#Villian-Con | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jesterfairy · 4 months ago

Text

.♠︎.💜 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 💚.♠︎.

Chapter 11: Marked

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter Word Count: 4,958

Fic Summary: Alina Vale dreams of escaping her dead-end life as a diner waitress, finding solace in painting Gotham’s haunting shadows. But when a routine trip to the bank turns into a living nightmare, she finds herself face-to-face with the Joker—a man as captivating as he is terrifying.

As his twisted games unravel her defenses, Alina is forced to confront the pull he has over her, a collision of fear and desire she can’t control. Trapped in his world of chaos and power, survival means facing not only him but the darker parts of herself he’s brought to life.

A story of obsession, control, and the intoxicating allure of letting go.

Genres: Dark romance, Gothic romance, Stalker romance

Pairings: TDK Joker x Female OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: non-con, extremely dubious consent, violence, psychological manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, slow-burn, toxic relationships, trauma bonding, childhood trauma, graphic sexual content, stockholm syndrome, dead dove do not eat

A/N: Here it is—the chapter I’ve been so excited to finally share! Now that it’s finished, I have to admit… I’m nervous as hell to put this out there. This one is intense, and I really hope you guys like it!

🧨 WARNING 🧨

This chapter contains extremely dubious themes involving sexual coercion and violation. If that’s not your thing, please skip this chapter. This is labeled dark romance for a reason—please mind the warnings list.

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter 11: Marked

Alina forced her legs to move, each step heavy with dread. The wood looked splintered—rough. The thought of lying down on it made her skin crawl, but she pressed on.

The Joker's gaze never wavered, dark eyes gleaming with wicked delight as he drank in every hesitant movement.

“That’s it, dollface...don't be shy."

She lowered her arms onto the table, the coarse wood biting into her chest—and the locket pressing between them, its weight unbearable. The cool metal dug into her skin, a silent accusation. A cruel reminder of everything she had left. Everything she was about to give away.

The table was just a little too tall, forcing her onto her toes. Her heels hovered above the concrete, balance precarious, every inch of her stripped raw with vulnerability.

Behind her, the Joker chuckled darkly.

“That’s better,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Such a good girl.”

Alina bit the inside of her cheek, trying to steel herself against the panic rising in her chest.

She heard the click of his footsteps approaching—slow, deliberate. Her heart pounded in time with every tap.

Click. Clack.

Then—silence.

He was close now. Too close. The heat of him ghosted over her skin, a presence she coudn’t see but could feel—looming, waiting. Her breath hitched, every nerve in her body locking tight.

The steady rhythm of his breathing filled the space between them, stretching unbearably.

Then, finally, he broke the silence.

“Let’s start with the bank,” he mused, his voice unhurried. “Tell me, doll… how did it feel when you first saw me?”

Her throat tightened. She knew what he wanted—to make her relive the horror, to savor it.

Swallowing hard, she forced the words out. “I… I knew it was you—the Joker.”

A dark growl rumbled around her, low and indulgent. “Mmhmm.” The sound slithered through the air—slow, savoring—like a man relishing the last bite of something sinful, something stolen.

“And you felt it, didn’t you? That shiver of recognition when it hit you—who I was, what I could do to you.” His voice dropped, deep and intimate. “Tell me, dollface… did it make your pulse race?”

Alina squeezed her eyes shut, the memory clawing back. “Yes." Her voice wavered. “I felt… helpless.”

The Joker’s laughter coursed through her like a dark current, so rich with satisfaction it sent a shiver sparking to every edge of her body.

"Helpless…" He echoed the word slowly, like he was savoring the taste of it. His voice was thick with unrestrained pleasure. “Just like you are now.”

His sigh ghosted over her neck—warm, taunting. The whisper of his exhale sent goosebumps racing down her spine, every nerve bracing for what came next.

"Knowing there's nothing you can do," he murmured, each syllable steeped in satisfaction. "Knowing I've got you right where I want you..."

Silence. Long. Drawn out. Unbearable.

Then—

“…How does that make you feel?”

She wanted to scream, to beg him to stop, but the words stayed lodged in her throat—frozen by fear and a confusing, dark anticipation. A thrill, sharp and undeniable, like the way her heart used to leap on roller coasters just before the plunge.

That familiar feeling, that dangerous rush, coiled deep inside her.

Fear, she told herself, trying to drown out the whispers of something darker. It had to be fear...

