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naughtyjjk · 3 days

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just a massage (pt. 2)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism notes: if you haven't already, make sure to read part 1 here first!

it’s been a week and nanami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. it’s terrible for him mentally, for his day-to-day living in general. every time he closes his eyes, you’re there in his mind. you with your naked body and perfect curves and smooth skin… the way you were so vocal and reactive to his touches…

he’s thought about you more than he’d ever admit, especially at night, after a long day of work, when he’s finally able to take off his clothes and lie down in bed and wrap a hand around his aching cock. yes, he’s jerked off to the thought of you—multiple times. he can’t seem to stop, addicted to the fantasy that he conjures. and it’s bad, it’s so bad of him, but he’s also never come so hard before and you make him irrationally horny.

today, nanami gets to the massage parlor and opens up his schedule. that’s when he sees your name there, a session booked for 1:30 pm. he blinks, wondering if it’s a dream. it’s not. he moves through the whole morning on autopilot, speaking politely to clients who are not you. they’re all irrelevant and he’s both looking forward to and dreading the time of your appointment.

he promised that he wouldn’t repeat what happened last time. it had been far to inappropriate, far too unprofessional, and he could easily get fired if anyone found out. but… his cock has other ideas. he doesn’t know if he would be able to hold back once he sees you again, in person, there to tempt him with your hot, sexy body. at the same time, a part of him wants to find out how far he can push you, test the limits to see how much you’re able to endure. it had been obvious that you were into it just as much as he was last time.

inhaling, nanami looks at the clock. it shouldn’t be long now before you get here. he has to tame his thoughts so that he doesn’t get himself all worked up over nothing.

but fuck, he wants you. he wants you so fucking bad.

“you booked a longer session this time,” nanami greets you as you walk into the room. he’s shirtless again, of course. at this point, you can probably guess that it’s a deliberate choice, as if he’s testing your resolve from the very start. like last time, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of shorts that barely does anything to hide what he’s packing down there.

you divert your eyes before you end up staring for too long. everything about the massage parlor looks exactly the same as it had when you visited last week, with its white walls and minimalistic decorations and the different bottles of oils all lined up on the counter which, as nanami has proved previously, can be used for more than their intended purposes. but there is something that changed, though, and you sense it as soon as you see nanami.

“well,” you reply eventually, “we left off with some unfinished business.”

there’s no beating around the bush anymore. neither of you bother to keep up pretenses this time because it’s inevitable where this will lead. and this is something you both clearly want. you know that you’re not the only one who had been looking forward to today, that nanami wants it just as much as you.

“right. but you know,” nanami drawls, “last time, while you were in the changeroom after our session, i think i heard some… noises. any idea what that could be?”

flushing, you feel your entire body heating up with embarrassment. you curse yourself for not being quieter at the time and you clear throat, glancing away. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“hm.” nanami looks at you unconvinced. he takes a step closer. “it couldn’t have been that you were doing anything naughty in there, right?”

“o-of course not,” you say, hating how guilty you sound.

thankfully, nanami doesn’t press you any further. “good. i mean, no one else heard you… but it would’ve been bad if someone did.” he grabs a few of the items from the counter and walks over to the bed. “now, where would you like me to massage this time?”

sitting back, you make a vague gesture. “just—continue where we left off. same as before.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “come on, now. let’s be a bit more honest,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “we both know what you’re really here for.”

“everywhere,” you blurt out, arousal hitting you without warning. “my whole body… the front this time, too. make me feel good.”

eyes darkening with desire, nanami nods, pleased with your answer. “much better. we’ll start with you lying down on the bed again.”

you position yourself the same as last time, on your stomach with your face down and legs spreading apart instinctively. you hear nanami chuckle at your eagerness.

soon, oil is poured over your back, warm hands spreading it all over. your muscles relax at once and you’re reminded of how skilled nanami is. along your spine, he applies pressure to his palms, drawing out soft sounds from you. nanami runs his hands parallel, gliding them down all the way to your legs, then back up again, and repeating the process until heat starts to coil inside you.

after a moment, nanami asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“nothing,” you mumble. a lie, obviously. there’s only one thing that could be occupying your mind while nanami is touching you like this, rubbing your body sensually, and that’s—

“hm.” nanami says. “want to know what i’m thinking about?”

“wh-what?”

“how much i want to fuck you.” nanami’s voice is low and he uses both hands to squeeze your ass over the towel. in response, you moan, arousal hitting you hard. “how horny you make me. i've been thinking about it since our last session…”

breath hitching, you feel a rush of heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire, a wetness starting to soak your pussy. it’s no secret that you’ve been imagining the same scenario for the past few days, every second that you’ve been apart.

“how long has it been since you’ve had sex, darling?”

“ah—i don’t know. weeks, maybe,” you say, exhaling. you’re losing himself to the sensation of nanami’s hands as he moves them again, this time drawing circles on your inner thighs. “months.”

skirting along the edge of the towel, nanami’s fingers slip under just for a second to brush against your ass. “and how are you feeling? pent up from all those months without relief?”

“y-yeah.” you swallow hard. you’ve been more on edge than you’d like to admit, more irritable in general the longer you go without getting laid. sometimes, you’ll be flooded with dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate times, often waking up to wet dreams and an ache in your pussy to be filled.

“mm, and do you miss it? having sex?” nanami’s hot breath is right by your ear, a low whisper when he asks, “getting fucked?”

shuddering, you can’t help but moan softly. “yes.”

“it’s not enough to satisfy the craving by yourself, is it? it’s been so long…” nanami murmurs. “you want someone there with you, someone to touch you, someone to make you feel good.”

“kento… oh…”

last time, this was the point in the massage when he had stopped. but nanami shows no signs of slowing down, and even when his hands lift from your body, he makes sure that you know he’s not done yet.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you today,” nanami tells you, and you’re hit with another wave of arousal. “now, turn around for me.”

you do as you’re told, flipping over on the bed to lie on your back, facing up at the ceiling. your heart hammers away in your chest as nanami eyes you up and down. you expect him to start working down from your shoulders, but he seems to have other plans when his hands move directly to untie the towel around your waist.

“w-wait, i—”

pausing, nanami glances at you, a smirk on his face. “what’s wrong? are you embarrassed that you’re wet already?” he slides the towel lower just a little. “have you forgotten how you were begging for it last time?”

nanami doesn’t wait for you to reply before unwrapping the towel all the way. like this, you can’t hide your desire anymore. and you’re more than aware of how wet you’ve gotten, pussy dripping and soaking the bed. you see nanami’s gaze flicker down, pausing in his actions to admire your body. you feel so exposed like this, naked on the bed while presenting yourself to him, and the tension between you grows thicker by the second. it’s all so arousing.

taking the bottle of oil, nanami holds it over you and pours out the liquid directly so that it leaves a trail from your chest all the way to your stomach. you can’t help but flinch slightly, feeling it tickle as it drips. a few drops fall directly onto your pussy, causing it to throb, and your breath hitches as you bite back a moan. nanami licks his lips and then his hands are on you again.

first, he runs a single finger down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, stopping just before touching your pussy, above your clit. the process is slow. slow and sensual. spreading the rest of the oil evenly across your skin, nanami takes his time in feeling you all over, making the anticipation build and build inside you.

next, your breasts are the main area of focus as he draws large circles on both sides, dipping near your armpits, along the underside, and trailing back up the center. slowly, the circles get smaller with each round, closing in on your nipples. but as soon as he’s about to come into contact with those hardened nubs, nanami retreats and starts all over again. he does it three more times—large circles spiraling closer, closer, closer. tracing just around it. caressing the sides. and you always think that this time, this time, he’s going to finally reach your nipples.

he never does. you groan, frustrated. it’s the first time you’ve experienced something like this; the first time you’ve ever wanted your nipples to be touched so badly. the worst part is that it’s really getting to you, turned on from barely anything. your pussy begs for attention, leaking more of your arousal as you mentally curse nanami for being such a fucking tease.

at that moment, nanami leans in so that his mouth is hovering just above one of your breasts and your heart pounds at the possibility of what’s to come. but all he does is blow against it gently and chuckle.

“your nipples are so hard…” his tongue pokes out, swirling it in the air just above your skin, exactly like how he would if he were to suck and lick at the sensitive nub. he holds your gaze but never makes contact with his tongue. still, you can feel the phantom sensations there, and you want so badly for him to take you in his mouth. “want me to touch you?”

god, yes. you let out a whine. all of this teasing is going straight to your pussy, so wet with desire. but nanami’s mouth retreats and he goes back to using his hands, circling your breasts with his fingers.

when you don’t think that you could take it anymore, you feel it—a single finger brushing across both your nipples, just grazing them, the lightest of touches. you’re so turned on at this point, the anticipation having built up inside you, that you gasp, squirming on the spot as you try to adjust to the sudden, unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“ah—”

“look at you. so sensitive, so riled up from barely anything,” nanami says, waiting for you to regain your composure.

it’s not your fault. nanami made sure that your body would be extra responsive by taking it slow, making you crave it, and one barely-there touch is hardly enough to satisfy you. but that’s all you get for a while as nanami repeats his actions with the sole mission of making the experience as agonizing as possible for you.

eventually, when you least expect it, the pattern changes. nanami flattens his hands over your nipples and rubs them, going from palms to fingertips, the oil adding a delicious glide to every movement. he grabs both your breasts and fondles them, massages them. cupping them with his palms and squeezing with his large hands.

“ohh…” you moan, arching into the touch. soon, nanami switches to grasping your nipples between his fingers, pinching the delicate nubs with the perfect amount of pressure, and it sends a rush of sensation throughout your body. you whimper. “fuck, k-kento…”

“does it turn you on when i play with your nipples?” nanami asks, hyperattentive, watching every reaction that your body makes. “such a naughty girl.”

fuck, it’s only your second session here but nanami has already figured out your body’s weaknesses, all of your most sensitive areas, the erogenous zones, and how to take you apart. you shouldn’t be falling for every one of nanami’s tricks. you shouldn’t be this easy. but you gave up control the moment you laid down on this bed, and nanami just seems to have that effect on you.

having gotten the reaction he wanted, nanami moves on. he had spent so long playing with your nipples that you almost forgot the feeling of those tantalizing hands on the rest of his body. but you’re quickly reminded when he travels down to your stomach, your lower abdomen, purposely avoiding your pussy and going straight to your legs.

it’s the assault on your inner thighs that eventually ruins you. because nanami is running his hands up your thighs, stopping right at your pelvis, and doing it over and over and over—repeatedly, for what seems like forever. occasionally, his fingertips will brush against the outside of your folds, but the touch is fleeting and never goes any further than that, only serving to taunt you.

you groan, wishing nanami would just get on with it. when you express this, you only get an amused chuckle in response.

“so impatient. and you’re all wet for me already…” nanami says, those words making you even more aroused. “that’s it, let your body crave it. i would love to eat you out and taste you on my tongue.”

you certainly wouldn’t complain if he did just that. but nanami only spreads your legs and runs a finger past your pussy, spreading your wetness there. he circles your clit once, and you moan. then he goes further down until he finds your entrance but doesn’t push inside. he continues to do that—playing with you, teasing you, turning you into a writhing mess on the bed.

oh, you want him so bad. you’ve never wanted a man this fucking bad before. your body is burning, the need and desire growing exponentially by the second.

“there are so many things i want to do to you.” nanami swallows, looking like he wants to devour you but is doing everything he can to hold himself back. “but i’ll keep it simple for today. you look like you won’t be able to last much longer, anyway.”

without warning, nanami slides his hand back up to your clit, pinching it between two fingers, slick with oil. your entire body jolts as you feel pressure being applied there, a choked out moan escaping your lips. nanami rolls the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub and you throb at his touch, breathing significantly harder now.

it had already been overwhelming before, but now your whole body burns with pleasure, with desire—wild and untamed. heat sears through you, fast, hot, making you somewhat delirious. you lose control of yourself as you buck up and circle your hips, trying to feel more of it.

“remember, this is still a massage,” nanami says, voice low, and you’re not sure who he’s trying to fool. he pinches you again, the perfect amount of pressure, and you arch off the bed with a whimper. “all i’m doing is giving you a massage…”

his hand flattens and he rubs your clit up and down, then in circles, slow at first and gradually increasing in speed. there’s no pattern to his movements; nanami is completely unpredictable, leaving you guessing, never allowing you to adjust to the sensation at any given moment. all you can do is lie there and take it, at his mercy, chasing after whatever he’s willing to give you. but you can’t exactly complain, though, not when it feels this fucking good.

“k-kento—” you cry out as all your nerves ignite at once, tingles of pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

“is this how you touched yourself in the changeroom last time?” the pace quickens, nanami drawing tight circles around your clit. “did you imagine that i was the one touching you? getting you closer and closer?”

moaning, you try to reply but your head is swimming with pleasure and it’s infinitely more arousing now that nanami is really here, playing with your pussy. it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

and then—it hits you fast, hard, entirely by surprise. one minute nanami is changing up his rhythm and the next, you find yourself bucking into the air uncontrollably, moaning loud and needy, and fuck, you’re—oh god, you’re going to come, you’re going to come—

“not yet, baby,” nanami says, voice low and stern. a command. his hand immediately withdraws from your body, keeping you right on the edge but never tipping over, and instead moves to hold your hips in place as you convulse on the bed, helpless to ride it out as your orgasm ebbs away. your pussy throbs and throbs, aching, dripping with your wetness. you’re left painfully unsatisfied. fuck, it’s not fair.

chest heaving, you whimper, having been denied your release. your whole body is on fire, and you’re so fucking turned on. you need to come. you need to come so fucking bad.

“kento,” you plead, willing to do anything to get his hands back on you. if this gets drawn out any longer, you’re not sure if you’ll survive. “kento, please—i’m—i can’t—please—”

almost idly, nanami trails a hand around the outside of your pussy, keeping his touch gentle like he has all the time in the world. it’s only a single finger grazing against you, but your hips flinch, moaning at the feeling of it. “do you really want it to end that quickly? i would love to see how desperate you can get. it won’t take much more for you to come, will it?”

you’re trembling and your pussy throbs every time nanami makes contact with it. you’re still unbelievably close to the edge despite calming down a bit now, and you’re sure that all it’ll take is a bit more stimulation from nanami before you reach your climax.

“can you—oh,” you start, words dissolving into a moan as nanami touches you again, fingers prodding at your entrance this time. it takes deliberate effort for you to gather your thoughts and finish the sentence, but you’ve become shameless, too aroused and horny to maintain any sense of dignity. “c-can you fuck me instead? i wanna—hah—wanna come on your cock.”

“mm, tempting. really tempting. but i don’t think so,” nanami tells you. his fingers latch onto your clit again, circling around it faster than before, and it’s so fucking good, so distracting that you’re barely able to hang on to his words. “i won’t fuck you today. i want to get you really desperate for it, let the tension build up until it makes you lose control. and when i finally give you what you want—tomorrow, or the next day, or even a week from now—i’ll break you apart slowly and leave you writhing under me. think of how good it’ll feel to finally have my cock in you after all this time, hard and aching inside you, filling up that tight little pussy.”

whimpering, you’re not even able to formulate a reply. that has to be the hottest proposal you’ve ever heard, like nanami has somehow figured out all of your dirtiest fantasies and is making them a reality. your mind is clouded with an arousal so strong that you’re struggling to process everything. but nanami isn’t even done yet.

“eventually, if i fuck you… when i fuck you, i’m going to take you apart slowly and push you to your limits until you show me just how badly you need it. you’ll be shaking under me, begging to have my cock in you. god, darling, i’ve wanted to ruin you since our first session together.”

you moan brokenly, hips thrusting wildly on the bed in response to his words. holy shit. nanami knows exactly how to get you all worked up. what’s worse is that every word he says is a cruel reminder that his cock isn’t inside you, isn’t fucking you, isn’t even out of those tight, tight pants yet.

“hah—fuck, your cock—n-need your cock—”

“i’ll give you something just as good.” nanami is watching you intensely, taking in the way your body responds. he bends your legs, hands sliding almost innocently across your entrance. “i can massage your insides. how does that sound?”

it sounds incredibly fucking hot, that’s what. and suddenly, you’ve never desired anything so badly before. “y-yeah—ngh, please—”

“spread your legs for me, baby,” nanami tell you. doing as you’re told, you follow his guidance to expose your pussy even more, aroused and horny beyond belief. “good girl. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

a finger runs along the outside of your pussy, slick with oil, and you choke out a moan, lifting your hips to try and feel more of it. thankfully, it goes in soon enough, not wasting any time, and nanami sinks a finger into you, the slick oil helping to ease his length inside. you let out a startled gasp as he goes deeper and deeper, past the first and second knuckle, all the way until his whole finger has been swallowed up.

once he’s all the way in, nanami groans at the tightness that envelopes him, the way you clam down as if refusing to let him go. but he starts pulling back out, inch by inch, and you’re helpless to it; all you can do is moan at how good it feels. he pumps it in and out a few times almost experimentally, taking in how quickly you’re falling apart on the bed before him.

“you can imagine that it’s my cock fucking you if that helps,” nanami whispers in your ear and the suggestion has you whimpering. “but of course, my cock is bigger than this. think you can take another?”

“Y-yes—ah—yes, yes, more—”

“look at me,” nanami says, waiting until you turn your head before adding a second digit, stretching you open. you gasp, panting as soon as he starts to thrust into you properly. “see how hard i am because of you? my cock feels like it’s going to burst out of these pants.”

and it’s true; your gaze falls on nanami’s bulge, so hot and obscene within the confines of his pants. the fabric shifts every time it twitches, pulsing like it’s trying to break out, wet and damp where the tip is. nanami’s free hand moves to touch himself, hips rolling into his palms, giving himself some relief for the very first time.

god, you swallow. you would do anything to have him pull out his cock already.

but nanami’s only goal seems to be to get you as worked up as possible, bringing you right to the edge with his dirty words. “mm, yeah. think about how fucking good it’ll feel to have my cock throbbing inside you. thrusting into your tight little pussy, nice and deep.”

his fingers curl, sending an unexpected jolt through your entire body. you cry out, back arching off the bed, head thrown back as an intense wave of pleasure overtakes you. “a-ah—! shit, kento—o-oh my god—”

grinning, nanami makes sure to aim for the same place again. “is this the spot? does it feel good here?”

“hah—fuck—y-yeah, good—hng, so fucking good—”

nanami hums, but the next few thrusts he makes purposely avoids your g-spot. each one is shallower than the last and you can’t help but squirm as you get increasingly frustrated, until he pulls out altogether.

“that’s a good look on you. it seriously turns me on to see how desperate you are now,” nanami says, licking his lips. his eyes are dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of you, running his hands along your thighs and watching your pussy throb. “it’s almost a shame we have to end things here today.”

you take a few seconds to process what he’s saying, and once you do, all you can think is, no, no. not again. you didn’t get to come yet. you need more, need your release, need those fingers back in you. need to—

“th-that’s it?” you ask in disbelief when it becomes clear that nanami isn’t going to continue. the towel is wrapped around you once again. your pussy aches in protest at how abruptly things ended, still dripping and dripping and dripping with unresolved arousal.

fuck. you refuse to let nanami leave him like this again; you’re determined to get a better outcome, unlike last time when you had to get yourself off in the changeroom. you’ll break down and beg if you have to. you want to come on nanami’s cock, on nanami’s fingers, and you know that nanami wants it, too. but whenever it seems that he’s about to go further, he always stops, right when you’re most anticipating it.

it’s especially frustrating because he’s gotten you all worked up, so fucking horny that you can hardly even think straight, but it never goes far enough for you to be fully satisfied. you’re kept on the brink of release, never allowed to come. it’s so cruel. it only works to turn you on more, to an unbearable degree.

but nanami doesn’t even acknowledge it. he only looks at you innocently. “our time is up for today,” he says, then leans in close, voice lowering to a whisper. “did you really think that i would let you come so easily? you’ve been a very naughty girl.”

fuck, that shouldn’t sound as hot and sexy as it does. it definitely shouldn’t be making you even more turned on.

“i—” shit, you think. you glance down at nanami’s very obvious erection, the desire he clearly has, too. i want your cock—want you to fuck me. but it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on going any further today, so you only manage to stammer out, “i don’t think i can go out like this.”

because you’re in arguably a worse state than nanami. despite the towel doing the bare minimum of hiding your arousal, your legs are still trembling slightly and the wetness between your legs isn’t going away.

“ah.” nanami’s eyes flicker down as he licks his lips. “you’re right, we can’t have you leaving like that. why don’t you take care of yourself now?”

you stare at him. when nanami only meets your gaze expectantly, you ask, “you mean… right here?”

“yes. we pride ourselves on customer satisfaction, you know. i can’t let you go when you clearly still have… unfinished business.” nanami smirks, evidently smug for getting you to such a state. “and don’t mind me. there’s still some time before the next appointment, so i’ll just be cleaning up the room.”

and you can’t believe it. what nanami is essentially asking you to do is masturbate, get yourself off, while you’re being watched.

the idea of it is crazy. but it’s undeniably hot, too. so fucking hot.

a few steps away, nanami is busying himself with setting up the equipment, but it’s obvious that he never strays too far. he’s still paying attention, making sure to keep you in his peripheral vision, intent on not missing out on anything.

hesitantly, you unwrap the towel around your waist until you’re fully naked once more. you sigh and glance down at yourself. it’s almost embarrassing because it’s far too noticeable just how fucking horny you are, with the way your pussy is swollen and so, so wet, making a mess on the bed.

across the room, nanami’s movements have stopped. he’s openly staring at you now, taking in the sight of you greedily. there’s hunger in his gaze as he grips the counter next to him, transfixed on the way your pussy is fully exposed, practically begging for attention.

you make eye contact, and a charge of tension passes between you before nanami nods once. “go on. show me how you make yourself feel good.”

so, you get comfortable again on the bed, hyperaware that your every action is being watched. it makes you more excited than you’d ever admit as the shame and embarrassment and humiliation all mix together with intense arousal, clouding your mind. you run your hands over your own body, starting with your breasts, cupping them and teasing your hardened nipples. just like nanami did earlier. soft moans escape you, pleasure surging throughout as you turn your head to look at nanami with half-lidded eyes.

nanami remains silent, but his expression gives him away. there’s no mistake that this is turning him on too, and you swear that you see him twitching in his pants, the fabric shifting over his bulge. but still, he’s far too composed, and you want to break down his self-control, get him so worked up that he can’t resist coming over and fucking you anymore.

traveling down your chest, across the planes of his stomach, your hands come to a stop at your hips. you spread your legs, bending your knees so that your feet are planted flat on the bed, giving you easier access to your aching pussy.

you’ve waited long enough. the slow tease of nanami’s massage and the beyond erotic proposal of masturbating in front of him have all caught up to you and you can’t delay this any longer. trailing a hand down to your entrance, you push a finger inside and immediately moan at the feeling of being filled again.

