair with her shirt and tossed it onto the bed.
"Get changed," Joker commanded, already moving to fetch her some shoes.
"Don't tell me what to do," Y/n muttered under her breath.
Joker turned to give her an intimidating stare. Y/n stood up, reluctantly agreeing, "Fine, Iâll change, just get out while I do."
"You can change right here, Doll, I wonât peek," Joker assured her, smirking.
"I'm inclined not to believe you," Y/n replied.
Knowing he wasn't going to leave, she sighed and grabbed a bra to put on first.
"Oh, so I'm getting the full show?" Joker teased, making Y/n blush furiously.
"Stop being a weirdo," Y/n snapped, pulling her arms through her sleeves to put her bra on underneath her shirt.
Joker dramatically pouted while inspecting her shoes. Y/n managed to get the bra on and glanced at the clothes he had chosen. It was a nice see-through shirt with patterns on it and a black skirt, she liked his style.
She removed her top and started putting on the shirt, only to hear Joker wolf whistle. Her face couldnât have been hotter at that moment.
"Stop looking!" Y/n yelled, quickly buttoning up the shirt.
She then put on the skirt with her pajama bottoms still on, making sure Joker didn't catch any more glimpses of her than she was comfortable with. Joker sauntered over to where Y/n sat, still in awe of his audacity. As she sat on the bed, shedding her pajama bottoms discreetly beneath her skirt,Â
"Nice legs," he remarked, a compliment she wasn't accustomed to receiving.
Joker's casual comment caught her off guard. "Um, thank you?" Y/n responded, unsure how to react.
With the shoes in hand, Joker approached Y/n once more. Just as she reached out to take them, he surprised her by crouching down before her, lifting her foot and resting it gently on his knee. It felt surreal, her mind momentarily going blank.
With deft movements, Joker slipped the shoes onto her feet one by one, securing the straps around her ankles. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the sensation of his leather gloves against her bare skin sending tingles down her spine.
Joker stood up, his hands clapping together sharply, breaking Y/n out of her trance. "Ready, Bunny?" he asked with a grin.
Y/n simply nodded in response. Before she could fully process what was happening, Joker grabbed her hand and pulled her up, leading the way to the door.
But Y/n halted them abruptly. "Wait, we can't just walk out there! Anyone could see you!" she protested.
Joker arched an eyebrow at her. "How do you think I got in, Doll?" he retorted, not waiting for her response as he dragged her out of the dorms.
As they walked, Y/n couldn't shake the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her eyes remained fixated on their intertwined hands, her wrist held firmly in Joker's grip. It was an oddly exhilarating sensation, one that left her feeling both thrilled and apprehensive.
The cold air and the bustling sounds of the city snapped Y/n back to reality. "Joker, wait..." she began nervously, catching his attention.
Joker turned to her, a hint of impatience in his tone. "What now?" he growled.
"I... I'm sorry, I don't want to go out," Y/n admitted, her voice trembling.
Joker noticed the change in her demeanor and softened slightly. "What's wrong, Bunny?" he asked, moving closer to her.
Y/n's hands shook visibly as she spoke. "I don't do going out. I don't do crowds. I don't do being outside my room," she confessed, avoiding Joker's gaze.
Leaning in, Joker lowered himself to her eye level. "Listen, Bunny. I'll keep you safe tonight. I'll make sure you're all comfy, and nobody will bother you. It'll just be us and a couple of the guys keeping watch. You don't have to worry about a thing. How does that sound?" he whispered reassuringly.
Y/n found herself gazing into Joker's eyes, their warmth contrasting with the hardness of his exterior. She couldn't shake the urge to see his face without the paint, though she knew it was a dangerous curiosity. Despite knowing who he was and what he did, she inexplicably trusted him.
Nodding slowly, she watched as a toothy grin spread across Joker's face. He took her hand once more, leading her toward a waiting van.
"Oh, this doesn't look dodgy at all," Y/n quipped as they approached.
Joker opened the back door for her to enter first. With a polite smile, she stepped inside, Joker following and closing the door behind them. Taking a seat, Y/n looked around the interior.
"Where's the seatbelt?" she asked.
"No seatbelts here, Doll," Joker replied casually.
"Well, you better hope I don't go flying off this seat, then," Y/n scoffed.
"If you feel unsafe, you can always hold onto me, Bunny," Joker suggested, his smirk making Y/n blush once more. "And besides... Rocco's a great driver, isn't that right?" he called to the front of the van.
"Uhhh... yeah, I'd think so, boss," came the hesitant reply from the driver's seat.
Y/n's attention was drawn to the presence of two men seated in the front of the van. They seemed to be keeping to themselves, occasionally exchanging glances in the rearview mirror but otherwise remaining focused on the road ahead as they pulled out of the parking space. Their silence added to the tense atmosphere inside the vehicle, amplifying Y/n's apprehension about the night ahead.
As the van rumbled through the dimly lit streets of Gotham, Joker leaned closer to Y/n, his breath tickling her ear.Â
"You nervous, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
Y/n swallowed nervously, her eyes darting to the men in the front seats before returning to Joker's intense gaze. "A little," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Joker's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Don't worry, Doll. I'll make sure you have a night to remember," he promised, his tone dripping with mischief.
As the van continued its journey through the city's streets, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. She glanced at Joker, trying to decipher his intentions from the mischievous glint in his eyes, but his expression remained inscrutable.
With each passing minute, Y/n's apprehension grew, but she knew it was too late to turn back now. She was along for the ride, wherever it might lead. She could only hope that Joker's promise of keeping her safe would hold true amidst the uncertainty of the night ahead.
"Now, Doll.. Where weâre going, Iâm gonna need to bag you," Joker said, as he casually held up a burlap bag. Y/n felt a surge of anxiety at the sight.
"Wait, what's happening?" Y/n asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
Joker raised a gloved hand in a calming gesture. "Relax, Bunny. I told you I'd keep you safe," he reassured her.
Despite her apprehension, Y/n found herself complying as Joker placed the bag over her head, enveloping her in darkness. She couldn't shake the feeling of fear that gripped her tightly as she waited in the unknown.
In the darkness beneath the bag, Y/n felt Joker's firm grip on her wrist as he guided her out of the van. With the van door opening, she was enveloped in a swirl of uncertainty. She hadn't dared to glance out of the tinted windows during the drive, leaving her completely at Joker's mercy.
As they walked, Y/n could feel the ground beneath her shift from rough pavement to a smoother surface, indicating they were inside a building. The silence around her was deafening, leaving her unable to decipher their location. Joker's grip on her wrist remained tight, guiding her with purpose through the mysterious space.
Just as Y/n's mind raced to make sense of the situation, she heard footsteps approaching them. "Your table is ready, sir," a quivering voice spoke, sending shivers down her spine.Â
Joker's grip tightened on her wrist as he pulled her along, and she strained to understand the significance of the words. Soon, they approached a second door, which opened before them. As they stepped through, the door closed behind them, enveloping them in an eerie silence that amplified Y/n's anxiety.
As they stepped into the room, the unmistakable sound of Faith No More filled the air, instantly recognizable to Y/n's ears.
As the bag was lifted from her head, Y/n blinked in the sudden light, her eyes adjusting to the scene before her. Before her stood Joker, a mischievous grin on his face as he stepped back to reveal a table set with napkins, candles, and cutlery.
"Ta-da!" Joker announced, spreading his arms with theatrical flair.
In the room, aside from a few strategically placed plants and the central table, there was no one and nothing else present.Â
"W-what's going on?" Y/n questioned, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
Joker rolled his eyes before pulling out a chair for her. She settled into the seat as he took his own across the table.
He grabbed one of the menu set in the middle of the table. "Pick anything you like, Doll," Joker chimed in, his eyes scanning the list of options.
Y/n took her own menu, her gaze drifting over the choices as she contemplated her selection.
Y/n glanced around the dimly lit room, her curiosity piqued by the ambiance Joker had created. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding to the mysterious atmosphere.
"What's the occasion?" Y/n asked, unable to suppress her curiosity any longer.
Joker chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just wanted to take the little Bunny out," he replied, flashing her a grin.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. Despite her reservations, there was something undeniably intriguing about this impromptu dinner with the Joker.
âWhat? Is this a date or something?â Y/n's question hung in the air, laced with a nervous chuckle. She couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension about the situation.
Joker's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "If you want it to be, Doll," he replied, leaning back in his chair.
Y/n felt a rush of conflicting emotions. The idea of a date with the Joker was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Y/n felt a wave of shyness wash over her, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she fidgeted with the menu in her hands. Every glance at Joker sent a flurry of butterflies fluttering in her stomach, making her feel more flustered with each passing moment. She struggled to maintain eye contact, her heart racing as she tried to compose herself in his presence.
"So! What's it gonna be, Doll?" Joker asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on hers, waiting for her to tell him her order.
Y/n hesitated, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. She glanced down at the menu, trying to focus on the options in front of her. Finally, she made her choice and looked up at Joker with a tentative smile.
"I'll have the... um, the chicken alfredo, please," she said, her voice a bit softer than usual.
Joker stood up from his seat with a smirk and walked over to the door, opening it just a crack. He exchanged a few hushed words with one of his men outside before closing the door again, returning to Y/n sitting at the table.
As Joker returned to the table, the realization dawned upon her, Y/n understood the purpose behind the burlap bag and the secrecy. Joker was safeguarding her identity, shielding her from any potential trouble that could arise if her association with him became known. She appreciated his gesture, despite the unconventional means.
"So, uh, thanks for this... dinner," Y/n said, feeling a bit awkward but genuinely appreciative of the gesture.
Joker flashed a grin, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Anything for my favorite Bunny," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air.
Y/n couldn't help but smile at his reply. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around the enigmatic nature of their relationship, but for now, she decided to enjoy the moment and the unexpected dinner date with the notorious Joker.
As the evening progressed, Y/n found herself surprisingly at ease in Joker's company. His charismatic demeanor and witty banter kept her entertained throughout the meal, and she couldn't deny the allure of his unpredictable charm.
Between bites of food and sips of wine, they engaged in lighthearted conversation, sharing stories and exchanging laughs. Despite the peculiar circumstances of their encounter, Y/n couldn't deny that she was enjoying herself, relishing the novelty of the experience.
As the night wore on, the initial tension that had enveloped Y/n began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie with the man sitting across from her. It was a strange sensation, considering who he was, but she couldn't deny the genuine connection that seemed to be forming between them.
Eventually, the meal came to an end. Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, tossing them onto the table without a second thought.
"Let's get out of here, Bunny," he said, rising from his seat and offering his hand to Y/n.
She hesitated for a moment before putting on the burlap bag again and placing her hand in his, allowing him to lead her out of the restaurant and into the night once again.
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration tinged with apprehension. She was stepping into the unknown, guided by a man whose intentions remained shrouded in mystery.
Joker led her back to the van and took off the bag. Without a word, he gestured for Y/n to climb in, and she obliged, settling into the seat beside him. The van rumbled to life, and they began their journey through the city once more.
As they drove, Y/n's mind raced with questions, but she held her tongue, unsure of how much she dared to ask. Instead, she gazed out the window, watching the lights of Gotham blur past as they navigated the labyrinthine streets.
Eventually, they arrived back at Y/n's dorm, and Joker brought the van to a stop. He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the darkness.
"Well, Bunny, it's been a pleasure," he said, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.
Y/n nodded, a mixture of relief and reluctance swirling within her. She knew she should be wary of him, but there was something undeniably compelling about the enigmatic man beside her.
"You're not going to walk me back?" Y/n said, surprising herself with her sudden burst of confidence.
Joker's smirk widened as he stepped out of the van. "Couldn't say no to you," he replied casually.
Together, they walked in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Y/n stole glances at Joker, trying to decipher the enigmatic expression on his face. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.
When they reached her dorm room, Joker stopped and turned to face her. "Well, here we are," he said, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.
Y/n nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure what to say, but she found herself reluctant to part ways with him.
"Thanks for... everything," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
Joker flashed her a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anytime, Bunny," he replied before turning on his heel.
As Joker turned back to leave, Y/n's heart raced with a sudden impulse. "Wait!" she called out, her voice echoing in the quiet night.
Surprised, Joker turned back just as Y/n rushed up to him, her hand reaching for his. Without a second thought, she pulled him close and pressed her lips against his, feeling the cool touch of his greasy face paint against her skin. Despite the unconventional sensation, she relished the moment, savoring the feel of his scars beneath her touch.
Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden kiss, Joker froze for a moment before melting into it, his surprise giving way to something more akin to amusement. As they parted, he flashed her a grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Well, well, Bunny," he chuckled. "Seems like you've got some surprises up your sleeve too."
Y/n felt a rush of warmth at his words, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. But before she could respond, Joker's expression shifted, his gaze darting around as if sensing something amiss.
With shaky steps, she turned and hurried back towards her dorm, her heart still pounding in her chest. Each step felt heavier than the last, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and excitement.
As she reached her door, she fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling with nervous energy. Finally unlocking the door, she practically stumbled into her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Leaning against the door, Y/n let out a shaky breath, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration. She couldn't believe what had just happened, the kiss still lingering on her lips like a bittersweet memory.
Feeling a rush of emotions, she sank down onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. It was all so overwhelming. As the reality of her actions sunk in, Y/n's mind raced with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. She had just kissed the Joker, arguably one of the most dangerous and unpredictable individuals in Gotham City. It was a reckless move, one that could have dire consequences.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she replayed the moment in her mind, the feel of his lips against hers, the roughness of his scars. It was surreal, almost like a dream, and yet, it had happened.
But along with the rush of adrenaline came a wave of uncertainty and fear. What would happen now? Would the Joker seek her out again? And if he did, what would he want from her?
Y/n shook her head, trying to push away the barrage of questions crowding her mind. For now, all she could do was wait and see, her heart still racing from the daring act she had just committed.
-
Y/n knew it was a terrible idea to go out the night before. She had endured three consecutive two-hour lectures, running on a mere five hours of sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her as she trudged back to her dorm, fantasizing about the blissful nap awaiting her.
Y/n's exhaustion seemed to fade away as she caught wind of the conversation in the common room. Curiosity piqued, she quickened her pace, eager to hear more about the news report.
"Holy shit, turn up the TV," one of her fellow students exclaimed.
"Infamous criminal, Joker, was seen last night with an unknown woman, entering a restaurant," the news report blared from the television.
Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she absorbed the information. Anxiety gnawed at her as she contemplated the implications of being linked to such a notorious figure. Standing in the doorway, Y/n listened intently to the news report echoing from the common room.
The news report continued, "The sighting has sparked widespread speculation about the identity of the mysterious woman seen with the notorious criminal. Eyewitnesses claim the woman appeared to be in her early twenties, possibly younger, but her face was obscured by a bag as they entered the restaurant. Authorities are urging anyone with information about this incident to come forward."
Y/n's heart raced as she realized the gravity of the situation. She had been seen with the Joker, and now her anonymity was at risk. She knew she had to be more cautious than ever before.
The news report continued with a solemn tone, "In a chilling turn of events, just hours after the sighting, reports flooded in of a violent attack attack against several political figures late last night, with witnesses describing the perpetrator as none other than the Joker himself. It was described as a chaotic scenes as the Joker and his accomplices unleashed mayhem in the heart of the city, targeting high-profile individuals attending a gala event."
Y/n's stomach dropped as she listened to the horrifying news. She couldn't believe she had been with him just hours before, completely unaware of his plans. Fear and guilt gripped her as she realized the danger she had unwittingly placed herself in by associating with the Joker.
Y/n felt a wave of nausea wash over her as the reality sank in. The man she had shared a meal and a moment with had gone on to commit atrocious acts of violence. The guilt weighed heavy on her conscience as she rushed to her room, seeking solace in solitude. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened by the knowledge of her unwitting association with a criminal of such magnitude. She couldn't shake off the feeling of disgust and betrayal, retreating into her room to grapple with her tumultuous emotions alone.
Y/n was overwhelmed by a mix of regret and disbelief. How could she have been so reckless as to kiss someone without truly knowing who they were? She cursed herself for her naivety and ignorance, realizing that she had allowed herself to be drawn into the orbit of a dangerous individual. From that moment on, she vowed to steer clear of any further association with him, determined to distance herself from the enigmatic figure who had deceived her so thoroughly.
-
A few days passed, and Y/n tried her best to put the incident behind her. However, her resolve was put to the test when, one evening, there was a knock on her dorm room door. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she approached cautiously, heart racing as she wondered who could be on the other side. Opening the door tentatively, she was met with the unmistakable figure of the Joker, standing there with his characteristic grin.
"Happy to see me, Bunny?" The Joker's voice was laced with amusement as he stood casually in the doorway, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of the Joker standing at her doorstep. She hesitated, unsure of how to react, but before she could say anything, he pushed his way into her dorm room with that ever-present smirk on his face.
"I got you a little something," Joker announced, producing a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. The contrast between the bright, colorful blooms and his dark, enigmatic presence sent a shiver down Y/n's spine.
"J-Joker... You shouldn't be here," Y/n stammered, her voice trembling as he pushed the bouquet of flowers into her hands.
The Joker merely chuckled, unfazed by her unease. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't do, Doll. But here I am," he retorted, ignoring her plea.
"You canât be here⌠Please, just go," Y/n pleaded again, her eyes pleading with him to understand.
Joker's expression softened slightly as he noticed the tears welling up in Y/n's eyes. He took a step closer, but she instinctively backed away, her fear palpable.
"Bunny, what's wrong?" Joker's voice was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.
"I just... need some time alone," Y/n replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her emotions too overwhelming to articulate.
Joker hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning Y/n's face as if searching for answers. Finally, he nodded slowly, acknowledging her request.
"Alright, Bunny. I'll leave you be," Joker said softly, his voice carrying a hint of concern.
Y/n watched as Joker turned to leave, his presence disappearing from her dorm room. Alone once again, she sank onto her bed, clutching the bouquet of flowers tightly against her chest as tears began to fall freely.
She grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between the fear of what Joker might do if he discovered the truth and the guilt of rejecting his gesture of kindness. The bouquet of flowers lay on her bed, a poignant reminder of the tangled mess she found herself in. Y/n felt trapped, uncertain of how to handle the situation she was in.
-
As Y/n made her way back to her dorm, an unease settled over her. Another week had passed since Joker visited her. Every shadow seemed to harbor a lurking threat, and she quickened her pace, eager to reach the safety of her room. However, her apprehension only intensified when she was stopped by someone from her floor.
"Got yourself a boyfriend or something, huh?" the girl asked with a knowing smirk.
Y/n's confusion deepened. âUhh.. No," she replied cautiously.
The girl nodded toward Y/n's dorm room. "Guess you've got a secret admirer then," she said before walking away.
Heart pounding, Y/n approached her door and froze at the sight before her. Another bouquet of flowers, even larger than before, greeted her, accompanied by a playing card resting beside it. As she reached for the card, her fingers trembled, and she turned it over to reveal the unmistakable image of a joker.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes widening in disbelief. The sight that greeted her inside was both stunning and terrifying. Flowers, dozens of them, filled her room, arranged in an array of colors and shapes.
Y/n stumbled forward, dropping the bouquet she held in her trembling hands. As she surveyed the room, her heart hammered against her chest. Four bouquets adorned her desk, their vibrant hues contrasting sharply with the pale surface. Another three lay scattered across her bed, their delicate petals casting shadows in the dim light. And yet more flowers, at least twenty, were strewn haphazardly throughout the room, their sweet fragrance mingling in the air.
Fear clenched at her insides as she realized the implications of this gesture. Y/n stood there, stunned by the sheer extravagance of the display. Never before had anyone shown her such generosity or tenderness, and coming from someone like the Joker, it only meant trouble.
Given the fact that this man killed for a living and enjoyed it, receiving such affectionate gifts from him carried a weighty significance. It hinted at a depth of feeling and a seriousness in his affection that Y/n found both bewildering and unsettling.
Inspecting her desk, Y/n noticed several scattered playing cards, one of which bore writing along the face of it. She picked it up and read the message: âSorry I couldn't give these in person, Bunny. Hope you're feeling better.â Beneath the message, there was a small doodle of a bunny.
The message offered little comfort, especially considering the likelihood that Joker had likely gone on to commit some heinous act afterward, perhaps even something as dreadful as blowing up a school bus.
Y/n found herself utterly lost, grappling with a sense of powerlessness. Yet, she knew she couldn't afford to succumb to fear any longer. Having the Joker show up uninvited was no longer an option. The next time she saw him, Y/n knew she had to put a stop to this.
-
Despite the danger of navigating Gotham's streets at night, Y/n had grown accustomed to it. It was a routine she had mastered, whether it was grabbing late-night essentials from the convenience store or simply wandering the dimly lit alleys. But tonight was different, tonight, she felt the presence of danger looming around every corner.
As she hurried along the deserted streets, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Every shadow seemed to conceal a hidden threat, every flicker of movement sent a jolt of apprehension through her veins. But deep down, she knew that somehow, some way, her path would intersect with the Joker's once again.
Tonight was the night in which Y/n would confront Joker and declare what ever was happening between the two of them would not happen again.
Y/n's mind was occupied as she walked along the sidewalk, her thoughts consumed by the upcoming confrontation with the Joker. Suddenly, a group of men passed by, one of them coming to an abrupt halt.
"Hey... I know this chick," he exclaimed, pointing directly at Y/n.
Startled, Y/n turned to face them. "Excuse me?" she replied, her voice tinged with apprehension.
"Yeah, you're the one who put us in the shits with the Joker," another man chimed in, his tone accusatory.
Recognition dawned on Y/n as she realized who these men were. Y/n's horror deepened as she recognized the men who had attempted to mug her when the Joker intervened in that dark alley. The memories flooded back, vivid and unsettling.
As the men closed in on her, memories of that terrifying encounter surged through Y/n's mind. She instinctively stepped back, trying to distance herself from the group, but they closed in, their faces contorted with malice.
"Should've kept your mouth shut back then, girlie," one of them snarled, shoving her roughly.
Y/n stumbled backward, her heart racing with fear. She knew she was in trouble, trapped in this menacing situation with no one to help her.
âB-but⌠I didnât s-say anything. It wasnât my fault..â Y/nâs eyes welled with tears.
As the men continued to harass her, Y/n's mind raced, searching desperately for a way out. She knew she couldn't take them on physically, but she had to find a way to escape. With each push and taunt, her fear turned to determination.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Ah, the old, familiar places.."Â
Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the voice. It was him. The Joker.Â
As soon as the Joker's voice rang out, the men froze in terror, their faces paling. Without hesitation, they turned to flee just as they did last time, but before they could take a step, two of Joker's henchmen emerged from the shadows and grabbed them, preventing their escape. The men struggled against the firm grip of Joker's men.Â
"Bunny, Henshaw over here will escort you back to the van. I've got some unfinished business to attend to," Joker declared, his gaze fixed on the trembling men.