“I... I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned in, the heat of him licking at her spine, hovering just above contact. The sharp, smoky bite of gunpowder filled her senses, threaded with something deeper—masculine, invasive.

“Don’t know, huh?” His voice cut through, low, knowing. Too close.

“That’s all right, doll. I’ll help you figure it out.”

Her muscles locked, tight with pain, every inch of her hyper-aware of him—of the space between them shrinking.

But he didn’t touch her. Didn’t need to.

His voice was enough—dark, invasive—sliding over her skin, sinking deep, curling sinfully low in her belly.

“Now, tell me about your apartment,” he said. “When you found my little gift. How did that feel?”

Her stomach clenched. The red smile on her canvas—the terror surged back with overwhelming clarity

“I felt... violated,” she murmured, hardly more than a breath.

The Joker groaned softly, low and barely restrained. The sound slithered through her, stirring something deep, something unbidden.

It was more than just fear. Something worse. Something she didn’t want to name. It coiled low, dark and treacherous. A whisper of sensation that didn’t belong.

She strangled the thought before it could take shape.

No. God, no.

“Mmm, dollface…” He let it linger, a tease more than words...

“I love knowing I got into your space… into your head.” He dipped lower, his breath a slow, taunting heat against her ear. “It’s delicious.”

Then—

A faint clink of metal shattered the silence.

Her breath hitched, pulse hammering as the sound snaked through the air like a threat.

Something unfastening. Leather shifting.

The realization slammed into her all at once—

Panic tightened around her ribs, squeezing unbearably. Every second stretched...

Desperate to regain control, she forced herself to speak. “And... the graveyard,” she choked out. “I felt... trapped. Like you were everywhere. Like I couldn’t escape you.”

The Joker exhaled a slow, indulgent breath, like she’d just told him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Mmm… now that, sweetheart—that's beautiful.”

His warmth curled around her, invading the space between them, close enough that she swore she could feel the whisper of a smile against her skin. “No escape…” he echoed, savoring the words, letting them settle. “That’s the way it should be.” He sighed, the gentle exhale tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck.

Her breath faltered, body instinctively tensing under the intimate, almost unbearable closeness.

“You feel me in your shadow, don’t you?” A dark chuckle. “When you close your eyes, when you're all alone…” He leaned in, breath a ghost against her temple. "Tell me, doll—how many times have you held your breath, just waiting for me to step out of the dark?"

The air thinned, pressing down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe.

And then she heard it again—the faint clink, the whisper of leather.

What was he doing?

Was he—was he really going to—

"And yet, here we are," he murmured, rich with certainty. "You knew I’d come for you. You always knew." A pause, slow and deliberate.

"Because you belong to me."

Alina’s grip tightened on the table, her mind spiraling in a storm of horror, disgust, and something worse—confusion.

No. She wasn’t his. No matter how many times he whispered it, no matter how badly he wanted it to be true…

And yet—

The words slithered into her mind, coiling tight, sinking in like a splinter too deep to pull free.

Then—

That ominous sound: the rustle of fabric.

Not knowing what was coming—it was unbearable, the fear strangling her until she thought she’d choke on it.

“What are you doing?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

He took a slow breath, drawn out, savoring. "Wouldn’t you like to know?’ he rasped, his voice thick, almost... breathless. ‘But don’t worry, dollface. I won’t lay a hand on you... not tonight, anyway.’"

His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

Alina’s heart stuttered as a fresh wave of dread washed over her.

“But I’ll tell you what," he continued, voice smooth as silk, edged with something darker. "You’ve been such a good girl… maybe I ought to reward you. Something better than books. Something a little more... comfortable."

Alina stiffened. A trap. She knew it, felt it tightening around her like an invisible snare.

“I’ve got something real nice for you in that bag I pulled you're books from, sweetheart,” the Joker continued. “Sheets, a pillow. Maybe something extra soft to sleep on. You’re still cold, aren’t you?”

He let the silence stretch, reveling in it. Watching her squirm.

She didn’t reply. Didn’t move.

"All you have to do is answer one more question for me, and..."

The pause was unbearable, heavy with promise, thick with something darker.

Then—closer now, his breath a ghost against her skin—

"Take that skirt off."

Every nerve in her body froze, her mind screaming against the crushing weight of his demands. No, no. This was sick—a line she couldn’t bring herself to cross.

She swallowed hard, nails biting into the wood beneath her fingers. She should refuse. Should fight. Should say something.

But then—

"Come on, doll," he coaxed, smooth as sin. "Just a little more. What’s one more step, huh?"