“fuck… yes,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself over to the sensation. you’ve only just touched himself, barely even started at all, but you’re already feeling it.

it’s hot and wet inside your pussy, the oil helping to loosen you up. you drag your finger, moving in and out of yourself, feeling how needy and pent-up you are as your hips roll slightly, growing impatient. you squeeze a second finger inside. moaning, you scissor them apart and pleasure floods through you.

and then you begin to thrust, going at a fairly slow pace. but still, it’s enough to have your thighs shaking, so fucking sensitive. you can feel yourself falling apart.

your fingers curl, angled just right, and your nerves come to life, firing jolts all the way up your spine. “o-oh—ngh, shit—kento—”

at the sound of nanami’s name slipping past your lips, mixed in with a moan, you hear the hitch of a breath to your side. opening your eyes again, you blink to clear your vision, and see that nanami has made his way over to the bed, standing right beside you. something about him being this close, watching over you with his cock hard and bulging in his pants, has your arousal spiking.

suddenly, you can’t stand the slow buildup anymore. your speed increases, thrusting into yourself faster before you even realize it, pushing as deep as you can go. the rush of pleasure is immediate, and your head falls back, breaths growing ragged. there’s a moan but this time it doesn’t come from you; nanami is the one who made the sound, low and strained. he looks like he’s at his limit just by being there as a bystander, watching you on display.

“fuck, that’s it,” nanami encourages you, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch. replace your fingers with his own. “in and out, steady thrusts. just like that…”

receiving instructions from nanami only makes you more turned on. your hips lift off the bed involuntarily and you can’t help staring at the twitching erection in his pants. “ah, feels—feels so good—"

“i bet it does,” nanami says. “look at how much you’re getting off on this. you secretly like being watched, don’t you?”

“f-fuck,” you break off into a moan. the answer to his question is evident in the way you’re dripping from your pussy, walls clenching around your own fingers.

and nanami must notice it too because he tells you, “don’t forget about your clit, baby. i know you like it there.”

reaching down with your other hand, you circle around your sensitive clit, body jerking at the added stimulation. and this is going to be your undoing, you know, because you feel the familiar buildup of your orgasm reaching a peak inside you, the crescendo of something bigger. already, you feel like you could come at any moment.

on top of that, nanami is relentless. “good girl,” he murmurs. “faster now. get yourself real close for me.”

you obey because you have no choice, because nanami has always been the one in control here. it’s getting dangerous now as you finger yourself faster, drawing tight circles around your clit, whining at the pure pleasure that’s accumulating in your stomach, between your legs. and you’re squirming, unable to contain the sheer amount of arousal inside you.

“shit—hah—o-oh my god, fuck, fuck—” you moan brokenly. then you use all of your willpower to force yourself to stop, both hands pulling away. your hips buck up in the air desperately, but you don’t want to come yet. you look over at nanami, chest heaving, and plead, “i-i want you, kento…”

growling, nanami grips onto the side of the bed, fingers digging into it to physically restrain himself. you can see the way the muscles of his arms contract, so strong, so tense. holding himself back.

“trust me, i want to fuck you so damn bad,” nanami says, and his voice alone is enough to make you more aroused. “you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you. if it weren’t for my next appointment, i would bend you over right here and have my way with you until you’re screaming.” he swallows, gaze dark and filled with desire. “but today, it’s enough for me to just watch your pleasure. so, be a good girl for me and use your fingers to fuck that pretty pussy of yours and get yourself off properly this time.”

holy fuck. you’re throbbing hard just from those words alone, before you even touch yourself again. you can’t possibly resist; your hand moves automatically to do as you’re told, two fingers sinking into yourself again, pumping in and out with urgency. your other hand resumes its assault on your clit, gasping and moaning, overwhelmed.

there’s no buildup this time—you go fast and hard right away, too fucking turned on to make yourself wait any longer. beside you, nanami hums with approval, always watching.

“hah—hah—ah—yes, k-kento—kento—”

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” nanami says. “find your g-spot for me. come on, baby. i want to see you make yourself come.”

you cry out when you do exactly what nanami tells you, applying pressure to the most sensitive nerves inside you. your hips are thrusting wildly, out of control, and all of the stimulation combined is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“oh fuck, o-oh fuck—” you choke out a moan, sounding wrecked. “i-i can’t—ngh, can’t take it anymore—i’m—hah—i’m gonna—”

nanami groans. “yeah, let it out. make yourself come.” his voice is strained, eyes transfixed on your body. “that’s it, such a good girl… make a mess of yourself and come for me.”

god. god. the dirty talk has your pussy throbbing, throbbing, clenching tight around your fingers, preparing for your release. you’re trembling, so close to being pushed past the limit. so fucking close. there’s no way you’ll last much longer now.

“hng—fuck—” once again, your eyes land on nanami’s cock in his pants, bulging out, stretching the fabric thin, and it’s the thought of his cock—touching it, sucking on it, fuck, having it inside you, stretching you open and filling you up—that eventually tips you over. you moan loud. “ah, c-coming—i’m coming—”

your release hits you less than a second later. you pump your fingers, curling to your g-spot, other hand rubbing your clit urgently, and that does it for you, back arching beautifully off the bed as your orgasm crashes through your body. your mouth falls open in a silent cry. it’s mind-numbing, absolutely filthy, pussy pulsing and pulsing. you ride out the pleasure in waves, panting, feeling like you might lose consciousness from how good it is.

in you half-delirious state, slowly coming down from your orgasm, you look up at nanami. you’re both impressed and extremely frustrated at his level of self-control. throughout the entire session, he never touched himself even once, despite the fact that you know he must be aching for it, so hard that it has to be painful. and he’s gotten no relief at all, his cock still locked away in the confines of his pants this whole time, occasionally twitching and throbbing without any stimulation.

maybe it’s because the timing just didn’t work out for the two of you. maybe nanami really does have to prepare for his next client. but if your positions were reversed and you happened to be the one watching nanami masturbate, such an erotic and filthy sight at your place of work, you has no doubt that you would’ve succumbed long ago.

you wonder, what would it take for nanami to finally give in? this is the second time that you’ve had to get off using your own hands at the massage parlor. and you just came, which felt good, incredible, but you’re still left somewhat unsatisfied because what you really wants is for nanami to fuck you already.

getting up from the bed, you brush a hand against the bulge between nanami’s legs. nothing more than a graze of your fingers. but that alone is enough to make him gasp, swallowing back the moan rising in his throat.

you asks, “can you really go back to work like this?”

nanami swats your hand away, cursing. he shuts his eyes to even out his breathing before settling his gaze on you again. “fuck, are you still that horny?”

grinning, you lick your lips. “if i say that i am, will you finally fuck me?”

nanami sucks in a breath, glancing over at the clock. “you really should go now. i wasn’t lying when i said that the next client will be here any minute.”

it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but you know when to accept your loss and drop the subject. for now, at least.

“i’ll go for today, but you’ve teased me twice already,” you say. then you lean forward, whispering into his ear, “next time i come, i won’t be leaving until i get what i want.”

part 3 will be the last part! also tumblr has been buggy recently and won’t let me tag some people... i’m sorry if your name is here but you didn’t get a notification :(

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

(comment to be added!)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk smut #jjk imagine #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami imagine #nanami x reader #naughtyjjk

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logaenhowlett · 2 days

Text

NO END TO THIS ROAD - L.H.

Summary: Desperate and on edge after escaping from Alkali Lake, Logan seeks shelter in your barn, fighting to repress his primal urges. [Set during X-Men Origins: Wolverine]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Angst, Feral Logan

A/N: I love all versions of this man equally, but Origins!Logan just triggers something special within me. Also, it’s my first time writing smut, please be nice!

MASTERLIST

Crimson seeps out between his knuckles. The once-untarnished skin now pried open by silver metal. For a brief second, he catches his reflection on the claws and fear tears through his body. He's unsure how his legs had been carrying him all this while, pain ripping into his flesh with each stride. His muscles seethe in agony, aching to bear the pressure of his newly-dense skeleton.

He's never been a stranger to suffering or trauma. There were several times in his endless, Herculean life where his own fists struck down countless others, ones that deserved his wrath. But this, he would never wish upon anyone.

The neurons in his brain seem to be on fire, every tendril underneath his skin shooting a flood of sensations through his veins. In this moment, he's no longer Logan. Instead, a man surviving on pure instincts.

Despite the warmth of sunlight caressing him, every breath leaves him trembling as he's exposed to nature's unwavering forces. Across the miles and miles he'd sprinted, there was nothing but mountains of lush forest overlooking glades. He had no destination in particular. Just somewhere far, far away from the horrors of what he'd endured.

His lungs feel like deadweight, crumbling within as he pushes his body to extremes never been explored. The thudding beat of his heart doesn't slow him down either, inching ever so close to a state he'd probably never recover from.

He prays for the first time in a century. An unspoken plea to whoever was unfortunate enough to witness such dread. He doesn't even register it at first - everything being a blur for so long. Soon enough, he locates a barn in the distance.

The thought of being discreet doesn't cross his mind when he slams the wooden door behind him. He staggers onto a pile of sacks, calves burning in relief as his chest heaves. There's no chance for him to process the events that occurred earlier, the whole world closing in on him. God, he just wants it all to stop.

“Fuck! What the hell are you doing?”

Lost in all that noise inside his head, he doesn't notice you creep into the barn, inspecting the sudden commotion. Light-headed is what he feels, vision clouding, meeting your fearful stance. The sledgehammer you're tightly clutching would've painted a threatening image to anyone else, yet it's the last thing on his mind.

“It’s cold.” He stammers out, resting his hands on the ground to find some semblance of reality.

“You’re naked.”

He grumbles in response, spitting out something close to a yes. The energy in the air shifts a little, and past your barrier of adrenaline and unease, he catches an inkling of arousal fighting to peek through. All his senses drift to one idea. He curses under his breath.

“Are you on drugs?” The tone of your voice strays from alarm to one of well-earned skepticism.

“No,” He groans, shutting his eyes as his body reacts to your subconscious desire, “I’m sorry... I just had to find a place.”

At that moment, he doesn't know if it's a good thing you're warming up to his being here. Though, he appreciates you lowering the sledgehammer, wincing at the thought of his bones ringing at any contact with the tool.

“Looks like you had a shitty night.”

“Something like that."

All the blood within him rushes down. He drowns the urge to unsheathe the claws, diverting his instincts to focus on anything but your sweet, sweet pheromones tainting the air around him. And as if it's deathly poison, he stops breathing, unwilling to let such a venom infect his very being. Fuck, he wants to taste your cunt so bad.

A rag hits him in the chest and he's thankful for the short-lived interruption. He immediately drapes it over his throbbing cock, his posture only doing so much to help all this time.

“I made dinner and - " He finds your eyes as they study him, "You look like you could use a shower.”

When you lead him to the cabin, he tries to maintain a respectable distance, trailing behind as if the ground beneath is a minefield yearning to explode. At least, the confines of the bathroom provide some solace - far from your radiating presence that teases him in all the right ways. Jesus, get a fucking grip.

Scalding hot water hits his body, easing his tightly-wound muscles. As he lathers himself, he's reminded of a faint whiff of the very same body wash he noted on you, now soaking into his own skin. His scent entangles with yours. And he makes the mistake of entertaining that thought. Steadying himself, he releases a shuddering breath, the hairs on his arms mimicking the movement of his cock. After a while, he's not sure if it's the steam or the result of his actions that fog up the room.

Fastening the buttons of the flannel you'd generously given him, he stares at himself in the mirror. The remnants of your touch linger on the soft fabric and he wants to smash his face against the wall when his dick impulsively twitches. Instead, the claws fly out, slicing the porcelain sink in half. He mumbles a string of curses, jerking his head to snap out of whatever hold you seem to have on him.

He enters the kitchen warily, clutching the remainder of the sink and what would normally require the combined strength of his pinkie feels like a meteor between his hands. He thinks of Atlas, condemned to carry the sheer burden of heaven on his bare shoulders. The energy around you once again gleams at his entrance, your attraction to him not a secret. Yet, he refuses to desecrate an innocent soul with whatever ferocity he's got boiling within.

“I swear I’m gonna pay for this.” He grumbles out, placing it on the countertop.

Your expression contorts to one of confusion and speechlessness as he takes a seat at the table. Despite unsuccessfully quelling the thirst within him, the sign of delicious food overtakes his needs.

“Thank you for everything.” A genuine manifestation of gratitude spills out of him. The polite smile you return doing a funny thing to his heart.

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t a coyote or something.”

The conversation lulls into short, simple exchanges, delving into nothing below surface-level. Rather than following the rational part of his brain, he insists on washing the dishes, having to brave the dangers of being in close proximity to you. Only shallow exhales and the racing beat of your heart reach his ears as he ponders the pros and cons of the ability to read minds.

He glances at the dusty frames loosely hanging near the kitchen shelves, “That your family?”

“Yeah… This was my grandparents’ cabin. I’ve been here since they -” As you trail off, grabbing the clean plate, his fingertips brush against yours.

He clears his throat, “And the chopper in the barn?”

“Grandpa’s - He used to take me along for rides when I was young. It was our favourite thing to do together… Nothing ever came close to that feeling.”

“I know what you mean.”

He clenches his jaw, the tension in the room obvious to anyone with eyes. Honing onto the growing pool of heat barrelling down to your core, he swallows harshly. He can't seem to tear his eyes off you, hands quivering at a frequency that should surely shatter the glass he's holding onto for dear life.

When the last of the dishes are put away, you sheepishly guide him to the couch. His gaze drops to your ass, shamelessly peering as you retreat to your bedroom and return moments later with a heap of blankets, muttering about how he must be sensitive to the cold.

Moonlight weaves through the swaying curtains, it glistens against the stainless steel of his dog tags, drawing your attention to his only belonging. The space between you disappears, your fingers gently reaching for the chain.

“Are you in the army?”

Now that you're this close, every little sensation is amplified in his perspective. He calms himself, begging whatever deity that's responsible for his decaying resolve. It works in his favour until he clocks the wetness of your pussy. Dripping pretty all just for him.

“No.” He says, imperceptibly quiet. The tempting mix of hunger and desire in your eyes pushes him closer to the brink, the rapid beat of your heart mirrors his own and it only rouses the flame scorching the walls within him.

He growls, lips smashing against yours in a possessive, ravenous kiss. Breath hot on your skin, grabbing your hips and pressing his body firmly to yours. It's your whimpers, your honeyed admissions of pleasure that send a burning need through him. As you tilt your neck, offering him more access, his teeth sink into the supple flesh that holds your life, nipping and sucking to a rhythm he carelessly demands. Your fingers curl around the loops of his jeans, tugging him even closer. He grunts, hands roaming all over your body.

Biting your lower lip, he draws his head back lightly. "Feel what you do to me, pretty girl," He murmurs, thrusting his hips to press his obvious bulge against you.

A low moan escapes you, your nails digging into his shoulders to release some of the rising pressure, an anchor to this untamed craving simmering inside. His eyes darken at the sound, jolts of pure, uninterrupted rapture travelling straight to his core.

He lifts you effortlessly, hands squeezing your fleshy thighs when your legs wrap around his waist. The promise of you bending so easily to his will sets off a wildfire underneath his skin. Without breaking any contact with your lips, he strides to the bedroom, roughly shoving your body onto the mattress. He drinks in the sight of you, splayed out all needy in front of him, and it drives him to near madness. The flannel and jeans are ripped off his aching body in fluid motions, leaving him in all his glory - one step towards finally satiating these sinful urges.

He lowers himself down, arms caging you beneath him. It's torturous - excruciating even - when the weight of his body crushing yours ignites a fiery heat within you, tingling his limits. While you nip his jaw, he lets out a deep, appreciative growl, toes curling in anticipation as if every fragment of the adamantium infused to his bones has been electrified by your touch.

Pupils blown wide with lust, he curses, breathing ragged against your skin. His hand rakes up your shirt and gently kneads your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. Your body immediately reacts to the sensation, arching towards him with an intensity that nearly sends him over the edge. "So fuckin' needy for me, princess?"

His teeth graze your damp flesh, lips trailing a path down your body. He thinks he's finally defeated death when your fingers grasp his hair, drawing him on a ride to ecstasy he never wants to escape. The shiver, the burning wave of passion coursing through your veins make his claws twitch within, desperate to emerge.

A feral grin flashes on his face as you whine, growing more restless the longer he takes. His hands dig mercilessly into your hips, the faint markings of bruises colouring your skin. He rumbles a muffled noise, lips tenderly pressing against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your slick entrance. It triggers something animalistic he's been trying so hard to overpower. In one quick motion, he rips your panties with his teeth.

"Look at you... Already a fuckin' mess and I haven't even fucked you." He rasps, positioning himself, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your soaking cunt.

In any other situation, he would've taken his time worshipping your body, preparing you to take him with a delicacy you would never associate with a man like him. Right now, his thoughts are filthy and downright profane. And not a single shred of his being cares about how painful this might be for you.

His hips ram forward, filling your warm insides with his length. A growl rolls through him, the sound dripping with pleasure as your walls tighten around his dick. His mouth finds your nipple, dragging his tongue impatiently over the soft skin before he begins to suck. Every thrust elicits gasps from you, moans that spur him on even more. "Fuck, sweet girl, can smell how badly you want me."

His cock grinds against the golden spot inside you, your head digging into the mattress with each push. He senses your longing to chase those highs, to control the movement of your bodies. A devilish snarl leaves him at that realisation, "I'm in charge here, princess. Wanted to ruin that pretty pussy since I saw you." He spits out, fingers pressing against your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

As the climax approaches for both of you, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, angling his body to thrust into you even further. He wonders whether you're the one with claws when your scratches tear into his back as you release that sugary ambrosia he'd grown an appetite for. Moves becoming sloppy, the unbearable threat of his cum spilling out sends his mind reeling. He shifts to pull out when your hand darts forward, stilling him.

"Inside, please."

The whispered plea makes his body strain with thrill. His load drips out your cunt, soaking the already-sullied sheets. Neither of you seem to mind the mess as he falls onto his back, out of breath and soothed to a state of newfound bliss.

As you rest softly against his chest, he allows himself the privilege to revel in your comforting presence. All the energy and adrenaline he'd built up comes crashing down. And he doesn't have the power to fight against his instincts, the ones that were screaming at him to run away. Soon enough, he succumbs to the enchanting spell of slumber.

He wakes up abruptly a couple hours later, momentarily startled by the warmth radiating from your body on his. The moonlight seems to fondly embrace your features, echoing his own expression. The feeling of guilt begins to rise within. He knows he has to leave, for your own sake, because those monsters will find him sooner or later. And he doesn't know what terrors he might commit if your blood is on his hands. He slips out of your grasp, refusing to glance at your relaxed form, feet transforming into cinder blocks as he walks towards the door.

“Where’re you going?”

His breath hitches, head ducking into his chest. “Listen... I can't thank you enough, but -" And despite every part of him indicating otherwise, he turns around. "You don’t want me here. It’s not safe for you... Trust me.”

Your sympathetic gaze almost shatters his resolve, he clenches his fist as your soft whisper reaches his ears, "Will you stay a little longer?"

Seconds later, he finds himself back in your arms, unable to deny the influence you have over him. He caves into your wish, savouring every last taste of the tenderness you carry just for him. By the time you stir awake, sunshine blinding your sight, the side of the bed he'd occupied is cold beneath your fingertips.

#logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #logan x you #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x you #wolverine #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine angst #logan smut #wolverine smut

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bellaxgiornata · 3 days

Text

Tell Me

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “Why? Why do you love me?”

Warnings/tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, almost breakup

Summary: Matt has been acting cold for the past couple of weeks–ever since you told him you loved him.

a/n: Of course Matt was the first one who came to my mind for this prompt. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“We’re done,” Matt stated. “That’s it. I can’t do this any longer.”

A thick and palpable tension hung in the air at Matt’s words, a heaviness so pervasive that you didn't need his heightened senses to feel it filling the apartment. Standing beside the leather couch, your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if they alone were the only thing holding you together. Heart pounding rapidly inside of your chest, it felt close to bursting straight out if you dared to move your arms even an inch.

Across the room, Matt stood in front of the large living room windows with his back turned to you. The light from the billboard across the street washed the front of him in a dark crimson, casting looming shadows along his tense and rigid form. His hands were situated on his hips, fingers digging so sharply into his dress pants that they were pulling the fabric even more taut around his waist. Everything about his posture–from his clenched jaw to his squared shoulders–felt as if he was intentionally shutting you out as well as keeping a physical distance between the pair of you.

This is it, you thought. This is where he finally tries to push me away.

You’d known Matt for a while now. Long enough to know how he operated when things became just a bit too much for him or if someone grew a bit too close. Over time you’d slowly learned the signs of when he’d start to close himself off, beginning to read him sometimes better than he thought he could even read you.