Y/n felt a mix of relief and fear as one of Joker's men, presumably Henshaw, firmly grasped her shoulder and led her away from the scene. She cast a nervous glance back at Joker, unsure of what was about to unfold. Y/n watched as Joker took something from his coat, likely a knife, and moved towards the first man.
"I suggest you look away," Henshaw advised, gently nudging her towards the van.
Feeling a knot form in her stomach, Y/n obeyed, knowing it was wise to heed his warning as the piercing screams pierced the air behind her.
Sitting in the back of the van, Y/n's breaths came in heavy, her hands trembling as the screams echoed outside. She pressed her hands against her ears, trying to block out the horrifying sounds. In the front seat, Henshaw shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at her.
"Uhh... You want me to put on the radio?" Henshaw offered.
Y/n nodded, grateful for any distraction. Henshaw fiddled with the radio, but even the music couldn't drown out the haunting echoes of agony. Y/n felt utterly helpless, unsure of what to do in such a harrowing situation.
Y/n's heart pounded with conflicting emotions. On one hand, she had achieved her goal of finding Joker, but the situation had spiraled out of control. He was out there, committing acts of violence in her name. While she couldn't deny that those men probably deserved it, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease and guilt.
Tonight was supposed to be about confronting Joker and ending whatever twisted connection they had, but now he was killing people for her. The thought of facing Joker now filled her with dread. Would he turn his rage on her next and kill her, or would he simply make her life a living hell? Y/n had no answers, only fear and uncertainty about what lay ahead.
As Y/n grappled with her conflicting emotions, another wave of realization hit her. Despite the chaos and violence that seemed to follow him wherever he went, Joker had shown her a side of himself that she had never experienced before with anyone else. His gestures of affection had left a lasting impression on her, stirring feelings she had never known.
She couldn't deny the way her heart raced in his presence, or the warmth that spread through her when he treated her with tenderness. Joker made her feel special in a way that no one else ever had, and that made her dilemma even more agonizing.
Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was jolted back to reality when the van door was pulled open, revealing Joker standing there. Behind him lay the aftermath of his violent confrontation, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within him. As he closed the door, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over her, uncertain of what would come next.
As Joker settled into the seat across from her, the tension in the van seemed to thicken. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with a multitude of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
Joker's gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was silence between them. Y/n couldn't bring herself to break the silence, unsure of what to say or how to address the situation unfolding before her.
Finally, Joker spoke, his voice low and measured. "You okay, Bunny?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle given the circumstances.
Y/n swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry. "I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Joker's expression softened slightly, and he reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "You don't have to be scared, Doll," he said reassuringly. "I'll always keep you safe."
Despite his words, Y/n couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at her. She knew that being involved with Joker meant being thrust into a world of danger and chaos, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face the consequences.
But as she looked into Joker's eyes, she couldn't deny the strange pull she felt toward him, the inexplicable connection that seemed to draw her closer to him with each passing moment. Whether it was the thrill of danger or something deeper, Y/n couldn't say for certain.
âYou have something to say..I can tell,â Joker's voice was rough and impatient, cutting through the tense silence that hung between them.
âYou don't know me that well,â she replied, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to muster up the courage to confront him.
Joker raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he regarded her. She could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on her, making her feel small and vulnerable.
âListen, Bunny. I ain't known for my patience, so you better start talââ Joker's words were abruptly cut off by Y/n's confession.
âI don't want you to visit me anymore,â she blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to meet his gaze.
The air in the van seemed to grow heavy with tension as Joker's expression shifted, a dangerous glint entering his eyes. Despite her fear, Y/n stood her ground, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited his response.
âWhat did you say, Bunny?â Joker's voice was deceptively light, but the intensity behind his words sent a shiver down her spine.
âI-I don't think you should visit me anymore,â Y/n stammered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
âThink or want, Doll. Make up your mind,â Joker's tone was mocking, his words laced with an underlying threat that sent a chill down her spine.
As the two men in the front of the van stepped out, leaving them alone, Y/n felt a sense of dread wash over her. She knew she had to stand her ground, to assert her boundaries, no matter the consequences.
âThis can't happen anymore,â she stated firmly, her voice quivering with emotion.
âThis, what is this,â Joker's question hung in the air, his eyes boring into hers as if searching for the truth hidden within her words.
âI don't know! I don't know what this is, but whatever it is can't happen anymore!â Y/n finally snapped, her frustration and fear bubbling to the surface as she confronted the enigmatic man before her.
Joker's gaze bore into Y/n, his eyes flickering with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. She could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, his very aura demanding attention and compliance. Joker's demeanor shifted, his previously calm facade cracking as he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"You're telling me to stay away?" he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.
For a moment, there was a tense silence between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the city outside the van. Y/n's heart hammered in her chest, her nerves on edge as she awaited Joker's response.Â
"I... I can't do this anymore," Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's too much. I can't."
âYou don't get to decide that, Bunny," he said, his words laced with a hint of menace.
Y/n recoiled slightly, her fear mounting as she realized the gravity of her words. She had never seen Joker like this before, and the sight sent a chill down her spine.
Joker's expression hardened, his features twisting into a mask of barely contained fury. "You think you can just walk away from me?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.
"I-I can't do this anymore, Joker, please!" she stammered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.
Joker's lips curled into a predatory smirk, sending a chill down Y/n's spine. "You knew what you were getting into when you kissed me, Doll," he said, his tone dripping with dark amusement. "You can't just walk away now."
Y/n's eyes brimmed with tears, her voice trembling with emotion. "Y-you don't understand, Joker... I'm scared!"
"Of what, Bunny? I ain't touched you," Joker retorted, his tone flippant as he dismissed her fear.
"B-but what if you do? You just killed a group of men outside! How am I any different?" Y/n cried out, her voice breaking as she struggled to contain her fear. "For fuck's sake! You're a criminal, being near you is illegal!"
"Bunny, you need to listen to me right now," Joker said, dropping to his knees before her, gently cradling her face in his hands.
"I would never touch a hair on your body that you didnât want me to," Joker assured her, his gaze unwavering. "And the law? Pft! Forget about it... This city was fucked before I came along. Now, I'm having a play."
Y/n's lip quivered as she absorbed his words.
"And I'll make sure they never lay a finger on you... Imma keep my little Bunny safe," Joker murmured, his voice surprisingly tender.
Overwhelmed by emotions, Y/n burst into tears, collapsing into his chest. Joker enveloped her in his arms, offering comfort. In that moment, she surrendered to her feelings. Despite her efforts to deny it, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards Joker. She had never experienced such emotions before, and she was unwilling to let go of them now.
As Y/n's tears subsided, she felt Joker's grip loosen. He pulled away slightly, cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumbs.
"You're safe with me, Bunny," Joker reassured her, his gaze soft yet intense.
Y/n nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty wash over her. She knew she was diving into dangerous waters by allowing herself to be drawn to Joker, but at that moment, she couldn't deny the undeniable connection between them.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Joker planted a sloppy kiss on her forehead, his touch surprisingly tender as he rubbed her arms with his gloved hands. Y/n felt a rush of warmth and comfort flood her senses, despite the chaos surrounding them.
"Let's get you home, Bunny," Joker said softly, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance that eased her anxieties.
She realized that whatever unfolded between them would likely be filled with danger and uncertainty. Yet, in that moment, she found herself surprisingly unfazed by the prospect. The way he made her feel was unlike anything she had experienced before, and for her, that was enough.
For better or for worse, she had chosen to embrace the chaos, to walk alongside the Joker, wherever their twisted journey might lead them.
-
A/N: So yeah, this story became way more cuter than I anticipated and hoped for..oops. I originally wanted this to be more dark and shit with more of the stalker-y kinda shit but I kinda got distracted..by bad
So if yous want some more Joker but more unhinged and less cute shit, feel free to request and I may or may not be in the middle of writing a Joker fic that is a bit Dead Dove đ (I say may because I have no idea when I will finish writing it)
Also, I was listening to Faith No More while writing this, so that's why I added them here. Slay
But thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. đ
ŕżpairing. arranged clanhead! satoru x fem! reader
ŕżsummary. the gojo clan is untouchable, and their new ruler, gojo satoru, is the most powerful sorcerer of his generationâunrivaled, unrestricted, and utterly uncontrollable. for years, he has defied the expectations of his clan, rejecting tradition, resisting the cage they built for him. but even the strongest must bow to duty. a deal struck, a marriage arranged. you, the daughter of a fallen clan, are chosen to stand at his side. not out of love, but because gojo satoru always gets what he wants. and if he's obligated to marry, fuck it, he wants you. though, you quickly learn that your place is not beside himâbut beneath him. why? because gojo satoru doesnât do love.
ŕżtags/warnings. nsfw 18+, smut, angst (with eventual fluff), slight canon divergence, arranged marriage, satoru is emotionally detached, he's kinda a dick at times, breeding, breeding kink, praise kink, some degradation, loss of virginity, mentions of infidelity, mentions of a prior scandal (i'll update tags as i write more) Âť ăthis part â suguru is up to something... hm. reader does some reflecting. satoru has terrible coping skills and is allergic to feelings. he's still an asshole guys, BUT he's getting better. a bit of hate sex. lots of dirty talk. grinding/dry humping. cunnilingus. BOUNDARIES đă
ŕżwc. 12.3k
ŕża/n. hello lovelies! ahhh here we are~ this part focuses a lot on change. i really want the growth in reader and satoru to feel natural and earned. so the angst this chapter is more intimately suffocating. i'll share more thoughts at the bottom! i hope you enjoy đŤśđť art by @/_3aem
â series masterlist ⍠playlist â ao3 â primary masterlist
Sometimes... you still hear it. That damn applause. It creeps back in the rattle of cicadas, sticky in the heat outside your window. Slips beneath your skin when the night gets too quiet, too still. A ghost that never left.
Other times, it hums through smaller thingsâlike this morning, when you dragged the kanzashi comb through your hair. The rhythm clicked against your scalp as you pinned Satoruâs gift into place, waitingâhopingâit might say something new. Something gentler than the echo still clinging to your spine. But⌠it never does.
So here you are, tucked into the crook of your clanâs garden as dusk softens the stone pathsâtwisting the engagement ring on your finger like it might do what the comb couldnât. Like it might hum some truth into your skin.
âTch... youâre gonna wear that again?â
The words snap you from your daze. You blink up, and Makiâs already halfway across the flowerbedâhands shoved into her jacket pockets, brow arched in flat disbelief.
âOhâŚâ you murmur. âHey.â
She slows when she reaches youâgreen ponytail swinging behind her, eyeing you through her glasses from head to toe before landing on the comb. A long sigh pulls from her, like itâs a conversation sheâs already exhausted by.
âI told you to toss that thing.â
Your hand rises instinctively, brushing over the gem-encrusted metal nestled in your hair. Still warm from the sun. Perfectly centered.
âYeah⌠you did.â
And you meant to. You meant to do a lot of things. But somehow, each morning, it finds its way back to you. Like clockwork. Like ritual. As if it might mean somethingâif only you hold onto it long enough.
âSo⌠what?â Maki grumbles, dropping onto the bench beside you with a grunt. âDid they glue it to your damn skull when I wasnât looking?â
A faint smile touches your lips, but it fades quick. Your eyes drop to your lap, smoothing your kimono like the fabric might offer clarity you havenât found in weeks.
âI⌠wellâŚâ
âŚwhy do you keep wearing it?
âIâm expected to wear it. Mother says it would be disrespectful not to.â
Itâs not a lieâbut it isnât the truth, either.
Maki scoffs. âYeah. Right. Because heâs such a shining example of respectâŚâ
The wind shifts. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze drifting past the koi pond, toward the ivy-wrapped wall. It all looks the same. Thatâs the strange part. This portion of the estate remained untouched by time. But you havenât been here in yearsânot since your clan shut you out. Not since you stopped believing theyâd ever let you back in.
A bird takes off, wings beating sharply against the quiet as Maki leans back on her hands, eyes fixed on the garden.
âItâs bullshitâŚâ she mutters. âYouâre always the one who has to look composed. Smile, bow, act grateful. If the roles were flipped, he wouldnât think twice about disrespecting you. You know that, right?â
Sheâs right.
âŚisnât she?
You donât know what to make of things. Because every time you believe youâve mapped Satoru Gojo out, he flips the entire picture. Turns the world on its back. And perhaps that is what you keep thinking aboutâwhat draws you to this quiet, this pain. Not the gift. Not the absence. But the look in his eyesâafter the ring, after the applause.
Like⌠he was mourning something you couldnât see.
âIâm⌠supposed to meet him tonightâŚâ you murmur, barely above the breeze. But the words feel hollow. Unbelievable, even now.
Because itâs been weeks. Weeks of silence. Weeks without him. Each meeting was canceled before starting, reduced to clipped apologies that never came from his mouth.
| âGojo-sama has been called away on urgent clan business.â
| âGojo-sama sends his regretsâsomething came up.â
Maki turns. âSupposed toâŚâ she echoes flatly. âIf he ghosts you again, Iâm clockinâ him in the face.â
That actually pulls a laugh from your chestâreal and sudden, surprising even you.
âMakiâŚâ
âWhat?â she huffs. âIâm serious. Right in that smug-ass smile of his.â And you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. âSure⌠okay. But how exactly are you planning to get past Infinity?â
âDoesnât matter,â she shrugs, reclining lazily against the bench. âIâll find a wayâŚâ She looks up toward the sky, squinting at the sun. âHmm⌠maybe Iâll trip him. Orâoh! Iâll insult his taste. Thatâll drop his guard.â
âMm⌠wouldnât work.â
âYeah, probably not,â she sighs, lips quirking. Then she nudges your arm. âBut youâŚ? You could put him on his ass.â
You blink. âMe?â
âPfft. Donât act innocent.â Her eyes gleam. âThat move your dad drilled into you a hundred times. What was it again? You nailed me with it when I was twelve.â
The memory creeps in, and you hesitate.
ââŚaiki otoshi?â
âYeah. That one!â she snorts. âThought I broke my elbow that day. Rude.â
âOkay, first of all, you fell wrong,â you say automaticallyâsoft, amused. But then, your voice lowers, quieter now. âAnd second⌠well. Thereâs more to itâŚâ
Pausing, your eyes flick to the path ahead, tracing the faded grooves in the stone with your gazeâweathered lines from years of footsteps. The place where the moss grows thick in the cracks. The corner where the old plum tree leans a little too far, as if itâs listening in.
You remember the sound of your fatherâs sandals there.
âLower, little crane. Bend your knees, not your pride. Feel the weight of things before you move them.â
He always spoke like that. Riddles. Soft warnings. You didnât always understand them. Because he made it sound so simple. But it wasnât.
âYouâll know itâs time⌠because youâll feel it. The pressure. The shift. And when you do⌠you must act. Donât hesitate.â
A breath catches in your chest. You hadnât thought of that lesson in years.
âMy father used to say⌠itâs not just how they fall, but why. Because the body doesnât lie. It reveals⌠everything. Where you carry your pride⌠where you bury your fear.â Your fingers curl slightly in the fabric of your kimono.
âAnd thatâs what makes the technique work best,â you finish quietly. âEspecially on the ones who think they canât be moved.â
Maki grins. âSo it was literally made for Gojo.â
You huffâbarely a laughâand for a moment, neither of you speak.
The lightâs shifted; sinking low across the courtyard, brushing the edges of the stone walk in amber. Cicadas hum in the hedges. A wind chime stirs in the distance. It should be peaceful. But all it does is press the silence in deeper.
Until, a soft vibration cuts through your stillness. You blink, pulling your phone from your pocketâyour thumb automatically unlocking the device.
   | Good evening. Gojo-sama will arrive shortly. You may proceed to the Gojo estate. Please meet him at the northern hall.
One of the Gojo household attendants.
You stare.
No postponement. No apology. No last-minute excuse. Simply⌠confirmation?
The message sits on your screen like a foreign object. You read it again and again, half-expecting it to disappear, to correct itself, to vanish before you can stand. But it doesnât.
Maki eyes you. âWhat?â she mutters. âDid he finally grow a pair and text you himself?â
ââŚno. Not him. But⌠look.â
You angle the device, her eyes skim the text, squinting through the fading lightâand when she looks over at you, the skepticism is soft, but certain.
âSo⌠what?â she pulls back, scoffing. âHeâs actually showing up?â
You stare down at the message again, not answering.
âŚis he?
Youâve learned not to believe it until heâs thereâuntil his voice is in the room, until his shadow hits the floor. Until the very idea of him stops feeling like a goddamn ghost.
With a slow breath, you tuck the phone away and rise. The comb stirs in your hair, catching the last kiss of sunlight like itâs waving goodbye. As your fingers find your sleeves, you smooth them with quiet precision, more out of ritual than need.
âWell⌠I guess I should get going.â
But Maki doesnât stand. Her weight stays sunk into the bench; arms draped across the backrest. Her gaze lingers on youâserious now. Quiet. The teasing edge in her voice gone.
âUm⌠you donât have to, you know,â she says after a moment. âMaybe⌠just⌠let him wait for once.â
Your eyes flick toward the garden path. The same path you used to race down barefoot, kimono hem clutched in one hand, laughter tucked behind your teeth. When things were simpler. When you didnât know how far youâd have to bend to fit inside a name that was never meant for you.
Itâs strange, how familiar it all feelsâand how removed you are from it now.
âNoâŚâ you say at last. âThereâs no avoiding the inevitable.â
But even as you speak it, your feet are heavy. And you are left wondering if youâre walking toward a reunion, or another silence.
ŕźťŕźşę¨ŕźťŕźş
âMother?â you call, slipping off your sandals. âIâm heading off. And Iâll probably be home late.â
No reply.
But⌠you donât really expect one. Ever since the clan welcomed you backâwelcomed her backâitâs been like this. Quiet. Formal. Like someone drew a line through her, and the part that belonged to you got left behind. Youâve barely seen her after the yuino ceremony.
But stillâlike clockworkâyou make her dinner. Pack her a bento. Leave it on the counter without a word. And every morning, itâs gone. No note. No comment. But the box is always empty. And somehow⌠thatâs enough to keep you doing it.
Your feet pad across the tatami as you drift toward the kitchen, the scent of miso hanging in the air. The soupâs been simmering since dawnâseaweed curling at the edges. And clicking off the burner, you pack her meal.
Pickled daikon, tamagoyaki, a few slices of grilled fish. You fold the furoshiki with care, placing it where sheâll find it without a word. But as your gaze falls to the rest of the mealâthe food you prepared for yourself, more out of habit than hungerâyou pause. Because whatever tonight holds⌠it wonât be soft. Will it?
This isnât some⌠romantic dinner.
Youâre not expecting a meal. Or warmth. Or anything, really. Not from a ghost of a man.
So, without thinking, you pack anotherâfor yourself. Rice. A little kinpira gobo. A plum tucked against the edge. Enough to see you through the night. But as you seal the cover, your hand lingers.
âŚ
Would it be strange to bring one for yourself and not⌠him?
You stare at the lacquered lid, fingers hovering like theyâre waiting for permission. Like maybe, if you stall long enough, your better judgment will intervene. Because this is ridiculous. You know better. You shouldnât be thinking about this. Thinking about him.
And yet⌠you reach for the larger box anyway.
With a gentle tug, you tuck both bentos into your bagâyours, and his. Better to keep your hands busy than let your thoughts wander too far. Because itâs nothing. Simply food. A meaningless gesture. But⌠damnit. Your fingers wonât stop shaking.
Why are your hands trembling?
Nothing makes sense anymore. You havenât a clue what the fuck you want. Because heâs made it impossible to understandâshowing up one moment, disappearing the next. Feeding you silence like itâs something youâre supposed to be grateful for.
âŚare you grateful? Is this better?
No. It canât be. Not when the clan has already begun whispering again. Not when your mother has purpose again. Thatâs why you must fulfill yours.
You canât fuck this up.
The door slides shut behind you as you step out into the lazy afternoon, the sun dipping low past the tiled rooftops. Your sandals move soundlessly over the stone pathâthe bento bag hanging at your side. But then, you smell it.
Smoke.
Sharp. Bitter. The kind of smoke that used to slip through the shoji during clan meetings. That curled beneath doors when voices dropped to whispers. That clung to your sleeves long after the men stopped talking.
âSmoke speaks in ways we canât.â
Your mother always reminded you, every time the elders gathered, pipe stems between their fingers like they were carved from bone. And sure enough, as you round the corner, you see him.
Councilman Daigo.
Heâs perched on the edge of the engawa step beneath the old camellia treeâback straight, gaze steady, a kiseru nestled in his grasp as if an extension of his breath. Youâve spent your whole life reading the air between men like him. Because it isnât about whatâs said. It never was.
âAh.â The pipe taps once against its dish. He doesnât look up. âThe daughter returns.â
The daughter.
Never your name. Not even your role. Only the title that binds you to the man they erased. You bow, but it feels mechanical. Your spine bends, but your thoughts do not.
"Good evening, Councilman."
"Off to the northern hall, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
A plume of smoke blooms from his lips as a ghost of a smile pulls at the corners. âThatâs wonderful,â he hums, tapping the kiseru once again. âWe were beginning to wonder when things would move forward.â
You force your shoulders to stay level, your breath even.
Theyâve noticed. Noticed Satoruâs absence. Noticed yours. Youâre the test they never stop administeringâthe girl with the wrong name, the wrong bloodline, the father no one speaks of, and now⌠the groom who doesnât show.
âYes⌠well. I should goââ
Click!
Each tap of his pipe on the dish is a clock ticking towards your unavoidable fall to failure, to shame.
"Of course," he smiles serenely, smoke curling upward in a lazy spiral, spilling out like a second language. "Donât let me delay your duties. Itâs good your bloodline has found some⌠renewed value. Better to be reclaimed than forgotten entirely, wouldnât you say?â
Thereâs no polite answer to that. So you say nothing. Because what heâs really saying is:
Youâre lucky we let you back in.
Youâre lucky we didnât bury your fatherâs name with him.
Donât make us regret it.
Your second chance is still conditional. And youâve yet to move in with Satoru.
He shifts, brushing ash from the rim of the dish with the edge of his pipe.
âI trust youâll handle things with care.â
âOf courseâŚâ you murmur, hand tightening on the bento bag. âI wonât let the clan down.â
âMm. Thatâs what your father said, tooâŚâ he scoffs, almost lazily, drawing in another long breath from the pipe. âThe problem wasnât that we didnât stop him⌠it was that we trusted him in the first place.â
Your breath catches. Your eyes flick to his face.
Becauseâwait. It's the most direct this man has ever been with you. Not cloaked in smoke or couched in implication. Not one of those offhanded remarks meant to sound like nothing and sting like hell three days later.