Alina clenched her jaw, her teeth sinking into her lip, the sharp jolt of pain a fleeting distraction from the storm inside her.

She couldn’t do this. Wouldn't.

She would rather die than give him this.

But the cold…it clawed at her, whispering that she had no choice. The promise of warmth—a pillow, sheets—it was almost unimaginable.

A sick dread crept into her veins. She was at the edge now, teetering between survival and surrender, the line between them blurring, dissolving.

He leaned in, his fingers barely grazing the edge of the table beside hers—close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that her skin prickled with the ghost of a touch that never came. But she felt it anyway—her breath hitching, sharp and shallow, as if the air itself had thickened, pressing in, trapping her.

"What’s it going to be, sweetheart?" His whisper curled around her, dark and coaxing. "Do we have a deal?"

Her fingers gripped the rough wood, her knuckles white as she fought against the rising tide of desperation. She hated him—hated how he twisted everything, how he dangled survival like a cruel joke, knowing she had no other choice.

Sheets. A pillow. Comfort. Warmth.

It was too much to resist.

Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to speak. Her voice barely audible as the words left her lips. “What... what kind of sheets?”

She could hear the grin in his voice before he even spoke.

“Knew you’d come around, doll,” he crooned. “Soft ones. Real nice. None of that cheap motel crap.” He paused, letting the words settle. Then, almost teasing— “Maybe even flannel...to keep you extra cozy.”

Alina closed her eyes—considering. She could feel the humiliation creeping in, knowing what she was about to do, but the promise of warmth—of just a little bit of comfort in this endless nightmare... It was too much.

She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t fight him.

But, this wasn’t surrender, she told herself.

This wasn’t about him. It was about survival. About warmth. About keeping herself sane enough to make it through another night.

That was all.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the waistband of her skirt, fingers quaking with shame and cold. She tried to block out the sickening pleasure she knew he was getting from this, but it was impossible.

She could feel his eyes burning into her, watching her every move, devouring her vulnerability, her surrender.

She took in a sharp breath, a desperate attempt to steady herself.

Slowly, painfully, she peeled the skirt down her legs, her heart pounding in her chest as the fabric pooled around her ankles. The cold air hit her bare skin, sending a shiver through her body, but she didn’t look back at him.

She couldn’t.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on the rough wood, her hands gripping the table for support as she lay there.

Exposed. Shaking. Ashamed.

He let out a low, pleased hum. “Good girl,” he purred, thick with a satisfaction that crawled under her skin and made her stomach twist.

“Look at you, trembling so perfectly...almost like you were made to fall apart for me.”

Alina’s throat tightened, the cold air bitting at her painfully exposed flesh. She could feel her heartbeat thrumming against the wood, each rapid thud ricocheting back into her chest.

The faint clinking sound of his belt buckle echoed again, sending a fresh wave of panic through her.

Please no...

But he didn’t move closer. Instead, his voice slithered through the air, low and heavy with sadistic pleasure.

“Now... tell me how it feels, sweetheart. Standing there, so... vulnerable. So... at my mercy. How does it feel knowing I can see everything? Knowing I could do anything I want to you, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me?”

Her breath caught, heart hammering as the weight of his words sank in. She wanted to lash out, to fight, to hurl every ounce of her hatred and disgust in his face. But the words wouldn’t come.

Beneath the anger and loathing, something darker was stirring—a treacherous heat curling low in her stomach like a slow-burning poison.

It clawed at her, twisting her fear into something raw, something shamefully potent.

Every instinct screamed at her to resist, to stand her ground, but she was shrinking under his command.

Why did she feel so small? So utterly powerless? She had never felt so out of control—so disgusted with herself. It was as if she were a puppet, strings pulled by hands she couldn’t see, her every move dictated by him.

She hated him, hated the way he twisted her fear into something darker, something shameful. But what disgusted her most was the part of her that answered—that responded to his dominance.

Was she really that broken?

Maybe she was. But she would be damned if she let him see it.

She swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady.

“It feels cold.”

Joker chuckled darkly, clearly savoring her quiet resistance. “Cold, huh? Well, don’t worry, dollface. You’ll be warm soon enough.” His voice dropped, low and heavy, carrying a sinister promise that made the air around her thicken.

Alina’s legs trembled so violently now that she could barely keep herself on her toes, every muscle in her body aching from the strain. The urge to collapse, to fold in on herself and disappear from the world, clawed at her. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he gave her what he’d promised.