It had been ten months since you’d met Matt while working on an article for The Bulletin. You’d interviewed him about a case that his firm had won and the pair of you had steadily and easily grown closer together after that initial encounter. Neither of you had been able to stay away from the other. You’d long since been past the point of just dating and occasionally sleeping together–you’d been an official couple for months now. You had clothing hanging in his closet and you knew exactly where he stored the red Daredevil suit that he donned most evenings. You knew about his past from the many late nights he'd opened up to you either after a rough patrol as the Devil or a case he was particularly fired up over.

But lately Matt had started to become prickly around you. Constantly on edge. Canceling dates and intentionally trying to avoid you. He was often gone in the mornings the few times you’d stayed over at his apartment, not even giving you his usual goodbye kiss before he left. He hadn’t invited you over as frequently either because most nights now he told you that he planned to stay late at the office before running out to deal with one thing or another as Daredevil.

This had all started just over two weeks ago. Right around the time you’d first told him you loved him. He’d seemed off that night, too. You remembered how he’d suddenly grown quiet in bed, his expression shifting to something impossible to read as he almost immediately shut you out. You’d assured him that you hadn’t expected him to say it back in the moment–and you’d meant that. You knew he’d heard the truth in the firm beat of your heart. Because you loved Matt. You knew him opening his heart up to let someone in was not something he did easily, and you were prepared to continue proving to him that you weren’t about to disappear from his life like he seemed to secretly fear.

You’d long since wondered if his sudden coldness was some sort of a test, one he himself wasn’t even aware he was putting you through. As if he expected you to leave at the first sign of difficulty in the relationship which had otherwise been fairly smooth. You’d always encouraged open communication between you both–something else you were aware he struggled with–but you’d always been patient and understanding with him, which was what you’d tried to be over these past couple of weeks.

Until this very moment. Because right now you did not fully understand why Matt had just told you that he couldn’t continue the relationship anymore. You could feel the tears building in your eyes as you stared at the back of his navy blue dress shirt, your eyes fixed on the wrinkles that formed throughout his work day. In your chest, you could feel your heart teetering on the verge of shattering, ready to break into pieces with only a few more words from his mouth. You found yourself wondering if Matt would be able to hear your heart break.

But you didn't want to let him go without a fight. You didn’t want to lose him. You loved him far too much to let him self-sabotage the relationship you'd both created and poured yourselves into over the past few months without even trying to get through to him first.

“There’s no way you mean any of that, Matt,” you told him, shaking your head and ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

His head snapped to the side when you'd finally spoken, the sharp angle of his profile swathed in red just over the top of his broad shoulder. His jaw was set firm, but even in the light from the billboard you could see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“And what makes you think that?” he asked, a rough edge to his words.

“Because,” you answered, taking a small, hesitant step towards him and noticing the way he flinched. “I know you. I think you’re just trying to hurt me to avoid the perceived hurt you think is bound to happen if you continue getting close to me. Growing comfortable in our relationship. Because you think I’m going to leave you. You think it's inevitable.”

The muscle jumped in Matt's cheek again, the only movement you caught on his otherwise immobile body. Pressing your lips together, you tried to fight the way they'd begun to quiver. In this moment, it felt more like you were approaching a feral cat than a grown man–a feeling you'd experienced a few times with Matt in the past. And you knew right now that if you showed him any sign of weakness he'd pounce on it.

“You're scared,” you continued slowly, taking another cautious step towards him. “I think you're terrified of how great things have been between us. I think you feel as if you don't deserve the happiness I've seen written on your face when we're together.”

Something like an agitated growl rumbled in his chest at your words. Not exactly a noise of disagreement, but also not exactly the sound of a warning. It sounded more alarmed than anything, which had you feeling more confident that you'd just struck the exact problem he'd created in his mind.

“But you're wrong,” you assured him firmly. “You deserve love and happiness, Matthew. And I intend to be here with you. I will happily spend every day right by your side helping you until you see it for yourself.”

You took another cautious and careful step towards him, but you stopped moving the second you saw his lip curl back into something like a snarl. You could see his eyes narrow at you even behind the lenses of his red glasses just before he spoke.

“Why?” he growled. “Tell me why.”

Swallowing hard, your hands nervously curled up inside the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Why what?” you whispered.

“Why do you love me?” he demanded. “Why? How could you possibly love me?”

Freezing on the spot as your breath hitched, confusion briefly washed over you. Despite having now learned his strange behavior had indeed been brought about by you saying that you loved him for the first time weeks ago, it had taken you entirely off guard that he'd wanted an actual explanation as to why you did. But then again, that really shouldn't have surprised you quite so much considering you knew just how unlovable he thought he was. And you weren’t going to let an opportunity to tell him how you really felt slip between your fingers.

“Because you have the biggest heart I've ever seen, Matthew,” you began softly, emotion thick in your voice. “You keep it buried deep in your chest, hiding it from everyone, but I see it. Every time you come home with another banana bread or casserole dish and an excited story about how you helped someone in this city who'd otherwise have been looked over because they couldn’t afford good legal representation. I see it when you come home late at night bruised, exhausted, and bleeding but grinning in triumph as you tell me who you saved. I see it whenever you just simply look at me.”

The snarl that had initially curled his lips back gradually slipped off of his face while you'd been speaking, the hard lines of his body slowly beginning to soften. He didn't speak, but his shift in body language had given you some hope back. Hope that you could get through to him.

“And I'm not bothered by how much of yourself you give to this city,” you continued, once more carefully closing the space between you both as you slowly lowered your arms to your sides. “I admire you for it, Matthew. Ever since you told me the truth. I've never disliked that part of you. I’ve never taken issue with it. I’ve never been afraid of you. That part of you has only made me admire you more. Love you more.”

You were standing a few feet away from him now, able to see the faint tremble of his lips with how close you were. Everything you were saying was having an effect on him so you continued, hoping your words would start to sink in. Even just a little.

“And it's not just that I admire that big, beautiful heart in your chest,” you told him, “but I admire that big, beautiful brain in that handsome head of yours.” You paused, smiling a little back at him. “I think you're incredibly smart and brilliant, Matt. In and out of the courtroom. You're fiercely passionate about justice no matter the cost to yourself–whether it's sleepless nights out on the rooftops or hours pouring over files here at your apartment. And you're funny when you let yourself stop being so broody most days,” you said, your small smile growing a bit more on your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek. “You brighten my days more than you know, Matty. Always helping me to find the light in the darkness when I think there isn't any. Seeing the good in everyone…except for yourself.”

Reaching up, you wiped away another stray tear that had raced down your cheek with the back of your hand. Matt sniffled quietly, his shoulders sagging as he finally and hesitantly turned towards you. His hands had fallen from his hips, hanging at his sides as his fingers twitched.

“Do you really want me to go?” you whispered, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Because I–I can take my things and leave if that's what you really want, Matt. I can walk out that door and leave you alone.”

Matt shook his head firmly, his mouth visibly trembling at your words. Tears had managed to slide their way beneath his glasses, trailing their way down his cheeks. The sight had your own tears falling faster as he timidly approached you, closing the small bit of distance that remained.

“No,” he breathed out. “No, I don't really want that.”

Feeling a flood of relief, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist. Drawing himself the rest of the way into the front of you, Matt immediately buried his face directly against your neck. You could feel a dampness forming on your skin from his tears, the feeling only causing you to hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into your skin. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean it. I’m just–just–”

Turning your head, you buried your face into his hair as your hands began rubbing light and soothing patterns over his back while he struggled to find the words he wanted. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you breathed in that warm, rich scent that was always uniquely Matt. With his warm body wrapped around you, your once rapidly beating heart began slowing back to a normal rhythm.

“I know,” you murmured back, lips brushing his hair as you spoke. “I know you didn’t mean it, Matty. Relationships are scary,” you told him. “Giving someone so much of yourself is terrifying, I get it. But I love you and I don’t want to leave you. I’m not going to leave you.”

With his face still buried against your throat, you felt his features screw up against your skin before another rush of Matt’s warm, wet tears began to slide down your neck. Your hands fisted his dress shirt, holding him even tighter to the front of yourself as he cried. You didn’t need him to explain why he’d suddenly begun to weep because you’d already known the answer. He’d heard the truth in your explanation for why you loved him as you’d spoken them aloud. The same unwavering truth that was always present in your words.

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin. “And I don’t think I could ever stop.”

A smile pulled your lips upwards, tears burning at your eyes for an entirely different reason now. You pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of his head as a warm rush of emotion filled you at hearing him finally say those three little words back to you.

“I love you, too, Matty,” you whispered. “And I don’t ever want to stop.”

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #Tuna-Tober 2024

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mygnolia · 1 day

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eavesdroppin.' - where atsumu can't help but hear about your crush on him.

(700wc) “____, please, for the love of god, shut up about him, if you talk about his piss blonde head again i will deflate the volleyball the team signed and stomp all over it,” akaashi complains, shooting you a very tired and very defeated look.

“no- but you don’t get it! he’s just so…he’s so dreamy,” you sigh, unknowingly smiling at the mere mention of his achievements, “and confident in his serves. do you see the way he’s been ranked number one for such a long time now?” you bury your face into your hands, so absolutely enamored with the black jackals setter that you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“i’ve heard the whole spiel about this so many times already,” your friend gives up on trying to see from your point of view if you’re going to keep hiding the crush that every knew atsumu reciprocated already.

“but you have to tell me how i can get closer to him!” you almost whine, shaking your friend back and forth. “if i can’t even become friends with him and we’re literally friend’s with bo? ‘kaashi, that looks horrible for me.”

“uh huh. and when did i care?”

“you’re such a bad friend. can’t even help me score a date with a man i’m hopelessly pining over.”

“you’re right about the down bad part,” akaashi deadpans, sighing and flipping through his most recent release of zom’bish. “i’ve said this already- just take him here, to onigiri miya.”

“but he’s used to that! I can’t have him see his brother with me!” you gesture discretely at the kitchen, where osamu was busying himself with orders.

your friend rolls his eyes and looks up at you. “what’s so bad with him seeing you and his brother?”

“I..”the words die on your tongue, no excuses left to give. “it would be bad. for me. because like—he’s already been there a billion times and probably tried everything on that goddamn menu!”

atsumu nodded to himself from where he sat. he did know the whole menu.

“how about this,” your friend starts, and you get your hopes up because akaashi keiji has always been a genius plan-maker. “you ask him out first.”

okay, maybe not.

akaashi continues,“how about you ask him out instead of telling me about how excited he is on court and how good his sets look and how perfect he is at everything and see how things go from there.” you shake your head furiously, immediately rejecting his offer, and the man grumbles, thinking back to high-school, “you never played against him in court, that’s probably why you like him so much.”

“he was good in high school. a bit more reckless. but still good.” you remember. “you have to help me.” you pause. “give me a reason not to like him.”

“he’s egotistical.” akaashi responds immediately.

“he’s not! he’s competent,” you replace without missing a beat, “so he has a right to think he’s good at volleyball when he really is one of the best.”

“he’s dramatic.”

“it’s more like a good dramatic. like, i wouldn’t want to be around a brick wall all day.”

“then ask him out.”

“okay," you blurt.

akaashi almost sighs in relief. “you will?”

you wince at the sudden predicament you found yourself in, but after hearing how happy akaashi was, you figured it wouldn't hurt.

“only if you promise to send me the next chapter of zom’bish to me. early.” the manga artist groans. it’s almost like he knew that you were going to do something at a price.

“okay, fine. ask him out. right now.”

“not-not right now!” you defend, eyes widening in horror.

he shrugs, and tells you, “right now, or i’m telling you about your ridiculous and unimportant feelings for him.”

“they’re not ridiculous! or unimportant!”

“uh huh.” he agrees unconvincingly, “whatever, i’m leaving. next time, be more careful about where you talk about him.”

you frown, confused as you pocket the bill he places on the table, and you continue to stay confused when he turns around to seat behind him. “all yours, miya.”

your heart drops six feet under when atsumu turns to grins at you, taking your friend’s abandoned seat as he peels off his sunglasses and hat.

“i heard everythin’, ya’know," and the setter leans over to put his white cap on your head, running a hand through his hair. "couldn't help eavesdroppin.' "

singlehandedly might revive my insanity for atsumu can you tell i like confident men lol...

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sweetimpurity · 2 days

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*ੈ✩‧ Day three! It's gettin steamy and sloshy up in here! wc: 1k ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The warm water laps around your arms and trembling knees, head thrown back on Miguel’s shoulder and his hand slowly sloshing around in the water between your thighs. Thick fingers massaging and caressing your core, only letting his fingers dip into the first knuckle, enough to feel the squeeze of your muscles and hear the hitch in your breath. Soft fluttering moans and his deep warm coos fill the bathroom as well as the salty sea air and the sounds of crashing waves outside the window. It’s your honeymoon. Finally away from all the craziness of your everyday lives. Just you and your new husband and you can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s not like you haven’t had sex a million times already, it’s just that being married renewed some sort of spark inside you both and now it all means more… or it feels different… but it feels so so good.

“You let me know when you’ve had too much, baby, okay?” He hums right next to your ear, brushing his lips in feather light touches to your cheek. You’ve already been going at it like bunnies ever since you reached the villa suite. This soothing morning bath was supposed to be just that. To clean yourselves of last night's activities and ease the slight ache in both your bodies from hours of newlywed love making. But neither of you can resist. It’s like you’re magnetically, positively and negatively charged, pulling to each other and unable to resist the attraction. It’s more than just love, it’s need and devotion.

“Need more, Miguel…” You sigh, a quirk in your brow and pout on your lip. His digits just aren’t enough for the ache you feel. “You need more..?” He smiles and a huff of soft laughter leaves his lips. You're insatiable and he can’t get enough. “I can give you more, love, I can give you whatever you want…” He whispers. His head lifting from your shoulder and looking up at you, his fingers running up your sensitivity and gently past your bundle of nerves as he draws his hand from your heat. The water sloshing and lapping at the sides of the enormous tub as you turn around to face him. The flower petals that Miguel sprinkled on the water earlier when you weren’t looking, mostly as a silly joke, collecting on your damp skin and decorating you so wonderfully. Now he understands. Seeing you glistening wet and covered in white and pink petals makes his mind go melty. Making his breath hitch. The sun hitting you just right as you straddle his lap. His back pressing against the porcelain and big hands coming up to your back, caressing down to your ass. “You’re so beautiful…” He whispers so quietly. It’s almost too quiet to hear. But it’s all his voice will allow with how hard his heart is beating.

He leans forward, water lapping as he pulls you closer still. His lips connect with your sternum and sucking small wet kisses along your damp skin. Up to your left breast, his tongue swirling around the mound and gently biting down on the precious portion of your body. His lips glistening and wet from the bath water that's covering your skin and dribbling down, clicking wet sucking sounds accompanying the feeling of bliss. Along with his wet tongue gliding along your perked nipple, his plush lips pursing around to suck. “Ohh- Miguel…” You sigh so quietly, a shiver running down your spine just watching him do this. Feeling it happen. And he moves with the same attention to your right breast until your tits are tinted slightly with a blush after his loving attacks.

“My wife…” He whispers, looking up in your eyes and making you smile. His hands running up your back to your shoulders. Utter affection in his expression.

…

“Miguel!” You gasp, reaching for his hand and squeezing it hard, pulling it against your chest. Drips, drops, dribbles of water running down the sides of the bathtub and the water lapping the edges. Full of him, full to the brim and tingling. His cock bullying it’s way inside, deep and warm and all for you. He wouldn’t want it any other way. He’s trying so hard to hold out. But the water and the squeeze of your warm pussy, his view from under you, watching your head throw back. The tips of your hair dipping into the water and sticking to your back. He can’t look, dipping his face into your chest to hold it together. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you come. If he doesn’t bring you there. But you make it so hard not to burst inside on the first pump.

“Baby! Babe- babe…” Your voice high and squeaky and at the same time quiet and intimate. Only for him to hear, only for Miguel to know. “Oh come on baby, please…” He whispers into your skin, on the edge and begging for that release. Wanting to watch you go.

His arms anchor around your back, adjusting his hips and pulling you down on him a bit harder and faster. Plunging all the way deep, hitting some magical spot inside you that has you cry out his name.

“Yeah, right there?” He grins, doing it again, pulling you down and pushing his hips up at the same time. And once he finds the spot again, he just keeps hitting it over and over. Water splashing and pouring over the edges. Onto the blue and green glass tiled floor, soaking into the bathmat, your fingers digging into his shoulders so hard you might just break the skin.

That familiar ache and melt concocting in your gut, right in the pit of your stomach. Blooming and burning down your thighs, originating in your heat, right at your core. Miguel finally allowing himself to succumb when feeling the spasms of your orgasm around him. A wave of satisfaction and victory when his name spills from your lips again and again just like the water and petals dribbling over the edges and flooding the floor.

Taglist! 🥂 : @slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist please comment on my masterlist post or I might not see it! thank you!

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nezuscribe · 1 day

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it’s those infamous slytherin parties, the ones they throw after they win yet another quidditch game, but all slytherin!gojo can think about is you.

how you said you would come to the game but didn’t, how he kept looking into the crowd to see you there but you weren’t. sure, it was a long shot, after all, the two of had only just gotten closer and had it all ripped away ever since he kissed you that night.

he can feel the beat of the music in his bones, feeling the body of another girl pressed up against his and he feels nauseated.

you didn’t want to see him, that much he could piece together. you’ve avoided him wherever and whenever you could, and despite the fact that gojo prided himself in his inability to feel things, he felt his entire world slipping away from his feet the more you pretended that he didn’t exist.

you weren’t in your dorm (he knew because he asked your roommates) and he knew you weren’t in the library (he passed it by one his way here, not seeing you at your usual table), and gojo felt like he’d rather search the entire castle to find you than be here.

so that’s what he ends up doing.

he tells geto he’s leaving, don’t ask him where, and somehow manages to slither his way out into the hallways.

gojo walks around for a while, checking the library, your favorite broom closet, even the dining hall, but to no avail.

a part of him wonders if he should just go back, if he’s actually out of his mind, but he stops in his tracks when he hears something familiar.

your laugh.

he’s heard it a couple times this last week, a sound that makes his cheeks blush and his eyes to shine. he loves it. and he can tell it’s you from miles away.

so he rounds the corner, knowing that he looks unruly from his hair all tousled, his white button up wrinkled, but he doesn’t care.

and slytherin!gojo feels a part of his stomach just sink when he sees you sitting on if of those large windows, looking up as ravenclaw!nanami tells you something.

you look so angelic, so happy, and his jaw ticks, nose flaring. he should leave, he knows that, but he’s never been one to shy away, especially when it comes to something he cares so much about.

“nanami!” he calls out, watching as the two of you jump up a bit in surprise.

gojo watches as your eyes widen slightly, swallowing thickly as you glance up to nanami. he had come back from the game defeated to slytherin, but if he was stumped by that he didn’t show it on his face.

“gojo,” he says politely, nodding his head to him slightly. there’s a small smile on his face but it didn’t reach his eyes.

for a moment, nobody says anything.

“good game,” gojo then says, his eyes never leaving yours, “sorry it ended so early,” he’s just twisting the knife in deeper, but nanami chuckles.

you shift in your place, eyes trained on the ground as you smile awkwardly. you’ve been trying to not talk to gojo ever since that night, but he’s made it increasingly more difficult to do so.

“it’s alright,” nanami waves it off, glancing at you as he shrugs, “but truth be told, i do wish it went on for a bit longer,” you’re looking up at him now and gojo feels his teeth grating, wanting you to not look at this pompous creature, “we were just talking about how ironic it was that the first game she went to was cut so short.”

gojo feels his brows furrow in confusion, his air of confidence slipping slightly as he never breaks eye contact with nanami. he then looks at you briefly, catching your stare as he lets out a mirthless laugh.

“i wasn’t aware we had such a new audience today,” gojo bites out, his head tilting slightly to look at you, addressing you as you wet your lips, “i don’t think i saw you there.”

you nod slowly, fidgeting with your fingers as you laugh uncomfortably.

“yeah, um,” you start, and it’s the first time you’ve addressed him since that night. gojo cant stop looking at your lips, your face, everything, and he almost doesn’t catch it when you say, “nanami offered me a spot on the ravenclaw stands…so i went…”

gojo feels his smile drop completely, his eyes squinting as you look away, suddenly finding the wall interesting.

“well,” nanami says with another smile, triumphant as you looked at you momentarily, “i also offered to take you for a spin after the game but eh, like you said gojo,” his smooth words and demeanor make gojo clench his fists, his body rigid as his stomach churns, “it ended so early we could barely do anything.”

“hm,” gojo hums in the back of his throat, his mouth dry as he swallows once, his debonair smile coming back on his face as if nothing was wrong, “that’s all just part of the game, right?”

nanami nods, saying nothing.

gojo turns to leave, but stops for a second.

“oh, and i hope taylor preformed well enough by your standards nanami,” his eyes are watching the ways yours dart up to his, his finger motioning to you as he says your name with a lowered voice, “remember how spooked he was when we saw him last time? hope he learned his lesson not to go snooping ‘round the stands so late at night.”

gojo feels a sense of accomplishment when he sees nanami look down at you curiously, but it all washes away when you stand up abruptly, turning your back to him as you leave.

and his eyes drop when he watches nanami go after you.

#slytherin!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo drabble

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celiime · 14 hours

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thinking about how life with satoru would be if he had survived. how there’s just something about living with gojo, something so domestic, something so…heartwarming. especially after the war has ended.

living in heaven.

your eyes softened, fingers softly trailing down the side of his face as your thumb smoothed over the scar by his eye—delicately, as if you were afraid to break this god sleeping infront of you—only an addition to the multitude of other scars on his features.

for a moment back there, you thought you had lost him, you thought you wouldn’t be able to see him again—that you would have to wake up in this bed alone, without him.