No. It seems like the nearest youâve ever gotten to the truth. Because all your life, theyâve only ever spoken of your father in fragments. A disappointment. A shadow. A shame.
A scandal⌠but never a story.
And no one ever tells you why.
Not your motherâwho goes quiet every time his name is mentioned, who changes the subject or leaves the room. Not the clanâwho speaks of him like a blemish on a blade, a weapon too flawed to be remade. Only that he betrayed them. And that youâhis daughterâare what remains.
A legacy of shame.
Youâve carried that weight in silenceâwearing it like silk. But a scandal with no name is more dangerous than one with a face. A curse with no shape festers. Expands. You've been living your entire life inside the silhouette of something unspeakable. And nowânowâheâs handed you a thread.
You shouldnât ask. You know better. Butâ
âWhat⌠do you mean? What did he do?â
You donât even realize youâve spoken it until the silence returns. The elderâs pipe stills, and for the first time since this conversation began, he looks at you. Not past you. Not through you.
At you.
And whatever he sees there⌠makes his expression harden.
âYouâve been given a second chance. I suggest you donât waste it on questions with no rightful answers.â
His voice is cold as stone.
That thread?
Gone.
Snapped clean in two.
âYes⌠of course. Apologies Councilman.â
âTch⌠a man like your father⌠what a disgrace. It was only a matter of time before he scorched everything he touched.â He inhales deeply, dragging a large breath from his pipe, eyeing you with contempt. âStrange, how some bridges only burn halfway.â
Half-burnt.
Thatâs what you are, arenât you? All you ever are. A daughter of ash and almosts. Not banished. But not embraced. Not quite reclaimed. But useful enough to keep.
For your clan⌠and for Satoru.
âBut⌠alas,â he sighs, tapping the pipe against the rim of the dish, âwe all owe our gratitude to Gojo-sama, donât we? Which is why you shouldnât leave him waiting. Yes?â
The smile he gives you is thin. Practiced. Meaningless. But the message beneath the smoke lands heavy as stone:
Youâre not here because you belong.
ŕźťŕźşę¨ŕźťŕźş
You were still a young girl when your father left, but not so young that you donât remember the way he laughed. The way he held your hand when you walked to the shrine together. The way he said your name.
You remember the man. But⌠everyone else remembers the mistake.
Itâs strange, right? How memories soften at the edges. How warmth fades faster than truth. Because near the end, something in him changed. His voice, his gaze, his touchâresembling someone else entirely.
Like⌠a stranger had taken his place.
And you wishâgod, you wishâyou could ask him. Could look him in the eye and demand to know if any of it had ever been real. If the love you thought he gave you was yours to begin with. Or only a trick of the smoke. Because despite what your mind insists, your heart remembers differently.
âŚlike it does with Satoru.
âSmoke speaks in ways we canât.â
The words rise once again; your motherâs voice echoing where it doesnât belong. And as your sandals crunch down the gravel pathâyou stop before you realize what youâre doing, what youâre standing in front of.
Your fatherâs shrine.
âŚwhat are you doing here?
Thereâs no avoiding the inevitableâyou said so yourself. But⌠you veered right off the main trail, past the crooked pines, the leaning stone lanterns. Not toward the Gojo estate. Not toward Satoru. No. The opposite direction you should be going.
And here it is. Hidden, almostâtucked deep in the wooded edge of your estate, because he preferred it that way. Removed from ceremony. Removed from⌠your mother.
Your eyes drag across the structure, and the air changes, your heart aching. Because itâs not frozen in time like your clanâs gardenâin fact, the roof sags more than you rememberâwith wooden beams, weather-beaten and tiredâivy climbing along the edges like itâs trying to pull the whole thing back into the earth.
Your father tended to this place as though it mattered. And now, itâs just⌠abandoned. Not looked after like beforeânot without him here to sweep the steps every morning, pruning the ivy. Igniting the incenseâŚ
âSmoke speaks in ways we canât.â
IncenseâŚ
âDo you know why we light three sticks, little crane?â
You shook your head, crouched beside this very altar, your small hand pressed into his palm.
âThe past teaches. The present asks. The future⌠listens. Thatâs why we light all three. So that nothing goes unheard.â
Your father always talked about the core of time, and how in Buddhism, time wasnât a straight line, but a circle. He insisted that prayer didnât only go outwardâit entered something timeless. A loop. A thread that wound through all things.
âWe light incense to find our place in itâŚâ he murmured; gaze fixed on the curling wisps above the altar. âAnd sometimes⌠it says what weâre too afraid to.â
âŚit says what weâre too afraid to?
The wooden floorboards creak beneath your weight, your kimono whispering with each gentle step. A matchbox sits at the altarâdust clinging to the lacquered tray where an incense box rests. The bento bag slides off your shoulder with a quiet thud.
Right. Perhaps this will give you the clarity youâre searching for.
If smoke speaks in ways we canât⌠perhaps itâll finally say something worth hearing. Something that will straighten the knot in your chest. Something that will tell you what to do with all of thisâthis ache, this silence, this fucking confusion that no one else seems to see.
But as you wipe the box clean with your thumb, setting three sticks into the grooves with practiced hands, you wonder what the hell youâre even asking for.
Still, you light the initial match, holding it steadily to the stick.
Past.
The smoke curls up like a memory, drifting up, shapeless. And you let yourself follow its path, head tilted slightly, watching it disappear into the stillness above.
âŚ
Nothing.
No answer. No clarity.
Fine. It's possible that the past isnât where your answer lives.
Present.
This one doesnât take immediately. You have to breathe on it onceâsoft, coaxingâand when it flares, the scent rises sharper. The smoke curls into the space between the otherâtwisting, twinningâbefore drifting up, up, out of reach.
âŚ
Nothing.
No meaning. Simply a ritual. The same emptiness dressed up in ceremony.
And god, you hate it.
Hate that you keep doing thisâlooking at objects like theyâre going to give you something Satoru wonât. That your clan wonât. Your father wonât. Like the smoke will spell it out. Like the ring will hum some truth into your bones. Like the fucking comb in your hair will whisper: he cares, he just doesnât know how to say it.
And more so, you hate that youâre here again, in this shrine, searching for meaning in a pile of ash and tradition. Hate that part of you still waits for something. Still wants something. From him.
What the fuck do you even want?
An apologyâŚ? Possibly. A reason? Sure. For him to sit beside you and ask if youâre okay? Like it would matter? Like he would mean it?
No. That canât be right. Thatâs not it, either.
Then what?
What do you want?
Your breath catches. You donât want to answer that. You were hoping the smoke would do it for you. Hoping it would grant you permission to feel something before you had to name it yourself.
Your hand reaches for the last match, trembling, and with a shaky inhale, you steady it towards the box.
The future.
But⌠as you strikeâ
Snap!
The head breaks clean off, dropping to the floor. And you blinkâonce, twiceâstaring at the now-useless sliver of wood in your fingers. At the now empty matchbox below you. And of course. Of fucking course. At the unlit stick of incense. Because the future just sits there. Mockingly. Refusing to catch.
With a hissed breath, you toss the spent match at your feetâeyes cutting toward the storage tucked behind the altar, where forgotten things gather dust. And like that, youâre already rising. Because there has to be another match. Has to be an answer. Anything to ease the knot in your chest.
The hollow floorboards creak as you approach, and the shelf greets you in its usual state of quiet disarrayâdried herbs wrapped in string, a collapsed lantern, a splintered tray. You nudge things aside, shuffling through its contents.
âCome onâŚâ you mutter, âI know theyâre hereâŚâ and dust clouds the air, untilâtucked near the back, you spot a glimpse of cardboard.
A matchbox.
Breath catching, you stretch up, up, upâup on your tippy toes. But as your fingertips brush the edge, just shy, just barely out of grasp, you feel your eyes begin to water. Because⌠why? Why is everything like this? Always half a step out of reach. Slipping through your fingersâthe answers you seek, your father, your place in all this. Satoru.
âPleaseâŚâ you whisper, voice cracking. âSimply this⌠grant me thisâŚâ
And like Buddha himself heard your desperate plea, your fingertips close around it. Your heart flutters as you slide it open, finding one match. One. Sitting at the bottom. Like fate.
Finally. An answer.
But as you spin on your heelâ
Crash!
âWhoa thereâŚâ
You gasp, stumbling as firm hands catch you. One steadies your elbow, the other presses gently to your waist.
âEasy now⌠that was a close one.â
The voice rumbles near your shoulder, and with a blink, your gaze settles on the blue kimono before you, silk gentle and delicate, woven with coiling designs of green and gold.
A man.
You collided into⌠a man?
âI-I..â
Your words tangle in your mouth as your eyes climbs higher. Heâs tall. Broad in the shoulders, but⌠elegant. Not the stiff, lacquered kind of elegance your clan parades around in. Noâhis is effortless. Worn loose. Soft. Even the gauges in his ears make it seem heâs only half playing the part.
His violet eyes are studying you, and his raven hair is tied back in a half-knotâmost of it falling past his shoulders, loose and untamed, with a few strands slipping free to frame a face you swear youâve never seen before. And yet⌠something about it feels familiar.
âOhâthank you,â you manage, stepping back. His hold lingers, then drops. âSorry. I didnât realize someone else was here, I was justââ
But as you lift your hand, the words die on your lips. Because your matchâitâs snapped clean in half, broken right down the middle.
Again.
âI⌠I was justâŚâ You try again. âJustâumâŚâ you sniffle. âI-I wasâŚâ
But the sentence unravels before itâs ever whole, and suddenly your throat is tight, your eyes sting, andâgod. Itâs happening.
Stupidlyâinevitablyâthe tears come.
Too fast. Too late to stop.
âOhâshit. Shit.â His brows draw together, words tumbling like instinct, hands lifting cautiously. âHey. I didnât mean to scare you. That oneâs on me.â
Great.
Thatâs great.
Youâre crying. In front of a total stranger. In your fatherâs half-forgotten shrine.
Get it together.
âNo, Iâmâgod, Iâm fineâŚâ you mumble, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. âSorry,â you add, breath catching on an awkward laugh. âI donât usually⌠Iâm not usually like this.â
âYeah, well⌠griefâs a bitch. Doesnât exactly RSVP.â
You let out a shaky laughâcaught somewhere between breath and break. It startles you, the way it slips out so easily. Thatâs the sort of comment your father would have said; wry, dry, but not unkind.
âTell me about itâŚâ you murmur, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. âGrief and I are on a first-name basis at this point.â
âMmm,â his lips twitch into a faint grin. âMineâs been living rent-free in my head for years. Real moody, never shuts up. Terrible roommate.â
This time, your laugh comes softer. Thinner. The kind that escapes when youâve been holding everything in for too long. It lingers, even as silence reclaims the space between you.
Heâs⌠easy to talk to.Â
And familiar? No. Perhaps itâs just since he reminds you of your father.
Your eyes drop, fingers curling tighter around the broken match in your palm. Something twists low in your chest. Because here you are, left bearing a future without closureâagain.Â
So much for your answers.
âSo, uh. Bad day?â
You blink, glancing up. Oh, shit. Heâs watching you. And not in the way youâre used toânot the distant, speculative glance of someone weighing your worth. No. Heâs just⌠looking. Present.
ââŚkinda?â you manage. âI mean⌠it wasnât awful or anything. Iâve had worse. Way worse. ButâŚâ Your grip tightens around the match again, and gazing down, it mocks you.
How can something so small feel so heavy?
âI guessâŚâ you exhale. âSorry. Itâs stupid. But I just needed one thing to go right today.â
âAh.â His eyes flick to your grasp. âThat was your last one?â
âYeahâŚâ
His gaze shifts to the altar, where two sticks still burnâsmoke curling slowly toward the eaves. It clicks into placeâa long breath escaping his nose.
âThe futureâs always stubbornâŚâ he mutters, hand slipping into the inner fold of his robe. When it reappears, it carries something smallâsleek, worn around the edges like itâs been thumbed too many times.
A lighter.
âHere. Need a light?â
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Your stranger had a gentle, mysterious ease to his presence.Â
The kind of stillness that doesnât press silence onto you, but shares it. With him, silence was allowed. You were allowed. You watched as a small flame flickered to life in his hand, catching the final stick of incense with quiet grace. Smoke curled upward in slow, lazy ribbons, joining the other two as he settled beside you.
And now, the two of you wait. For what, you werenât sure. A sign? A memory? A whisper of something lost in the smoke?
But still⌠nothing came. No weight lifted. No truth revealed. Only the same dull ache where clarity was supposed to be. Only the sting in your eyes you could no longer blame on the smoke. And the more you sit with it, the more certain you become that, perhaps itâs not the ritual thatâs broken.Â
Perhaps⌠itâs you.
Youâre the one thatâs broken. Too far gone to hear whatever wisdom the smoke is supposed to carry. And you hate it.
Glancing down, your fingers curl around the broken matchstick still caught in your palm that you hadnât realized you were still holding.
âI keep lighting these sticks like theyâll tell me somethingâŚâ you admit. âBring clarity. Or peace. Or⌠I donât know.â You exhale, eyes tracking the lazy swirls. âAll I ever see is just smoke.â
He hums, not unkind. âMaybe thatâs the point,â he says, following your gaze. âClarity isnât always something you see. Sometimes itâs whatâs left behind when the smoke clears.â
âIt never clears,â you scoff, lips pursing. âOr maybe it doesâand Iâve just forgotten how to see without the blur. Because even when it fades, I canât tell whatâs clarity and whatâs just the same old haze, coming back to haunt me.â
He tilts his head, considering you. âDid you know incense wasnât always about peace?â he murmurs. âIt was meant to ward off spirits. Smoke as a barrier. A warning.â
ââŚreally?â
Your eyes meet his, and you sit with that.
Ghosts.
How ironic. Youâve spent so long trying to reach them. To make them speak. Your father, Satoruâboth of them swallowed by silence. And youâve been taught to return itâswallowing your questions like ash.
âI thinkâŚâ your voice trails before catching again. âIâm tired of chasing ghosts.â He hums in agreement. âFunny thing about ghosts is they only linger if we let them.â And you exhale slowly.
âIf I let them go⌠I think Iâd be more alone than I already am.â
As the words tumble out, you blinkâstartled by your own honesty. The ache behind your eyes sharpens, and you rub your temple, groaning softly.
âOh my god... I swear Iâm not usually this depressing.â
He chuckles as he rises, dusting off his kimono with easy grace. âTrust me,â he grins. âIâve heard worse confessions in places holier than this.â And glancing up, your lips twitch into a smile.
Well⌠thatâs intriguing. What kind of confessions has he heard? You donât ask. But somehow, the thought makes you feel a little less pathetic.
You shift, easing the bento bag into your lap.
âI canât believe I just trauma-dumped on a total stranger,â you murmur with a soft laugh, your voice rounding into something warmer, looser.
But your gaze lingers on himâlonger this time. Because thereâs something in the way he moves, the quiet strength, the deliberate grace, the way the moonlight threads through his dark hair like it belongs there.Â
FamiliarâŚ
âOr⌠maybe not,â you add, slower now. âI havenât seen you around the clan before, but⌠do I know you?â
The moment the words leave your mouth, you wish you could take them back. Because suddenly, itâs like a door closed within him. Like the temperature dropped a single, imperceptible degree.
His violet eyes harden, gaze shifting toward the far corner of the room, like youâre invisible. Passing over your fatherâs altar, the stone, the shelves left empty all these years. Like⌠he expected something to be there.
Exhaling, he looks back to youâand a shiver runs up your spine.
âMaybe Iâm just another ghost,â he says, smiling serenely. âRest assured⌠you donât know me. Iâm just passing through.â
Your stomach tightens, and suddenly, you feel small beneath himâin that haunting way that happens when you realize: youâve missed something. Because his smile comes slow. And soft. But something inside it is⌠off.
ââŚright,â you murmur, unsure. âSorry, I didnât mean toâum⌠I just thoughtâwell. You just seemed familiar, thatâs all.â
With a faint hum, he slides one hand into the fold of his kimono, drawing out his phoneâthumb brushing the screen.
âWell,â he says, slipping it back. âI should be off.â His gaze flicks toward the door. âPromised my girls crepes in the city. Canât be lateâtheyâve got a sixth sense for strawberry syrup.â
The sentence hangs there, soft and strange and jarring in its normalcy.
Girls?
âOh,â you manage. âThatâs⌠sweet. I hope they enjoy it.â
âThey always do,â that same smile pulls at his lips. âAnyways⌠take care. And good luck with your ghosts.âÂ
He tosses you a wave, and the moment heâs gone, youâre left sitting thereâstill a little thrownâwatching the doorway he passed through like it might offer you a clue.
Stranger. Ghost. Something in between.
You donât know what he was, only that something shifted when he left. Like the silence he carried took a piece of yours with it. Because as you glance towards the altar, where the incense is fizzling out, for once, it no longer feels like a question youâre desperate to hear the answer to.
HuhâŚ
What was your answer then?
Youâre not even sure, but perhaps⌠being heard was enough.
Bzzt!
Your phone buzzes against your thigh.
â| Gojo-sama is waiting. Will you be arriving shortly?
Shit.
You scramble upright, hoisting the bento bag across your shoulder, rushing down the path. Your sandals tap quickly against the stone, the scent of incense clinging to your sleevesâand just as the world begins to blur around you, the smoke behind you finally begins to clear.
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By the time youâd reached the estate, an attendant greeted you just past the gatesâyoung, wide-eyed, bowing quickly with a clipboard tucked beneath her arm.
âGojo-samaâs getting cleaned up,â she advised politely. âSaid he got tired of waiting. But heâll be out shortlyâyou can meet him in the north room. Down the hall, second left.â
The halls are quieter than you remembered. Weeks ago, they pulsed with ceremonyâelders drifting past in brocade, councilmen murmuring in corners, incense clouding the air. Now, itâs just you. Just the hush of your own footsteps across the tatami.
The edge of the corridor comes into view, and your eyes land on a familiar openingâthe dojo. Itâs just as beautiful as you remember, with shoji panels pushed ajar, the evening air slipping through, rustling the bamboo just outside the courtyard. Your gaze lifts, peaking inside, and thatâs when you see it.
âŚa three-pronged staff?
Itâs centered neatly on the wall, ordinary to anyone elseâbut not to you. Because you know that shape, that grain, that worn curve along the middle joint, and your breath catches before you can stop it.
âŚcan it be?
You donât even remember setting the bento bag down; youâre already halfway insideâsearching the grooves with your eyes, trying to memorize it all at once. But as you approach, disappointment immediately floods you.
âŚno.
It isnât your fatherâs weapon. Not the one you gave away. Not the one you sold. Itâs just a lookalikeâa ghost of itâlike everything else youâve tried to forget.
âWhat are you doing?â
The bite in his voice slices through stillness. You stiffen, turning slowly to face him, and you donât know what you were expectingâbut it wasnât this.
Satoruâs standing in the doorway; barefoot and shirtless, snowy hair damp and disheveled from the shower, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. But itâs those eyes that pin youâtheyâre like fractured ice, cold in a way that burns.
Itâs⌠unsettling.
Despite how the hallway lantern casts a gentle glow, haloing his frame in gold, thereâs nothing angelic in the way heâs looking at you.
ââŚI was heading to the northern hall,â you murmur, taking a hesitant step away from the wall. âI didnât mean to touch anything. I justââ
âRight,â he cuts, low and cold. âLemme guess, just like how you didnât mean to touch him.â
You blink. Once. Twice. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Because it takes a second to even register what he said.
âW-What?â
âDonât fuckinâ play dumb,â he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets. âMy eyes donât lie. I can see it. See his cursed residuals all over you.â
Residuals? Him?
Your brows draw together in confusion as your brain tries to make sense of what heâs saying. All you know is heâs upsetâbecause those eyes are cutting through you like a goddamn curse. The weight of his stare makes you feel pinnedâslicing you with a precision that leaves nowhere to hide.
âŚis he talking about the man at your shrine? But⌠you hadnât even gotten his name, hadnât thought twice about him.
You try to swallow. âSatoruâwait. I went to my fatherâs shrine andââ
âFuckinâ hellâŚâ he mumbles, shifting his weight like heâs already bored of the excuse he thinks youâre about to give. His eyes cut back to you, voice rising. âSeriously? I donât have the patience to hear whatever story youâre about to spin. Donât bullshit me.â
âWhat?â You blink, stunned. âI-Iâm not. Listen, this guy was there andâ"
He huffs a disbelieving laugh, bitter. âAh⌠there it is,â and leaning against the doorway, heâs already decidedâalready branded you guilty. âResiduals cling two ways, sweetheartâdomain exposure⌠or contact.â
The condensation in his voice makes you recoil. His eyes flick to you, surveying you with disregard.
âAnd youâre wearing his residuals like fuckinâ perfume,â his expression hardens. âSo⌠what? What happened to your perfect little act, huh? Did you sit in his lap? Pray there like an offering? That it?â
Your mouth drops, and youâre fucking speechless.
Because what the fuck? Of all peopleâhe has the nerve? The audacity? The sheer fucking audacity? This man, who has given you nothing but silence for weeks?! Who was ready to fuck another woman on your fucking engagement ceremony?? The air goes tight in your lungs.
âI went there to honor my father,â you say, slower now. Firmer. âNot to be accused of⌠this.â
âHonorâŚâ he mutters, rolling his eyes, head tipping back. âSo fuckinâ tired of that word. Donât feed me that word like it absolves you.â
âExcuse me?!â The heat tears out of youâraw, jagged, a sound youâve never let yourself make. But you donât reel it back. âYou have no right! Not after weeks of silence! Not after Iâve given everything I couldâeverything I hadââ your throat tightens, eyes stinging, and for a split second his widen in surprise. But youâre not finished.
âDo you have any idea what Iâve had to give up? Iâve bent myself into knots trying to be whatâs expected, whatâs demandedâsmile when Iâm told, bow when Iâm told, hold my tongue when I want to scream. Iâve tried to do everything rightâall my life. And still, still I see you in that bathroom withâ!â
The rest sears your tongue. Your lips snap shut, your eyes fall closed, cutting it off before it can spill out and scorch the space between you.
Because you canât. You wonât.
You wonât hand him that memory. Wonât let him know how many nights itâs replayed in your headâthe way he touched you, the way you let him, the way it left you hollow and restless after.
No.
To say it now would make it sound like proof of something youâre not ready to name. And this man does not love you, does not want you.
âIf the roles were flipped, he wouldnât think twice about disrespecting you. You know that, right?â
Your breath stutters, your ribs aching as you try to resetâtry to count the way your lungs expand. God, what are you doing? This is not how you were raised to be. Pretend youâre fine, even if youâre not. This man holds your future, your fate. Come on now⌠you never expected warmth tonight, so get it together and face him.