Suddenly, the faint shuffle of fabric behind her sent a jolt through her body, and she braced herself for the worst. But then, his voice came again—low, taunting, and dripping with mockery.

“You’ve done well, sweetheart. So... here’s your reward.”

She didn’t dare look back, but she heard the soft thud of something being tossed onto the bed behind her.

A set of sheets. A pillow. The promise of comfort, so close she could almost feel it.

“Now...if you’re interested, I’ve got something else for you. A bonus.”

He set something on the table, just beside her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse—a thick, plush comforter. Far better than the thin blanket he’d given her before.

But what would it cost her?

The dread coiled tighter in her stomach as his voice crept into her ears. “If you really want this blanket... well, that’ll cost you a little more. Just one more step, doll. What do you say?”

He wasn’t done with her. He never would be. No matter how much she gave, he would always want more.

And the worst part was, she didn’t know if she could bring herself to say no.

“Come on, dollface,” he coaxed, his voice soft, almost playful. “You know you want it. Just a little more, and you can sleep like a queen.” He let out a low, dark chuckle. “Well, as much of a queen as you can be down here.”

Her heart pounded harder, her chest tight with dread, but she couldn’t deny the pull of temptation.

A thick, cozy blanket. Real warmth. Something more than just bare survival.

Her mind screamed at her to resist, to keep whatever shred of dignity she had left. But her body ached with cold and exhaustion, the edges of her vision blurring with fatigue. She felt herself swaying slightly, her balance faltering.

“I…” Her voice cracked, the words lingering painfully in her throat. She swallowed hard, her breath shallow as she forced herself to speak again. “What… what do you want?”

The Joker’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. “I think you already know, sweetheart.”

Her heart sank.

Of course she knew. She wasn't dense.

His fingers lingered on the edge of the table, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if savoring every second. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his presence consuming.

“Take them off,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, each syllable sending a pulse of heat through her. “And I'll give you the blanket.”

Alina’s entire body stiffened, her breath catching as the weight of his demand settled over her. She wanted to recoil, to spit out a refusal, but the words wouldn't come. She was too weak, too tired.

Too desperate.

The blanket loomed at the edge of her vision, plush, inviting—she could almost feel its warmth cocooning her, chasing away the relentless cold.

This was survival; dignity had no place here.

Her fingers faltered as they reached for the lace waistband of her underwear, her mind screaming at her to stop, to find another way...

But there was no other way.

Slowly, painfully, she peeled the panties down her hips, the fabric whispering down her legs as her entire body shuddered with a mix of cold and shame.

She stood there, trembling, her breath shallow and ragged, her body bare—exposed to him.

She could feel his eyes snaking over her, could almost hear the grin stretching wider across his face as he drank in the sight of her submission.

The humiliation burned hotter than the cold ever could, searing into her skin as her fingers gripped the edge of the table for support.

She had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly powerless and ashamed.

The silence stretched, thick and unbearable.

Then—after what felt like an eternity—

"God, you're so perfect like this, doll," he purred, his voice low and thick with dark desire. "So beautifully exposed... so damn obedient."

He leaned in, so close, so painfully close that her body reacted before her mind could process it. Her back arched involuntarily, every inch of her desperate for contact, pulled by the magnetic force of his proximity. The heat between her thighs flared into an unbearable, traitorous ache—shameful, uncontrollable, twisting inside her.

"You're trembling," he murmured, his lips nearly brushing against the delicate curve of her neck. "Is that fear, or something else, Alina?"

Her breath hitched as his words sunk deep into her, unraveling something inside her, something she’d tried to lock away. She fought to steady herself, but his proximity, his touch, it all blurred the lines between anger and something else—something dark, something she couldn’t ignore.

He shifted closer, his body almost pressed against hers, every inch of her sensitive skin acutely aware of the tension in the air. “I know you’re fighting it,” he whispered, his voice low and knowing. “But deep down, you want this. Don’t you?”

She bit her lip, eyes squeezed shut, as the flood of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

Then, as though sensing her hesitation, his voice dropped even lower, slithering into her ear with a dark satisfaction. "So...” He let the word hang in the air, thick with tension. “How did it feel, dollface? When I told you I’d been watching you sleep… How did you really feel when you realized I’d been in your apartment… so close to you?”

Her eyes flew open, the memory slamming into her with the force of a blow. That moment had been a violation unlike any other, a terror so profound it defied words. She remembered the cold fear, the way her heart raced, the suffocating realization that he was everywhere—always so near, always watching.