“i don’t…” for the first time since you’ve known her, shoko ieiri—your former classmate—seemed hesitant to speak, as if her breath was lodged in her throat, “don’t think i can guarantee you anything.”

at those words, though you knew you’d hear something similar to that, your breath hitched, eyes immediately drifting to land on the sight of your husband—torso separated from his lower half (you already threw up at the sight earlier)—gaze blurred by tears.

it wasn’t fair. what did she mean she can’t guarantee anything? does she mean that you won’t get him back?

despite your inner turmoil, the anguish tearing apart all the muscles in your chest—atrial, ventricular, and all the other muscles that you could distinctly feel being torn apart right this second—going all the way up to your throat, wanting to tear its way out—to demolish everything in its path. to avenge what should’ve been.

you think you could feel your body almost giving out.

you only nodded your head, gaze drifting to the floor tiles, the smell of antiseptic and everything unpleasant wafting into your nose, drowning out all your senses, “i trust you.” and you did, you trusted her.

she had always been trustworthy, doing her best, and you knew she wouldn’t let herself rest as long as gojo was on that table.

as much as he was—no, is—your husband, he was —is—also her best friend.

the woman infront of you—still upholding her composed features—bit down on her lip, a small sigh escaping her after a few seconds of silence, “in case anything happens…” in case he died right on that table, in case she couldn’t save him, “do you want to have a few words with him?”

shoko was never one for sentiment, she never really thought of saying her goodbyes to her loved ones as the first thing when she sees them on the table.

however, she knew you. she knew that you needed this, and she would keep you content—as she had promised gojo.

a few minutes passed, that ended up with you sitting beside him, on a chair that dug so persistently onto your side, your hip bone persisted—yet the pain was soon dismissed by the one in your chest, the ache stronger than any pain or dull ache in your side.

your hands, marred with scars and blood, trembled as you placed your hand in his own—fuck, it was so cold—weakly intertwining your fingers within his own, ignoring the shudder going through your body as soon as you held his hand fully.

your breaths quickened, shoulders trembling as you stared down at him, wanting nothing more than to rip out your own heart and replace it with his own.

to give him a beating heart once more.

despite your best efforts, a sob slipped from your lips, not bearing the sight of him laying so lifelessly before you. no sign of a smile or a playful glint in those eyes of his that—much to your dismay? relief?—were still wide open.

you have full faith in shoko, you really do. however, you just can’t help it, you can’t help the fear that crawls to your heart, suffocating you. but most of all, you can’t help the guilt you feel, the regret, the shame.

why didn’t you say goodbye? why did you allow yourself so foolishly to think that gojo is invincible? fuck—you still remember your last—no, don’t think like that—interaction with him.

“wish me luck!” your husband chirped, that wide beam never departing from his lips as he stood proudly in front of you, never hunching his tall stature despite the weight on it.

you quirked an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on your own lips, “do you really need luck, ‘toru? Is my faith not enough?” you managed to utter out, despite the concern and fear residing in the depth of your heart.

at your words, a small chuckle left his lips, eyes softening—the edges of his lips softening into a smile full of fondness, “nah, you’re right. you’re my good luck charm.” he placed a hefty palm on your head, a small snicker escaping him as your glare directed up at him as soon as you felt him messing up your hair.

“though—“ his voice was quick to interrupt the serene moment, a teasing lilt to his voice—that, maybe if you had focused enough, had an edge to it, one that carried doubt, worry, and…fear?

(you think so, you just couldn’t catch onto it before it dissipated from his tone.)

“shouldn’t a wife wish her husband a farewell when he’s heading into such a tough battle? you know! to smother him with worry and kisses?” he inquired, a teasing smile on his lips, “maybe wish him a goodbye if you’re so gracious! who knows if i’ll make it back?” he pouted, finding the time to insert in his theatrics even when uttering such words.

you should’ve put some consideration into his words, should’ve took them to heart—but you didn’t. you didn’t. because why would he be serious if his words were spoken so playfully? when you know that he’s the strongest? when you were so sure that he was sure that he would also make it out alive? he had to be, right?

you huffed out a playful scoff, shaking your head fondly, “you’re being dramatic. you’re going to see me later, anyways. no need for farewells, ‘toru!” you hated farewells, he knew that.

you flashed him a bright smile, hoping it would express the love you had for him despite how you seemed to turn down his request. “we’ll both see eachother later.”

were you?

were his words really genuine?

…

maybe they were. you should’ve taken them seriously. now you’re paying the consequences, the consequences of not being perceptive enough—oh, how your heart aches for your husband.

“maybe wish him a goodbye if you’re so gracious! who knows if i’ll make it back?”

another sob ripped out of your lips as you held his hand tighter, the tips of his fingers turning a faint purple from how tight you gripped onto his hand. “please—“ you don’t think you’ve ever sounded so weak, so defeated, “i’ll say goo—goodbye! anything you want, i’ll—i’ll give you anything you want. please—“

he would’ve cooed at you, had he seen you this mess of tears, snot, and cracking tone.

oh, your baby.

“at least—“ you lowered your forehead to rest upon his chest, shoulders caving in once you realized the absence of a heartbeat, “at least wake up for a few seconds so i could say goodbye, so you would die assured!”

you wanted to hear the sound of his heartbeat, the sound of his faint breaths, the sound of his lashes fluttering as he blinked. you wanted to listen to anything and everything as long as it indicated that he’s still with you.

you desperately prayed that day, drowning in your own tears and snot as you begged and pleaded for shoko to succeed.

to spare you the loss of a beloved.

shoko is indeed a gift to the world, a woman who deserves all worthy praise.

your eyes drifted downwards to your husband, his eyes fluttering open in an attempt to open them, before scrunching them shut as soon as the rays of light seeping through the windows struck them. he huffed out a low groan—a sound that had your heart jumping in ecstasy, even though it normally wouldn’t—reaching one long arm out and wrapping it around your waist.

a small giggle fled from your lips as soon as you felt him burying his head in your chest at an attempt to escape the light.

“what’re you laughing about, huh? you’re so evil.” he huffed, seeking comfort in the warmth of your chest. “you left the curtains open so your poor husband could suffer in the morning!”

yet, despite his protests—the sound of your giggle was enough to alleviate his mood. enough to make him silently thank the stars that he got so lucky to live another day to be able to wake up next to you.

he doesn’t know what would’ve become of him if there happened to be an afterlife, doesn’t know how he would’ve fared with the realization that he’s left you all alone.

he’s thankful he doesn’t get to discover if there is an afterlife or not. hems thankful that he never died on that operation table. he’s thankful for so many things and the most important one being—

his eyes drifted over your face, watching the way your lips quirked up into a smile as you tried to suppress another upcoming giggle, a prominent dimple appearing on your cheek, eyes almost scrunched shut in the enjoyment coursing through your body.

you.

your expression was a stark contrast to the that day, the day when he woke up, the tears long gone from your eyes, voice no longer hoarse.

“you’re so dramatic, ‘toru.” you fondly rolled your eyes, burying your hand in his hair and running it through it—internally cooing at the pleased breath that leaves his lips—

you can’t believe you would’ve had to live without this had the universe decided to torture you. had the worst case scenario happened.

“you know i’d never purposefully set you up like that.” you hummed, a disappointed sound leaving your lips as he drew away from your touch.

his heart melted, almost folding and going right back into your embrace.

his little wife was so smitten with him. he could melt right in his spot.

instead, he placed a hand on the back of your head, gently tugging it towards his chest—heart aching with the need to hold you close to him, to give you a feeling of a shield protecting you, to be gentle with you and grant you everything you want.

his poor baby. he can’t imagine the worry you must’ve been in. his heart aches with both fondness and sorrow as he remembers the state you were in.

“let’s sleep some more..” he mumbled, already feeling his eyelids start to flutter shut; the feeling of you in his arms both intoxicating and comforting, inducing sleep.

“baby, we slept for 14 hours??”

“shhhh…might as well complete the whole 24, you know i’m tired!”

“tired from sleeping, maybe.”

“mean! you know i need my beauty sleep! you can clearly tell who doesn’t get their beauty sleep here…”

huh?!

“what the—you take that back!”

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bunnys-kisses · 14 hours

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｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა casual brattiness - lando n.໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

brat taming was a specialty for lando norris. he loved a good brat to collar and tame. he'd akin it to a bull rider, stay on for the entire ride no matter how much the his lovely doll of the month bucked against. they could show proverbial teeth and claws, and lando would simply have to bind and gag them. they always looked so pretty after a few orgasms.

he licked his lips when he first met you. you were beyond perfect. you had curves that drove him crazy, not to mention all the other parts of you. the shape of your nose to the colour of your eyes, the kind of colour that lando got lost in. lando norris never considered himself a possessive man. until he got his large hands around your pretty throat. it wasn't hard to seduce you into his bed, while it started casual, lando felt the claw of something more drag across his soul. you were a brat in bed, clawing at his back. you'd kick out your legs and your favourite word was 'no'. you'd pull on his hair and get in his face. "prick!" "dickhead!" "fuck you!" only riled up lando more, it only made his cock heavy and leaky at the tip. he bullied it into you though with little remorse, the safeword was never used. lando liked to gag you, but not with a proper gag. usually your panties or at worst his socks. he often bound your arms with his belt and kept your pushed down on the bed.

he manhandled you with ease. he bruised your hips, neck, breasts and any other area of skin he could get his hands or lips on. he watched you struggle against him, your pretty nails on his skin. he loved when he got to talk down to you, when he made you whimper and moan. his favourite was marking you, he loved to mark you soft skin. he one time wrote his initials on your thigh in sharpie and made you take a photo of it every day before it eventually faded. a darker part of lando's mind wanted something more permanent, and somewhere where others would see it. he felt crazy for you as he "tamed" you, the little brat had slowly become so perfect under his touch.

"lando." you said his name like prayer and it because a thought seared into the driver's mind.

he had convinced himself over a few months that this wasn't casual. you loved him. he searched for you across the paddock, even went as far as to get your flowers. you smiled when you held them close to you gently. lando would buy you flowers every day if it meant that you'd smile like that. even without the sex, lando yearned for your touch. and he yearned to touch you. hand on the lower back, pushing hair out of your eyes. casual was was a lie.

lando soon believed that his heart only beat because of you. and eventually yours did the same because of him.

however, the glass in lando's world shattered when he saw you get ready for a date. you were fixing up your make-up while gazing into a compact mirror. you were out of your mclaren uniform, in something form fitting that it made lando's brain short circuit. when he asked where you were going, you said, "oh i have a date!" and lando realized that this wasn't serious to you. as much as lando liked breaking brats, you liked breaking men. they got their sexual kicks, but you held lando's leash. and now you were going on a date? lando felt an unfamiliar feeling in his body, instead of making a scene. he simply smiled and told you to have a good time.

when you walked away, his mind went to work. there was no time to sulk or lick his wounds, he had to be proactive. he was a bit angry, how could you do this to him? you betrayed him. hurt his feelings! you should know better, plus no other man could be as good as lando norris. they couldn't make you cum the way he did or the way he made you smile! you were being stupid, little bird. lando knew couldn't let the pretty bird that had invaded his mind get away. it would be easier to clip your wings, keep you close to the ground where he was. and while ideas filled his mind while he jerked off his cock in his hotel room that night. lose your job, have your visa rejected, find a loophole so you'd have to marry him. anything to keep you with him. however, it all involved heavy paperwork and too many lawyers. there was a simple solution to his problem.

and that was to get you pregnant <3

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mytheoristavenue · 3 days

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DS Kyojuro Rengoku x Reader 🍋 - Something In The Air

Kinktober 2024 - II

Sex pollen + public sex

Summary: You've been training to go out for missions with Rengoku for ages, but nothing could have prepared you to have a demon with the power to stimulate arousal- in the middle of a crowded market, no less!

Warnings: Sex pollen trope, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fem!reader, breeding, rushed/short, fluffy ending, pregnancy, Senjuro mentioned, mentor x mentee dynamic at first

You could hardly contain your enthusiasm, you'd trained for what felt like forever in order to have the privilege of accompanying hashiras on missions. Today was finally the day of your first one and you couldn't be more excited to show off what you could do- especially to the man walking beside you. You'd admired Rengoku ever since meeting him shortly after final selection and it was only natural that that respect would grow into attraction the more you got to know him.

Currently, he led you to a bustling trade village, home to a well-known market which many people tended to come far distances to attend. He was rattling off lists of why this market was so special, and you were trying to listen in earnest, but you couldn't focus, too stuck on some sweet smell that had suddenly hit your nose. Apparently, he smelled it too.

"I love coming to this market," He smiled over his shoulder at you. "It's a long pathway, filled with all things tasty." You couldn't help but giggle at his sunny disposition, feeling even more fond of him than you usually did. "Though, I've never smelt this scent before, one of the vendors must have something new to offer. We should try it before we leave, providing the demon doesn't cause too much damage to the surrounding area, of course."

You nodded with a shy smile, catching up to him as the village came into view. Dusk was beginning to settle in and the many lights of the town were starting to flicker on. It was like watching the market awaken over the horizon, casting a lovely amber glow over the pair of you.

As you drew nearer, that smell persisted, gaining potency with every step. The saccharine aroma began to overwhelm your senses as you approach the village gate, so you decided to pick up the conversation, hoping to distract yourself. "So, do we know anything about this demon?"

Rengoku thought for a moment before smiling again. "I took the time to do some reconanance before this trip," He began, slowing his pace so you could walk side by side with him with less issue. "It would appear this demon is match maker."

"A match maker?" You repeated curiously. "Like someone who arranges marriages?"

"Precisely." He replied with a proud grin. "According to locals, marriage and birth rates in this area have skyrocketed over the last decade."

"Isn't that a good thing?" You tilted your head up to look at him, something that made his heart skip a beat. "What's so bad about people falling in love?"

"Love is a human emotion, it's not something that a demon can feel or replicate." He explained, quickly regaining his composure. "So what these people are experiencing is just an intense, prolonged infatuation, they're not actually falling in love. The effects seem to wear off after about a year, or when stress is introduced to the relationship."

"And babies can be quite stressful," You finish his thought, filling him with pride at your intuitiveness. "And divorce isn't legal in Japan, so these people are just stuck in loveless marriages. How awful! Why would any demon do this, just toy with people's hearts?"

"It would seem the children of these unions have been going missing," Rengoku reveals, suddenly turning serious. "It's possible one of the reasons is to cultivate a lasting food source." You were horrified, to say the least. Interfering with the hearts of men, eating children? Just how evil was this demon? "Don't fret, my dear," His voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, charming and full of tender confidence. "Together, you and I will slay this demon and free this village from its torment."

"And what about the couples affected by it?" You asked quietly, thoughts flooding back in quicker than he could dispel them.

"We can only hope that they'll genuinely fall in love through bonding over their shared experience." His smile faded a bit upon realizing he couldn't fully put you at ease, but was somewhat relieved when you asked a slightly unrelated question.

"So, how will we know when we find this demon or their work?" You asked curiously, tilting your head up at him again. This time, not only did his heart skip a beat, but he also felt heat pool in his belly. It must be some sort of anxiety for the battle ahead, he decided.

"Rumor has it that the demon puts off a distinct smell that's been likened to sugared flower-" Suddenly, he paused, pale as he swallowed dryly. "Petals..." How could he be so naive? That heavenly aroma was never a new type of pastry sold at the market. He'd lead you both into a trap. "Plug your nose, now."

You stiffened as his tone suddenly turned sharp and you wondered if you'd angered him, raising your hand to cover your nose with your haori sleeve. "Mr. Rengoku is everything-"

"Hold your breath." His command killed the words on your lips and you sucked in a deep breath, holding it in your cheeks as you followed him into the village.

Rengoku's mind raced. Had the power already begun to take effect, or did he have time? Was there an antidote or some way to dull the reaction? In the back of his mind, he knew it was too late, he could smell it for miles back, God knows how long you'd both been exposed. A tug at his sleeve stopped him dead in his tracks and his thoughts shattered like glass. Looking back at you stalled him like a car with a ruined transmission.

You looked like an absolute mess. Cheeks red and burning, eyes tired and submissive with brows knitted upwards. Had your lower face not been obscured, he would have seen the drool dripping down your chin.

"S-Sir, I don't feel well..." You confessed timidly, hoping he wouldn't look down on you too harshly. Instead, he softened, pulling you close with a hand on the small of your back, pushing his needs aside in favor of yours. "You're going to be just fine, my dear, I swear it." He reassured though he wasn't sure if even he believed it to be true.

He led you through the bustling market, expertly dodging pedestrians and obstacles alike, before pulling you into an alleyway to explain things more privately. "Don't be alarmed, everything will be alright." He started, resting you against the wall. "I believe we've been poisoned by the demon's scent, but rest assured, my intentions are pure." Nothing could have possibly made you think otherwise, you were so enchanted with him. "I fear this reaction could have dire consequences for us if we don't find a way to satiate it, but I swear to you, I will not waiver in my convictions. You are safe with me."

He almost seemed stressed, trying to convince you that he was trustworthy. You never would have thought otherwise, but it seemed like he was losing trust in himself. The longer he looked at you, the worse he ached. You looked positively disheveled, breath ragged, hair beginning to fall from your pin. He couldn't stop himself from wondering how much more of a mess he could turn you into.

You began to grow disappointed with his rocksteady refusal to give in. A part of you was excited by the situation, by the thought of the object of your admiration claiming you in a dark alleyway, feet away from civilization. Another part of you worried that suggesting you satiate the need might make you look cheap to him. None of it mattered, though, because he had already began to run on fumes, his body inching closer before his mind could tell it to stop.

His lips crashed to yours like a speeding car, all firey need and firm pressure. Before you could pull him closer, he tore away from you, wiping your taste from his mouth. "F-Forgive me, my dear!" He stammered, horrified with himself for giving in so easily. "M-My body reacted on instinct, it won't happen again!" He swore, beginning to tremble. Your response made his blood run cold, blazing eyes becoming even more owlish.

"It won't...?" Your tone dripped with sugar and disappointment, only one of which he'd normally seek out in you, but in this moment, both tasted the same. "If we've been put under the demon's influence, does that not make us...matched?"

"Matched?" He repeated dumbly, despite knowing all too well what the word entailed. He wanted to hear you explain it.

"If this demon matches individuals together for marriage and conception via this sweet smell..." You trailed almost seductively. "And the pair of us have been exposed, and are only in need of one another, does that not stand to reason that...we have been matched together?"

"I-I suppose it does," He admitted, swallowing dryly. "But we are here to slay the demon, not fall under its enchantment."

You carefully pushed away from the wall, leaning against his chest for support, prompting him to wrap you up in his embrace for the sake of your stability. "Are you not enchanted?" You whisper, dazed and desperate.

"I-I am." He trembled, holding you tight to his chest. "But enchantment be damned, I would never force myself upon you for any reason."

"What if I asked you to?" You giggled drunkenly, nuzzling into his uniform.

"A-Asked me to do what, my dear?" He swallowed, already knowing what you'd say. He desperately tried to convince himself to hold steadfast, that you were unconsenting to his whims, but how could he go on when you were throwing yourself at him?

"Take me, Kyojuro." You cooed, calling him out by name for the very first time. The way his given name rolled off your tongue sent shivers down his spine and he could no longer deny the inevitable.

"M-My dear, you mustn't tempt me..." He warned lowly, bushy brown twitching with restraint. "I-I may not be able to resist you much longer."

"I'm counting on it," You confessed, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his Adam's apple. The moment your lips graced his skin, his resolve gave way like unsteady ground and you were pressed against the wall again. One shaky hand held your chin still and the other dove for your belt, eager to unobscure your lower half to the cold night air.

Hardly any words were spoken between the two of you, but there was a silent understanding between you both as he shimmied your uniform trousers down, your hands pawing at this belt buckle all the while. The moment was clumsy and escalated to a fever pitch almost immediately, but it was also passionate and driven by something other than the toxin in the air- something mutual that had always been there.

Once your trousers were far enough down your thighs where he could access you, and his erection was free, he immediately hoisted you up against the wall, holding you there with his upper body strength alone, pressing your knees into your collarbone. The ache in your core became soothed instantly when he came into contact with it, spit-slicked fingers coaxing it gently before briefly dipping inside. His fingers parted inside you, in a vain attempt to prepare you for breach.

Within minutes, Rengoku was sinking into you, a soft, almost pained sigh escaping him as his forehead dropped to rest on your shoulder. Like an antidote, the soreness inside you was eased, massaged away by his tedious pace and hot, breathy praise. "D-Divine..." He murmured into the cook of your neck, bottoming out time after time, patiently working a rhythm into motion.

He was so much more than you'd imagined, in all ways. Longer, thicker, gentler, more passionate. Nothing could have ever prepared you to finally have him in all his desperate glory, but here you were, trapped between him and a hard place with nowhere you'd rather be.

You couldn't think on that in the moment, though, too overwhelmed by the feeling in your hypersensitive state. Just his steady pace was enough to drive you both mad, whispering near silent worship to each other, hooked together like puzzle pieces. He held you so close, you felt like one being, as his hips lazily rolled into yours, not needing more than that to come close.

Judging by the tension leading up to this moment, you'd imagined he'd ravage you right there in the alleyway, but that isn't what happened. When Rengoku claimed you, he did it as softly as he could, his touch filled with affection and care, as if he were handling a glass figuring, centuries old. The throws of passion overwhelmed you so much that, you hardly even noticed when his tenderness had brought you to the edge, pushing you into the void with a sweet kiss and a whispered "I love you, my dear."

Sensing your undoing by how tightly you constricted him, his eyes squeezed shut, quivering lips peppering kisses to what little of your neck was exposed, repeating his confession however many times he felt it needed to be said. He never ceased his romantic chant as he stalled inside you, spilling what all he had to give, hips straining to keep moving, as if driven by the carnal need to plant life.

After the pair of you were spent, he continued to hold you just like that, reluctant to withdraw from you for fear that the fertilization may not take. Afterward, though, Rengoku began to feel the fog clear from his mind, plastering a confident smile on his face as he gently set you down and helped you redress. Now that he'd faced this hurdle, he was confident that slaying this demon would be easy. It was the consequences of the spell which would be challenging, or so he thought.