But⌠despite not expecting warmth, youâre not ready. Youâre certain that cruelty is carved into his eyesâa seething anger, a blame you donât even understand. The words still burn on your tongue, too jagged to swallow back, and you donât know how to mend them. How do you patch something that was never meant to tear? Youâve never let the sharp edge of your temper slip before, and those eyes will surely slice through you like glass.
Your lashes flutter open, and the sight of him cleaves through the breath youâve been trying to hold steady. Heâs still there, blue eyes watching you, chest heaving like heâs holding something back. And⌠no.
Nonono.
Oh god. Not this again. Itâs that look. That same look that tied your stomach in knots then, and still does now. Like he sees you in a way you donât want to be seen, in a way you canât even stand under. Like he knows every thought youâre trying to choke down before you can even form it.
And it hurts.
Because anger, you can fight. Hatred you can meet head-on. But this? This silent recognition that says everything and nothing at onceâitâs all youâve ever known, and itâs crawling up your ribs, crowding your throat until you swear itâs going to split you open, raw.
âIâm not doing thisâŚâ you whisper.
He doesnât move as you turn across the tatami, reaching for the bento bag that remains where you dropped it. The strap digs into your palm when you lift it, and as your fingers rummage through its contents, Satoru observes your movementsâgaze landing on the comb nestled in your hair, the gems shimmering underneath the lantern glow.
The air shifts; something tightening low in his chest that he cannot name. Though all he says isâ
âWhere are you goingâŚ?â
âHome.â You answer, setting his meal on the low table. âI brought dinner. Iâll leave it here. Eat it⌠or donât.â
The silence stretches. You sense him moving before you hear himâsteps slow but certain as he crosses the threshold into the dojo.
ââŚrunning away already?â
ââŚIâm not running,â you murmur, smoothing the strap of your bag, hoisting it on your shoulder. âJust going home. Iâm tired. Have your attendants call for me another day.â
He huffs. âYouâre tired? TchâŚwhat the hell do you think I am?â
You purse your lips together, biting your tongue.
ââŚthen I suppose you should rest as well. Goodnight, Gojo-sama.â
With that, you turnâintent on slipping past himâbut his hand shoots out, closing firmly around your wrist. And your body doesnât think; it remembers.
Rather than pulling away, you pivot, folding into his momentum. His arm becomes the lever, your shoulder the hinge, and as your knees sink, his strength only feeds the fall. Before he can register it, the tatami is shuddering beneath his back, and youâre left kneeling beside himâbreath sharp, his wrist still caught in your hand.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You blink, stunnedâtaking in how heâs sprawled on the floor, white hair mussed against the mat, blue eyes wide, blinking like he canât believe you dropped him.
And that realization hits you. Hard. Youâflipping Gojo Satoru.
You can already hear the verdict in your motherâs voice, in your clansâ whispers.
Reckless. Shameful. Disgraceful.
âIâIâŚâ your lips part, the beginnings of an apology fumbling out. âIâm⌠oh god⌠I didnât mean toâ"
But heâs gripping you before the words can form. You yelp, tumbling down against his chest one moment, twisting against his body the next as he pins you beneath his weight. His hands are on both sides of your face, his knee pressed to the floor between yours, and his breathing is loud in the space between your lips.
ââŚwho taught you aiki otoshi?â
Youâre lost in the blue of his eyes, because his face is so close it blursâmouth hovering just a breath away, snowy hair spilling forward, brushing your temple.
âMy fatherâŚâ you whisper, swallowing. âI-It was just instinct. I didnât mean toâŚâ
His tongue clicks mockingly gentle. âBad girlâŚâ he mutters, eyes landing on your lips. âYou shouldnât have done that.â
And then heâs kissing you.
Lashes flutter, and your breath stutters as your fingers bury between damp hair. Heâs not tender. Heâs desperateâand shit, itâs addicting, the way his breath spills between broken kisses, panting, groaningâevery exhale trembling against your mouth before he swallows it.
âSatoruâŚâ you mumble, but he cuts you off, rasping, âEnoughâŚâ and his mouth crashes back onto yours before you can form another wordâdevouring, drowning.
The kiss consumes you, his hands trembling, unable to keep still. One drags down your throat, pressing against the hollow, and you whimper, pulse fluttering. The other grips your waist, tugging your kimono, sliding lower as he hauls your hips against him.
âO-ohâfuckâŚâ The thick heat of his cock presses through his sweats, slotting perfectly between your thighs, and you gasp.
âHaaa⌠thatâs itâŚâ he groans, head dipping to your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as his hips rut hard, shameless, chasing friction like a man starved. ââŚmnhâfuck,â he pants, grinding again, harder this time, hot breath fanning your throat.
And god help you, your body arches up to meet him.
The nerve of this man! But worseâthe betrayal of your own body. Heatâs curling low, your hips are tilting into his, and you hate itâhate that you want this. Because you shouldnât. Not after weeks of silence, not after the bathroom, not after everything heâs put you through.
His thrust drags another moan from you. âAssholeââ you gasp, hands shoving at his shoulders. But a groan pulls from his chest when your nails bite into his skin, making you scowl.
âYou donât get to act like this, not afterâmnh!â
Your words break into a whine as teeth catch your lips in another bruising kiss. Heâs consumed, rolling his length harder, ruthless. Fabric rustles, him fumbling with your sash with trembling fingersâtugging the knot like itâs personally offended him.
When the cool air grazes your skin, his breath stutters in anticipation, mouth breaking from yours with another groan.
âGodâŚâ his lips trail fire down your jaw, your throat, your breasts. âShitâŚâ he mutters, tonguing at your nipple, sucking, groping greedy handfuls. âSo fuckinâ perfect⌠canât believe I wasted weeksâ"
Weeks?
The word burns, because whose fault is that?! But his hand distracts you before you can question itâsliding down your stomach with possessive intent. Dropping lower, he cups your heat, and you shudder, biting your lip as he holds your cunt.
ââfuck yes⌠canât believe I kept myself from this⌠my slutty little wife.â
The title drips from his lips like filth, and you canât help the laugh bubbling out of youâbreathless, brittle, trying to scorn.
The fucking audacity of this man.
âYou donât get to call me that!â you snap, heat flaring beneath your skin. âNot after you disappear for weeks, leave me with nothing but silence, nothing butâahn!â
Damn him. Your defiance cracks. His fingers are already dragging through your soaked panties, pussy dripping from the mess between your legs.
âOh?â he taunts, smirking, pushing the wet fabric against your slit. âThen whatâs this, hm? Say what you want, sweetheart. Your sweet little cuntâs already begginâ for me.â
You hate that heâs right. Hate the way your hips twitch into his hand. The tatami rustles beneath his shifting weight as he settles between your legs, fingers curling at the waistband of your panties.
âGonna strip these offâŚâ his breath fans your cunt. âFuckinâ make you mine all over the tatami andââ
âNo.â
Before you can think, your hand flies up, pressing hard against his forehead. The sudden stop jolts him. Damp strands of hair spill into your palm, soft against your trembling fingers, and his blue eyes flash wide, startled.
For a beat, neither of you move. Your breath is shaky, ragged, while heâs laying against the tatami, face between your legs, shocked. Tears are threatening to spill over, your eyes burning, because now youâre even more confused. Itâs not fair. Heâs not fair.
âYou donât get to use meâŚâ
The whisper scrapes out of you raw, cracked at the edges, and heâs looking at you like the very thought of you denying him doesnât compute. Guilt, hurt, something elseâall flashing quick across his face, dimming the usual gleam in his eyes. His brows pull tight, and the look on him is almost lost.
âWhat ifâŚâ his throat bobs with a swallow, blue eyes searching yours. ââŚyou donât have to touch me.â
You blink, looking down at this man, dazed, your fingers still tangled in snowy hair. His voice is hoarse, pleading in a way that doesnât sound like him, and his forehead presses harder into your hand, as if leaning into your rejection, desperate to stay connected to you.
ââŚwhat?â you whisper, head shaking in disbelief. âYouâre not making senseââ
âI know,â he cuts in, lips parting on a shuddering breath. His chest rises and falls against the tatami, fast and uneven. âJust⌠let me taste you. You donât need to touch me. I donât need anything else. I just⌠need you on my tongue. Please.â
Please.
That word doesnât sound real, doesnât belong on his mouth. Gojo Satoru doesnât askâhe owns, he takes. Yet here he is, head bowed between your thighs, looking up at you like heâd starve if you told him no.
This man keeps confusing the hell out of you.
Heâs supposed to be cruel, indifferent, cold. And yet⌠right now he feels terrifyingly close.
What if letting him do this means youâre handing him power youâll never get back? The thought terrifies you. Because you donât know what this meansâdonât know if this is desperation or devotion or just another game. And you canât risk being wrong. Canât risk being ruined.
So⌠maybe you close the door? Giveâwhatever this isâa label that protects your fragile heart. But⌠can you really draw that line when your thighs are already trembling open for him?
ââŚall right,â you murmur finally, and his eyes brighten immediately, unbearably blue. âButâŚâ your eyes narrow, lips pursing. âIâm only doing this because⌠itâs expected of me. My duty. Iâm not touching you, and Iâm not giving you the rest. Not until the wedding. Understood?â
He smirks, gaze dropping to your cunt. âYeah⌠sure. But once my tongue is buried inside that little pussy, doubt youâll be thinkinâ about duty, babe.â
Heat crawls up your neck from his sheer filth. âGodâhow can you justâsay shit like thaâah!â but the protest rips into a gasp as cool air hits your skinâSatoru tugging your panties down in shameless urgency.
âFinallyâŚâ his cock jerks up, twitching from the sight of your tiny hole. âLook at you⌠fuckinâ perfect. Prettiest cunt Iâve ever seen.â
Godâyour face is molten. Snowy hair is tickling your thighs, his breath warms your slick, and you feel flayed openâexposed in ways you never imagined. Like he can see every piece of you, every thought youâre trying not to have.
Maybe this isnât a good ideaâŚ
Tremors wrack your body as nerves take over. He notices, eyes lifting, and heâs instantly cooing. âShhâŚâ Thumbs stroke lazy circles into your trembling thighs. âSâokay baby⌠gonna make you feel so fuckinâ good, angel.â
That sweetnessâsoftness laced with filthâit confuses you way more than his cruelty ever did. Why does it hurt worse when heâs gentle? Why does it threaten the one wall you swore youâd keep up?
Duty, you remind yourself. Just duty.
Your lashes lower. âO-OkayâŚâ His grin spreads up, unholy. âThatâs it, babyâŚâ Strong hands push your legs apart, cunt glistening for him. âNow⌠be a good girl yeah? Open up for me. Wanna enjoy my meal.â
This wasnât your idea of a romantic dinner.
Satoruâs tongue hits you, dragging from your soaked little hole to your sensitive clit, and you gasp. âOhmygodââ Itâs wetter than you expected. Sloppier. âS-Satoruââ youâre squirming, trembling beneath him, unsure if you want to run or pull him deeper.
He decides for you, hands yanking your ass, burying himself into your cunt, and you moan.
âFfffuckâŚâ he slurs, sliding through your folds, groaning through the mess. âBetter than I fuckinâ dreamed⌠you taste so sweet⌠mnhâŚâ
Each swipe of his tongue leaves you raw, overstimulatedâmaking you whimper as his mouth works through your folds with ruthless devotion, like heâs trying to memorize the shape of you.
But⌠this is just duty.
The thought wavers when his nose nudges your slick and he licks a messy stripe through you, sloppy and relentless.
âSo fuckinâ pretty like this, babyâŚâ He pulls back just far enough to press his thumb into your clit, lazy circles that snap your back into an arch. Those vivid blue eyes flick up, watching you, and he rasps. âMmm⌠soaked for me already. Gonna fuckinâ cum on my face, huh sweetheart?â
Heat sears your neck. âSatoru, Iââ But he shifts, sliding one hand under your thigh, tilting your hips higher. The other pins your belly, holding you open while his tongue plunges back into your cunt. âO-oh⌠fuckââ Your cry pitches high.
âWanna eat you every nightâŚâ he pants, rutting against the floor, cock oozing at the tip. âMnh⌠fuck you full every morning⌠keep this tiny pussy stuffed till youâre too dumb to walkâŚâ
Duty. Duty. Duty.
You chant it like a prayer while your hips buck, chasing every flick of his tongue. Too goodâgod, too good. Heâs gorgeous like this, ruined between your thighs, and it would be so easyâtoo easyâto just let go, give inâcum all over his perfect face. Drench him in you.
âDoinâ so good fâme, babyâŚâ His voice vibrates against your clit, tongue circling before grazing you with his teeth. The ring on your finger shimmers as your hands fist in his hair, tugging, making him groan âFuck⌠thatâs itâŚâ he mumbles into your cunt, devouring again. âSuch a good girl. Such a needy girl, arenât you?â
âIââ
I want you.
A tremor rolls through, your throat tightening with the threat of tears. Fuck. Youâre losing your resolve.
Get it together.
âI canât⌠I canât think when you talk like thatââ you shudder, thighs trembling. ââcanât think when you look at me like thatâŚâ
Low laughter rumbles against your skin, his warm breath fanning you. âYeah?â he hums, tongue flicking your clit, slow and deliberate, before circling again in a wet brand of torture. âThen stop thinkinââŚâ
A long finger slips inside, and the sound you make is half-gasp, half-cry.
âMmm⌠tight little thing,â he groans, pumping slow and deep. âSlutty little pussy misses me already. Fuck⌠so fuckinâ wet, so fuckinâ sweet. Sheâs mine. Knows who she belongs to.â
His�
Blue eyes cut up to youâimpossibly dark, half-lidded, utterly gone. The look of him hits harder than his words, and your heart jerks painfully. You want itâwant it too muchâand thatâs exactly why it burns. He doesnât want you. He only wants this.
Tears bead at your lashes before you even realize theyâre there, cooling as they slide back toward your temples. And thatâs when it crashes in.
This was a mistake.
Youâd told yourself you could split your body from your heart and stay whole. That you could call it duty and survive it. That you could handle giving him this part of you if he didnât reach for more. But here you are, shaking under his mouth, coming apart anyway. And⌠heâs not even fucking you yet.
What happens when he does? What pieces of yourself will be left then?
How are you supposed to navigate this arrangement? How the hell did your mother do it for so many years? How did she learn to shut out the part of herself that still longed for softness, for gentleness?
âŚis that what strength looks like? A slow suffocation? A steady starvation?
And if thatâs the cost, are you willing to pay it?
The thought lodges sharp in your chest, bitter, because you already know the answer. You must. Youâve been paying it all your life.
And your hands are already moving, pressing at his forehead. âSatoruâstop,â you tremble, pushing him off, scrambling for your robes. âI⌠Iâm sorry. I canât.â
He jerks up at once, watching you fumble with the fabric, confusion sliding in with panic. âWaitâwhat?â he breathes, ragged, eyes searching you. âWhat is it? Whatâs goinâ on?â
But youâre already rising, reaching for the bento bag like itâs the only thing tethering you. âI justâŚâ with a shuddering breath, your head shakes, lashes wet. âSorry. I need to leave.â
âLeave?â
The word feels foreign on his tongue. He sinks back on his knees, unable to make sense of it, while youâre fumbling with your kimono, putting yourself back together before he can see how undone you really are.
As you turn, the comb he gave you slips loose in your hair, the jewels catching faint light before settling crooked. His gaze snags on it, and
DamnitâŚ
Thereâs that ache blooming low in his chest againâan ache he doesnât understand.
âBabe, justââ his lips press together, a frustrated breath pushing through his nose as he stands. âFuckinâ⌠wait,â his hand grabs your wrist. âSlow down and tell me whatââ
âLet go,â you say, sliding the strap over your shoulder, your voice too small to hide the crack in it. You donât pull away, but you donât look at him. âIâm going home,â you whisper, breath hitching. âI just⌠canât do this right now, Satoru. Please⌠just let me go.â
And with that, his mouth shuts. He lingers too long, fingers still circling your wrist, his gaze catching on the ring that glints faintly against your delicate handâhis gift, his burden, the tether neither of you asked for. Whatever protest was forming dies in his throat, swallowed by the silence stretching between you. At last, his grip falls away, leaving the air thrumming, swollen with everything unsaid.
You donât look back. You canât. If you do, youâll shatter completely.
ŕźťŕźşę¨ŕźťŕźş
For Satoru, sex was supposed to make him feel better. So why does he feel like shit?
It had never failed before; a warm body, a quick fuck, that sweet, fleeting rush that burned everything else quiet. Because Satoru Gojo hates noiseâalways has. And sex is his reset button. His switch. Feelings? Theyâre meant to be buried.
But lately⌠itâs like theyâve been burying him.
Youâre gone now, and heâs left standing in the empty dojo with all this shit in his headâthoughts clawing at the inside of his skull, louder than ever. And he has no fucking clue what to do with any of it. No way to drown out this stupid, fucking noise.
Why did you leave? Was it something he said? Too much? Too fast? He tried being gentleâwasnât that what you wanted?
Noise.
Why didnât he stop you? Why does he care? Why the fuck canât he stop seeing your faceâthat night, in the bathroomâshocked, hurt, hollow. Why does it haunt him like this? Why does it piss him off?
Is he angry at you? Or himself?
Noise. Noise. Noise.
What now? What if you donât come back? What if you call it off, tell him this whole thing was a mistake? Is he that easy to walk away from? Does he push everyone away? Is that why Suguruâ
CRASH!
The tension snaps, his arm swinging blindly, knocking a ceramic vase off the low ledge by the wall. It shatters violently on the floor, jagged pieces splintering, water seeping into the tatami as blossoms scatter, bruised and broken.
But the noise of the vase isnât enough to drown out the noise in his headâbecause the crash fades, leaving only silence, and heâs standing there for a moment, staring at the wreckage, chest heaving.
âŚwhat the fuck is wrong with him?
Hands drag through his hair, tugging the roots in frustration until his legs give, slumping against the wall like his bodyâs too heavy to carry. With a shuddering breath, his face buries in his hands and he has no choice but to sit with the noise.
FuckâŚ
He canât even remember the last time he felt this. Doesnât want to. And when his eyes open, blinking through the sting, heâs left staring down at the tent in his sweatsâstill hard, still aching, a dark patch of pre-cum slicking through the fabric.
Pathetic.
Groaning, his head knocks back against the wall with a dull thud. Who the fuck even is he? He literally almost came in his pants, eating you out. Because itâs been weeksâweeksâsince heâs fucked anyone.
And not for lack of trying.
Every time someone offeredâbrushed up against him, pressed a hand to his chest, whispered something filthy in his earâthere you were. That same fucking face flashing through his mind, haunting him.
Sex had always worked for him. So⌠he thoughtâhopedâit might work for you, too. That he could fuck the pain off your expression, wipe it clean with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. Drag you into that quiet, mindless place where nothing hurts.
And for a secondâgod, for a secondâit looked like he had. You were trembling beneath him, gasping, clinging. Falling apart in all the right ways. You looked so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.
Until⌠you didnât. Until that look shifted, and suddenly you were slipping through his fingers again, all water and ache and tears he still doesnât understand, leaving his chest hollow with something he canât fucking name.
He scrubs a hand over his face, harder this time, hoping he can wipe that image of you away.
âŚwhat the hell is he supposed to do with himself if even thisâthe one thing thatâs always workedâdoesnât work anymore?
As the thought ruminates in his head, the shoji slides open.
âI heard a crash.â
The voice is crisp, stern. Satoruâs eyes flick up just long enough to catch sight of Gojo Hajime, standing at the threshold of the dojo, robes pristine, mouth tight.
Great. Just fucking great.
âYeah?â Satoru mutters, eyes rolling back toward the floor. âNo shit.â
Hajime doesnât move. But his eyes narrow as Satoru shifts, glass crunching beneath him, elbows resting to his knees. Water creeps across the tatami in slow, quiet veins, while the vase lies in ruinâjust like everything else.
ââŚwhere is she?â he presses, and Satoruâs head tilts back against the wall with an annoyed huff, staring blankly at the ceiling beams. âHome.â
Home?
That gets the old man to move.
âShe left?â he echoes, voice tightening with disbelief. The tatami creaks under his weight, arms folding into his yukata. âInconceivable. On today of all days?â
âYup.â
Satoru doesnât bother to elaborate. Doesnât even spare the man a glance. If Hajime wants drama, he can dig through the damn broken glass himself for it.
The elderâs eyes scrutinize, stopping a few paces away. âAnd what of duty?â he huffs, voice sharpening, turning brittle, formal. âWhat of ceremony? This marriage is not some dalliance, Gojo-sama. It is the cornerstone of our future. A convergence of bloodlines. Responsibility. Honorââ
Blah, fucking blah.
Satoru exhales through his nose, checking out entirely. More useless noiseâwords heâs heard a thousand times, could recite in his sleep if he cared enough to try. And tonight, of all nights? Heâs even less inclined to play along. Not with the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. Not while heâs sitting in the wreckage of his own silence, surrounded by the shards of everything he never said.
âThis is no small offense,â Hajime intones, rigid with judgment. âYou see now, donât you? That girl was never fit for this role. Your schedules finally coincide after endless delay, and she has the audacity to walk away? How deeply unbecoming. That woman is a disgrace.â
Disgrace?
At that, Satoruâs eyes flick up, brow furrowing.
âŚthe hell did he just say?
And why the fuck does hearing itâhearing him say it about youâmake his fingers twitch?
âIt appears she follows in the footsteps of her father,â Hajime continues. âShameful. Disrespectful of hierarchy, dismissive of ceremony. Itâs bred into her. That woman has no sense of place andâ"
âDonât.â
It leaves his mouth before he even knows what it is, and Hajimeâs gaze shifts back to himâback to Satoru, whoâs no longer slouched or half-listening. The glow of his Six Eyes is sharp now, cutting, lit with a quiet simmer that borders on dangerous.
He doesnât know what line just got crossedâonly that it did.
âSay another word about her,â he warns, the edge of his voice honed to steel, âor about her father, and weâll have a different kind of problem.â
For a moment, the room is silentâeerily so. Not even the wind breathes. Just that tight, taut stillness that always comes before something breaks. Hajimeâs lips seal, jaw ticking beneath the skin. Because no matter how old, how honored, how steeped in hierarchy he may be⌠even he knows the difference between authority and power.
Hajime wears the robes of authority.
But⌠Gojo Satoru wears power.
Still, he presses carefully. âWith respect⌠Gojo-sama. The council will not look kindly on a bride who walks away before the rites are even complete. It is not her place to decide whenâ"
âI sent her home.â The lie leaves his mouth easily. âShe didnât walk out. I saw she was tired and told her to leave. End of story.â
He doesnât know why he says itâonly that it lands before he has time to second-guess it.