Her hands clenched into fists, her breath ragged. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it had affected her, how deeply he had burrowed into her mind, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“I… I felt exposed,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, but it cut through the thick silence like a knife.

The Joker’s laugh was soft, almost tender in its cruelty. "Exposed…" he repeated, savoring the word as it lingered between them. "Oh, you felt it, didn’t you? That horror creeping in...knowing I held the upper hand all along. That in your little world of safety, you were never really alone.”

Her stomach churned, bile clawing its way up as the sickening realization sank in—this was what he craved. Her fear, her vulnerability—it was sustenance to him, a dark, twisted pleasure she could feel in every sharp inhale of his quickened breaths.

“What else did you feel, hmm?” His voice dropped lower, a dark, intimate rasp. “Tell me more. Don’t hold back now.”

She fought to steady her breath, her mind screaming not to give him anything else, but her voice betrayed her. “I… I felt violated.”

That drew a sharp inhale from him, and she heard it—the way his breath hitched with pleasure, the way his voice turned almost reverent. “Violated,” he whispered, savoring the word. “Yes… that’s it. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

His soft, taunting laughter echoed through the room, wrapping around her and amplifying the helplessness that threatened to drown her.

“You hated it, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Knowing I was there. Knowing I could’ve done anything I wanted while you were sleeping… so soft… so helpless.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing back the tears that threatened to fall. But she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

The Joker’s laugh was low, breathless. “God, I can still see it now… the look on your face when I told you. The way the fear sank in. That realization.” He let out another breathy chuckle, the sound more intimate than anything she’d ever heard from him. “It was beautiful.”

His breathing deepened, each inhale weighted and deliberate, as if her words alone had awakened something dark and primal within him.

Then she heard it again—the rustle of fabric, the metallic clink. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her mind spiraling with questions.

What was he doing?

She thought she knew, but the reality was too horrifying to fully grasp.

Dread crawled over her skin, cold and suffocating. She wanted to turn, to see, but the her fear kept her rooted.

“And you know the best part?” His voice was ragged—thick with pleasure. “You’ll never feel safe again. Not when I’m around. Every time you close your eyes, you’ll wonder if I’m there… watching. Waiting.”

He chuckled, low and drawn out. “You’ll never escape me, dollface,” he rasped. “Not in here…not even in that beautiful little head of yours.”

Alina’s throat tightened, her stomach twisting painfully as she swallowed back her tears.

She loathed him. She loathed herself for doing this. But she couldn’t deny the flood of relief that swept through her when she heard the soft thud of the blanket being tossed onto the bed behind her.

“You’ve earned it,” Joker murmured.

The room seemed to close in tighter as she stood there, shivering, bare and splayed out for him. Every inch of her body was shaking now as she struggled to hold herself up on her tiptoes, the jagged wood of the table pressing sharply into her chest.

She waited. The silence wrapped around her like a living thing, slithering over her skin, waiting to sink its claws in. Her heartbeat pounded in a frenzied rhythm against the wood, each thud ricocheting back into her chest.

What now?

What more could he take? She had given him everything he asked for. Surely, this was enough.

Maybe now, he would finally let her go.

But then—

The sounds only grew stronger. His breathing—low, ragged, hungry. The rustling—faster now, more frantic.

A sharp inhale. A slow, deliberate exhale.

"Fuck, doll," he muttered, his voice thick with raw desire, barely more than a rasp. "You have no idea how hard it is... not to touch you right now."

His words slid through her like poison—threading though her veins until she could feel him inside her, curling around her insides like a sickness.

Her breath stilled, trapped in her throat, her pulse hammering so violently she swore he could hear it.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Thick. Stretched. Smothering. She was drowning under his gaze, pinned her beneath the weight of his possession.

But then, without warning, she heard him move behind her. Faster now—with whatever he was doing...

A shift of fabric, the slow, deliberate drag of leather slipping against skin.

Her entire body tensed, every muscle coiled in apprehension as her mind swirled in a chaotic storm of fear and anticipation. She could hear his breaths deepen, each one sending a fresh wave of distress through her.

“You’ve done well, sweetheart,” he growled softly, the words vibrating with something dark and dangerous just beneath the surface. “So... here’s a little something extra to keep you warm.”

And then—the unmistakable sound.

A low, throaty groan—drawn out, ragged.

Something hit her skin. Warm. Wet.