-----

"Kyo," You called sweetly from the garden of his family home, led down the pathway by his sweet younger brother. Rengoku beamed at you, returning home from another long mission to his beautiful wife on maternity leave. Your belly was round and full and your gait was reduced to an unsteady waddle, but luckily, Senjuro was unwilling to leave your side until his brother was there to relieve his duties.

"My match," He cooed, dropping his sword and bag to run to you, happily peppering kisses on your face. "You're positively glowing, how are you?"

"I'm wonderful, darling, how are you?" You answered sweetly, pecking his cheek.

"Over the moon," He replied, crouching down to press a kiss to your swollen tummy. "How is our little flame?"

"Never better, thanks to Sen," You laugh lighthearted, reaching out to the boy, who had stepped away, pulling him into your side. "He's taken good care of me since you've been away."

"Have you, now?" Rengoku's eyes lit up even further, standing to place a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're growing into a fine young man, Senjuro."

The boy's timid features softened at your combined praises, and he pressed his face into your stomach, hugging you both tightly. "I can't wait to meet my niece..."

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 3 days

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Bunny (Part 3) - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 12,588

Warnings: murder, Joker, minor age gap, police (ew)

Summary: Imma cut to the case, girly loses her car

(Part One) (Part Two)

A/N: Hey...how yall doing... Sorry I kind of disappeared off the face of the earth for a little while...my bad, I have made a few posts explaining how my life's been a mess recently, so had to take a step back from all this for a while. I don't know how often I'll be able to update things/post, but I'll do my best with the time I had, it might just be a bit slow, sorry And thank you to everyone that reached out to me, it's so sweet to have you guys looking out for me and all that, thank you so much, it means the world and thanks for reading most importantly, it's good to see people enjoying my fics 💚 SO! it's been a while, but I hope I didn't disappoint :) Enjoy~

It had been over a week since Y/n had last seen Joker. A week since the night he brutally beat the shit out of Max, the image still lingered in her mind, as did his words. How he made it clear she wasn’t allowed to have anyone else in her life. After everything that happened, Y/n couldn't bring herself to attend classes. The risk felt too great, she didn’t want to anger Joker any more than she already had. She had been isolating herself in her dorm ever since, barely leaving except for quick trips to the bathroom or to grab food from the dining hall. It was as though the walls of her small room were closing in on her, and the world outside felt too dangerous to face.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Joker had been around to break the monotony, to bring some kind of human interaction into her lonely routine. His presence, unpredictable as it was, might have been better than the suffocating silence. But then again, he was the one who had forced her into this isolation. Did she really want comfort from the same man who had made her feel trapped in the first place?

Well...yes. Yes, she did.

As much as she hated to admit it, Y/n missed him. Missed J. What if he was right? What if she truly didn’t need anyone else? After all, people had always made her feel uncomfortable, anxious. Except for Joker. Despite his chaos and unpredictability, he had a way of making her laugh, of making her feel seen and special. Strangely enough, there were moments when he even made her feel safe. And when she really thought about it, she only doubted him when he wasn’t around. It was in his absence that the questions and fears crept in. But when J was by her side, everything seemed brighter, more manageable. It was like her doubts evaporated in his presence, leaving behind only the spark he ignited in her.

She had no idea why he hadn’t called or shown up in the past week. Maybe he was busy with fuck knows what. Y/n had been avoiding the news along with people, deliberately shutting herself off from anything that might clue her in to Joker’s latest chaos. She hated hearing about his “exploits”, it made everything feel too real, too overwhelming, as if by hearing about his crimes, she became more entangled in his dark world. And she wanted to keep that part of her life as far away as possible.

But then a chilling thought crossed her mind. What if he was dead? Her heart skipped a beat, her chest tightening as her breathing grew ragged. Could that be it? Joker, her Joker, dead? No, it wasn’t possible. He was the Joker, larger than life, untouchable. But if that were true, then where was he? Where was her J?

Panic crept up her spine. The more she thought about it, the more her mind spiraled. If something had happened to him... no, she couldn’t let herself think like that. But still, the gnawing question lingered. Why hadn't he shown up? Why hadn't he called?

Y/n sighed deeply, closing her eyes as she curled up on her side. The bed, usually a place of solace, felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Or, to be fair, every night. She just wanted—

“Leaving your window ajar? Bit dangerous in this society,” a familiar voice drawled, smooth yet taunting.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, and her eyes flew open. She whipped around in her bed, gasping in disbelief. “J!” she cried out, her voice full of relief and joy.

Crouching in her window, Joker looked as mischievous as ever, his signature grin stretching across his face. His sharp eyes glittered as he swung one leg inside, then the other, landing silently on her floor. He stood there, his frame casting a shadow across the room, but there was an undeniable magnetism in his presence. He radiated danger and yet, to her, there was comfort in seeing him, as twisted as that comfort was.

"You missed me, Bunny?" he smirked, straightening up as he sauntered over to her bed.

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She shot up from her bed, her feet barely touching the floor before she rushed across the room and threw herself into Joker's arms. The moment she felt his grip tighten around her, it was as if the weight she'd been carrying all week lifted. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him, a strange mix of cologne, smoke, and something undeniably Joker.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he teased, his voice low and amused as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly against him.

Y/n sighed deeply against his chest, a sense of relief flooding through her as she melted into his embrace. The loneliness and emptiness that had weighed her down for days seemed to evaporate the moment he returned. With Joker there, her once dull, lifeless room suddenly felt vibrant and alive again, his mere presence filling the space with an intensity only he could bring.

"Where have you been?" Y/n asked softly, her voice muffled as she kept her face pressed into his chest.

"You know...around," Joker replied casually, his voice as nonchalant as ever.

Despite the vague and careless answer, Y/n found that she didn’t really care. Not right now. All that mattered was that he was here, in her arms again, filling the emptiness she had felt all week.

"And I come bearing gifts," Joker's voice took on a playful edge. He reached behind his back, pulling something out from beneath his coat with a dramatic flourish. In his hand, a bouquet of flowers appeared. Slightly wilted, the petals crushed from being stuffed behind his back, but flowers nonetheless. "Flowers," he declared with a crooked grin.

Y/n couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her as she accepted the bouquet. "A little beaten up, but still lovely. Thank you."

Joker leaned in closer, his smirk deepening. "Had to put them somewhere while I climbed up here. Couldn't exactly carry them in my teeth." He said, baring his stained teeth.

Y/n blinked at him in disbelief, her heart doing a small flip at the thought. "Why in the fuck would you climb up here? I live on the fourth floor!"

Joker shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Keeps me sharp. Plus, I like to keep things...interesting."

Y/n shook her head, a mixture of amusement and disbelief running through her. Of course, Joker would think scaling a building was a fun way to make an entrance. It was reckless, just like him, but that same unpredictability was what made him so captivating to her.

Y/n carefully placed the flowers on her bedside table, their slightly crumpled petals a reminder of Joker's unconventional affection. She turned back to him, her fingers curling around his wrist as she gently tugged him toward the bed.

Without missing a beat, Joker kicked off his shoes, the movement fluid and practiced, as if he’d done it countless times before. He climbed onto the bed, settling down with a casual ease. Sitting up for a moment, Joker shrugged off his coat, tossing it to the floor, then stretched out his arms, inviting Y/n into his embrace.

Without hesitation, she slipped into his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a strange comfort to her, a grounding presence in the chaos he always seemed to carry with him. Joker sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow, his fingers lazily tracing the curve of her back.

"You uhh...haven’t left your dorm in a while, have you, Bunny?" Joker’s voice was casual, but the question was laced with an undertone of curiosity.

Y/n froze for a second, the truth settling heavily in the space between them. She shook her head slowly, not wanting to delve into the reasons why.

Joker tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. "Wanna tell J why?" he asked, his tone almost coaxing.

Instead of answering, Y/n only shrugged, burrowing deeper into his chest, as though she could make herself disappear within his arms. The weight of everything she had bottled up, the isolation, the fear, the confusion, it was too much to put into words. All she wanted in that moment was to feel small, safe, and sheltered from the overwhelming reality pressing down on her.

Joker let his fingers gently stroke Y/n’s head, his touch both soothing and reassuring. The room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of their breathing and the occasional creak of the bed as Joker shifted slightly.

“Come on,” Joker began after a moment, his voice a soft murmur against the silence, “tell J.”

Y/n remained nestled against him, her voice barely a whisper. “I just...I didn’t feel like leaving. Things got complicated, and I didn’t want to risk…I don’t know, making things worse.”

Joker’s expression softened slightly, though his playful smirk remained. “Complicated, huh?”

Y/n nodded against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were a lifeline. “Yeah. It’s been hard, trying to make sense of everything. And...I guess I’ve been scared.”

Joker’s hand slid up to cup her cheek, tilting her face up slightly so he could meet her eyes. “Scared of what, Bunny?”

Y/n swallowed hard, feeling the lump in her throat. “Scared of...disappointing you...And of you being angry.”

Joker’s gaze softened further, and he pulled her even closer. “Hey, you don’t need to be scared. Not with me, Doll. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m certainly not gonna hurt you. Not a chance.”

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and lingering worry. “But sometimes, you make me feel like I’m walking a tightrope…Like I can’t breathe.”

Joker’s fingers traced gently along her jawline, his touch tender despite the intensity of his gaze. “I get it. I do. Sometimes I…push too hard, and…” he sighed, rolling his eyes, not wanting to admit it. “It’s not always about what’s best for you. But remember, Bunny, you’re mine. And I don’t just mean that in some possessive sense. I mean it in a way that means I care about you…Even if I don’t always show it the right way.”

She managed a small, appreciative smile. “I know. It’s just hard to balance everything.”

Joker’s eyes softened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “We’ll find that balance together, yeah? Just you and me on that little tightrope of yours. And maybe, if you’re willing…We can…talk more about what’s been going on. Mhmm?”

Y/n nodded, feeling the warmth of his words and his presence. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully relax into his embrace. For now, the world outside seemed far away, and in this moment, it was enough to simply be held by him.

“Will you stay the night? Please?” Y/n asked, her voice soft and pleading as she snuggled closer to him, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

Joker’s eyes dropped to her, his expression shifting from his usual playful mask to something softer, yet still tinged with mischief. He raised an eyebrow and gave a theatrical sigh. “What, in this tiny little bed?” he teased, casting an exaggerated glance around the small space.

Y/n’s heart sank slightly, but she maintained her hopeful gaze, her eyes glistening with a mixture of hope and anxiety. “Yes, please. Just tonight.”

Joker’s smirk widened, and he gave a dramatic shrug as if considering the request. “Oh, alright,” he said, with a hint of reluctance. “But only because I’ve missed you too.”

He shifted, making himself more comfortable on the small bed, adjusting his position so that he could hold her more securely. His playful demeanour didn’t fully mask the warmth in his eyes, which softened as he looked at her.

As Y/n settled into the crook of Joker’s arm, her breathing began to even out, the steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling in a peaceful cadence. Joker watched her with a mix of tenderness and fascination, his usual chaotic energy replaced by a rare, serene calm. Her face, softened by sleep, was framed by stray strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead.

He carefully adjusted his position, making sure not to disturb her slumber. With a gentle touch, he reached over to pull the covers up over both of them, tucking it snugly around their bodies. The soft rustling of the fabric was the only sound that filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the loud chaos of their usual lives.

Joker’s eyes remained fixed on her for a moment longer, taking in the sight of her so serene and vulnerable. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over her face, highlighting the delicate features that had become so familiar to him. He couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh, a rare moment of contentment washing over him as he admired her.

Once he was satisfied that they were comfortably covered, Joker finally allowed himself to relax. He shifted slightly, arranging himself so that he could hold her close, feeling the comforting weight of her against him. With one last glance at her peaceful face, he closed his eyes, letting himself drift off into sleep.

It was a rare and almost mythical sight. Joker sleeping. Sleep was a luxury he seldom afforded himself, a mere afterthought in the whirlwind of his life. His existence was a constant rush of adrenaline and chaos, where sleep was more of an inconvenience than a necessity. Yet, tonight was different. Tonight, the demands of his chaotic world seemed to dissolve, if only for a brief moment.

As he lay beside Y/n, the darkness of the room enveloped them in a cocoon of calm. The usual sharpness in his features softened in sleep, his furrowed brow easing into an uncharacteristic serenity. The once restless energy that drove him now lay dormant, replaced by a quietude that felt both foreign and oddly comforting.

He allowed himself this rare indulgence, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of Y/n's breathing and the gentle warmth of her presence. For tonight, he set aside the complexities of his world and the incessant ticking of his internal clock. This rare pause from his relentless pursuits, was all for her.

For his Bunny, he was willing to grant himself this brief escape, allowing the world outside to fade into the background, leaving only the serenity of their shared night.

Y/n stirred awake slowly, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around her. Blinking against the soft light shining through the window, she realised she was still tucked in Joker's arms. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm beneath her cheek, the sound of his heartbeat oddly soothing. For a brief moment, everything felt surreal. Joker, the Joker, lay sleeping peacefully beside her.

She tilted her head slightly to look at him, taking in the sight of his face softened by sleep. The sharp edges of his usual expression were gone, replaced by something almost...human. His arm was wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close as if even in sleep, he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Y/n’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions. Relief, tenderness, and a quiet sense of disbelief. She never expected to wake up like this, cradled in the arms of a man so dangerous and unpredictable, yet, in this moment, he felt like a safe harbour in the storm.

As she shifted slightly to get more comfortable, his grip tightened instinctively, pulling her closer as if he could sense she was awake. A small smile tugged at her lips, and for the first time in a while, she felt a flicker of peace. Being with him might have been turbulent, but in moments like this, when it was just the two of them, the world seemed to pause.

"You're still here," she whispered softly, half to herself.

Joker didn’t stir, still lost in the rare tranquillity of sleep. Y/n snuggled back into his embrace, her body relaxing against him once more, savouring the fleeting moment of calm before reality inevitably caught up with them again.

Y/n gazed up at Joker’s sleeping face, her heart swelling with a strange mix of emotions. There was something captivating about him like this. Vulnerable, peaceful. It was a rare sight, one she had never quite imagined she'd be lucky enough to witness. He looked so different without the tension he carried when he was awake. His sharp features, which usually wore a wicked grin, now seemed softer, almost innocent in the quiet of the morning. Well, they would be, if not for his makeup.

For a moment, she couldn’t help but think back to a week ago when she had almost seen him without his makeup for the first time. That day, everything had been different. He had been furious. She didn’t wanted the first time seeing his bare face to be like that, so she simply did not look.

But now, in this stillness, Y/n found herself longing to truly see him. His makeup had always been a mask, a barrier between the world and the man underneath. What did he look like when he wasn’t the Joker, when he wasn’t playing the part of Gotham’s most dangerous criminal? She had seen glimpses, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t right. She wanted to see him in a way that felt personal, intimate, something shared between just the two of them.

Her hand twitched, tempted to reach up and trace the lines of his face, to wipe away the remnants of his painted mask. She wondered what it would be like to see him with nothing to hide behind, no makeup, no games. Would he let her? Could she ask him? The thought made her pulse quicken, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness rising in her chest.

“Staring at me while I sleep, huh?” he rasped, his voice husky from sleep.

Y/n’s breath hitched as his eyes opened, their familiar intensity returning as they focused on her. His lips curled into a lazy smirk, amusement flickering in his gaze. Y/n blushed, caught in the act. She quickly glanced away but didn’t pull back from his embrace.

“I just…I’ve never really seen you like this before,” she whispered, her fingers lightly resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Well, don’t get used to this,” Joker said, a teasing edge to his voice as he noticed Y/n’s pout.

Y/n’s eyes remained fixed on his face, captivated despite the conversation. Joker’s brow raised as he caught her intense gaze. “Got a staring problem?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Y/n hesitated, her words tangled in her throat. “I just…” she started, struggling to find the right way to express her feelings.

Joker’s eyes softened slightly, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “It’s the face paint, isn’t it?” he guessed, his tone almost affectionate as he read her with an unsettling accuracy.

Y/n’s heart fluttered, and she nodded, not hesitating. “Yeah,” she admitted softly.

Joker’s smirk widened, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “You had your chance, remember? But you wouldn’t look at me,” he teased, fake pouting.

Y/n bit her lip, her gaze returning to his. “I didn’t want to…not when you were angry with me,” she admitted. “I didn’t want that to be the first time I saw you. But now…I want to see you.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Joker said with a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“But satisfaction brought it back?” Y/n ventured, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she searched his face for clues.

Joker leaned in closer, the proximity causing Y/n’s breath to catch in her throat. His gaze lingered on her lips, and she let out a soft gasp, feeling the heat of his presence. “Have I satisfied you yet, Bunny?” he asked, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur.

The air between them crackled with an almost tangible tension, thick with an electric charge that seemed to pulse with every breath. Y/n felt a rush of warmth spreading beneath her skin, a heat that was both exciting and unsettling. Her heart raced in response to the intimacy of their closeness, each beat echoing in her ears. Every subtle shift in Joker's gaze and every brush of his breath against her skin amplified the sensation, making it feel like a live wire against her nerves. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, stirring a mixture of longing and apprehension that made the moment feel almost unbearable in its potency.

Despite the charged atmosphere, she had to be honest. “Well, no…I want to see your face,” she admitted, breaking the spell of the moment.

Joker’s dramatic eye roll and the click of his tongue were almost theatrical. He pulled back, the playful irritation clear in his expression.

For a moment, Joker said nothing, just watching her with that unnerving intensity of his. Then, he let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing along her jawline. “You’re full of surprises, Bunny.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin, this time, it wasn’t lustful, but gentle. “But if you want to see me…you’re gonna have to be ready for what comes with it. Think you can handle that?”

Y/n paused, mulling over Joker's words. What did he mean by that? What was the consequence of seeing him without makeup? Doubts began to creep into her mind. Did she really want this? Was it worth the uncertainty?

Joker noticed the turmoil written all over her face. With a heavy sigh, he reached out and gently patted her head, breaking the spell of her thoughts. “Not today, Bunny,” he said softly.

Y/n nodded, a resigned understanding settling over her. She could wait a little longer.

Joker then slid off the bed, retrieving his coat from the floor and slipping it on. He shoved his feet into his shoes with little care. “Gotta go, Bunny.”

“You just woke up,” Y/n said, confused.

“Well, crime isn’t going to commit itself,” Joker replied, holding his arms up like it was obvious.

Y/n frowned, but Joker just rolled his eyes. “I ain’t never been a saint. Don’t act like that.”

She sighed and sank back into her bed, feeling the emptiness left by his soon to be departure. Joker leaned over her, his face close, but his expression softened.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow, hmm?” he said, pulling his lips back, waiting for her answer.

Y/n managed a small smile and nodded in agreement. Joker responded with his trademark grin, placing a quick, playful peck on her lips before pulling away with a pop.

“Until then, Bunny,” Joker said, his tone light as he strutted to the window.

“You’re not seriously leaving through my window in broad daylight!” Y/n exclaimed, disbelief in her voice.

“Bye bye!” Joker said with a playful wave, completely ignoring her protests as he made his exit.

Y/n scoffed, reflecting on how it was a miracle Joker had never been caught. Hell, it was a surprise she hadn’t been caught up in his world herself. But dwelling on that was pointless.

As she lay in bed, she realized how much Joker’s presence had lifted her spirits. She hadn't felt this good in ages. In fact, she felt an unexpected surge of motivation. Not enough to drag her to her classes, but certainly enough to get out of her room.

Determined to make the most of her newfound energy, Y/n pushed herself off the bed and began getting ready for the day.

Sitting in her car, Y/n surprised at how far she’d come. She hadn’t expected her motivation to last her this long, but a sense of satisfaction and excitement bubbled up within her. The day ahead was a blank canvas, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but with the wads of cash Joker had given her, she was confident she’d find something worthwhile in the city of Gotham.

Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life with a reassuring hum. As she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the streets, the city’s pulse seemed to sync with the beat of her heart. Gotham’s towering buildings and neon lights flashed past her as she drove, a blend of curiosity and anticipation guiding her through the city maze. She was ready to explore, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store.

Or, you know…just take it easy.

Y/n decided to park her car in a quieter part of the city, if that even existed. She wandered towards the waterfront, drawn by the promise of calm against the backdrop of the city’s frenetic pace. The unfamiliar sun cast a warm glow over the water, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of the polluted sea. She found a little ice cream stand nestled on the waterfront, its colourful display tempting her with a variety of flavours. After scanning the options, she chose simple chocolate. Ordering was easy enough, she barely even hesitated with her words.

With her ice cream in hand, Y/n strolled along the waterfront, savouring each lick of her treat. The rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the shore was soothing, even if the sound was momentarily interrupted by rubbish washing up along with it.

She watched families and couples enjoying their day, feeling a sense of normalcy and contentment she hadn’t experienced in a while. For a few moments, she let herself be immersed in the simple pleasure of the afternoon, enjoying the sweet taste of freedom and the soothing ambiance of the waterfront.

As Y/n continued to stroll along the waterfront, the initial thrill of her outing began to wane. The gentle breeze and the pleasant scenery no longer held her attention as they had at the start. Instead, a sense of weariness started to creep in. The excitement of walking around Gotham’s and the novelty of her day out were giving way to a quiet longing for the comfort of her own space.

She finished her ice cream, the last few drops of chocolate lingering on her fingers. The sun was beginning its early descent, casting long shadows across the boardwalk and signalling the end of a day well spent. Yet, Y/n found herself feeling more tired than refreshed. The energy that had once drove her spirits was fading, replaced by a growing desire to return to the familiarity and solace of her dorm room.

With a sigh, she turned away from the waterfront and started making her way back to her car. Her steps were slower now, her earlier enthusiasm replaced by a comfortable, if slightly melancholic, fatigue. The dull cityscape blurred into the background as her mind shifted to the thought of sinking into her bed and enjoying the peace of her own space.

As Y/n reached her parked car and began to pull her keys from her pocket, she suddenly felt a heavy pressure on her back. A chilling presence loomed behind her, sending a jolt of fear and anxiety through her entire body.