Maybe itâs the fact that Hajime kept using words like disgrace and shame, as if you havenât spent your whole life trying to survive their expectations. Maybe heâs tired of watching people walk into fire for tradition while the old men stay seated.
Or maybe⌠itâs the look on your face when you turned away from him.
Either way, the lie sticks.
Hajimeâs mouth tightens further. âYouâd best be ready to explain yourself at the next council gathering.â But Satoru doesnât even blink.
âYeah, Iâm not explaining shit,â he says, flicking his hand like the conversationâs already beneath him. âAnd Iâm done for tonight. So⌠uh. Do me a favor, Hajime?â
A flicker of cursed energy coils beneath the surface, and that stareâcold, crystallineâlocks in, like lightning waiting for a reason.
âGet the fuck out of my estate.â
ŕźťŕźşę¨ŕźťŕźş
âAre you the strongest because youâre Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because youâre the strongest?â
Satoru still doesnât know how to answer that question. Maybe he doesnât want to. Because the older he gets, the more that voiceâSuguruâs voiceâsounds less like philosophy and more like a trap; a snare meant to make him pauseâstop and think. Look inward in a way heâs spent years avoiding, because nothing worthwhile ever came from staring into that pit.
Itâs easier to be the strongest. Easier to be a weapon, a title, a consequence. Something for the world to worship or hate or fear. People expect less that way. Thereâs no room for tenderness or doubt.
No room for just⌠him.
With a frustrated exhale, Satoru kneels in the dim light of the dojo, limbs heavy as he sweeps the broken pieces of the vase into his palm, one by oneâthe tatami creaking under his knees. They clink together hollowly as he drops them onto the low table, and his gaze driftsâlanding inevitably, to the bento box you left behind.
You made it for him. After everything went to shit, and well before it went into even deeper shitâknowing he might not deserve it. And he doesnât know if that makes him feel better, or worse.
He pops the lid open, almost absently, and grabs the chopsticks. Steam clings faintly to the rice, the grilled fish glistens under the lantern glow, a wedge of pickled radish tucked neatly in the corner beside tamagoyaki cut into even squares.
'So⌠what? What happened to your perfect little act, huh? Did you sit in his lap? Pray there like an offering? That it?'
The image of your face flashes backâhurt, shocked, furiousâand he groans, shutting his eyes as he shovels in a bite.Â
God, heâs such a fucking asshole. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he being so possessive over a girl he barely knowsâa girl who, by all rights, should hate him after everything heâs done? After everything he hasnât said?
He takes another bite, chewing mechanically, the food settling on his tongue.
It doesnât make any sense to him, but ever since this engagement started, youâve been getting under his skin in ways that make no sense.
Exhibit A: The sunglasses.
His free hand slips into the pocket of his sweats, fingers closing around the familiar weight, turning them over in his palm. He balances them against his knee, staring like they might offer an answer.
Theyâre just⌠sunglasses.
Right?
Heâs had a dozen pairs, broken twice as many. It pisses him off a little, that something so stupid carries weight. That he canât slip them on without thinking of you. And yet⌠he canât bring himself to throw them away. The thought of doing that would piss him off even more.
He shovels in another mouthful of rice, jaw tight. Which brings him straight intoâ
Exhibit B: He doesnât want a wife.
For fucks sake, he hates that word. Itâs loaded with tradition and expectation and a thousand eyes watching, waiting, molding him into something he never asked to be. And yet, every time he calls you it while youâre falling apart underneath himâsome fucked-up part of him likes the sound of it.
Huh⌠maybe heâs developed a new kink.
Satoru blinks.
Oh. Fuck.
That must be it⌠the only possible explanation, right?? Why else would he fantasize about the thought of fucking you so deep the only thing you remember is his name. Of filling you with his cum, creamy and thick, watching it spill out of you just to fuck it back in.
The idea hits him like a punch to the gut, and nowâgreatâhis dickâs joined the conversation again, throbbing against the inside of his sweats while heâs sitting here among broken glass and grilled mackerel like an idiot.
God, thatâs so fucking deranged.
He stuffs another bite in his mouthâchews like itâll grind the thought out of his skull. But it lingers; because the truth is, he wanted to fuck the pain he caused you right off your beautiful faceâright there, on the goddamn dojo floor. Wanted to kiss the anger from your mouth, to pull your thighs apart and fuck every trace of Suguru off your skin until there was nothing left but him.
His jaw ticks.
⌠why the hell were his cursed residuals on you?
He pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, appetite curdling by the second.
Itâs been yearsâyears since heâs felt it, but heâd know it anywhere. Heâs felt it laced through battlefields, curled around corpses, stitched into silenceâand once, long ago, wrapped around a friend who stood beside him when they believed in the same world.
Itâs changed since thenâmuted, frayed at the edgesâbut it still clings like memory.
And tonight, it clung to you.
He sets the chopsticks down. Just for a moment. The food sours on his tongue, heavy in his gut. And he doesnât know if itâs jealousy or fear or something darkerâsomething uglierâbut it gnaws at him all the same. Because if Suguruâs cursed energy was on you⌠then Suguru had been close.
Too close.
And thatâs the problem, isnât it? Proximity. The reminder that no matter how far heâs tried to keep it buried, their paths will always curve back toward each other. Sooner or later. Like gravity. Like fate.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. Thatâs his duty. One heâs managed to stave off with excuses and avoidance, with silence and denial. But the truth presses at the edges of his mind, sharp and merciless.
Itâs only a matter of time.
He knows what it will demand of him. What heâs going to have to do.
a/n. hello my darlings! i hope you enjoyed this part. i intended it to be longer but i couldn't do another 20k one lol, i think i would have died. so i'm splitting it.
like i said, i really want this growth to feel earned and realistic. reader is starting to stand up for herself, satoru is having to sit with his own shame - something this man NEVER feels. this is just the beginning. our couple has a lot to work through. there are still a LOT of messy feelings going on. but as you can see, satoru is clueless. utterly, completely clueless. this man is so emotionally constipated and incapable đââď¸ he thinks sex fixes everything. bruh. i wish it did.
gosh there is prob more i could yap about. there are lots of clues i dropped, i wonder if you can pick up on them. BUT... as i'm typing this ya'll are waiting for me to post it so i'm gonna post it now, hehe. anyways - would love to hear your thoughts and i love you all! thanks for reading and supporting this fic 𼚠mwah!
Ex Deku onlyâŚagrees⌠to be your ex and let you move out bc he knows youâre not really out from under his thumb. He even helps you move! No ulterior motives, like making a copy of your key. But only to check in, itâs harmless, nothing less for a friend. he also starts taking night patrols to your neighborhood because heâs just so dutiful :) He pushes you into staying friends, along with staying in his social circle, so you always happen to be at the same hangouts. And heâs so respectful and helpful, minding these new boundaries, you feel too guilty to push him even further away.
Itâs almost like youâre supposed to be together, right? It was silly of you ever leave him in the first place, right?
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đŕ§ trueform!sukuna enjoys watching you ride this stomach tongue because heâs a freak. mlist.
sukunaâs stomach mouth always had a mind of its own. especially that ridiculously big, thick and pink muscle. youâve seen it before many timesâfelt it drooling all over your ass whenever sukuna was hitting it from the backâbut never truly got it to pleasure you.
until right this moment.
âah, mmh! âkuna,â you moan as youâre straddling sukunaâs abdomen, your cunt sliding against the warm tongue thatâs sticking out of its mouth, ââs moving too fast!â
the king of curses is laid back on the futon, his head cushioned by his arms folded behind his head. heâs grinning lazily as he watches you try to keep up with the wriggling tongue on his stomach.
âyeah? well, shit. canât do much âbout it,â he shrugs nonchalantly, as if indirectly saying he doesnât have any control over what it does.
his four crimson eyes are glowing with wicked intent as they roam all over your sweaty and naked body while it bounces slightly. his stomach tongue rubs back and forth over your pussy and thighs, leaving no place untouched.
the flexible muscle curls the tip of its tongue so that it licks all over your ass, curving around the doughy flesh while you grind your clit against its sticky surface.
âam gonna cumâgonna cum!â you mewl loudly and feel the massive tongue react by suckling more intensely around your cunt, needing to taste your juices directly from the source.
sukunaâs eyes darken. he feels everything, feels the way youâre grinding down on the tongue, dragging your pussy lips back and forth until youâre keening and squirting your juices right into the dark hole that makes out his stomach mouth.
âfuckinâ hell. yâre shameless, woman,â sukuna groans. the mouth on his abdomen smirks in satisfaction, not retracting back even after you just came. when you try to escape and lift your hips, he grabs your hips and pulls you back on the stuck out tongue.
âtsk-tsk. youâre not going anywhere âtil itâs got enough. and when itâs done, i still got two more big things that need satisfyinâ.â
Contents: Naruto insists he's not that big, but his cock and you are intent on proving him wrong.
more Naruto content here
Event M.List
WARNINGS: KNOTTING, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP.
âIâm not that tall.â He says, sheepishly. Not that tall? Naruto is massive, standing proud at just barely 1.85 meters tall. Naruto, who isnât only tall but also wide, bulky, filled with muscles that are chiseled in stone. Naruto isnât tall, heâs towering and imposing. Is it the spirit that resides within him that not only gives him chakra, but muscle mass and height? Who knows, who cares. The point is, heâs big, much bigger than you would ever be.
âI donât think you realize that youâve grown a significant amount since you were a lanky teenager who barely survived on instant ramen and spoiled milk.â You answer, rather curtly to his taste. But whatever, he only narrows his eyes as he continues eating.
âYeah, yeah. Whatever you say.â He gives up easily, at least when it comes to you. You can boss him around as much as you like, he never finds it within himself to say no. You decide to leave it at that, a conversation that isnât that relevant. But at night heâs clingy, and restless. He holds you by the waist, always making you the little spoon. You wonât complain, heâs warm and comfortable. But then he starts with his usual, you can almost visualize the pout over his handsome face as he finds himself unable to get comfortable, at how heâs getting embarrassingly hard just because youâre pressing your ass the slightest bit against his crotch.
âSomething wrong, dearest?â That last word is said between gritted teeth, almost mocking. You already know whatâll happen. Denial at first, and you pinned down against the mattress in the end. You almost crave it, you can feel your clit throbbing, anticipating those rough fingertips circling it with sloppy movements that feel like too much all the time.
âNo, nothing.â He tries to be nonchalant, he always does. Maybe itâs his biggest defect, pretending heâs cool when heâs a massive needy loser that loves sticking his cock inside of you every chance he gets. He stiffens himself, but canât help but start thrusting his hips subtly, at least in his eyes, not directly humping you, maybe just a little. A choked whimper leaves his lips, and he holds you closer. Youâre trapped between two massive arms with biceps the size of your face, you repress the loving sigh that threatened to leave your lips at the thought. âMaybe⌠maybe I wanna, you knowâŚâ He stumbles over his own words, his grip over you tightening, effectively burying you between his chest muscles (or better said, tits) as he turns you around. âCan I fuck you, __?â You give him an indulgent smile, and kiss him as best as you can.
âI thought youâd never ask.â
âDonâtâ Donât clench so hard around me.â He pleads, begs. His cock is trying to go past the tight rim of muscle of your cunt, the tip barely inside as he feels that blissful squeeze that threatens to milk him dry already. Youâre laying down flat on your stomach, his arms caging you, you try and raise your ass just a bit, easing the intrusion of his cock. You can already feel it swelling, perhaps the most curious part of Narutoâs body was that, not his whiskers or the symbols over his abdomen, the knotted cock, canine like, again, you blame the spirit inside him for that. The most curious and the most delicious part at the same time.
Your hips suddenly get pressed against the mattress by the utter force of his thrust, burying himself until only half of his knot is outside. You howl in pleasure, eyes rolling back as he traps you further against the bed.Â
âWonât fit,â You whine, a delirious lie that makes him push further inside you, your tongue lolling out at this point, drooling over the bed. His nails dig into the sheets, ripping tiny holes that youâll scold him for later. He can only stare at how centimeter by centimeter the entirety of his cock disappears inside your wet, welcoming heat. âMmm⌠Naruto!â You moan, and he thrusts again. Heâs crushing you under his weight, molding your insides to his liking. He thrusts once more, and then another time after that. He never manages to find a rhythm good enough to settle for, at times he goes slow and at times he just piledrives into your cervix with such force and speed you wonder if heâs trying to bruise it.Â
âIt fit,â He pants, and thrusts again âI- Itâs not that bigââ He canât finish his sentence, your hand reaches for his. You raise your hips, now on all fours instead of laying down. And you guide your hand over your stomach, just where the bulge of the tip of his cock appears. You can feel him shiver, and then moan as he cums inside you. Not a word said, only his knot stretching you out even more. He convulses over you, and when heâs done, he can only look for your clit, trying to make it up to you for cumming so quickly.
pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader
summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, itâs too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right?
content: MDNI (18+Â ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as âsinfulâ, very minor religious themes, fated âmatesâ, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO).
a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the âSAY IT, SAY ITâ. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.
credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter.
wc: 11.6k (sowwy)
You remember perfectly the way your motherâs jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. Youâd never seen the man, and you still hadnât. Heâd asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things heâd be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. Youâd thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. Youâd only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the manâs suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.Â
Youâd asked for proof nonetheless, and youâd gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didnât surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes⌠âhauntingâ said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return⌠changedâ if they returned at all.Â
You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering⌠why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but youâd never get it.Â
Your wedding wasnât even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and⌠that was that. You were married.Â
Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them youâve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.Â
You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you canât bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldnât even show his face for your wedding.Â
The carriage ride is somehow longer than youâd thought it would be- apparently, the castleâs size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think youâve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.Â
The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. Itâs⌠terrifying.Â
When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.Â
Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castleâs peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but itâs not from the cold.Â
You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your familyâs annual income.Â
The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you donât belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?Â
Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than youâve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than youâve ever dreamed of.Â
âPull this if you need any sort of assistance, maâam.âÂ
You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume itâs one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servantsâ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- youâve never seen one in real life before.Â
You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. âThank you, um-â you pause, your brow furrowing. âIâm sorry, I donât think I asked your name.âÂ
Your footman appears stunned to silence, like heâd never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. âThomas, maâam.â
You smile and itâs genuine. âThank you, Thomas.âHe bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. âOh, um, Thomas-â He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.Â
âYes, my lady?âÂ
You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and⌠wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?
You clear your throat again. âDo you know, um, well-â You shift, trying to word your question properly. âDo you know when I might see the Lord?âÂ
There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. âNo, my lady.â
Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.Â
Youâre stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to⌠consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When heâs over you?Â
You sigh. Thereâs nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- itâs going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and donât fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. Youâre tired. You didnât sleep much last night, anxious for the morning⌠and itâs only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself itâs a bad idea and then youâre swept away into a world of warm darkness.Â
You wake with a start. Your first thought is that itâs dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like youâve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you donât remember it. Perhaps thatâs a blessing.Â
You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didnât walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. Theyâre worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, theyâre all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.Â
You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect youâll be sore for many days to come.Â
You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. Youâve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family⌠then youâd pay it gladly.Â
You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually⌠black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when youâve finished it doesnât feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.Â
You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that itâs still warm, you conclude that it canât be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.Â
You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.Â
You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly⌠amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort⌠Your hand brushes purple silk and-Â
âDo you like them?âÂ
You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin⌠you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. Heâs your husband⌠and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing youâve ever seen.Â
He laughs, then, and itâs a warmer sound than youâd thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.Â
âSorry. Didnât mean to scare you,â he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps thatâs a lie.Â
Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. Itâs shut. You didnât hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didnât hear footsteps, didnât hear breaths, didnât hear him.Â
He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit⌠strained?Â
âI have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.âÂ
Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. âYou must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.âÂ
Thereâs a beat, and then footstepsâ ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.Â
âSatoru, please,â he winks and you think you might stop breathing. âI am your husband after all.âÂ
You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like⌠that? Thereâs something too unreal about him, too perfect. Itâs almost⌠unsettling.Â
âOf course⌠Satoru.âÂ
He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.Â
âSo, do you like them?â Your brows furrow- âThe dresses,â he clarifies.Â
âO-oh.â Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You donât think youâve ever touched something so⌠finely made. âI like them very much. I donât know how to thank you.âÂ
Thereâs a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. Heâs mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes foreverâŚÂ
âNo need to thank me. If they donât fit, weâll call for the seamstress in the morning.âÂ
You nod softly, still lost to the situation. Thereâs a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but⌠look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?
âDid you⌠get dinner?â Itâs a stupid question, you know, but you donât think you can bear another second of that look heâs giving you. âI fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didnât prevent a proper mealâŚâ You trail off. Perhaps you shouldnât have pointed out your own shortcoming?Â
He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. âYou did no such thing. Iâm⌠perfectly satisfied.âÂ
You nod, glad that he doesnât seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. Youâve never had a husband before. Wasnât he supposed to just sort of⌠put you on the bed and⌠do it?
Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.Â
âWell, Iâll see you in the morning then, hm?â His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. âWear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.â He chuckles like heâs just told some sort of amusing joke.
Your brows furrow. That was⌠not the topic youâd been expecting. âYouâre notâŚâ You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. âNot staying the night?âÂ
His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You donât think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesnât stop until youâre nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. Itâs cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.Â
âNot tonight.âÂ
His head dips and for a moment you think heâs going to kiss you, but then heâs bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.Â
His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then heâs gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.Â
âGoodnight,â is all he says, and then heâs gone.Â
You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.Â
~Â Â
You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, youâd only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and directâ you would have remembered sending your measurementsâ you didnât. So had he just⌠guessed?Â
That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.Â
When you join Satoru for breakfast itâs in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more⌠liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever heâs drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps heâs just not a breakfast person.Â
âIt fits!â he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.Â
You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. âYes, perfectly.â
A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals itâs Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.Â
âI hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?âÂ
You glance up, but Satoruâs eyes arenât on you, theyâre on your footman. His smile is bright, but itâs anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.Â
You glance at Thomas. Heâs perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. âY-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.â When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, â-and very respectful.âÂ
That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. âPerfect.âÂ
Thereâs a beat and then heâs standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. âWell, I have some work to do. Iâll see you for dinner?â Heâs grinning again, like itâs so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. âSee you then, princess.â And then heâs gone.
~
If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. Itâs like he fears coming too close. Heâs never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan⌠and no Satoru. You donât see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You donât see so much as a ripple in the curtains.Â
Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When itâs finally time to get dressed a ladyâs maid whose name you donât even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough sheâs back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that youâve yet to step foot in.Â
The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the placeâ filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think youâve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoruâs already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.Â
You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. âHow was your day?â you ask as he takes his seat again.Â
He chuckles. âPerfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?â Your nose crinkles. Thatâs the second time heâs called you that. Something about it feels wrong. Youâre still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.Â
âIt was⌠good.â
You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. âOh? Just good?â You donât miss the way his eyes flicker to the cornerâ to Thomas.Â
You hurry to elaborate. âWell, I justâ I canât help but feel as if thereâs not much⌠use for me.â Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.Â
That brow arches impossibly higher. âUse?â His lips crack into that smile again, but itâs tight this time. Too tight. âYou have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.âÂ
A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell canât quell the sudden dread in your gut. âOf course! Of course he did.â Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. âIâll just⌠Iâll try riding tomorrow.â You hate riding, but itâs the first thing that comes to mind.Â
Satoruâs smile thaws into something less menacing. âIâm sure youâll enjoy that.âÂ
You nod eagerly. âIâm sure I will.âÂ
You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though itâs the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.
Itâs not until several bites later that you realize youâre the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. Heâs only⌠watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.Â
âYouâre not⌠eating?â
That permanent smile grows a little wider and you canât help but feel as if thereâs something⌠menacing about it. âAte before I came.âÂ
Your brows furrow. âOh. Were you on the road?âÂ
You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. âNo.âÂ
The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesnât eat a bite, doesnât even look enticed. You wonder how thatâs possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.Â
By the time youâve cleared your plate youâve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. Itâs comforting to know a little more about your new home, but itâs not enough.Â
âIs there a library?â you ask. Youâre on dessert now. Itâs the best chocolate cake youâve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.Â
âOf course.â Your husbandâs eyes flicker to Thomas again and youâre honestly starting to fear for the poor footmanâs life. Everytime you ask a question itâs like Satoru is angry it hasnât already been answered. âItâs yours to use as you please.âÂ
You smile lightly. âPerfect. Thank you.âÂ
He softens a bit at that. âIs there anything specific you wanted to read about?âÂ
You shrug. âThe estate, I suppose. I should know my homeâs history, no?â
His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. âOh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. Iâll leave them aside for you?âÂ
You swallow and give him a shallow nod. âThat would be perfect. Thank you.âÂ
He chuckles. âMy pleasure.âÂ
When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoruâs not far behind you, saying heâll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?Â
He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, youâre thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but⌠off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?Â
You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. âWill you stay with me tonight?âÂ
His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.Â
âNot tonight,â he whispersâ and then heâs gone.Â
~
You wake suddenly. Itâs the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.Â
Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.Â
As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, youâd rather not see it coming.
~
The library is huge. Itâs sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.Â
The books Satoru left you are⌠perfect. Just what you were looking for. Theyâre all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. Youâre stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo familyâs influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of informationâ but thereâs one book that doesnât fit with the rest. Itâs relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads âCreatures of Myth and Where To Find Themâ. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the sideâ must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.
~
You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servantsâ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you canât figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?Â
You decide itâs a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crownâs ego. The estimates of your husbandâs net worth made your head spin.
Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. Itâs⌠unsettling to say the least. Itâs always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.Â
Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but youâve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. Youâve nothing better to do, right?Â
You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. âCreatures of Myth and Where to Find Themâ. You donât recognize the authorâs name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.Â
Itâs fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying youâve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblinsâ all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. âVampires [Vampyr]â.Â
You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.Â
âContrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.âÂ
You purse your lips. What a⌠terrifying thought. You skim a little further.Â
âA vampireâs key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampireâs body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teethâ.
A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.Â
âVampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.âÂ
Your stomach drops. You donât want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.Â
âVampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a humanâs predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampireâs strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.â
You skip ahead again.
âVampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mateâs safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.â
Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperateâ desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the âWhere to Find Themâ subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?Â
âVampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.âÂ
No, no, no. This canât be happening to you. It canât be real. Youâre dreaming, youâre having one of those nightmares again. Youâre going to wake up any second.Â
âOne tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.âÂ
Youâre panting, hyperventilating. This isnât happening.Â
âSoldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his familyâs characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.âÂ
No, no, no.Â
â(See next page for only existing portrait)â
Your fingers tremble but you canât stop them. Thereâs no way. Itâs not possible.Â
You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.Â
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but youâre not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.Â
You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. Youâre suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.Â
âHello,â he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.Â
You force a breath into your lungs. âHello,â you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.Â
Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. âAre you alright? You seem a little⌠flushed.â The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.Â
âIâm fine,â you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. âIs it time for dinner? Whereâs Thomas?âÂ
His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. âThomas has⌠left us.âÂ
No. This wasnât happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.Â
âHe⌠what?â Thereâs an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoruâs face to fall further.Â
âItâs no matter. Heâs gone. Now itâs just you and me, hm?â He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. âIn fact, I was thinking Iâd cut down on the number of servants we have entirelyâŚâÂ
You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didnât have. âVampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mateâs safety is usually disposed of quickly.â
You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?
âWhat have you been up to today, princess?â The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husbandâs eyes flicker behind you.Â
You wet your lips. âJust some reading.â You plead that he doesnât ask anything further. He does.Â
âAbout the estate?â he asks.Â
You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. âYes.â
His smile returns and this time itâs not forced. âYou got my books, then?âÂ
You try smiling back, but youâre fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. âYes.â
âAnything interesting?â he presses.
This isnât happening. This canât be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? âYes, of course. Lots.âÂ
He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think itâs the first time youâve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. âI think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.â
You donât even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until heâs shutting your door behind him. He doesnât stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and youâre falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.
âWho knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time⌠You must be simply spilling with information.âÂ
You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Youâre trapped.
His hands find your hips and youâre all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.
âSatoru-â your voice is pitiful, breathless, and youâre ashamed to say itâs not just from the fear in your gut. Heâs never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. âThomas-âÂ
âDonât speak his name.â His face pulls into the first scowl youâve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. Itâs wrong. âHeâs gone. Heâll never bother you again.â Heâs closer now, his breath skating over your skin. Itâs cool and now you know the reason why.Â
You shake and tremble and you knowâ Thomas is dead. Your husband killed himâ killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.Â
He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. âThought I could put up with it, just so youâd have someone to take care of youâŚâ He groans. âI was so wrong, princess. Couldnât stand it. Couldnât stand the way you smelled more like him than meâŚâÂ
You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. âBut heâs gone. And now itâs just you and me, hm? Just you and meâŚâ He hums, like remembering that fact is all heâs ever needed.
Heâs kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. Heâs a killer, of thousands no doubt. Youâve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. Youâre not even the same species. Heâs something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.Â
Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says⌠but you donât. You canât. Itâs too⌠good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what youâre sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse⌠itâs intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?Â
âHave you figured it out yet, love?â Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. âI can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?âÂ
He knows you know. But heâs going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. âYouâreâŚâ Your breaths come faster. You canât. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too⌠real.Â
âYessss?â he prods. Heâs licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.Â
âYouâre notâŚâ Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.Â
âGo on, princess.â You think heâs just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.Â
You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. âNot human,â you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.
He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. âThatâs good,â he purrs. âBut I think you can be a little more specific, no?â His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw⌠âTell me.âÂ
Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You donât want to say it, donât want to speak it into existence, but you also donât dare to disobey him.Â
âYouâre aâŚâ You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.
âMhm?âÂ
You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. âVampire.âÂ
He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. âThatâs right, princess. So smart.âÂ
He smiles and you suddenly realize youâve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you itâs close-lipped and dimpled. But this⌠this is the smile of a predatorâ all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.Â
âShhhhh,â he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. âI wonât hurt you, love.â You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. âNot unless you want me to.â He wiggles a brow like itâs just a little joke, like heâs not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.Â
âSatoru,â you beg. Youâre not sure what youâre begging for. Release maybe? But, no, thatâs not right. You donât want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. âWhy did you pick me?âÂ
The question slips out. You hadnât even been thinking about it, hadnât even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.
His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in⌠thoughtfulness. âDo you think about that a lot, princess?âÂ
You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.Â
He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. âWellâŚâ he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. âAt first I wanted you for this.â His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. âYou smellâŚâ he chuckles. âLike heaven. Which is a place Iâll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?â He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. âWent into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.â Heâs still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. âWent crazy, princess. Didnât think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.â He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. âBut then I saw youââ he groans and something clenches deep at your center. âAnd I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.â Heâs rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. âWent to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldnât stay away. Knew I had to have you.â You feel him smile against your skin. âAfter a week I couldnât take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.â He groans again. âThen I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearinâ you talk to me, look at me.â Teeth graze your pulse. âNeeded you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookinâ at those dresses.â You whine when his hips roll into you again. âOh, but I knew I couldnât. Youâre so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, âfraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.â He panting, like heâs so pent up he can hardly sit still. âDo you trust me, princess?âÂ
Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You canât. âYes,â you breathe.Â
You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. âGood girl.âÂ
Youâre on your back. It happens so fast your eyes donât even have time to gasp. You donât see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. âSo good, princess. Letâs get you out of this dress, yeah?âÂ
You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru canât seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.Â
âI always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,â he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.Â
âSatoru,â you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.Â
He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. âYou wanna see me too?â You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. âAlright.âÂ
His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like heâs been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.Â
You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. Youâve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. Heâs art, you think- nothing less.Â
âTouch me, princess,â he says. You canât. You shouldnât. Heâs too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. âNeed a little help?â he asks, and thereâs a lilt in his voice that makes you sure heâs grinning.Â
His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one⌠You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then heâs laughing again and heâs throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.Â
âNot so fast,â he says, like he wasnât the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and youâll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell heâsÂ
thinking the same thing. âYou touch me, now I touch you, yeah?â Thereâs a tug and a tear and then so much⌠cold. Youâve never realized how cold this castle is, not until youâre exposed to its elements fully. Youâre naked.Â
Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. Itâs too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-Â
âNo.â Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. âLet me see you,â he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.Â
Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. Thereâs silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that youâreâÂ
âBeautiful,â he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. âBeautiful,â he says again, and then heâs on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. Youâre not sure itâs entirely from his temperature.Â
His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if heâs sucking your soul out through your lips. âTell me youâve never done this before,â he begs. âTell me Iâm the first to touch you.âÂ
You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what heâs already giving you. âY-Youâre the first,â you whisper.Â
His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. âYes,â he breathes, and you shiver again. âLie back, princess.â Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear youâre not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. âDonât worry. Iâll be gentle.âÂ
You pray he means that. âJust relax, love. Here, hold my hand.â His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like heâs committing you to memory, itâs nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.Â
His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.Â
âTell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?â His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but itâs the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. Itâs shameful, itâs dirty, itâs- âDonât think Iâll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.âÂ
You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. âY-yes,â you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.Â
He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. âOn the outside or the inside?âÂ
Your eyes widen. I-inside? Youâd never considered that⌠âJ-just the outside,â you answer.Â
Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. âWell, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?âÂ
Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he meansâ his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. âSomebodyâs sensitive,â he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. âTry to stay still. I promise itâll feel good.â
You nod hopelessly, but this time youâre prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasnât your own. But then itâs more. Itâs languid, slow circles around a spot that youâve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. Itâs heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. Itâs relaxation that youâve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.Â
Thereâs a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. âGood girl. Feels nice, yeah?â You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. âItâs about to feel even nicer.âÂ
By the time you realize what heâs doing itâs far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but heâs got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. âStop that, princess.â Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. âRock into me like this.â His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. âGood girl,â he says and your heart rises right back up. âKeep doing that, now.â You donât dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. âThatâs it, love,â he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. âHere, put your hand in my hair.â He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. Theyâre even softer than youâd imagined. âGood girl,â he whispers and suddenly heâs taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. ââM gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.â Your chin wobbles. âIt might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?â You canât do anything but nod.Â
His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. âRelaaaaaax, love,â he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouthâÂ
You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusionâ but itâs already too late. Thereâs a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then heâsâ laughing?Â
Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoruâs hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated inâ blood, you realize. Your blood. And heâs a fucking vampire.Â
âOh princess,â he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. âYou really are perfect.âÂ
Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. Youâre sure youâve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like heâs ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.Â
When he pulls his finger from his mouth itâs completely licked clean. You hold your breath. Heâs going to go for your neck now, right? Heâs had a taste and now heâll want more of it, all of it?
âFuck,â is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you donât even see him move.Â
Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesnât bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. Heâs lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like youâre a fucking gold mine. Heâs lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.Â
Youâre not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You donât notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesnât fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.Â
âYes. Yes. Give it to me.âÂ
âS-Satoruââ you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any youâve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and thenâ you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you donât hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.Â
Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before⌠well, there was no doubt any longer.Â
Thereâs a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and youâre suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, youâre not done.Â
Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if heâs holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isnât working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.Â
âS-Satoruââ
âItâs alright, love.â His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. âJust stay still.âÂ
You whimper, but you donât think heâs paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.Â
Youâve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldnât help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurtâŚ
He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. âGonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.â His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. âStay still, now.â
Itâs all the warning he gives you. You feel like youâre splittingâ straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.Â
âSatoru, p-please! ItâsââÂ
Lips catch yoursâ hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. Itâs too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but itâs no use. By the time heâs fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that youâve only just begun.
âGood girl,â he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. âTook me so well.â You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because heâs quick to comfort. âJust hold my hand, princess.â His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. Youâre panting as he chuckles. âBreathe, love. Breathe. Soon youâll be begging for more,â he laughs. Itâs not long before heâs rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first itâs all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then itâs⌠more. Itâs heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. Itâs sensation and⌠pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.Â
âFeel good, princess?â You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels goodâ it feels right. He chuckles, but thereâs nothing light about the sound. âWanna feel even better?â Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.Â
He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. âJust a taste, love. I promise it wonâ hurt.â His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. âYouâll feel sâ good anâ Iâll only take a little.â He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. âPromise.â He sounds breathless, like heâs struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. âCome on, love. Say yes. Say yes fâ me.â Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. Heâs desperate now, seeking a release that you donât think is any kind youâre familiar with. âYes, yes, yes,â he chants in your ear. Youâre not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.Â
âYes,â you whisper.Â
His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savageâ but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to⌠ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. Youâd thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesnât. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You donât want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.Â
Heâs moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.Â
âSatoruâŚâ You hadnât noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why⌠ââM gonnaâŚâÂ
He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.Â
Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. Itâs an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.Â
His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. Heâs moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.Â
When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. Thereâs a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You canât help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.Â
His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You donât think youâll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.Â
He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. âNo, princess.â He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. âI took more than I should haveâŚâ His expression doesnât tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. âBut what can I say? You just taste so good.â Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. âYou taste like mine.â
You whine. More, more, more. Itâs all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.Â
He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.Â
âNot yet, princess.â he coos. âBut soon.â His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until youâre trembling again. âForever,â he whispers.
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cw. MINORS DNI. word count ; 3.5k. smut. third year! kenma. p in v sex. use of condoms (wrap before you tap it folks). loss of virginity. fingering. constant reassurance. turned into light angst at the end (sorry). first time writing smut (i do take constructive criticism, so pls point out what i could be doing better. thank you!).
syn. youâve been here before; standing in this doorway, asking kenma for something. last time was childs play. this time, though? this time itâs monumental.
The TV light flickers off, leaving you in complete darkness save for the light coming from your phone, and you realize youâve stayed up too late.Â
You point your phone down towards your chest, sneaking a peak at Keiko. It dawns on you that sheâs probably been asleep for a while now. You hadnât heard the random laughter and comments about the movie that had been playing for some time.
The hum of the AC and very faint sounds of gunshots are all you hear. A normal person would be confused and maybe even scared, but youâve stayed at the Kozume residence enough to know that itâs just Kenma playing video games. Again.
You let out a sigh and glance around the dark room. Thereâs not much to do out here except play on your phoneâ your dying phone. Leave it up to you to forget a charger and forget to ask for one before Keiko falls asleep.
Eventually, you flip your blanket off your legs and stand. The hardwood floor is freezing cold even through your socks. A shiver runs down your spine as you tiptoe towards Kenmaâs room. You stop just before it, leaning forward to put your ear against it.
You can hear Kenma cursing quietly, the repetitive clicking of his keyboard, the hum of his PC. Through the crack at the bottom of the door, you can see blue light and white flashes every so often.
You and Kenma have always gotten along. When Keiko brought you over for the first time, when you were in your last year of middle school and Kenma was a first year in high school, you two had an immediate understanding of each other. Kenma didnât like to talk, and you did. You two left each other alone for the most part.
But, the older you get, the more things change. Kenma grew taller, he grew leaner from volleyball, he somehow got more handsome than before. He got friendlier with you, too. Youâre not around him enough to know if he got like that with other people, but itâs nice.
You bring your balled fist up to the door, and only hesitate for a moment before knocking twice. âKenma?â You whisper, trying to get his attention. When nothing changes in the sounds coming from inside the room, you knock again. âOpen the door, gamerboy.â
Thereâs a pause in the noise now. No more curses from Kenma, no more faint gunshots. Instead, the sound of creaking floorboards replaces it. Thereâs a shadow in front of the door and then it opens. The blue LED lights almost blind you with how bright they are.
Kenma has his hair back. Unbidden, but strong, the feeling of pure attraction shoots through your body, making you shiver involuntarily. He has his headset on, but one of the sides is farther back on his head, leaving one ear open for him to hear the outside world. His hoodie is too big for himâ like all of his hoodiesâ and he probably wore those sweatpants to bed last night.
How can one look like a slob, yet so hot at the same time?
âWhat?â He almost sounds annoyed, but by the way he keeps glancing back at his monitor, you can tell heâs probably in a match right now.
âUm, sorry. Am I interrupting something?â
One more time, he glances back, then sighs and looks back at you. âNot anymore. Whatâs up?â
Suddenly, you get nervous. Youâve done this once beforeâ your first year, when all your friends were bragging about their first kiss and you still hadnât had yours. You showed up to Kenmaâs door in the middle of the night and asked him to kiss you. And, for some strange reason, he did. Right there in the doorway. You two didnât speak about it the next morning when he joined you and Keiko for breakfast, and you certainly didnât tell Keiko about it when you finally revealed to her that youâd had your first kiss.
This question, this ask, is different, though. A much more intimate act to do in the doorway.
âUm, I have, uh, a question for you,â you mumble out, looking down at your socked feet. Thereâs a part of you that is already regretting coming to his door. And thereâs another part of you thatâs aching. For this? For Kenma? Youâre not sure.
âOkay.â Out of your peripheral vision, you can see his own socked feet shuffling around. Probably antsy to get back to his game, you think.
The palms of your hands start to sweat as you twist your fingers around. If you look up at him while you ask this question, youâll never recover. The thought of rejection makes you want to throw up in embarrassment.
You take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut, and ask on the exhale. âWill you take my virginity?â
The silence that hangs in the air is deafening. A silent killer. Your stomach starts to turn and you can almost feel the bile rising in your throat. This was a horrible idea. Heâs your best friend's older brotherâ if he says no, youâll still have to deal with him for the rest of your life. Heâs probably going to tell his friends about you. His little sister's desperate friend. God, you think youâre going to pass out.
You turn your body away from him, preparing to do the walk of shame back to the living room couch, but he stops you by grabbing your arm. You freeze in his grasp. Youâre going to turn around and heâs going to call a crazy lunatic for asking. him such a question.
âWhy?â Is all he says. You blink at the ground a couple times. You ask him to take your virginity and his question is why? Out of pure disbelief, you look up and meet his eyes. Theyâre so genuine, you could sob. âYou want me to take your virginity,â he states plainly. âWhy?â
His fingers feel warm wrapped around your arm. Your skin is tingling. Your heart is racing. You swallow hard. âI trust you,â you mumble out, voice shaky. âYouâre⌠I just trust you.â
You notice the furrow in his brow. You can tell his brain is working harder than it probably ever has before. You donât want to, but you remove your arm from his grip. âItâs stupid. Iâm sorry I asked. Just forget it, okay?â
You turn to leave again, but he sighs frustratedly and grabs you again. âOkay,â he says. You look at him, eyes wide. He glances down the hall in both directions, then pulls you into his room and shuts the door behind you. When he finally notices your surprised expression, he shrugs. âIf you want to lose your virginity, Iâd rather you do it with me than some random guy from school.â
It warms your heart a little bit and the thought of Kenma being jealous makes you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. He looks around his room awkwardly, finally landing on his PC.
âI should probably turn this off.â He gestures at it.
It dawns on you that heâs probably nervous too. Not as nervous as you, youâre sure, but nervous nonetheless. By the way heâs acting, though, youâre assuming heâs done this before. Just not with his little sisterâs best friend.Â
He walks over to his PC and turns it off, leaving the room illuminated in pure blue light. When he turns to look at you once again, your legs almost give out. Youâre so nervous, youâre pretty sure you're shaking.
âYou can sit down,â he says, taking a few steps towards you. He reaches up and scratches his neck. âWe canât really⌠do it standing. I mean, we can, it would just be, uh, awkward for your first time.â
You sit down on the very edge of his bed and stare at the ground. What are you doing? Asking Kenma, of all people, to take your virginity? Are you insane? You bite your bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth dig into the skin harshly. This is ridiculous.
You feel the bed dip, and your head starts to spin. Do you really need to lose your virginity? You have your whole life ahead of you! What if Kenma doesnât enjoy it? What if itâs bad sex? What ifâ
âAre you sure you want to do this? Uh, with me, I mean.â
You look up to meet his eyes, and every negative thought reaching through your mind vanishes. You surge forward, placing your lips on his in a gentle kiss.
âSorry,â you mutter, leaning back. âIâm sure, Kenma.â
His eyes dart down to your lips, then back to your eyes. With a small nod, he leans forward, putting his weight on one hand and cupping your face with the other.
Itâs soft at first. Light kisses to the corner of your mouth, then to your lips, then down your neck. Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate. Your hands sit awkwardly at your sideâ what are you supposed to do with them?
Kenma lifts his head from your neck, eyes scanning your face. He glances at the top of his bed and nods his head. âCan you lay back? I have toâŚâ he sighs, running a hand down his face. âWe canât just go straight into it. You know that much, right?â When you nod, so does he. âI have to prepare you.â
âOkay.â You scoot back until your back hits his pillow. His bed is comfortable, you think. You would probably get a really good night's sleep in it. Youâre shaken out of your thoughts when Kenma comes into your vision, hovering over you.
âCan I take off your shorts?â
You swallow hard, but nod. Shit is getting Real now. He hooks his fingers under the band of sleep shorts and pulls them down, huffing out a breath of hot air.
âYouâre not wearing underwear,â he says breathily. He looks up and you can feel your face heat up. You open your mouth to talk, but he runs his finger down your slit and you gasp, trying to squeeze your legs together. âYouâre soaking. Youââ he cuts himself off, hesitating. âJust from a few kisses?â
Heâs not looking at you, seemingly entranced by you and your wetness. After a few beats, he looks up, licking his lips. âHave you done this to yourself before?â He clears his throat. âI mean, is one finger going to hurt?â
You give him a meek, dumb nod. When your brain catches up, you shake your head. âIâve, um, itâs not going to hurt. You canâ Ah!â You let out a surprised gasp as he pushes a finger into you. Itâs loud and you know it. âSorry, Iâmâ sorry. That surprised me.â
âKeiko is sleeping in the living room. You have to be quiet or sheâs going to wake up.â
âI know, I know.â You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip again. You bite down so hard, you can taste a little blood. Keiko finding out is probably your worst fear at the moment. You went to great lengths to hide a kiss from her, youâre not sure what sheâs going to do when she finds out he took your virginity.
Tentatively, he pumps his finger in and out a couple times, watching your face for any sort of reaction. You almost canât look him in the face. He shifts on the bed, pushing his fingers deeper and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.
His fingers continue moving, but his eyes are glued to your face. His eyes are lidded as he stares at you. âCan I put another one in?â Again, you nod silently. Slowly but surely, he adds another finger. âDoes it hurt?â
âNo,â you gasp out. âNo, itâ shit, Kenma.â Your back arches off the bed just a bit and your eyes fall shut. If his fingers feel this good, how will you survive when he actually fucks you?
âThere?â
His fingers speed up slightly and your hand shoots to your mouth, muffling the moans bubbling up in your throat. One of your legs, caged in between his own, twitches and brushes up against something. Something hard. The thought that you made Kenma hard makes you groan. âK- enma,â your speech is broken, interrupted by the arousal shooting through your body. âIâm ready. Iââ
His fingers stop and the whine you let out is involuntary. You open your eyes and look down at him to find him staring intently. âIâve only been fingering you for like, two minutes.â
âKenma,â you whisper, brows furrowing. âPlease.â
The way his face changes is instant. It looks like someone has flipped a switch in his brain. A brief memory flashes through your mind. Summer after first year, when you were staying over at Keikoâs for seemingly the umpteenth time, you needed something from the top shelf and neither of you could reach it. You had been in a boot because of a minor car crash, and Keiko had chosen just then to reveal her fear of heights. You had run to Kenmaâs room, once again interrupting his video games, and asked him for help. He, of course, refused. But then you said his name and he looked at you. And you said, âKenma, please.â And he stood up like a robot who had only one task in life; reaching the thing that you needed.
His sweatpants are off in an instant, laying in a haphazard pile on the ground, leaving him in his boxers. You think thereâs flowers on them, but they might be cartoon characters instead. Youâre not sure that matters right now. You meet his eyes again and theyâre dark. A haze seems to have fallen over them. You swallow hard as he pulls down his boxers.
Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. Heâs huge. Keiko had once told you that gamer boys have the biggest cocksâ are the freakiestâ and, of course, you hadnât believed her. Maybe you should have.
âIs that going to fit?â The question slips out of you, dumb and full of disbelief. âIâ sorry, was that weird?â
And Kenma laughs. He laughs. âItâs fine. Not the first time Iâve gotten that reaction.â He pauses, squinting his eyes. âThat was the douchiest thing Iâve ever said in my life. I sounded like Kuroo.â
You giggle at that. Youâve only met Kuroo a handful of times, but you can picture him saying that.
âI should get a condom.â He crawls over you, reaching into the drawer beside his bed. His cock brushes against your inner thigh and you shiver.Â
This is it. Youâre about to lose your virginity to your best friend's brother. Thereâs a feeling of guilt festering in your stomach, but the second Kenma is hovering over you again, ripping the condom open, it fades away.
You watch him slip the condom on curiously. Heâs really hard, itâs almost surprising. For the millionth time tonight, he looks back up at you, seeking permission. You give him a nod, but your head seems to stutter, so you give him multiple. He smiles and lines himself up with your entrance.Â
âThis is going to be a little uncomfortable since you were so eager.â
You swallow hard and finally, finally he pushes in. Itâs just the tip, but itâs stretching your hole more than youâve ever gone before. Your face scrunches up in discomfort and he stops moving. âN- no,â you stammer out. He furrows his brows and you shake your head. âKeep going. I- I can take it.â
He hesitates, but pushes in more. He pulls his lip into his mouth, sucking in a breath. His head drops down, now watching himself disappear inside you.