Her breath seized, a sharp gasp breaking free.

No... no... it can’t be...

But the undeniable warmth was there, slicking down her bare flesh in a shameless descent.

The realization slammed into her like a violent blow, the shock seizing her mind and turning her limbs to stone.

She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t.

Her pulse pounded—hard, frantic—each beat a reminder that she was still here, still trapped in this nightmare.

Behind her, he laughed—a dark, unhinged sound that echoed through the room like nails scraping against glass.

Humiliation crashed over her, coiling tight and twisting deep.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. “There, there, doll. I told you I wouldn’t touch you. And I kept my promise… technically.” His laughter erupted again, manic and chilling, filling the room with a twisted kind of glee.

She wanted to cry. To run. To claw it off her skin—to erase the revolting heat of his release that now clung to her. But no sound escaped her lips, no movement. She was frozen in place, pinned by the weight of the humiliation and rage that flooded through her veins like venom.

The Joker stalked around the front of the table, leering at her with a sick fascination. “I wish I could have seen the look on your face,” he jeered with a cruel smirk. “Would have been priceless.”

Alina bit back the urge to retch as she stared down at the table. She could feel the hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

He crouched down to her level, his grin sharp and mocking. “I told you I like to play, didn’t I?” His eyes devoured every flicker of her reaction. “And this… this was just the beginning.”

The Joker tilted his head, savoring every pulse of her shame. “And to think…” He hissed, low and taunting. “If you’d do this for a blanket… what else will you give me?” He leaned in, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “I can’t wait to find out.”

His laughter rang out, sharp and mocking, echoing in her ears like a maddening refrain.

Alina’s fists clenched against the table, her nails biting into her palms as the rage finally surged to the surface. Something inside her snapped, white-hot and blinding.

How dare he?

How dare he!

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to claw his laughing eyes out, to rip that smug, twisted grin off his face.

She couldn’t stop herself, the words tearing free, fueled by the rage that had been simmering beneath her terror all along.

“You’re a fucking monster!” she snarled, her voice shaking with fury.

But the Joker’s grin didn’t falter—in fact, it seemed to stretch wider, his eyes gleaming with a wild, manic light.

He leaned in close, his breath hitching with laughter.

“Yes, I am,” he said, with a mad delight. “And you, dollface, are just starting to see how much fun we’re going to have.”

He threw his head back, laughter spilling out in wild, unhinged bursts, bouncing off the walls and pressing in like a tightening noose.

Then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

His gaze snapped back to hers, the room thick with silence. His grin faded, replaced by something darker—something certain.

“You’ll learn to love it,” he murmured, voice low and sure. “Sooner than you think.”

And then, as if nothing had happened, he gestured casually toward her mattress. “Go on, sweetheart. The sheets are yours. You’ve earned them.” His grin returned, the amusement never leaving his eyes. “Enjoy.”

With that, he turned, sauntering toward the door with a lazy, satisfied ease. The heavy metal groaned as it swung shut, followed by the cold, final click of the lock—sealing her in.

She collapsed onto the cold floor, shivering, stunned, hugging her knees as if she could erase herself.

But nothing would take this away. Not even time.

A sob broke free, then another, then more, until they swallowed her whole.

She hated herself for breaking. For letting him win. But more than anything, she hated the part of her that responded—the dark flicker of arousal that coiled, shameful and unwanted, under the weight of his control

She felt sick. Dirty. Like she’d betrayed herself on a fundamental level.

His pleasure on her skin was unbearable, sticky and revolting, the humiliation choking her as she curled in tighter.

This wasn’t just survival anymore. It was something darker, something far more twisted.

And she didn’t know how much longer she could take it.

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

A/N: So… what do we think of what Joker did to Alina in this chapter? Sick bastard, right? And yet, somehow, he’s still so damn charming. I hate him. I love him. I’m going straight to hell for this. 💀🖤😂

I’d love to hear what you thought about this chapter! Even if you hated it—tell me! Your feedback means the world to me. Even if it’s just an emoji, that’s cool too. Just knowing there are real people out there reading this would mean so much. 💜🖤💚

I’m so excited to finish up the next few chapters—things are about to take a huge turn for these two in the best (and darkest) way. Writing dark romance is my absolute favorite, and I can’t wait to share what’s coming next! 😩🔥

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Taglist: 💚 (please let me know if you'd like to be added)

@furisodespirit

Navigation Links:

Masterpost | Next Chapter →

21 notes · View notes