"Give me the keys," a gravelly voice demanded.

Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced over her shoulder. The dim glow of the streetlights revealed the glint of a handgun, hidden in the man's jacket but now pressed against her back. Trembling, she nodded and, with a shaky hand, retrieved the keys from her pocket. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slowly extended her arm, letting the keys drop into his outstretched hand.

With a rough, demanding grip, the man seized her shoulder and shoved her aside. Y/n stumbled and fell to the ground, her palms scraping against the pavement. The world seemed to blur as panic surged through her veins, her mind racing with shock and fear.

Y/n watched in stunned silence as the man sped away in her car, its engine roaring defiantly as it disappeared down the street. The reality of the situation sank in with a harsh, bitter sting. Her heart pounded as she pushed herself off the ground, her hands shaking as she brushed dirt from her clothes.

“...Fuck,” she said, with a shaky breath.

She stood up and began walking, her steps heavy and sluggish. The streets seemed endless, stretching out before her as she trudged along. With each step, her mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and worries. How was she going to explain this to Joker? The thought of confronting him, of admitting she’d lost his gift, filled her with dread.

She imagined Joker’s reaction. His anger, his disappointment, the sharp, biting words he might hurl at her. The fear of what he might do to her for failing to keep his gift safe weighed heavily on her shoulders. She’d already been through so much, and the thought of facing his potential wrath was almost too much to bear.

Y/n’s footsteps echoed through the quiet streets as she trudged on, the cold night air biting at her skin. The glow of the streetlights offered little comfort, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to mock her misfortune. She glanced down, wishing for a miracle or some kind of way to fix the situation before it reached Joker’s ears.

The sense of dread continued to gnaw at her, each step furthering her anxiety. How could she face Joker and tell him that his precious gift was now gone? The thought of his reaction, the potential fallout, was overwhelming. All she wanted was to get home, to crawl into bed, and to forget about the chaos of the night.

So much for feeling good. Y/n was restless throughout the night, her nerves frayed and her mind a whirlwind of anxiety. Despite the fleeting sense of fear she had of Joker showing up, sleep eluded her. She had half-expected Joker to storm through her door at any moment, demanding answers about her missing car, but the anticipated confrontation never happened.

As the hours ticked by, the night passed in a blur of fitful tossing and turning. The following day dawned with a heavy weight of dread. Y/n managed to get through the day without a single sign of Joker. Yet, the silence only heightened her apprehension. She knew deep down that he would come eventually, and she would have to face him. The thought of revealing the truth and dealing with the consequences loomed over her like a dark cloud, but she knew she’d have to deal with it.

Right on cue, the dorm door creaked open, and Joker’s voice boomed through the small room. "Honey, I'm home!" His tone was playful, but Y/n couldn't muster a smile.

Sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, she stared down at her hands, sniffling softly. Joker frowned, the door slamming shut with a careless kick as he stepped further inside.

"Bunny?" he called, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Another sniffle escaped her, and without hesitation, Joker crossed the room, crouching in front of her. Gently, he tilted her chin up with a light touch, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her face was red and blotchy, eyes puffy, and lips swollen from crying. His brows furrowed, and he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in closer.

"Hey, Bunny...what's with the tears?" His words were casual, but the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Y/n swallowed, tears still threatening to spill over. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Joker’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What’d you do?" His voice was softer now, but his curiosity was piqued.

"I...I lost my car." The words came out between sobs, her shoulders trembling with the weight of them.

Joker blinked, processing. He leaned back a little, brow arching. "Lost it? What? In a bet or something? Just tell me who, and I’ll get it back. Hell, I can get you a new one if you want." He grinned, trying to brush it off, thinking it couldn’t be that serious.

But Y/n shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No...some guy stole it. He had a gun, J. He made me give him the keys..." Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed with guilt and fear.

Joker froze for a second, the lightheartedness vanishing from his expression. He studied her, the anger building beneath the surface, though his tone remained calm. "He had a gun?"

“I’m sorry, J. I didn’t mean to…” Y/n's voice was muffled by her hands as she cried, her body trembling.

Joker's jaw clenched, a dangerous fire flickering in his eyes. Someone threatened his Bunny. Someone had dared to put a gun to her, to take something from her, which ultimately meant taking from him.

His hands balled into fists at his sides, the knuckles whitening from the sheer force of his anger. It wasn’t the car that mattered, it was the audacity of it all. Someone had made her feel vulnerable, scared, and Joker couldn’t stomach that. His rage simmered, barely contained, but he knew he had to keep it together for her.

Leaning forward, he gently peeled her hands away from her face, forcing her to look up at him. His grip, though firm, was tender in a way that was reserved only for her. “Look at me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous but laced with an unusual gentleness. "This wasn’t your fault. You hear me?"

Y/n nodded weakly, her tear-streaked face still full of guilt.

Joker's thumb brushed away a stray tear from her cheek, his gaze softening for a brief moment. “No one touches what’s mine,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her. The intensity in his eyes darkened, a promise of vengeance. “I’ll make sure whoever did this regrets ever breathing near you.”

Her lip quivered. "But…"

"No 'but's, Bunny. You did what you had to. They had a gun, you did the smart thing." His words were laced with conviction, his eyes burning with a wild resolve.

Joker tilted her chin again, this time with a smirk creeping back onto his face. “And when I find this guy, well…” He chuckled darkly. “He’ll be wishing he never woke up this morning.”

Y/n swallowed hard, feeling a mix of comfort and fear at his words. She knew Joker well enough to know that he wasn't bluffing. Whoever had taken her car wouldn’t just lose the car; they'd lose much more.

He leaned closer, his lips grazing her temple, whispering against her skin, “You’re mine, Bunny. And I protect what's mine.”

She nodded again, feeling her pulse quicken under his possessive words. As dangerous as he was, she couldn't deny the sense of safety that came from his presence. The world outside might have been chaos, but in Joker's arms, she felt like nothing could touch her.

"Now," Joker continued, pulling back slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Tell J however much you remember, mhmm?” His smirk widened, and for the first time since the carjacking, Y/n managed a small, shaky smile.

Y/n took a shaky breath, wiping the remnants of tears from her cheeks as she tried to gather her thoughts. “It all happened so fast,” she began, her voice still trembling. “I had just finished walking around and was heading back to my car. It was parked by the waterfront, you know? And...and then this guy came out of nowhere.”

Joker’s eyes narrowed as he listened, already piecing together what little information he could. His patience wasn’t exactly legendary, but when it came to her, he could wait. He needed the details.

“He…he had a gun,” Y/n continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t even notice him at first until he was behind me…and he put the gun to my back. He told me to give him the keys, and I-” She stopped, her voice breaking. “I just handed them over. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Joker’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent, letting her continue.

“He was tall, I think? I didn’t get a good look at his face…he had a hoodie on, dark clothes…But that’s all I remember.” Y/n shook her head, clearly frustrated with herself. “I’m sorry, J. I didn’t see more.”

Joker stroked his chin, eyes narrowing in thought. Tall. Hoodie. Waterfront. It wasn’t much to work with, not nearly as much as he liked. He hated operating blind. But he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He’d figured out worse with less, and for his Bunny, he’d make it work.

His mind raced, already formulating a plan. He knew the city like the back of his hand, knew the gangs, the small-time crooks, the desperate ones who operated in the shadows. He could already think of a few places to start looking.

Joker exhaled through his nose, a humourless grin forming on his lips as he looked down at Y/n. “Not much, huh? You’d think these idiots would be more creative.” He rubbed her arm, the action strangely soothing despite the edge in his tone. “But don’t worry, Bunny. I’ll figure it out.”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of uncertainty, but there was something else there too. Relief. Relief that he was taking control of the situation. That, in his own chaotic way, he was there for her.

Joker chuckled, his expression dark and predatory. “Oh, I’ll find this guy. And when I do, he’s gonna wish he never crossed paths with us.” His thumb brushed across her cheek, the intensity in his eyes growing. “No one messes with you and gets away with it.”

Y/n nodded, trusting him. Joker always found a way to get what he wanted, and she knew, without a doubt, that whoever had taken her car wasn’t going to have a good day when Joker finally caught up to him.

Joker hopped up off the bed with a sudden burst of energy. “Imma make a quick call, okay, Doll?” He shot her a grin before heading to the window. Just as he reached it, he turned back to her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And uh…block your ears,” he added.

Y/n didn’t need any convincing. She pressed her fingers firmly into her ears, muffling the sounds of the room, watching as Joker leaned halfway out the window to make his call. The sight of him there, trying to be all business while hanging out of her dorm window, was almost comical. It was clear he was doing it to keep her from overhearing the conversation, though she wasn’t sure if it was more for her safety or his secrets.

Whatever he was saying, the call didn’t last long. After a minute or two, he pulled the phone from his ear, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and made his way back over to Y/n.

“And now,” he declared dramatically, “I’m all yours.” Without warning, he flopped onto the bed, half-crushing her under his weight, his arms draped lazily around her.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at the suddenness of it all, her chest filling with warmth as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him close. It felt nice, almost normal in a way that contradicted everything about them. But that was what she loved.

Joker rested his head against her, and for a moment, they simply lay there, the world outside her dorm fading away. In this small, stolen moment, it was just them, and Y/n let herself get lost in that, even if she knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Joker sprawled out across Y/n’s bed, one arm lazily draped around her waist while his other hand absentmindedly twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. Y/n leaned into his touch, letting herself sink into the moment, but a thought nagged at the back of her mind.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up, her voice quiet but insistent. "You know, J...maybe you should give me some way to contact you."

Joker raised an eyebrow but didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, he continued playing with her hair, his body still relaxed. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that, Bunny?” His voice was playful.

Y/n sighed, shifting a little in his arms so she could look up at him. "I can’t keep sitting around wondering when you’re going to show up next. What if I need you? Or...just want to see you?"

Joker’s fingers paused for a second, and his eyes flicked down to meet hers. “Hmm...that’s cute. Really, it is.” He pulled himself up a bit, propping himself on one elbow, his face closer to hers now. “But here’s the thing, Doll...You can’t have my number. Or anything like that.”

Y/n frowned, confused. “Why not?” She felt like a desperate fling, constantly begging for something more, but never quite getting it.

Joker’s smirk grew, but his eyes darkened with a touch of seriousness. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against her ear as he whispered, “Because, Bunny, I can’t risk someone finding out that you’re in contact with me.”

She pulled back slightly, trying to meet his gaze face on. “You think someone would track me down? Just because I can reach you?”

Joker let out a low chuckle, but his expression remained cold. “Not just someone. Everyone. The moment they sniff out a little…connection between us, you’ll be in the spotlight, and trust me...” He paused, trailing his finger lightly down her cheek. “You don’t want that kind of attention. You’d be in a lot more danger than losing a car, sweetheart.”

Y/n’s stomach flipped at his words, her mind racing. He was right, of course. She didn’t want to be linked to the Joker. Not publicly, anyway. But the frustration lingered.

"I just...hate waiting. Not knowing when I'll see you again."

Joker tilted her chin up gently. "I know, Bunny. But this is how it’s gotta be. You trust me, don’t cha?" His voice was a mix of teasing and sincerity, but she could hear the edge of caution beneath it.

Y/n nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. She did trust him, but it didn’t make the situation any less frustrating. "I trust you...It's just hard."

Joker’s grin returned, a flash of teeth as he pulled her closer. "I’ll pop in when you least expect it, like always. Keep things interesting."

Y/n managed a small smile at that, though part of her still wished she could have some control over when they’d see each other. But deep down, she knew he was right. If anyone found out about her connection to him, her life would spiral into danger even more than it already had.

For now, she had to accept that this was how it would always be unpredictable, chaotic, and entirely on his terms. But somehow, being wrapped up in his arms made it feel a little more bearable.

A couple of hours passed, with Joker and Y/n sprawled out on her bed in a comfortable silence. Joker had been unusually calm, his arms wrapped loosely around her, while she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She assumed he was thinking, but she liked the think he was relaxing, just a time of peace between them. But this peace couldn’t last forever.

Eventually, Joker stirred, shifting beneath her. “Alright, Bunny,” he muttered, slipping out from her hold. “Time for me to bounce.”

Y/n propped herself up on her elbows, watching him. She didn’t want him to leave, but she knew better than to say it out loud. “Already?” she asked quietly, though the answer was obvious.

“Got things to do, cars to find,” he replied, tugging on his gloves and smoothing his hair back. “You know how it is.”

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from asking him to stay longer. Joker turned to her with a smirk, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back soon, Bunny. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

With that, he made his way to her door, throwing it open like he always did. Y/n watched him as he walked, feeling the familiar pit in her stomach as he disappeared into the night, leaving her alone once again.

It had been three days since Y/n had last seen Joker, and the absence weighed heavily on her. The first day, she had convinced herself he was just busy, caught up in whatever mischief Gotham demanded of him. But by the second day, she started to feel the creeping sadness and unease. By the third, she couldn't shake the emptiness that lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Every knock or creak had her hoping it was him, but no such luck. She spent the days moping in her dorm room, feeling the weight of his absence more with each hour that passed.

By the time evening rolled around, her hunger forced her to make a rare trip down to the dining hall. As she lined up for dinner, grabbing a plate and serving herself some food, she felt strangely disconnected. The clatter of cutlery, the murmur of students talking around her, it all seemed distant, as though she was walking through a fog.

That’s when she heard it.

From the TV mounted in the corner of the dining hall, the news anchor’s voice echoed through the room. “In other breaking news, Gotham has been in fear the past few days as a series of crimes linked to the Joker continue to escalate. Authorities are urging citizens to remain vigilant—"

Y/n’s grip on her plate tightened as she froze mid-motion, her heart skipping a beat. Joker. They were talking about him. She glanced over her shoulder at the TV, feeling her chest tighten as the images of destruction flashed across the screen. As Y/n sat in the dining hall, her focus was still on the TV.

"—Police have been interviewing several local gang members who have turned up beaten and bruised over the past few days. The victims, all of whom belong to various underground organisations, have been questioned about an odd line of inquiry from what appears to be the Joker, or those associated with him. Reports indicate that he’s been asking them about a purple Ford Cortina."

Y/n’s fork paused halfway to her mouth, her stomach flipping as she heard the words. A purple Ford Cortina. Her car. She knew he would search for it, but she didn’t really think about what that would entail.

"Authorities and gang members speculate that the vehicle in question may be linked to illicit activities, possibly connected to the drug trade. Given the Joker's relentless pursuit of this particular car, investigators believe there may be a significant reason behind his interest."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat. So Joker had been trying to track down her car. The realization sent a chill down her spine. He was tearing through Gotham’s underworld, using any means necessary to find it. And if the news was anything to go by, he was leaving a trail of battered bodies in his wake. She could only imagine what Joker might do when he found the guy who actually took it.

Y/n couldn’t help but find it a bit amusing how everyone speculated that Joker’s relentless hunt for the car had to do with drugs, money, or something valuable hidden inside. The authorities and gang members alike were convinced there was a darker motive behind his obsession. But the truth? The Joker was tearing through Gotham's underworld simply because Y/n was upset about losing her car.

All this fear and bloodshed, and it wasn’t over money or a drug deal gone wrong, it was just because Joker wanted to track down the guy who took her car and make him pay.

Y/n was deep in sleep when she felt a shift in the room, a faint sound of the window creaking open, followed by the softest thud against the floor. She stirred, half-aware, when a familiar presence loomed over her bed. Suddenly, she felt fingers gently brushing her cheek, a cold touch that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Bunny," Joker's voice whispered into the darkness.

Her eyes fluttered open, heart racing as she saw his pale face inches from hers, illuminated by the faint light from the street. "J?" she mumbled groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"Wake up, sweetheart. I’m taking you somewhere." His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, as always. He crouched next to her, his hand now resting on her shoulder.

Groggy and disoriented, Y/n sat up in bed, her eyes barely open as she pouted. “J, it’s too late to go out,” she groaned, her voice heavy with sleep.

Joker, unfazed, strode over to the pile of clothes strewn across the floor. He sifted through them with purposeful movements until he pulled out a pair of pants, which he tossed onto the bed. “Get dressed before I have to do it for you,” he said, his tone commanding.

With a reluctant sigh, Y/n tossed off her covers and struggled out of her pajama shorts, wriggling into the track pants Joker had given her. She shuffled over to him, her movements sluggish. Joker crouched down beside her, helping her into socks and shoes with a quick, messy touch.

“I’m taking you to my hideout,” Joker announced, his voice carrying a note of excitement as he tightened her shoelaces.

Y/n’s eyes flew open in surprise. “Huh?!” she exclaimed, her confusion evident.

Ignoring her reaction, Joker finished with her shoes and guided her toward the window. “Let’s go!” he urged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“I’m not climbing out of the fucking window!” Y/n protested, her voice loud with alarm.

With a chuckle, Joker removed her large purple coat from the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Trust me, Bunny,” he said softly but firmly, “it’ll be worth it. Now, come on.”

Joker's grin widened as he gently but firmly urged Y/n to climb onto his back. “Come on, Bunny, up up!” he said, settling her comfortably. He held her legs around his waist securely, making sure she was steady.

Y/n, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and excitement, wrapped her arms around Joker’s neck and closed her eyes tightly. She tried to ignore the dizzying sensation of the height and the rush of cold air as she felt him step out the window.

Joker's movements were smooth and deliberate as he expertly climbed out of the window, his strong grip keeping them both secure. He maneuvered carefully down the side of the building, his confidence evident in every step. The city below looked distant and blurry to Y/n as she held on, her breaths coming in shallow, controlled gasps.

With each passing moment, the steady rhythm of Joker’s descent, combined with his soothing presence, helped to calm Y/n’s nerves. She felt a strange sense of safety despite the precarious situation.

When they finally reached the ground, Joker gently lowered Y/n to her feet, turning to face her with a triumphant smile. “There we go. Safe and sound,” he said.

Y/n took a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes to the dimly lit streets of Gotham. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but she couldn’t help but smile at the exhilarating escapade.

Joker’s hand found Y/n’s with a firm yet reassuring grip, his gloved fingers wrapping around hers with a sense of purpose. “Come on, Bunny,” he said, leading her through the dimly lit alleyways of Gotham. The city’s nighttime sounds buzzed around them, but Joker's presence made the chaos feel distant and controlled.

They approached a familiar van parked inconspicuously against the shadowy backdrop of Gotham. The van’s dark windows and battered exterior made it blend seamlessly into the night, a stark contrast to the vibrant city lights.

Joker guided Y/n to the sliding door on the side of the van, giving her a gentle nudge to help her step up. “In you go,” he said with a playful wink. Y/n climbed in, her heart still racing from the excitement and the earlier climb.

Inside, the back of the van was surprisingly well-organised. A few cushions and blankets were strewn about, creating a makeshift yet cosy space. Y/n settled onto the soft surface, glancing around with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“You’ve made it nice in here,” Y/n remarked.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way for my Doll,” Joker replied.

Joker followed her in, sliding the door shut behind him with a quiet click. He turned to face her, his expression a blend of satisfaction and mischief. “Comfortable?” he asked, his tone light and teasing as he took a seat next to her.

Y/n nodded, still processing the unexpected turn of events. “Yeah,” she said, her voice tinged with both awe and amusement.

Joker grinned, leaning back against the wall of the van. “Good.”

“J?” Y/n asked softly.

Joker hummed in response, his gaze fixed on her.

“Why are you taking me to your hideout?” she asked, curiosity laced in her voice.

“Need a little help with some...inquiries,” Joker said vaguely

Y/n sighed, knowing that was all the answer she'd get from him. There was no point in pressing for more. Still, a part of her wasn’t concerned, she trusted him in her own way. She knew Joker would never deliberately put her in danger. At least, not anything she couldn’t handle.

The van ride was shorter than Y/n expected, probably because Joker’s henchman refused to slow the fuck down. The vehicle sped through Gotham's dark streets, swerving around corners with reckless abandon, zooming through redlights. Y/n gripped the seat, her knuckles turning white, while Joker sat unbothered, clearly used to shit driving.

Before she knew it, the van screeched to a halt. The back doors creaked open, and Y/n stepped out, barely keeping balance.

“Why couldn’t Rocco drive instead,” Y/n muttered to herself.

Her eyes tried to adjust to the dimly lit scene. Large shipping containers loomed in front of them, stacked high and scattered across the docks. Joker’s hideout was tucked between them, barely noticeable among the industrial sprawl.

“Home sweet home,” Joker grinned, helping her stand still.

Joker strode confidently ahead of the group, his long coat billowing behind him as he led Y/n through the maze of shipping containers. She trailed behind, her eyes scanning the dimly lit scene, while his henchmen fell into place around her like silent shadows. There was a tension in the air, but none of it was directed at her.

The people inside Joker's hideout were all armed, weapons strapped to their sides or held casually in their hands. Some wore clown masks, others bare, but their attire was surprisingly basic, unlike their leader. Yet, as Y/n passed through the hall, not a single pair of eyes met hers. No one dared to glance her way, as if her presence was something they had been strictly instructed to ignore.

Joker must’ve said something to them beforehand. The thought made her feel both relieved and a little unnerved. Even in his world of anarchy, he had ensured that she was untouchable here. She quickened her pace to catch up to him as they neared a large, rusted metal door.

Joker pushed open the heavy, rusted metal door with a dramatic flourish, stepping inside and gesturing grandly with both arms. "Ta-da!" he announced with an exaggerated smile, his voice echoing off the steel walls.

Y/n stepped in behind him, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The room was dimly lit, the smell of sweat and blood hanging thick in the air. In the center of the room were three men, each strapped to a chair, their faces swollen and bruised beyond recognition. Blood dripped from their mouths, their clothes torn and stained. They looked barely conscious, heads slumped forward, held up only by the restraints binding them.

"Look at ‘em, Bunny! Didn’t they clean up nice?" Joker said with a maniacal grin, walking up to the men and giving one of them a light tap on the cheek, though the man barely reacted. He turned back to Y/n, watching her carefully, as if expecting a reaction, something between shock and awe.