Your head drops down to the pillow, mouth open, eyes closed. Youâve never felt anything like this. It doesnât hurt, you donât think. Itâs just different.
And then Kenma lets out a huff of air, mouth falling open to match yours. He looks up and gives you a smile. âIâm all the way in. Does it hurt?â
You shake your head. âIt doesnât hurt. Itââ you shift, cutting yourself off when he hits what you can only assume is your g-spot. âShit. Kenma, Iââ
He pulls his hips back, then thrusts into you again. âC- can I move?â His voice is quiet, tight. âFuck, youâre so warm inside.â
âMove.â You nod, reaching your hand out to grab his arm. Your grip is too tight, probably, but you canât even begin to think about that right now. âYou canâ fuck, please move.â
This time, when he pulls his hips back, effectively leaving your weeping hole empty, he pulls back until only the tip is left inside of you. You clench around the cock remaining, biting your lip in a sad attempt to hide the whine that comes out of you.
And then he snaps his hips, sheathing himself inside of you in one thrust. You let out a noise, half-gasp, half-moan. Kenmaâs hand slides up the side of your body, over your neck, then over your mouth. âYou have to be quiet.â He punctuates the word with a thrust of his hips, pushing deeper inside of you, reaching places you didnât even know existed.Â
âMhm.â You nod frantically, though itâs sort of difficult with the way heâs holding your face, fingers gripping tightly and squishing your cheeks together.
He starts at a steady pace. In and out, in and out, in and out. Youâre bewildered by how full you feel, by how good he feels inside of you. Itâs perfect, almost. He fits inside of you like he was made for you, perfectly sculpted to your insides.Â
Your hand, formerly grabbing his arm tightly, moved to his hand, pulling it off your mouth. âF- faster, Ken- ah- Kenma. Faster.â You press your lips together and exhale through your nose, another attempt to quiet yourself. You didnât even know you could be this loud.
His hands slip down to your thighs, gripping them tightly, fingers digging into the plush skin, and pistons into you at an unforgiving pace. Your back arches off the bed completely, mouth once again falling open in a mostly silent moan. Your chest is heaving, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Thereâs a familiar feeling building in your stomachâ a knot, one might call it.
âShit, shit,â Kenma curses breathily. You look up at him only to find him staring down at where heâs fucking into you. He looks so focused, you donât even think he realizes that his grip on your thighs tightens and his pace gets faster.
As he hits that spot inside you, the one that sends a spark up of your spine, makes you want to close your legs and curl up into a ball, you think youâre going to cry. He hits it over and over and over again. That knot that was forming gets tighter, gets bigger, gets hotter.
You claw at his arms, a warning of your approaching climax. He jerks his head up to look at you and, for a brief moment, you get insecure. Heâs seen all of you now, but you canât help but think about how your face looks right now. The insecurity is washed away as Kenma lets out a quiet, yet genuine, moan. Itâs hot and itâs nothing youâve ever heard before.
âKenmaââ
âFuck, Y/n. Youâre so warm, so tight, soâ ahââ
Your vision flashes white. Your back arches off the bed. The knot unravels and hot, hot pleasure shoots through your body. Your hand is over your mouth, muffling the slew of moans rolling off your tongue.Â
For a final time, his cock brushes your g-spot and your orgasm almost violently rakes through your body, back arching impossibly, drawn out moan leaving your mouth, legs shaking faintly.Â
Kenma follows your lead after a few more thrusts, and the feeling of his seed shooting into the condom makes you shiver. Itâs a weird sensation. You both sit there for a moment, staring at each other, breathing heavily.
âThank you,â you whisper, barely audible. Your eyes fall shut and you exhale heavily. âGod, thank you.â
When you wake up the next morning, youâre still in Kenmaâs bed. Panic shoots through you and you immediately sit up. The clock on Kenmaâs wall says 6:30 AM. You look over at the sleeping boy and give him a soft smile.
And then the embarrassment of last night hits you, and you immediately get out of his bed and go back to the living room couch. If your legs hurt as you walk, you donât say anything. When Keiko wakes you up, asking how you slept, youâll tell her you slept fine.
And when Kenma finally wakes up, walks into the kitchen to have some breakfast, youâll smile at him and pass the cereal as if nothing ever happened.
you barely remember how you got into this situation; sitting on your bed while he's kneeling in front of you, looking at you with dilated eyes filled with... with something. something you refuse to acknowledge.
whatever he desires, you're willing to give, as it's your duty. but every time he looks at you like that, you waver, suddenly unsure about your own feelings. what are you supposed to think in the first place?
so, you stay silent. you dont protest as he slips your footwear off your right foot. a soft kiss against the arch. slowly moving closer, he kisses your shin, the side of your knee, until he reaches the inside of your thigh. your robe cradling your hip as your leg is propped over his shoulder as he nuzzles into your soft skin, vulnerable to the warmth of him, to his breath against it; and you cant help but shudder.
he had closed his eyes at some point, silent, almost anticipating your rejection. yet, you continue to be silent. his eyelashes flutter as he opens them to look up to you, his gaze soft, yearning. he just stays there, akin to a statue of longing, reaching for something close, yet so far away. his lips move against your skin as he murmurs.
"Is there no place for me in your heart?"
his voice almost cracks, filled with the emotion you've been refusing all along.
yet, something stirs in you. the proximity, his words, the love in them vibrating in you, shaking you to the core. and your heart trembles as you feel the heat creep up your neck.
Seeing footage of the aftermath of the flour massacre in Gaza is so painful
"Where is my daughter? Tell her I don't want flour anymore"
"My brother was shot holding a bag of flour. He kept holding on to it so they kept shooting him"
"Why does flour have to be stained with blood?"
Over 100 have been killed. Every single one of them hungry. Every single one of them has someone waiting for them to come back with the bag of flour.
Israel is using starvation as a weapon of war against innocent civilians. Israel ambushes starving Palestinians and shoots them. Israel is not fighting a war to defend itself. This is another episode of Israel's ongoing genocide in Gaza.
Joker, but with a virgin reader who barely understands sex stuff cuz they grew up overly sheltered and innocent, so he essentially has to teach them through it and introduce some kinky stuff to them
His Lighthouse: Sweet Girl (LedgerJoker x f!reader)
Sweet Girl - Oneshot
Authorâs note: Â
KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!
Hey hi anon!! I am so sorry it took me an entire week to fill this request! I got carried away and went down a perfectionist spiral trying to envision Joker in this situation. It was difficult to keep him in character but still caring enough for Y/n who is virtually clueless! I hope you enjoy the story!
Let me know if you want to be added to the His Lighthouse taglist! Â Â
You are truly his sweet girl in every definition of the word.
Jokerâs sweet little doll he so desperately wants to defile. He greatly admires your innocence and the way you view the world. Joker wants nothing more than to continue sheltering you, but heâs at his witâs end holding back his passion.
Everyday his patience wanes and itâs only a matter of time before he pounces on his prey. You.
He wants to sink his teeth into your skin and hear you cry out in pleasure with every snap of his hips. He wants to see your brain turn off from an overload of pleasure. Itâs not a want anymore but a need. He needs to break you.
He canât wait anymore and judging by your coy smiles and teasing touches, he knows you want this too.
Although Joker shouldâve known something was wrong since things between you and him never advanced any further than kissing. You would shy away the minute he grabbed your hips or tried to remove any article of clothing from you.
He should have noticed the telltale signs.
Months of hiding at your place in your pink little bubble, far far away from mean old Gotham City, and all that Joker had to show for as process with you was cuddling or making out.
Nothing more, nothing less. It was frustrating for sure.
Joker knew you were attracted to him; he saw it in the way your eyes widened and lingered on him.
You would bite your lip whenever he purposefully let his shirt ride up or whenever he picked you up to show off his strength. He even came out of the shower dripping wet without a towel onceâ you tucked tail and ran to your room.
Joker was using every trick in the book to get a reaction from you, however; you stayed demure and kept your hands to yourself. It was maddening!
Even at night when the two of you were preparing for bed, (separately, much to his irritation) heâd pull you close and rock his hips into yours.
âWanna sleep with meee tonight, baby doll?â You would flush red and wiggle out of his arms before stampering out a million noâs and vanish from sight.
Joker hated hearing your door slam close but what could he do? He was running out of options.
There were so many clues in front of him regarding this dilemma but the truth finally came to light one day he had you trapped underneath him on the bed.
No more running. No more excuses. He was claiming you tonight.
He was attacking your neck with kisses and actively grinding his hard on into your pretty shorts. The skimpy things you wore around the house tested his limited sanity! Were you trying to seduce him? Bravo, because you succeeded. And he was supposed to be impervious to your charms and be a gentleman. Screw that.
Your body was a prize to be had and Joker waited long enough to have it.
He had the helm of your shirt balled up to your abdomen when you froze. âW-Wait um Joker. I-I..â
âShhhh little bunny.. I just wanna see ya.â
You didnât like that and tried pushing Joker up and off. How did he get you on the bed in the first place you wondered?
Joker noticed your aversion to his touch and growled in annoyance. Every freaking time he tried to get closer with you; you pushed him away. He had enough. He no longer had any patience to deal with this anymore.
âWhatâs the deal, hmm? You donât li-ke me anymore?â
Your eyes immediately locked with his. âN-No! I like you.. itâs justâŚâ You wavered.
âJust whaT? Hmm? Tell me bunny! Open that prettyâŚÂ little mouth of yours and tell me.â
You did the exact opposite. You bit your lip and looked away from Joker. Your selective shyness was rather annoying at this point and Joker let his frustrations be known.
âYouâre such a cocktease ya know that? Runninâ around in these shorts and things making those littleâŚÂ noises when ya think I donât notice. Yeah, I hear em doll. Youâre killing me but the second I touch ya, this happens!â Joker gestured to you cowering away from him.
âWhat are ya, some virgin or something?â He sighed to himself. But then he looked down at you in shock when he heard your soft yes.
Oh. He was a f___king idiot.
You were holding back tears and the second Joker realized his mistake and touched your arm, they burst to the surface.
âOhhh.. Bunny noo. Look at me.â You did and shined your e/c at him. âThere she is.. my sweet girl. Why didnât you tell me?â
He lied back on the bed and dragged you with him to recline on his chest. You were perfectly fine cuddling with J. Anything else after that was scary.
He couldnât see your face since it was buried in his shirt so you answered truthfully.
âI.. I thought you knew..â You mumbled. Joker smacked his lips and started stroking your hair. You left it down today and he loved its wild, untamed state.
He really didnât know and he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner and for making you feel uncomfortable around him. He worked so hard in the beginning to make you not fear him. He didnât exaggerate his words as much, he cut down on his fear tactics around you, virtually everything about himself was altered to gain your trust.
You were a timid little thing, eager to help him hide from the GCPD in exchange for nothing. You cooked, cleaned, kept him company (just not sexually) all with a smile on your face. You were so naĂŻve yet brave, of course Joker fell for you!
You laughed at his silly jokes and that smile of yours was worth losing pieces of himself to appease you. Heâd do anything to make you happy.
But Joker wanted more. He wanted to be selfish.
He wanted to corrupt your sweet and innocent demeanor and mold it to his will. He wanted those big doe eyes of yours to cloud over with lust and your full plump lips to stretch around his cock as he choked you with it.
He knew youâd be perfect underneath him; you were already such a sweet thing. A true people pleaser; doing any and everything to make his stay at your place more enjoyable.
What he would really enjoy is your pussy milking his cock for what it's worth.
Itâs all he thought about these days but you couldn't handle him removing your shirt, how in the world would he train you to be his cum-drunk bunny?
But Joker loved a challenge and you⌠you were worth the hassle.
âI never wanna scare my bunny away. Sheâs so perfect, and oh so sweet. Too sweet..â He kissed you so softly, it made your head spin.
Joker pulled back before things started to get heavy, âBut I realllly wanna taste ya more, Y/n. You trust me?â
You looked down and away until Joker chased after you. âNo no nooo. None of that. Donât look away. I can teach you if you want.â
âTeach me? But what if... What if Iâm not good enough?â You whimpered.
Thatâs what you were worried about? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was all in your head.
âWonât know until you try.â He sang back. You seemed to understand that much and shifted your weight to straddle Joker more properly. He exhaled through his nose when you unknowingly rocked your hips into his dick.
âOkay. I think I wanna try now. Is that okay? C-Can we try right now, J?â
How could he say no to such a sweet request? You were so embarrassed yet enthusiastic about this, it made him go crazy. He kept his hands behind his head and sighed.
âDepends⌠How far ya wanna go?â He asked.
âWhat do you mean? How far with what?â
It took everything in Joker not to groan in frustration. Did your parents not teach you anything about sex? What kind of upbringing did you have to not know anything?
Joker wasnât sure if he could handle teaching you from scratch but everyone had to start somewhere.
âWhat do ya know about sex, Y/n?â
He watched you squirm and bite your lip. You had to know something to be interested and he would wait to see what he was working with before going further.
âUm.. the doctor at the clinic said it shouldnât h-hurt if my partner um.. p-preps me enough with foreplay. I think that means kissing and cuddling but once she brought out two dolls and started talking about positions I.. she lost me.â
Joker was lost too. âDoctor?â
You nodded and wiggled your hips against him. You seriously had to stop doing that..
âI went to get checked after I saw you come out of the shower that day. I got really wet and uncomfortable um, d-down there, and nothing I did made the feeling go away. S-So I panicked and went to the clinic! It was super embarrassing but I think I understand the logistics of it all a little better. Joker? Are you okay?â
You poked his cheek since he looked spaced out and he had every right to be.
Horny. You were horny and didnât know why. Nothing you did made the feeling go away and he remembered back to that night when you trapped yourself in your room.
Just what all did you try? Did you get yourself off? How did you do it?
And then everything clicked. Your lingering eyes, the tiny shorts and flimsy tops. Those f__king thigh high socks⌠You started wearing them more and more frequently after his little shower stunt. Your body wanted him even if your brain didnât comprehend.
He was gonna have so much fun corrupting you.
In the blink of an eye, Joker had you flat on your back with your arms above your head. You were in shock, it happened so fast.
Joker let out a shaky exhale and looked you over.
âNext time you feel wet, come to me. Iâll help.. relieve that pain, mkay? Do you feel wet now?â He asked as he grinded his knee into your sex. You jerked in his hold and winced.
âUm, a little.. that feels funny.â
âDescribe it to me.â Joker purred into your ear. He trailed kisses down your neck to distract you from noticing he was lifting your top up.
Stupid thing wasnât covering anything, it was so thin.
âAh! I-I feel warm and.. it aches.. but I donât know why. Itâs almost like thereâs an itch I need to scratch but I tried that!â
Joker had the brief image of your tiny hands poking and prodding your opening, trying desperately to soothe something only his cock could reach.
âPoor little bunny. Wanna know why it aches mmmh?â
He heard you sigh out a yes. By then Joker was kissing your heaving chest and had an idea. Why remove your top the boring way? Nothing about tonight would be normal.
You gasped as Joker tore your top right off your body. Your breasts bounced from the action and Joker groaned seeing them already erect sans a bra. Just the perfect size for him to squeeze and worship. He was drooling already.
He locked eyes with you with a wolfish smile. âCuz your greedy little pussy wants my cock.
âY-Your cock?â
Joker groaned and leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth while his hand got well acquainted with the other. It was so soft and tasted even better, but hearing your surprised moans was the topping on the cake.
You didnât know your breasts could feel so good but Jokerâs tongue swirling around the bud before his teeth bit it gently, was electrifying. It made the unknown feeling return tenfold.
âJ-Joker! Itâs back! I feel weird again..â
Joker let your nipple go with a loud pop and gave the same attention to its twin but not without subtly rocking his hips into yours. Your wail was torturous.
âNo! T-Thatâs not it!â You sobbed even though your hips bucked up to meet Jokerâs. Something about the motion felt right, but it was missing a key element. Then you remembered Jokerâs comment.
âCan your umm.. cock fix it?âJoker groaned in pain. You would be the death of him. As if hearing you speak about it, his dick throbbed in his pants.
He looked up at your adorable pout and smiled. âAlready using such ahh, vulgar language, baby doll. Goood girl. I knew your mouth was dirty.â
He kissed down your stomach until he reached the band of your shorts. You braced your weight on your elbows to watch him. How was your mouth dirty? Did you say something bad?
Never mind that, Joker was finally addressing the problem dead on. âAre you gonna fix it, J?â
He looked up at you, a bit out of breath.
âI will bunny, just not yeT. The doc said I gotta prep you, remember? Donât wanna hurt my sweet girl now do I? Gotta hmmm.. tr-eat her right.. Can I take these off?â
He asked so nicely, you couldnât say no. Anything to make this weird feeling go away, youâd do it.
You lifted your hips enough for Joker to slide your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. Of course you didnât see him pocket said panties for safe keeping, but you quickly grew uncomfortable with the way he stared at your private parts.
Did it look weird? What if he didnât like it? You most certainly didnât. Any personal care was done as quickly as possible to avoid any unnecessary glimpses and you never looked at yourself the way Joker was right now.
He had yet to say anything but his unwavering gaze was starting to scare you. Did he have to stare for so long?
You whimpered and tried to cover your sex but Joker merely slapped your hand away.
âStop looking at meâŚâ You whined. That finally got Joker to meet your eye.
âWhy not Y/n? Every part of you is sooo pretty. I wanna taste itâŚâ
Before you could question the legitimacy behind his words, Joker licked your pussy with a guttural groan. The vibrations it left felt so good, you didnât realize you grabbed a hold of his hair. Joker didnât mind and quickly forgot about you being a virgin as he ate you out like a man on a mission.
âSoooooo sweet.. anâ juicy..â He said in between licks.
Joker tuned out your startled babbles and pleas to savor the unique taste of your pussy. Your juices fell on his tongue like ambrosia and he lapped up every last drop that you steadily produced with gusto.
It was an honor to be the first to taste you and Joker pulled out everything in his bag of tricks to take you to the summit. Your first orgasm. F__k he wanted it all for himself.
He flicked his tongue over your clit and ever so gently slid his middle finger inside your cunt.
âJoker!â You screamed.
He chuckled as he eased it in up to his knuckle but met resistance. âHush now baby doll. I gotta get ya loosened up to take something muchhh bigger than thisâŚâ
Something bigger? Your mind couldnât even fathom the thought. You writhed on his finger in a newfound agony until another sharp pain made you gasp.
Joker shushed you and kissed your clit as another finger slid its way into your tight hole. You were doing so well all things considered. Joker let endless praises fall from his lips in between kissing and sucking on your pussy. You seemed to unknowingly enjoy praise, if the fresh flow of juices from your slit were any indication. Joker twisted his wrist so his two fingers slid in deeper to scissor your hole wider. You were welcoming the foreign invasion but he could feel the restraint still lying dormant within you.
With every pump of his fingers, he made sure to stretch them just a bit deeper and a lot wider to further his goal. After a while, you relaxed around his two fingers and seemed to enjoy the new sensation he introduced to you.
He added a third finger even as you whimpered in protest.
âShhh, you need thissss.â Joker angled his fingers in a come hither motion to stroke your g spot directly. You jerked in shock and clamped down on his fingers.
âR-Right there, J..ahh yessss..â
Joker grinned when you practically melted to his touch. That âitchâ you kept going on about was finally being attended to. This is what you craved all along.
But something was happening. A pressure you never felt before was building and you knew it wasnât good.
âJ-J..okâ ahh! I feel.. weird. I think Iâm mmhph!! I donât wanna..â You cried out.
Joker saw your thighs twitching and grinned. He wondered when youâd get close. âLet it go Bunny. It's okay.â
Jokerâs deep voice urged you on, where exactlyâ you were unsure of, but he was more knowledgeable than you here. Even though your brain protested the feeling, since the rising pressure resembled that of using the bathroom, you let your body's natural instinct take control.
âListen to your body, Princess. She knows whatâs best.â
You nodded at Jokerâs vague words and let the feeling build more and more. You felt hot all over and dizzy yet Joker would not stop until you crumbled completely under pressure.
He kept your thighs spread open and grinned like a certified madman as he sped up his fingers, pumping into your hole until it audibly gushed out. Almost there..
Something was happening within your body that you couldnât comprehend. Your ears were ringing and tears streamed down your face as a white hot coil snapped just underneath your navel.
You felt like passing out, it was so intense yet you moaned as waves of pleasure washed over you.
And Joker drank everything you gave. He watched you die and come back anew right before his eyes and it was such a sight to behold.
You came back shivering and weak but had enough strength to pose the question. âW-what just h-happened?â
Joker left a lasting kiss on your clit before he crawled up your body. It was flush with a sheen of sweat and desire and he showered every inch of it with affection on his travels.
âDid ya enjoy your first orgasm?â He mumbled on your shoulder. âI sure did.â
âO-Orgasm? So⌠I didnât pee?â
Gosh you were so cute, he wanted to ruin you so bad. âMmhm. NoT quite. You came so hard for meeee. And ya taste so good too, see?â
Joker kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, although he laughed when you jerked back in disgust.
âThatâs not sweet! More like tangy and salty! Eww.. and you like that?â You said while wiping your mouth clean. You were still convinced you relieved yourself, however the texture was more creamier than liquid that told you otherwise.
âI do. Very. Very. Much.â To prove his point, he licked his fingers clean of you while you watched in intrigue. It got you thinking..
âUmm, w-what do you taste like J?â
Joker died then and there. You asked him so casually, was he corrupting you too fast? Of course not. You blinked owlishly at Joker waiting for a response. All he could do was chuckle under his breath.
âIâll let ya have a uhh, taste another day Bunny. Right now, f__k, I gotta.. I need to be inside this pussy. Are ya still itchy?â
You blinked twice before nodding your head.
Whatever Joker did just then was amazing but it wasnât enough to quell the unknown feeling between your legs. You still couldnât form the right words to explain the sensation though. Maybe you could ask Joker about it later. Right now, your fears were bubbling up to the surface as he towered over you.
âYouâll be gentle right? It wonât hurt?â
Joker sighed before kissing you soundly. He then reached a hand down to check your entrance. You were still wet and you moaned into Jokerâs mouth at the soothing circles he left on your sensitive bud. âMmm it shouldnât, Bunny.â
Joker stopped rubbing your clit so he could remove his shirt and pants. You watched in awe as his body was revealed to you. Sure you saw glimpses of it here and there but fully bare before you now, Joker was stunning.
How did you get so lucky?
âThereâs no need to be shy, Y/n.â Joker cooed at you.
He noticed you were still hesitant and moved your hands to his chest for you. Seeing your hands on him.. it was a step in the right direction. He couldnât wait to see them wrapped around his cock.