Y/n, though startled, knew this wasn’t out of the ordinary for Joker. She exhaled quietly, her eyes flicking from Joker to the beaten men and back again.

"These guys," Joker continued, pacing in front of them like he was showing off trophies, "have been asking all the wrong questions... But lucky for them, we’ve got the right answers. Ain't that right, fellas?" His laugh echoed in the room, chillingly casual in contrast to the gruesome display in front of them.

Y/n stood frozen at the entrance of the room, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in the scene before her. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers digging into the fabric of Joker’s coat as her eyes darted between the bloodied men. Her knees felt weak, and a wave of fear and nausea surged through her. She had never been this close to Joker's brutality before, seeing it from afar was one thing, but being here, in the midst of it, was another entirely.

She felt herself shaking, her breath catching in her throat as her mind raced. What was she supposed to do?

Joker, noticing her reaction, moved over to her, his sharp grin softening into something more comforting. He placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling gently as he pulled her closer.

“Hey, hey... it’s alright, Bunny,” he murmured, his voice unexpectedly soothing despite the horror around them. He tilted her chin up, making her look at him rather than the beaten men. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Y/n swallowed hard, trying to calm the tremors in her body, but her fear was overwhelming. She couldn’t stop shaking. Joker’s grip tightened, firm but not harsh. His eyes, though gleaming with mischief, held a strange sort of reassurance. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her. Not while he was there.

“You recognize any of ‘em?” Joker asked, his voice smooth, but laced with a hint of danger. He gestured lazily to the men in the chairs. “One of these guys…is the prick who took your car, Doll. Which one? Huh? Take your time.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked nervously toward the men, her pulse quickening as she tried to focus, to remember the face of the man who had shoved a gun into her back. Her stomach churned as she scanned each bloodied face, her fear growing by the second. She clenched her hands into fists, trying to still the shaking.

"I-I’m not sure," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but Joker’s fingers on her chin turned her face to meet his gaze again.

"You’ll figure it out, Bunny," Joker said, his grin widening as he stepped back. "I believe in you."

Y/n felt her heart racing as she desperately tried to recall the face of the man who had stolen her car. She scanned the bloodied faces of the three men strapped to the chairs, her mind racing yet blank. The fear gripped her, tightening around her chest like a vice. She hadn’t turned to face her attacker that day, all she had was a fleeting impression. Now, the bruises and welts made it impossible to recognize anyone.

Biting her lip, she fidgeted with her nails, a nervous habit that had developed over the years. Each of her movements was a mixture of anxiety and frustration. She glanced back at Joker, who was now leaning against the wall with an expectant look. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she shook her head, silently pleading for an escape.

“You don’t know, Bunny?” he asked, his voice teasing yet tinged with a hint of disappointment. She nodded again, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach.

Joker straightened up. He turned back to the men, clapping his gloved hands together. The sound echoed through the dimly lit room, causing Y/n to jump, startled by the sudden noise.

“Looks like you’re all gonna face the punishment!” he declared, his tone gleefully ominous.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him approach the trembling figures. Her heart thudded louder in her ears, each beat amplifying the rising tension. “Might wanna turn around, Bunny…” he advised in a low, gravelly voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Y/n spun on her heels, not wanting to witness whatever Joker had planned. But the chilling sounds that erupted behind her were unmistakable. The first scream pierced through the air, raw and filled with terror, and she instinctively shoved her fingers into her ears, desperate to block out the horror unfolding just a few feet away.

The echos of pain reverberated through her body, and she fought against the rising panic within her. Each scream seemed to etch itself into her mind, a haunting reminder of the world Joker inhabited, a world she was still trying to comprehend.

Y/n stood frozen in place, her body trembling uncontrollably as the terrifying screams filled the air. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, blurring her vision and stinging her cheeks. The sounds behind her were a cruel reminder of the darkness that lurked in Joker’s world, a reality she had only glimpsed at before now.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. The warmth of fear flooded through her, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear from the situation, to escape the horrifying reality unfolding behind her.

“J…please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound. But the words felt hollo she knew he was lost in his own excitement, reveling in the chaos that he thrived on.

Y/n’s heart raced, each beat echoing the dread that filled her. She wanted to turn around, to stop him, but she felt paralyzed by fear. The tears began to fall, trailing down her cheeks as she desperately tried to quell the rising tide of panic.

“Please, just stop,” she murmured to herself, hoping that the power of her words would somehow reach Joker, that he would sense her distress and reconsider. But deep down, she feared that he was too far gone, too enveloped in his sadistic joy to listen to her cries for mercy.

The room seemed to close in on her, the weight of the situation pressing down harder with every agonizing second. She felt so small, so helpless, trapped in a world she didn’t belong to, as tears continued to fall.

As the unsettling sounds of distress echoed through the room, the heavy metal door creaked open, interrupting the violent scene. A figure stepped inside, a tall, muscular man dressed in a dark jacket and jeans, his face marked with the grime of the streets. He hesitated for a moment, eyes darting to the trembling form of Y/n before focusing on Joker, who was still reveling in the fear he had instigated.

“Boss!” the man called out, his voice cutting through the noise. “We got a hit on the car!”

Joker paused mid-motion, turning his head slightly, though the glint in his eyes hadn’t faded. The man who had entered looked nervously at Y/n, noting her shaking form before turning back to Joker, eyes darting between the gruesome scene and his unsettling leader.

Joker’s grip on the nearest man loosened, and he slowly straightened up, a wicked grin spreading across his painted face. He wiped the blood from his gloves, flicking it off to the side as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“Well, well, Bunny,” Joker drawled, turning his attention away from the bloodied men and back to Y/n, who was still shaking, her eyes filled with tears. He strode over to her, ignoring the mess he’d left behind. “Looks like we found your ride.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as he gently cupped her chin, lifting her tear-streaked face to meet his. “No more tears now, hmm? You’ll get what’s yours.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek before glancing at the man who had brought the news. “Show me.”

Joker reached for her side and gently placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. Y/n's legs felt shaky beneath her, still trembling from the horrors she'd just witnessed, but she followed his lead, her mind clouded with fear and confusion.

"Come on, Bunny. We’re done here," he said softly, though his tone carried an edge that left no room for hesitation.

Y/n felt his hand tighten slightly as they approached the door, his presence offering a strange sense of security in the midst of her unease. The henchmen in the room stepped aside without a word, avoiding eye contact as they always did, heads bowed in silent deference.

As they walked out, Joker kept his arm steady around her, pulling her closer as they passed through the rusted doors and into the dimly lit hallway. Y/n’s breath felt heavy in her chest, but with Joker leading her, she didn’t dare look back at the screams and chaos they left behind.

Once outside the room, the night air hit her face like a cold slap, grounding her slightly as the noise from the other side of the door faded away. Joker leaned down, whispering into her ear with a teasing smirk, "Told you I’d take care of it, Bunny."

Y/n nodded, still too shaken to speak. Joker helped Y/n into the back of the van with a firm but reassuring grip, and then climbed in after her. Rocco was already behind the wheel, adjusting his mirrors and starting the engine with a smooth, deliberate motion. Y/n could already tell that this ride would be different from the wild, reckless journey that brought them to the docks. Rocco wasn’t the crazy, pedal-to-the-floor type, and the knowledge that he’d drive with some level of sanity brought Y/n an odd sense of comfort after the mess she’d just been through.

Joker settled beside her, stretching out casually like they were heading to a late-night diner rather than retrieving a stolen car. His calmness, while unsettling, made her feel a little more anchored in the moment. The van pulled away from the warehouse slowly, the rhythmic hum of the engine cutting through the tension that lingered in the air.

Y/n glanced over at Joker, who was staring out the window with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. As they wound through the quiet streets of Gotham, her nerves gradually settled, though a sense of dread still lurked beneath the surface. She knew they were heading toward the location of her stolen car, but what would happen when they got there? She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to find out.

Y/n leaned back against her seat, trying to shake the images of the beaten men from her mind. Joker, however, looked relaxed, his hands drumming lightly against his knee, as if this was just another night for him.

Rocco pulled the van into a slow crawl as they approached the location. Y/n's eyes darted out the window, scanning the area nervously. It was an abandoned lot, scattered with debris and lined with broken streetlights that flickered weakly in the darkness. In the middle of the lot sat her car, the familiar purple Ford Cortina gleaming under a dim light. Too pristine, too untouched, too perfect.

The van came to a gentle stop, and Rocco shifted into park. Y/n’s heart raced. Something wasn’t right. Everything about the scene felt too neat. The car was just sitting there, almost like it had been gift-wrapped and left for them.

Joker sat up, his usual smirk fading as he surveyed the area, eyes narrowing. Y/n swallowed hard. Even she could feel it. It was a setup. A trap, perhaps. The whole thing felt staged, like someone was waiting for them to make the first move. The silence around them was heavy, too heavy for Gotham's rough streets.

Joker’s fingers drummed against the side of his leg, faster this time, his mind clearly working through possibilities. Without turning his head, he spoke, his voice low.

“Stay here, Bunny.”

Y/n’s gut twisted as she glanced nervously at him, unsure of what would happen next. Something in her told her this wasn’t just about retrieving a stolen car anymore.

Joker slipped out of the van with a calmness that contradicted the tension crackling in the air. Rocco stayed in the driver's seat, his eyes shifting to the rearview mirror, making sure Y/n was still there. She felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

From her spot in the van, Y/n could see Joker approach the car with slow, deliberate steps. His silhouette was sharp against the dim light that cast long shadows over the lot. He circled the Cortina, eyes scanning every inch of it like he was expecting something to jump out at him. His movements were careful, precise, like he was reading the scene for any sign of a trap.

Y/n held her breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat tightly. She had a bad feeling about this, everything was too still. Her heart pounded in her chest as Joker stopped in front of the car. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch Rocco’s eye, a silent signal passing between them.

Rocco tensed, gripping the steering wheel. Y/n could feel the shift in the air, the anticipation building as if the whole scene was waiting for someone to spring the trap.

Suddenly, Joker’s hand shot out to open the door of the Cortina, and as if on cue, the sound of tires screeching against asphalt filled the night air. Several black cars surged into the lot from all sides, headlights blinding as they formed a rough circle around the Cortina, and Joker.

Y/n gasped, her fear confirmed. It was a trap.

“Boss!” Rocco yelled, his hand already reaching for a gun stashed under the dashboard. Joker didn’t flinch. Instead, he straightened up, his head tilting with that familiar, unsettling smile curling his lips. The chaos was brewing, but Joker looked like he was about to enjoy the show.

The screeching tires belonged not to gang members or rival thugs, but to police cars. Dozens of them, their lights flashing violently against the dark backdrop. Y/n's breath hitched in her throat as she recognized the unmistakable sirens piercing the tense silence. These weren’t just any vehicles. It was Gotham's Police Force, and they had Joker surrounded.

Joker’s eyes gleamed with twisted delight as the police vehicles formed a barricade around him. He didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat. Instead, he straightened up and flicked a glance toward the flashing lights, his smile widening like this was all part of the plan.

Rocco cursed under his breath, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. "Boss, it's the Gotham MCU," he growled, already reaching for the gun stashed under his seat.

Y/n’s heart was pounding so loudly she thought it might burst out of her chest. She stared at the police cars, her hands trembling as fear overtook her. This was bad, really bad.

From the distance, officers began spilling out of the vehicles, guns drawn and aimed directly at Joker. They moved like a well-oiled machine, creating a blockade that left no gaps. The realization hit Y/n hard. They had set up a trap, and Joker had walked right into it.

"Step away from the vehicle with your hands up!" one officer shouted through a megaphone, his voice distorted but authoritative.

But Joker? He only laughed. That spine-chilling laugh echoed through the lot, a sound so unsettling that even some of the cops shifted uneasily. Joker turned his head slightly, as if to make sure Y/n was still watching. Then, without a hint of fear, he raised his arms slowly in the air, playing along.

Rocco looked back at Y/n, his face a mixture of worry and anticipation. "Stay low, and don’t move. Got it?" he barked, his voice low and urgent.

Y/n nodded, but inside she was spiraling. Her stomach churned, her pulse raced. How were they going to get out of this?

Joker must have made a subtle hand gesture, quick, nearly imperceptible. But Rocco saw it. He cursed under his breath and reluctantly tucked his gun back under the seat. Y/n glanced between them, confusion swirling in her chest.

“What…what’s going on?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco’s jaw clenched as he turned the key in the ignition. Without another word, the van roared to life. Y/n's confusion deepened, but before she could even process it, Rocco slammed his foot on the gas, and the van jerked forward.

“Wait!” Y/n gasped, her hands bracing against the seat as the van sped away from the scene.

Her head whipped back, heart hammering in her chest as the distance between them and Joker grew. She could see the police closing in on him, all their focus trained on capturing Gotham’s most notorious criminal. None of them even glanced at the van speeding away.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, eyes widening as she watched Joker stand there, calm and collected. The flashing lights, the shouting officers, none of it seemed to faze him. In fact, he was smiling.

Through the haze of panic, Y/n’s vision locked on him as the police neared. And there he was, standing completely still, his gaze never leaving hers. That familiar, wicked grin spread across his face as if he’d orchestrated the whole thing. Like this was just another one of his games.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over her. He was letting her go. Letting her escape. But at what cost?

Her fingers gripped the seat, knuckles turning white as they sped away, the van tearing through the streets of Gotham, leaving Joker to the police.

A/N: OoOoOoOooo, J's been caught~ and poor Y/n still don't got her car back :C Thank you for reading this part, and thank you for being patient, I really appreciate everyone 💚 Not too sure when I'll have time to write the next chapter, but we'll see thank you again 🫶

#fanfic #joker fanfiction #heath joker #joker #dc joker #the joker #health ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #joker fanfic #joker x reader #heath ledger #heath ledger joker #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight #x reader #reader insert #reader with anxiety

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causeimcrayzeebee · 12 hours

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MAJOR DRDT CHP 2 EP 16 SPOILERS

hey guys what the FUCK JUST HAPPENED. holy SHIT. never ask a gay person what happened October 5th 2024.

first can i say that the execution was phenomenal. i miss ace SO MUCH already but goodness the ending hurt. i had a feeling he’d die of fear once the execution started but that did NOT make it any easier to watch. holy shit.

i love how much self reflection happened. Ace, after all this time of being unable to repent for the harm he caused, instilled that motivation to be better into Arturo to save Levi’s life. from being called a coward by teruko to calling someone else on their cowardlyness was honestly kind of cathartic to see. ngl im excited to see what’s ahead for arturo after this!!

despite Teruko’s whole speech about how she won’t die, Levi jumped in to save her. he says he doesn’t understand human empathy but this was pretty damn close. even tho she assured everyone she’d be fine, Levi tried to save her anyways, but again it could just be driven by his need to do what he thinks a good person would do. praying he survives cause holy shit. him saying that he doesn’t understand Ace and Ace trying to push him away even more really stung….

MonoTV’s reset actually caught me so off guard. i kinda love it tho, it really displays the tone shift. ofc this killing game has been fucked up from the start, but it’s gotten even darker now as the main source of humor as well as comical incompetence is no longer who we knew it as. very likely that monotv won’t have another slip up like losing who’s motive is who’s again next chapter.

terukos development…. holy shit. I can’t stop saying holy shit bc tbh all of these are my thoughts immediately after finishing it and im still recovering from shock so take these with a grain of salt. i absolutely love how her arc has gone. as many have said previously, Ace is an example to Teruko what the isolation she forced herself through can do to people. Ace is the tragedy that could befall her as well. not to make things about percy jackson, but it’s very akin to the luke and percy foils (ik it’s not the same thing really I just wanted to mention their character foils) Arei is one side of the coin, and Ace, and Teruko if she kept going how she was before this trial, are the other. Arei was able to own up to her mistakes, and the others weren’t.

There’s also something that really displays their similarities when Teruko has to stay behind to cry because she’s too cowardly to face the group this way. Might just be because of timing but yk just a thought. Teruko was essentially admitting of guilt for Xander’s death and missing him, as well as Min. It really is easier to pretend as if everything is out of your control, even when you could have done something. Teruko has to learn about what’s beyond her dichotomy of blame and fate.

okay guys. let’s get this out of the way. um. this sprite is NOT helping you beat the mastermind allegations Whit. I actually jumped out of my seat seeing this sprite, it was actually quite horrifying to witness this. in response to Min’s execution, Whit had hardly much of a reaction, which has been a bit suspicious but likely has to do with how he grieves considering his mother. This tho…. i can’t tell if it makes him more or less suspicious (genuinely if anyone wants to talk about things that either prove or disprove Whit mastermind theories pls go ahead im so interested in what people think cause im at a loss). but like…. why is his hand behind him. what is he doing.

genuinely so wild how this whole time, Whit has only show a significant amount of care for Charles. yea i love charwhit they gay as hell, but even so, this specific focus that Whit has when it comes to Charles is something that, if Whit really is the mastermind or even just a traitor, it could be reaaaallllyyy bad news for Charles. I would not be surprised if he was trying to get close to Charles to make it hurt as much as possible when he revealed himself to be the mastermind or something of that nature. Or it could just be him having grown an attachment to Charles in some way (again pls lmk what you think about whit!!!) We’re not getting the happy love story we want but what did we expect when it’s a fanganronpa.

so yeah those are my thoughts on the ending of chapter 2! I planned to do a quick funny post and yet here i am writing analysis for half an hour. goodness. anyways to make up for funny post, i saw this part of Ace’s execution and my first thought was bungo stray dogs reference (crowd starts booing).

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willowrites · 2 days

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 ᥫ᭡ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. when words that matt said in regards to a possible relationship with you not only crushed your heart but also crushed your friendship.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. yes, can be seen here

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. ANGST ! rejection & heartache.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. this hurt to write but .. let me know if you’d like a part two !? if this has been done before credits to them but i personally haven’t read one. (sorry it took so mfk long)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 2k

at the moment you were facetiming matt — nothing out of the ordinary. you would always facetime, i mean he was your best friend after all. although slowly over the years he’s become more than that to you.

the way you slowly started to find out was when you’d catch yourself staring at him for a little longer than expected. you’ve found yourself thinking about him multiple times a day. every waking thought you had circled back to matt. your mind was consumed by him and his presence. it was never like this before which made you confused, to say the least.

you did a lot of thinking when this happened. at the beginning of your high school career you remembered feeling envious and jealous of the girls who took an interest in matt. you had manipulated yourself into thinking it was because you were intimidated that another girl would take your spot as his best friend but deep down it was different — it was more than that.

your brain was always matt matt matt.

sophomore year was when you started to figure things out. you’d admire the way he smiled and laughed. the way his eyebrows furrowed in the cutest way when he was focused on something like homework or a video game. how his hair looked and changed over the years. how good he looked in the clothing he wore.

you became engulfed in his interests. you found yourself listening to the neighborhood and you tried to play fortnite for the first time even though you hadn’t really had a urge to play video games.

you found him to be so selfless. the way he puts everyone’s needs before his own. the way he was ready to drop everything for you and to help you whenever you needed.

matt was just… matt. he was amazing.

by junior year you knew that your heart truly belonged to him. you couldn’t help the way you felt.

now during senior year, you’ve been hiding behind your feelings. you haven’t confessed to him, afraid of the outcome of the confession.

you had thought about it. maybe it was time and maybe — hopefully — things wouldn’t change, but as you were about to speak up matt beat you to it.

“did you know that a lot of people at school ask me if we’re like… together because we hang out with each other so much.” he looked up from his phone with an expression you couldn’t understand.

your heart dropped out of your chest. “oh… um really?” you raised your brows trying to act as natural as possible.

he nodded and you figured his expression was one of disbelief. “yeah! shits crazy right? like i really cannot imagine us together. that would just be weird.” he stated. you gulped at his response. that would just be weird. the words that he just uttered hit you like a freight train. the rejection you had felt. it was like your heart had been sliced in two.

all you could do in response was laugh nervously already feeling internal pain. “y-yeah.. i could — we could uh — we could never.” you agreed. you smiled but a sad smile. matt laughed and nodded his head looking back down to his phone.

you had zoned out thinking about the meaning of his words. God did they fucking pierce your heart. you had never felt this type of pain before. the pain of blunt rejection. you’d take physical pain over this any fucking day.

you felt your eyes start to water at the thought of what just happened. you spoke up before any tears could fall. “hey.. um i think i’m gonna go. i’m not feeling too well.” you said trying not to make eye contact with the screen.

he looked up frowning. “aw man, do you want me to come over?” your heart ached as you uttered the word no to him. you had never turned him down. his face dropped. “oh, um okay yeah just text me.”

you nodded. “i will.” you whispered, not loud enough to hear before clicking the red button. once you heard the sound of the call disconnecting your lip quivered and your eyes shut.

you broke down in tears. you felt like you couldn’t breathe. you started to clutch your chest and tried to calm down but nothing seemed to help. your heart ached and you didn’t know how to fix it. the only person who knew how to help you when your heart hurt was the one who did the hurting.

for days to come, you had been distant and matt noticed this instantly. he began to assume it was because of how you were feeling being sick but regardless you both would facetime every day — you guys haven’t since that night. you’d text each other about everything but this time things haven’t been flowing like they would.

over the course of a week, you’ve had a few messages between you two but all were dry and off-putting.

after that, you hadn’t responded to him for over two days. he then called you randomly on the following friday. you were at home just watching a show when your phone buzzed. your heart dropped to your ass. you felt your stomach turn and you immediately felt sick. you didn’t know if you should answer or not but before you could do anything the call ended.

you sighed in relief, not prepared to speak a word to him. you settled back into bed, mind clouded by predictions of how the conversation would have gone if you had picked up the phone. that was until you were interrupted by the door to your room opening and matt stepping inside.

“jesus. had to climb mountains to get a hold of you.” he grumbled closing the door behind him. your eyes scanned him and stayed stuck on him. the way his hair looked so soft and how that sweatshirt hugged him in just the right way. he looked amazing and you felt no doubt that you looked a mess. you then realized that he was actually in your room. you weren’t ready to see him again. you felt you were being dramatic but again, his words from the other day stung. “why haven’t you texted me?”

his question reminded you of the day you kept repeating in your head. reminded you of his words and what he said and how you felt and — it all washed over you again. your lip quivered and your eyes watered at his question.

his eyebrows furrowed and his own eyes scanned your face. he noticed something was wrong. “hey… what's wrong?” he was immediately at your side to console you but you couldn’t — you couldn’t handle being this close knowing it would only hurt you in the long run. you leaned away catching him off guard. “did i do something?”

you stayed quiet not saying a word; afraid your voice would betray you.

he winced at the way you couldn’t even keep eye contact with him. how you scooted back to refrain from touching him. it was like a full 180 in 5 days. “y/n..” he spoke with a tone of disbelief.

you clenched your jaw trying to gain control of yourself. you didn’t want to cry in front of him. that was the last thing you wanted to do but the more you thought about it, the more your eyes started to water.

matt spotted the way you gulped harshly and how teary-eyed you were. he started to grow bothered at the way you didn’t explain what was going on. “y/n what the fuck happened?” his voice was louder than you anticipated.

you winced in reaction to his statement before finally looking up at him. his eyes flitted back and forth between yours. you blinked trying to rid yourself of the tears that were blocking your vision. “i.. i don’t want to talk about it, okay?” you sniffed, your voice breaking down as you spoke.

he put his hands up in question. “what — why not? you tell me everything. we tell each other everything.”

you shook your head. “well this time i don’t want to!”

after your sentence, silence fell between you and matt. matt was annoyed because this had never happened before. you had never refused to tell him something was bothering you or refused to rant to you.

he took a deep breath through his nose. “you’ve been super fucking weird around me all week. you didn’t even go to school and… and we haven’t facetimed. we… for fucks sake y/n, we would be on facetime 24/7 regardless of what the fuck we’re doing so why is it that you’ve made excuses upon excuses to refuse? i don’t get it. everything was fine until —” matt’s rant faltered. his eyes were no longer focused on you but focused on the thoughts running across his mind. “until the facetime.”

you swallowed, beginning to notice your eyes welling up. you knew he was thinking about the conversation you both had that night. your bottom lip shook before you spoke up. “you don’t know how much you mean to me matt.” your throat closed up. “i love you but…”

the decision you were about to make was going to hurt the both of you, you just knew it. if you didn’t make it though — you would be the one hurting in the long run.

the more matt thought about the conversation you had the more everything made sense. how after what he said you immediately had to go, saying you felt sick. it’s because of his words. it’s because of him.

he was in utter shock allowing you to continue to speak. “but i don’t think we can be friends anymore.” that sentence was something that matt never thought in a million years would come out of your mouth, especially about you both.

he shook his head. “no. no… what? what are you even saying right now y/n?” he stood up from your bed.

tears began to escape your eyes. “i’m.. i’m sorry matt. i just can’t — i can’t do this. i can’t pretend that i'm not in love — ” you stopped yourself, not wanting to say the root of the problem out loud.

you felt guilty because part of you felt like you were the problem but then again — how could you help it? your feelings are your feelings and you can’t help how you feel; nor can you change it.

matt stopped in his tracks. hearing it out loud was something different. “y/n…” he tilted his head to the side, his own bottom lip quivering. matt was never the type to cry easily but when it came to you — it was different. “y/n please..” he begged. he didn’t know what else to say. in the moment, he couldn’t process what your words truly meant. all that was going through your head was that he was losing you.

you moved your eyes to the floor not wanting to witness matt’s tears fall. “i’m sorry.” your shoulders shook. “i’m sorry i’m sorry im sorry.” you apologized. your eyes were closed when you felt his hands placed on your knees. you opened them to see matt on his own knees.

you looked at his face, how red his eyes were. his tear-stained cheeks and red lips from biting them nervously. what have i done? you thought. why did i have to hurt him like this?

“don’t… don’t leave me, please.” he pleaded quietly. “you’re my best friend y/n. i can’t lose you.”

silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you choked up. “i don’t want to hurt you but if i don’t do this…” you wiped your tears refusing to finish your sentence. “i’m sorry i can’t. please… please just go.”

matt didn’t know what else to say. what could he say? all he knew was the last thing he wanted to happen was for you to be unhappy. so he stood up, wiped his tears and sniffled, combed a hand through his hair, and walked out.

#✮⋆˙ 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 #matt sturniolo x y/n #matthew sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo au #matthew sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo one shot

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k-nayee · 20 hours

Text

Worship Challengers

wc: 3.9k a/n: just a sucker for men who stare at you like this😩

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You never really cared for tennis.

It was just one of those sports that passed you by—background noise.

If your cousin hadn’t begged you to chaperone her at the Junior Opening, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

She had her heart set on going and your parents were quick to agree for you with a look that made it impossible to say no.

So there you were: at a game you barely understood.

It was loud. The crowd, the energy, people cheering for players you never heard of before.

You’d just settled into your seat when your cousin started rambling about Patrick Zweig.

He was all she could talk about; from showing pictures of him to recounting his matches and so-called legendary backhand.

You only half-listened as you mentally prepared to dissociate for the next couple of hours.

You didn't care. This was just a favor for your cousin and a way to pass the time.

That all changed when he stepped onto the court.

Art Donaldson.

You didn’t know his name at first—your cousin hadn’t mentioned him in her nonstop chatter.

Patrick, who seemed to be the crowd’s golden boy, was already soaking in their cheers before the match even started.

But Art was different.

There was a quiet focus about him, an intensity that made everything else around him blur into the background.

You told yourself it was just curiosity.

After all you were stuck here for the next couple of hours—you might as well watch the match.

It wasn't until the game commenced did you realize it was more than that.

He had this steely gaze locked on the other side of the net. Even when his opponent scored, Art didn’t falter.

He gripped his racket tighter, lips pressed in a firm line as if nothing else mattered but the game.

You leaned forward in your seat.

For someone who wasn’t supposed to care, you found yourself caring—a lot.

Patrick was clearly the favorite; he was loud and brimming with confidence, waving and grinning after every point with an almost infectious energy.

But it was Art who held your attention.

His movements were sharp and precise like every moment was planned.

He didn’t need the crowd’s approval. He wasn’t there to entertain anyone. He was there to play.

At one point Patrick sent a blistering serve across the court, a shot that would’ve thrown most off their game.

Art moved like it was nothing.

He returned the shot with a perfect backhand, sending the ball whipping past Patrick before he could even attempt to reach it.

The crowd fell silent for a beat and then the cheers erupted. Art didn’t celebrate.

He simply reset, ready for the next point as if winning meant nothing.

And for the first time that day you actually cared about tennis (well at least his tennis).

Patrick might’ve been the crowd’s favorite, but in your eyes there was no competition.

Art Donaldson had completely captured your attention and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were watching someone special.

The match went on point after point, but all you could think about was him.

As the final point approached you felt your heart racing. You knew how this would end—knew Patrick was going to win.

That didn’t stop you from silently rooting for Art, hoping against hope that he’d pull through.

When Patrick finally clinched the match cheers erupted with your cousin nearly jumping out of her seat in excitement.

All you could do was watch as Art stood there, breathing heavily, his racket still clenched in his hand.

He didn’t react—didn’t lash out in frustration or hang his head in defeat.

Instead he wiped the sweat from his brow with an unreadable expression and walked off the court with his head held high.

You felt your breath hitch, your chest tightening as you watch him disappear from the court.

And that’s when it hit you.

You had a crush.

A ridiculous, undeniable crush on Art Donaldson.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

You hadn’t thought about Art Donaldson in a long time.

Well...not really. Not since high school when he first captured your attention at the Junior Opening.

It had been years since that day and your crush on him had dulled over time. But not completely.

Fast-forward to now: Stanford University. You’d gotten in on an full ride academic scholarship—Business major, a time consuming program till the point tennis felt like a world away.

You weren’t involved in that type of scene, hell the only reason you thought about the sport from time to time was because of him.

Art was still there lingering on the edge of your thoughts even when you try not to think about it too much.

Then again, how could you when you saw him every now and then on campus?

You’d spot him walking across the quad or passing by in the dining hall with a distant gaze, lost in his own world.

He was hard to miss—still just as intense and focused as before but quieter now.

You tried not to let it affect you. It was silly to still have feelings for someone you didn’t even know.

Besides, you’d overheard the gossip—everyone had.

The whole campus seemed to know about the love triangle between him, his best friend Patrick Zweig, and Tashi Duncan.

Some said they were fighting over her; that their friendship had started to crack under the weight of it.

Others said it was only a matter of time before Art finally won her over after being in love with her for years.

And each time you heard it, you felt that old familiar pang in your chest.

It was a sharp reminder that no matter how much your crush had dulled it wasn’t entirely gone.

Meanwhile Tashi was a rising tennis star herself. Beautiful and talented, she was the kind of girl people wrote stories about, who turned heads wherever she went.

You? You didn’t stand a chance. She was everything you weren’t.

How could you ever compete with her?

Hell you’d never spoken to Art—not in high school and not now.

To him you were just another face on campus, another student passing by.

Despite it all, you couldn’t stop the flustered flare-ups every time you saw him.

Especially when you found out he was in your Statistics class.

You remember the first day he walked in—your heart had skipped a beat just like it used to.

Art Donaldson—your Art Donaldson—was sitting just a few seats away. You hadn’t expected it.

Stanford was a big campus and you figured you’d only ever see him in passing.

But there he was, sitting two rows away in the lecture hall.

It was ridiculous really.

You were a grown woman at one of the best universities in the country, and yet here you were acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Of course you didn’t talk to him. You barely even managed to glance his way without feeling like a complete idiot.

Every now and then, though, you’d steal a quick peek in his direction.

You couldn’t help it though. There was something about him—something that had stuck with you ever since that first match.

Sometimes at night you'd lay there and wonder what it would have been like if things had been different.

If he’d noticed you instead of Tashi. If you had been the one to catch his eye, that maybe things would have turned out differently.

But that was just wishful thinking.

So you kept your distance; sneaking shy glances in class, trying not to get caught while doing your best to focus on your coursework.

After all, what were the chances that someone like Art would ever notice someone like you?

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Art had always been good at keeping his emotions in check.

After losing to Patrick at the Junior Opening he’d done his best to shove his feelings for Tashi aside.

It wasn’t easy—she and Patrick were always around, the three of them inseparable.

Patrick had won her over after all. And Art? Well he knew better than to dwell on it.

It was better this way. It had to.

So Art threw himself into his tennis at Stanford. The one thing that had always grounded him.

There were days where it worked, where the rush of practice or the sound of the ball smacking against his racket was enough to quiet his mind.

But then there were days where it didn't.

It was during a practice break, he was standing on the sidelines with Tashi who was texting Patrick.

Art stared off at the court as his thoughts wandered. He’d been trying—really trying—to move on and keep his mind clear.

Tashi was still with Patrick. He had no claim over her.

There was no reason to feel the way he did. She was happy.

̶H̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶t̶̶r̶̶y̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶b̶̶e̶

He sighed, taking a swig from his water bottle when he noticed something—or rather someone.

You were scampering across the far side of the courts to a couple of the other players, your yellow floral dress catching the light.

The way you moved, the way your dress flowed around you...it felt like everything around you blurred out.

He didn’t even register what you were holding—some kind of water bottles or equipment—too focused on the way you smile as you talked.

Art blinked. Hard.

He knew most of the regulars around the tennis practices (especially those involved with the team), but you didn’t fit into any of those familiar faces.

His gaze followed your every step, lingering on your retreating figure as his mind spined with questions.

Who were you?

“Art.”

He snapped back a little too quickly, blinking at Tashi as she looked at him with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed with his daydreaming. “Stop zoning out. We’ve got a lot to do before the next match.”

“Yeah sorry,” he muttered, forcing himself to focus as he jogged back onto the court.

But as they continued practice, Art found himself glancing back at the spot where you had been.

His mind drifted back to you. He found himself scanning the stands wondering where you’d gone.

He didn’t even know your name and you already caused a shift inside him.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

It wasn’t long before he started noticing you everywhere.

At first it was just in passing—seeing you on campus, weaving through the bodies of students in the quad or grabbing a coffee at the campus café.

Then it became more than that.

You were always around the tennis courts dropping off water bottles or extra gear (as he later found out, you were doing it for your roommate who was on a tennis scholarship).

Every time he saw you his pulse quickened.

There was something about the way you carried yourself, the way you always seemed to be in your own world.

He’d find excuses to look for you, telling himself it was nothing.

After all what were the chances you even noticed him?

You didn’t attend the big matches or the main events—he’d never seen you in the stands.

Maybe you weren’t even interested in tennis. Plus, why would you be interested in him?

He was Art Donaldson: the guy who’d lost the Junior Opening and spent most of his time in the shadow of Patrick Zweig.

You were just a passing face, someone he’d never get to know. Right?

Wrong.

Overslept from another night of late practice, Art rushes into Statistics class late—and there you were.

The tennis player nearly tripped over his own feet when he spotted you.

You were in his class? How hadn’t he noticed you before?!

Brain scrambling the college athlete finds his seat, luckily it was a perfect distance away for him watch you without being obvious about it

Every time you did something small—lips pouting when you didn't understand a part of the lecture or tilting your head in concentration—he couldn’t help but notice.

His eyes kept wandering back to you, sitting so close just a few seats away.

Art knew it was a risk of getting caught staring. Especially when he noticed something else—you were looking at him too.

At first he thought it was his imagination.

It wasn't. Glancing up from his notes, he'd meet the sight of you quickly looking away.

Art felt like he couldn’t breathe. His heart stuttered in his chest and he quickly pretend to focus on his notes.

Heat creep up the back of his neck, his skin tingling with the realization that you’d seen him.

After that, each time you glanced his way, he'd felt a spark—something electric.

He’d try to play it cool, but inwardly he was thrilled.

This wasn’t someone rooting for him from the sidelines or asking for an autograph.

This was you.

The girl who had somehow slipped under his radar and then completely overtaken his thoughts.

You knew he existed. You saw him even if it was just for a second.

It wasn’t much, but for Art it was everything.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

You weren’t much for parties. In fact you actively avoided them whenever you could.

So when your roommate begged you to come with her to some party—because she didn’t want to go alone—you found yourself reluctantly agreeing.

You figured you’d make a quick appearance and leave early without making a fuss.

The moment you stepped into the house you knew this wasn’t your vibe.

Nursing the same plastic cup of watered-down beer, you hung out by the edges of the room trying to stay as invisible as possible.

Time seemed to pass slowly. You check your phone; two hours passed.

You perk up at that revelation, finally deciding it's time to head back to your dorm.

Just as you could make an exit your roommate finds you.

“There you are!” she shouted over the music. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You force a smile. “Yeah I was just about to head out actual—”

“Whaaaat? No way!” she cuts you off, grabbing your wrist. “You have to come with me!”

You barely had time to protest as she dragged you toward a smaller dimly lit room in the back of the house.

The sight of about twenty people sitting in a circle makes you hesitate.

It wasn't until you spotted the empty glass beer bottle in the center did you realize what was happening making your heart sink—Spin the Bottle.

“I’m not playing,” you start backing away but your roommate was already pushing you into the group.

“There’s way too many people for it to land on you,” she assured you with a wink, her voice light with mischief. “Besides it’s the last round. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You reluctantly joined the circle, sitting awkwardly on the floor. 'She's right...what's the worse that could happen?'

As soon as you sat down someone immediately offers you the bottle.

“Here newbie! Your turn!” someone shouted and the room burst into cheers, all eyes suddenly on you.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you glared at your friend who was now avoiding your gaze, clearly sheepish about getting you into this situation.

You could’ve left. You should’ve left. But here you are.

Sighing you accept the bottle to avoid making a scene.

The glass felt cold against your sweaty palms. Your heart race as you avoid looking directly at anyone.

You were embarrassed, self-conscious. This wasn’t your thing. You hated the attention.

And the pressure. It felt like your entire body was vibrating with anxiety as you mentally prepared for the worst.

You gave the bottle a spin; your nerves turned into outright panic as the world seeming to slow down around you.

Your mind raced with a thousand insecurities: What if they thought you were ugly? What if the person you kiss someone hate it? Or worse—what if they wanted more than just a kiss?

Your chest tightened at the thought, stomach twisting in knots. 'What if my breath smelled weird? What...what if their breath smelled weird?!'

The bottle slowed, spinning less and less until it teetered to a stop.

Time stretched unbearably slow and you clenched your fists, hoping, praying it would land on someone random—someone who wouldn’t care.

Then it stopped.

And you looked up.

It was Art.

Art Donaldson.

'What...the...fuck?' the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You blinked thinking maybe you’d somehow imagined it.

He was here? You hadn’t even noticed him in the crowd, let alone expected the bottle to land on him!

There was no way right?

Art stared back at you eyes just as wide as yours.

He looked as shocked as you felt, frozen in place as the room erupted around you in whoops and cheers.

Someone shouted something you didn’t catch and you saw a couple of guys nudge Art, grinning like idiots as they clapped him on the back.

Your body went numb. A weird tingly sensation spread through your chest as you try to process what was happening.

'This can’t be real. I must be dreaming.'

You barely heard the teasing shouts or the laughs that followed.

All you could do was stare at him, your mind spinning faster than the bottle had.

Art still looked a little shell-shocked as his friends shoved him toward the closet.

You barely registered the few people nudging you as well, urging you forward.

Next thing you knew you're shoved into a small cramped closet with Art right behind you.

The door shut with a soft click sealing you both inside the dim space.

It was silent. Awkward.

You could feel the tension between you two thickening as though the walls were closing in.

The reality of the situation crashed down on you all at once: you were in a closet. Alone. With Art Donaldson.

The Art Donaldson who you’d been low-key crushing on since forever.

Your heart continued to race and your mouth felt dry.

You weren’t sure what to do. From the way Art fidgeted you could tell he was just as nervous.

His eyes flicked between the floor and you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

He was...cute. Not just cute, handsome even.

His tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and the nervous look in his eyes gave him an almost boyish charm—and you found yourself growing more flustered the longer the silence dragged on.

“Hi,” you finally managed to say in a soft voice. “M-my...my name is—”

“I know,” he interrupted making your brows furrow in confusion.

Art's face paled realizing what he’d said and started backtracking. “I-I mean I know because we’re in the same class. Statistics! I-I see you in there sometimes. Not like watching you or anything! I just...noticed. Not in a weird way! I’m not a creep I promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his nervous rambling, some of the tension breaking.

He lets out a breath he must have been holding visibly relaxing at your response.

“Yeah,” the faintest laugh escape your lips. “I’ve noticed you too.”

Before either of you could say more, there was a sudden knock at the door making you jump.

“Ten more minutes guys!” A muffled voice calls from the other side, “Make 'em count!”

The reminder of what you were supposed to be doing—what everyone out there expected you to be doing—made the tension snap back into place.

Art shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to the floor before slowly lifting to meet yours.

But this time when he looked at you his expression was different.

His half-lidded dark eyes lingered on you in a way that made your heart stutter.

He wasn’t just looking at you—he was studying every inch of your face as if memorizing each detail, not wanting to miss anything.

You felt heat crawl up your neck and spread across your chest from the weight of it.

His stare wasn’t overbearing but it was enough to send your nerves into overdrive.

Unable to handle the intensity of it anymore, you take a shaky breath “So...s-should we start kissing...?”

As soon as the words left your mouth Art doesn't hesitate.

His hand shot out, grabbing your waist and pulling you close in one swift motion.

His other cupped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was filled with a pent-up almost desperate energy.

You could feel the way his breath hitched, his body trembling slightly as he leaned into you.

It was like he couldn’t believe this was happening. As if you'd disappear if he let go.

And just as quick the kiss began, it ended.

His chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths, but his eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

Reverence.

He looked at you like you were something delicate...something sacred.

You weren’t just a girl in a closet—he made you feel like the only person in the world.

You were taken aback, your mind scrambling to catch up with what had just happened.

The heat from the kiss lingered on your lips and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, stunned.

But then without thinking you reach up and pull him back to you.

Your fingers tangle in his blond locks as you crash into him; kissing him harder, like you need him as much as he seems to need you.

Art groaned against your mouth, the sound sending a thrill through your body.

His fingers brush against your cheek then down to your neck like he was memorizing the shape of you.

His hands then found your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss.

The tension had finally snapped and suddenly you were both lost in it; grasping at each other like the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

Body pressed against his, Art’s hand slid down your hip before tugging at your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist.

The movement pulled you even closer.

You could feel the heat of him, his heart racing in time with yours, his breath hot and ragged as his lips moved down to your neck.

His kisses trailed slowly from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, then lower until his lips brush against the soft skin of your neck.

Each one was deliberate—almost worshipful, like he was savoring every inch of you.

Feeling his mouth against your pulse made you shiver causing your body to respond instinctively as your fingers tighten in his hair.

He lingered there for a moment as if savoring the way you trembled beneath him before continuing on.

“Art” you breathed out, barely able to find your voice as the sensation of his lips on your skin overwhelmed you.

He made an almost needy sound in response, his hands gripping you tighter like he couldn’t get close enough.

All that existed in that moment was him—his touch, his kiss, the way his body felt against yours.

His mouth moved back up to yours and when his lips found yours again, the kiss was different—deeper, more intense.

Just as the passion between you began to swell there was a loud knock on the door, jolting you both out of your haze.

“Time’s up!” someone shouted from the other side followed by teasing laughter.

Art breaks away from the kiss with a heavy breath before leaning his forehead against yours as he blinked, trying to regain some composure.

Your bodies were still pressed together in the cramped space, neither wanting to move.

“I...I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admit quietly almost like he’s afraid to say it out loud.

You smile, your cheeks warm and heart still pounding in your chest. “Me too.”

The closet door swings open but neither of you pays attention.

You’re still wrapped up in each other, lost in your own little world.

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