Baby steps though. Today was your first time but if he played his cards rightâŚ. Why not go big rather than go home?
With Jokerâs permission, you caressed the hard planes of his chest and abs, wondering what the large indentation in his briefs was. The second your hand brushed against it, Joker hissed and grabbed your wrist.
Your eyes flickered up to his deep jade in awe.
âEasy there, bunny.â He shivered. You tilted your head to the side in wonder until Joker let his cock spring out from his underwear. Your face was priceless.
âI take it, itâs ya first time seeing one?â
You subconsciously clenched around nothing and nodded listlessly. Joker snorted and decided to let you explore uncharted territory. You know, get a little bit of hands-on training.
âGo on. Touch iT.â Joker whispered in your ear as he guided your hands around his dick. He stifled his groans as your timid touch groped his shaft. J was soft yet hard at the same time and you paled at the thought of it in you.
If his fingers almost made you faint, what would this do? It felt powerful and ominous in your hands and oddly hot to the touch. Veins ran up the length of it and when you looked closer, a clear bead of liquid was oozing out the top. For some unknown reason you wanted to lick it up but second guessed yourself at the last minute.
âIs this.. going inside m-me? J, I donât thinkâŚâ
âYes it will.â You wondered how Joker knew your exact thought, âIâll make it fit and youâll take every.. last.. inch. Under-stand?â
You jerked your head in a nod and it seemed to satisfy Joker since he nodded back. With that out of the way, Joker let you acquaint yourself with his dick until he grew impatient and batted your hands away. Any more stimuli and he wouldâve cum prematurely.
He couldnât finish before the deflowering party got started. But he didnât calculate the way you were driving him nuts.
âLook at me Y/n.That, uhhh, ache you have right here.â Joker rubbed your womb affectionately before tipping your chin up with his fingers.
You were on your knees before him, patiently waiting for anything he would give.
âYour mind is still unsure but your body⌠mmmm, your body knows what it wants. Keep listening to your body, mkay? It's gonna be reallllly scary, and I. Wonât. Stop. either, but you have to trust me bunny. Trust that Iâm doing this to.. make you feel good. Iâm going to ruin your pussy and thereâs nothing you can do about iT.â
Your bottom lip trembled in fear but you nodded at Joker. He wouldnât deliberately hurt you.. Right?
âO-Okay.. I trust you.â Joker's smile was absolutely feral hearing you surrender to him so easily. Youâd regret that later.
âThatâsss my sweet girl. So! Youâre all wet and horny and need to be filled? So achy and needy? Iâll help ya..â
Out of the blue Joker pushed you down on the bed and you yelped at the sudden shift in the air. âJ? Whatâre..â
âShuT. Up. You deserve someone who will treat ya right. Mmmm, shouldâve picked someone else then. Lemme break you Princess, open up for me.â
You didnât like where this was going but Joker did say to trust him. It was going to be scary but you had to trust him. Didnât mean you had to like it. You didnât want him breaking anything of yours!
Before you could turn your head away, Joker already grabbed a hold of it.
âLook at me! I said⌠spread your legs slut.â
If Joker didnât see your pussy glistening with cum, he would have dialed things back but surprise surprise, his little virgin liked being dominated. You liked his meaner side even if your brain couldnât wrap itself around the idea. Joker was over the moon discovering your kinks way before you did.
He watched in glee as you parted your thighs for him. Your pretty folds were glistening like the delicate flower it was. Joker repeatedly slapped his dick on your puffy lips and you jumped in shock with each unexpected smack.
Even if you could squirm away, Joker would just drag you back. With one hand keeping your face towards him, he used the other to prod his cock in your slick juices.
You were so wet, he almost slipped inside with no resistance. He let you coat his dick completely and hissed at the warmth beckoning him in.
âDonât⌠look⌠away. Here we go. Ahhhh s__t, oh shhh shh Y/n, I know. I-I know it hurts and that.. Heh, thatâs just the tip..â
You were a panting mess. It felt like you were being split apart and he barely had the tip inside? This wasnât what you signed up for! âJoker, wait!!â
He muffled your cries with a kiss and bullied his way deeper inside of your tight walls, one agonizing inch at a time. You clawed at his forearm that was holding your face and wept at the sting his cock left behind.
It wasnât supposed to hurt yet it felt good at the same time. You couldnât decide which sensation overpowered the other, but right when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Joker bottomed out inside of youâ groaning at your walls gripping him tight as you sobbed uncontrollably around him.
âAhhh! Please, Joker no more!â You begged. Joker settled in within you, laughing.
âWhaddya mean, Bunny? Thatâs it! Good job for taking me soooo well. You ahhh, took it a-all on the first try. Breathe doll. Ya gotta breathe.â
Joker groaned as you turned a little blue in the face. His cock was already making you go stupid and he had yet to start thrusting.
He wanted to tease you about it but he wasnât any better as your gummy walls choked the life out of his dick. You felt absolutely sinful wrapped around him. He felt lightheaded from the intense heat your body enveloped him in.
âHow does it f-feel to not be a.. mmm.. virgin anymore?â
âF-FullâŚâ You wheezed out.
âYeah? What if I ahh, take it away?â Joker pulled out, till nothing but the aching tip remained and you cried out, begging him to come back. âI knew it, such a greedy little slutâŚÂ but today Iâll be generous. Here you go.â
He thrust into you sharply, making you arch your back and disrupt the grip he had on your face. âOhh you like it rough, doll?â
Joker grabbed your hips instead and set his knees into the bed. Each word was drilled into your pussy with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. âGood. To. Know.â
You couldnât think straight let alone form words from the assault. All that could escape your lips was Jokerâs shortened name and pornagraphic moans.
You were tossing your head side to side and drooling up a storm. Joker thought it was the prettiest thing in the world. You were a natural.
âAnd you thoughT you wouldnât be good enough, HA! Youâre perfect for meeee.. I shouldâve taken you months ago, f__k.â Joker didnât care if he was talking too much, you were proving to be too much for him to handle.
Between your tight pussy suffocating his cock, to your breast bouncing in his face, Joker didnât know where to focus his attention.
That is, until you made the decision for him.
You never followed his instructions. He didnât care how hard it was to focus, he wanted to see the moment your brain shut down and floated away. How could he do that if you closed your eyes?
Joker growled and picked up the pace but not before squeezing your throat. âWhat.. did I tell you? Donât. Look. Away.â
He wasnât expecting you to let out an airy giggle in response. You would be his undoing. Smiling as he choked you? It was like you were made for him.
Joker groaned and lost himself, giving it his all to make you feel good. This was your first time after all. He would stop at nothing to make it perfect.
You werenât complaining as you struggled to breathe in between the brutal pace Joker set and with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat.
A while ago, the initial pain of his cock entering your hole morphed into mind numbing pleasure. Now you understood the hype behind sex. Why did your parents and other adults growing up censor this from you?
It was indescribable the way Joker made you feel. You were in fact seeing stars with each cant of his hips. Had you known sex could feel this good sooner, you couldnât even wrap your head around the possibilities your teenage self could have created.
ânny? Bunny? Come back to meeeee. There ya are! Heh, thought I squeezed too tight.â
You blinked back the fog to notice Joker had come to a stop inside of you and was doting on you with a slight look of concern in his eyes. It was gone by the time you cleared your throat.
He let go of it during your brief stint in headspace when he saw your eyes roll back.
There was a fine line between breath play and choking. Joker wasnât about to go too far, especially since this was your first time.
He wanted this to be memorable, not kill you. So against his wishes he stopped to check on you when you became unresponsive.
You were breathing normally again (albeit your eyes were still glazed over) but he proposed a new idea anyway. âWanna try a different position?â
You stretched your arms out for Joker to grab onto with a meek nod. He chuckled at your innocence on full display.
His sweet girl was a pillow Princess through and through.
Too bad he wanted to corrupt that and everything else about you. You would be a ravenous minx by the end of his teachings, that much he was certain of.
Joker sighed as he left your warmth and drummed up a good position in his head. There were so many he wanted to try with you but one in particular made him grin deviously.
You caught sight of it and gulped down your fear. âJ⌠please be..â
âNothing about me is gentle doll. Remember thaT. Now, whatâs a sweet little thing like you owning a big mirror like this hmmm?â
Joker scooped you up from the bed and slammed you face first into the floor length mirror you had set up in the room.
He loved seeing your shock reflect through the mirror.
âDo ya use it to touch yourself? Canât blame ya if you do. Iâd watch this body too..â He fondled your hips and squeezed your breasts as you shook your head in denial.
You watched yourself in the mirror being manhandled at a loss for words.
âN-No! Itâs not l-like that!â You cried out when Joker yanked your hair back in his strong grip. All you could do was grip the mirrorâs frame, lest you lose your balance.
Joker had you standing on your tippy toes with your head tilted all the way back in order to stare up into his eyes.
âOpen your mouth.â He ordered.
You did without hesitation but froze when Joker spat right onto your tongue.
âAhht ahht, swallow. Now.â He growled. He didnât care if it was yucky to you, it asserted his dominance over you and he grinned when you teared up but swallowed on command.
He noticed your legs rubbing against each other and knew subconsciously you loved it. That innocent mind of yours was holding you back however.
âItâs always the shy ones.â Joker chuckled under his breath. In an instant he used your hair to guide you back onto his dick. Your breath was stolen right from you by the unexpected invasion.
âOh bunnyyyy, you got tighter.â He groaned.
He rammed his cock into you at a bruising pace and yanked your hair whenever you tried to look away. Your only option was to lean forward onto the cool mirror and watch as J pounded into you from behind on its surface.
The sight of your nude body being taken in such a way was embarrassingâ all flushed and slack jawed but Joker was right behind you, whispering how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to take your v card.
Whatever that meant.
What you did know was that Joker was thrusting into you harder than ever and that wondrous feeling from before was fast approaching again. You were unsure how Joker managed to fit his length inside of you yet there was a noticeable bulge in your stomach that you couldnât keep your eyes off of.
Joker followed your gaze through the mirror and relocated one of his hands to rub against it during each snap of his hips. And when he pressed down on it? You sang praises to his name.
âYou.. really are stuffed.. fuucâfull of me huh, baby doll? G-Gooood, thatâs good.â He smiled into your skin and picked up the pace, like he wasnât already rattling the mirror and artwork against the wall with every rough thrust.
You were swaying on your feet from the pleasure and it grew the moment Joker rubbed erratic circles on your clit.
You couldnât handle the added stimuli and tried moving his hand away because this time it really felt like you were..
Your undoing completely blindsided you; it was so intense. Your legs shook like a newbornâs and you almost fell if not for Joker catching you at the last minute. He was in high spirits, cooing in your ear.
âD__n, Y/n! Goood girl, Câmon.. breathe for me Bunny.. yeah. That was.. heh somethinâ else wasnât it? Shhh shhhh easy now..â He ignored the wet mirror dripping with your cum to help you down onto the plush rug at your feet.
You were twitching and pushing Joker away but he fought back and flipped you onto your stomach.
Your legs were still dripping wet from squirting, so your pussy accepted Joker back inside no issue.
That didnât mean your brain was so welcoming. âJ.. too much, I-I canât!â
He just positioned your hips into a painful looking arch and drilled your pussy like no tomorrow.
âI. Donât. Care. Bunny. Ahh, you⌠ohh, youuuu got yo cum twice now, selfish little whore. N-Now itâs my turn and Iâm gonna.. use ya.. like the dirty slut we both know ya are!â
He threw his head back as he slammed your hips back to take his dick over and over. The way your skin rippled with each thrust, the echo of wet skin on skin, your pathetic cries floating in the air; Joker loved every detail.
A quick glance to his right gave him the perfect view of your back arching in the mirror and your tear stained face smushed into the rug.
You were taking his cock with a blissed out smile on your face. Joker truly was a lucky man. Your first time and you were already showing signs of being a perfect cock-slut.
What more could he ask for in a partner?
Heâd love exposing you to his most kinkiest desires and treating his touch starved Princess to all of the pleasures known to mankind. By the way your weeping pussy was still throwing it back on him and squeezing his dick so tight, physically you were still in the game.
A shame your mind couldnât keep up.
He laughed at the broken pleas spilling from your lips. Your mind was still a virgin but your body never truly was. This body of yours was begging for his cum.
And he would deliver.
Joker choked on a moan as his release creeped up on him. His hips lost their rhythm and became more primal in the desperate need to cum. Joker reached down and grabbed ahold of your hair to twist your face towards him.
âNow this⌠ohh shiâ this is the ahh, most important part Bunny. Good.. gooood girls get rewarded. T-They get cum deeeeep in their greedy little wombs. You.. you want thaT? You want my cum?â He asked.
You didnât understand a single word but nodded aways. âYes J, please!â
Joker was too close to mock your eagerness. He was spouting nonsense himself; his head was so mushy.
âIâm gunna give it to ya. Youâve been such a good little bunny. Thisâll make ya feel sooo much better, so full nâ complete. All m-mine.. youâll take it yeah? Wonât you, Y/n?â
Joker had more to say but two thrusts later, he erupted in your pussy, painting it white with no end in sight.
Jokerâs release triggered one last orgasm from you as his hot cum bathed your walls and sent you down a spiral.
You collapsed and Jokerâs weight kept you pressed to the floor as he continued to rock his hips into you, unable to stop himself. Both of you struggled to catch a breath but Joker regained his senses first and rolled over onto his side, dragging you with him.
Naturally he was the big spoon and showered you with much needed affection.
You were shivering with aftershocks with a faraway expression on your face. He hummed as he softened inside you and waited until he was coherent enough to check on you.
âY/n?â He brushed a lock of hair off your shoulder. âYou uhhh alright?â Joker turned you around and you clung to him instantly.
He rubbed your back and petted your hair, a complete 180 of the dominant man rearranging your guts just moments prior.
âI wasnât too rough, no? If ya didnât li-ke it or.. uhh, we can try again? More gentlerâ-â
You cut him off with a kiss.
Joker looked down at you in shock. Your beautiful face was wet with tears but your eyes⌠those sweet e/c shined so brightly at him in adoration.
âIt was p-perfect, J. T-Thank you.â You kissed him again and collapsed into his arms when your strength suddenly failed you.
You landed on his chest and left kisses where you could reach. They were weak brushes of your lips, but Joker didnât mind. At least you were okay.
âMmm, err donât thanK me just yet doll. Câmere.â He tipped your head back so the two of you could lock eyes.
âThis⌠was tame compared to what Iâll do to ya next time.â
Your eyes widened. âN-Next time?â
Joker snickered at your innocent wonder and nodded. Somethings just wouldnât change he guessed.
âMmhm. Thereâs so much more to learn Y/n..â He tucked a curl of hair behind your ear. You were so pretty in your afterglow, he couldnât even focus on what he was saying.
Joker didnât know how long he was gonna lay low with the authorities but he knew he was staying here with you for a very, very long time.Â
warnings: sex with feelings, alcohol, you've both been drinking, friends to lovers, he comes across a little possessive, dacryphilia if you squint, body worship, unprotected sex, let me know if I missed any â¤ď¸
âDo your ears work, princess? Can you hear that?â He sneers, breath tickling the crook of your neck before he pushes himself up, biceps flexing beautifully as he looms over you.
Heâs undoubtedly referring to the lewd, loud sounds manifesting between the two of you. It's absolutely intoxicating, just like his touch. You're already tipsy, but now you are drunk on what this man is doing to you.
âThis is what pussy is supposed to sound like when youâre getting fucked.â
You aren't quite sure how you ended up here. With Katsuki fucking Bakugou of all people plunging his cock in and out of you while you cling to his strong arms for dear life.
You blame it on the alcohol. That's the only excuse you can think of to explain why he drew closer to you on the couch, hands and lips exploring places that your dear friend had never ventured to touch before.
Why the glasses you were sipping out of landed on the coffee tabe and he somehow wound up on top of you, his searing kiss stealing the very air from your lungs. Why your clothes lay discarded and you're now laid bare for him, limbs tangled up as sweat collects on both of your brows as your bodies move in tandem, seeking sweet, sweet pleasure.
"That pathetic excuse of a man you called a boyfriend never made you feel like this, did he?" He asks as he grabs your jaw, his touch still so gentle, even as his tone grows more desperate. "Did he?"
"Never," you reply, breathless and barely able to form the words as you lose yourself in the delirium.
Katsuki was definitely more imposing than the man who'd dumped you. He'd stood you up for the last time and it was Katsuki who'd come to comfort you, joining you in your libations as you drowned your sorrows over a man who was never worth your time to begin with.
"That's what I fucking thought," he says as a handsome smirk spreads across his face.
His expression is almost devious. It's dark and full of salascious promise as his strokes grow longer. Slower. Deeper.
It feels as if he's nearly penetrating your lungs the way that head of his cock drags against your pulsating walls and knocks against your cervix, kissing it with each pass of his hips, never giving you the chance to truly breathe as his body drives into yours with immense purpose. Like he has something to prove.
Because he does.
He's watched and he's waited. Too many men have come along and broken your heart. Used your body and never taken proper care of your heart, but that's over now.
As he peers down at your perfect form, he makes a promise to himself and to you. His hands glide along your body, worshipping every curve and dip. His mouth travels along your neck, your breasts, your jaw before they claim your mouth again.
It's heated, though that could just be the booze. It must be, you tell yourself, but no one has ever kissed you like this before. Like they mean it. Like they need it to survive. Like they need you.
"You are never going to be left wanting again, beautiful. I won't let it happen," he breathes out, his lips moving against yours before they swallow you whole again.
Your tongues tangle and you kiss him back despite how your lungs burn and your body tenses, pulled taut like the strings of an instrument that he has spent years mastering and he's performing a fucking symphony right now. To a crowd that only consists of you.
"You deserve to be pleasured. Treasured. Fucking revered," he growls through grit teeth, picking up the pace with his strokes as his hands works into your hair, cradling you with care like the prize he obviously thinks that you are.
"Katsuki," you gasp, a frantic energy swelling inside of you as the song he's crafting swells to a triumphant crescendo. "I-I'm gonna cum."
"Yes you are. You're going to cum all over my fucking cock. Like you should've been doing all this time. You are mine now. No one elses," he pants, sweat dripping from his face onto your breasts to glide down your torso. "I finally have you and I'm not letting you go. I've got you, gorgeous. Cum for me."
You hear his words, but they're drowned out by the sound of someone screaming. Of you, screaming. Howling with unrestrained need as the dam bursts and you break for him, gushing around his thick cock as it keeps on plunging in and out, nearly driving you mad.
"Katsuki!" You cry, literally, as tears prick your eyes, a warm wetness sliding over your cheeks when your eyes squeeze shut and you cling tighter to him, digging your nails into the fibers of his muscles.
"Fuck," he groans, a guttural noise echoing around your living room as his hot seed spills from him and into you, making the slick mess between your thighs a practical crime sense of passion and pure need.
His hips keep moving, drawing out the sinful noises the both of you trade as your respective highs peak and gradually begin to fade away, leaving you a weak, shaking mess beneath him.
"I love you," he confesses with the last of the oxygen in his lungs, his nose nuzzling against the crook of you neck as he lays his body on top of yours.
It's all encompassing. His presence. His words. His devotion. It feels like a safety blanket, bundling you up in all the things that you were searching for all along when it was right here in front of you the whole time.
"I love you too, Katsuki," you whisper the words you'd left unspoken for far too long against his temple.
He smiles against your skin. He's wrung dry after offering everything up to you, but your words renew him, giving him the strength to push up and ghost his fingertips along your cheek as his crimson eyes bore into your own.
"You will never want again. I'll take care of you from now on," he promises, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he draws you in to another kiss.
This one is slow, sweet, and tender. It's a vow that he will never break.
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He always thought you were prettiest like this. Tears threatened to force themselves out of your eyes as he groaned, pushing himself deeper into your throat. Your thighs -already painted white- shook as you desperately rubbed circles into your own clit. He looked down on you as he reached his orgasm. He wanted this picture of you on your knees to be burned into his memory.
Kirishima doesnât get jealous, not really. He's the type of guy who gets super happy and proud when his partner gets attention from other people because of course! Youâre the most attractive person in the world! It only makes sense that you would draw people in as often as you do. He knows that he really won when you fell in love with him too.Â
As long as people are respectful in how they treat you, heâs totally fine. You always tell him when it happens because you want to be super transparent, and youâve also told him you can not tell him if itâd make him feel some type of way. He tells you, âWhatever you wanna do, babe! I really donât mind and I trust you.â And it always makes you want to chomp on him because his security in himself and in your relationship??? SO attractive.Â
People arenât always so respectful, though, and Kirishima hates that. He knows you can handle yourself, but he hates the idea of you feeling unsafe or being disrespected. He wishes people would just! Appreciate you and admire you!! Nicely!!!
One time when youâre out at a dance club celebrating Mina's birthday, a guy comes up to where youâre standing near the bar, waiting for your tableâs drinks. He tells you that youâre hot and asks if you wanna dance. You politely refuse and go to turn back around to face the bar. He grabs your arm and insists. You try to tug away without making a scene, but he continues to move in on your personal space.Â
Youâre about to punch the guy, not making a scene be damned, when Kirishima comes up from behind the guy and taps him on the shoulder.Â
âThey donât want to dance with you. Move along, dude.âÂ
The guy tells Kirishima to mind his business. Kirishima's smile disappears and his eyes turn steely. He grabs the guyâs wrist, gripping it hard enough that the guy lets you go. This makes the guy pay attention, and once he takes in the expression on Kirishima's face, how big he is, he takes a step back. Kirishima shoulders in and uses his physicality to muscle the guy away.Â
Once the guyâs gone, he turns to you, all soft and concerned because youâre looking at him a little funny. âYou okay? Did he hurt you? Sorry I didnât notice sooner.â He bends his head to peer at your bicep, where the guy had gripped you, and you shake your head, burying your face in his chest.Â
You tug at his shirt a little, motioning him to bend down so you can tell him something in his ear, over the loud music. You're a little shy about it, but you're honest.Â
âEiji, youâre so hot when youâre intimidating. Literally no thoughts right now âcept you.â
This makes him go bright red, and the only way you can tell in the dim lighting is because your faces are so close together, and it only makes you want him more. It doesnât help that he keeps running his hand up and down your back, a comforting, mindless motion to him but one that makes you want his hands all over you.Â
Kirishima suddenly squeezes you to him until you squeak, then lets go. In your ear, he whines, âYou canât say stuff like that, babe! We just got here.â
You laugh, and he nudges you back in the direction of your partyâs table.Â
âI'll get our drinks, donât worry. I wanna talk to the bartender so he can tell the bouncers to keep an eye on that guy. Go dance with our friends!â
Youâre all heart eyes as you make your way back to the table, really just hopelessly in love.