The dim glow of the city seeped through the high-rise windows, casting a soft blue hue over the penthouse bedroom. The sheets were silk, deep red and tangled beneath Harley as she lay sprawled across the bed, still riding the high of the evening's chaos.
Her voice filled the quiet space, animated and lively as she recounted every single moment of the night's antics—the way Penguin's face twisted in outrage when they crashed his party, the way the champagne tasted way too sweet, and how that poor sucker Vince really thought he had a shot.
"But puddin'," she giggled, rolling onto her side, propping her head up with her palm, "ya shoulda seen his face when I got close to 'im. He really thought I was gonna take him home, thought he had a chance! Men are so dumb sometimes."
Joker sat on the edge of the bed, still in his silk dress shirt, the top buttons undone, showing off the tattoos inked into his pale chest. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers slightly curled as if he were lost in thought. His usual smirk was missing, replaced by something she even Harley couldn't read.
She took notice instantly.
She blinked, sitting up slightly. "Puddin'?"
No response.
Her playful smile faded just a fraction as she scooted closer, her legs folding beneath her. "You're real quiet," she mused, tilting her head. "That ain't like you."
Still, nothing.
That's when Harley knew something was up.
With a soft hum, she crawled toward him, draping herself over his back, her hands smoothing over his shoulders. "Alright, Mistah J," she cooed, resting her chin against him. "Spill. What's got ya all broody?"
Joker's fingers twitched, and after a long pause, he finally spoke—low, deliberate, his voice laced with something dark.
"I didn't like it."
Harley blinked. "Didn't like what?"
His head tilted slightly, enough for her to see the sharp reflection in his icy blue eyes. "That little game you played tonight."
For a moment, Harley stayed quiet. Then, she smirked. "Ooooohhh," she sang, sliding off his back and circling in front of him, sitting on her knees. "I knew it! You were jealous."
Joker didn't react immediately. Instead, his hands flexed against his thighs, his rings catching the dim light of the penthouse. Then, in that slow, spine-chilling way of his, he lifted his gaze to hers.
"Maybe," he admitted, his voice low, dangerous.
Harley grinned, loving every second of it. "Aw, puddin'," she purred, running a hand up his chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin. "I was just playin'."
Joker caught her wrist mid-air, his grip firm but not painful. "Yeah?" he murmured, his head tilting slightly. "That what you call it?"
Harley's smile widened. "Mmm-hmm."
Slowly, Joker pulled her closer, his grip sliding from her wrist to her throat, his thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point beneath her jaw. Not enough to hurt—just enough to make her breath hitch.
Harley's lips parted, her pulse quickening beneath his fingers. She loved this—lived for this. The tension, the power play, the game they played with each other that no one else could understand.
Joker studied her for a long moment before he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"
Harley grinned, her voice sultry and teasing. "I know I am."
Joker hummed, his hand slipping from her throat to tangle in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose her neck. His lips brushed against her ear as he murmured, "If you ever let another man touch you again, doll… I won't just kill 'im. I'll make an example of him."
Harley's breath hitched, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Mmm," she purred. "That's so hot."
Joker chuckled, his grip tightening just slightly before he let her go, leaning back on his hands as he studied her with that wicked grin of his.
Harley, ever the playful one, smoothed a hand down his chest, her fingers tracing every ridge of muscle. "You know, Puddin'," she mused, sliding into his lap with a slow, deliberate motion, her legs straddling his. "If ya really wanna show me how jealous ya were, maybe ya should…" She leaned in, lips ghosting over his, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do somethin' about it."
Joker let out a deep, throaty chuckle, his hands gripping her waist. "Oh, doll," he purred, his voice thick with dark amusement and something far more dangerous. "You really shouldn't tempt me."
Harley smirked, rolling her hips against his in a way that sent a shudder through both of them. "I love temptin' you."
"Ya know, Mistah J," she purred, straddling his lap, her wet pussy brushing against his thigh, leaving a slick trail. "I love when ya get all possessive. Makes me wanna push ya buttons even more." Her nails raked down his chest, catching on a nipple, and she leaned in, her tongue flicking his earlobe. "What's next, huh? Gonna tie me up? Spank me 'til I'm screamin' for mercy?"
Joker's hand shot out, grabbing her jaw, his thumb smearing her lipstick further. His eyes burned, icy and unhinged, as he studied her like a predator sizing up prey. "Careful, Babygirl," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark promise. "Keep teasin', and I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name." His grip tightened, just enough to make her breath hitch, her pupils dilating with want. He released her, leaning back with a wicked smirk, exhaling smoke that curled like a noose in the air. "But first… tell me 'bout that little prick Vince again. I want details."
Harley's grin widened, sensing the game. She slid off his lap, kneeling between his legs, her hands resting on his thighs, nails digging into the silk. "Oh, Puddin', he was nothin'," she cooed, her voice syrupy but edged with defiance. "Just a sweaty, desperate loser in a cheap suit, thinkin' he could handle me." She leaned closer, her breath hot against his cock, still straining against the fabric. "But you know me, baby—I only play with the big boys." Her fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging it down just enough to free him, his cock springing up, thick and veined, the tip glistening with precum.
She licked her lips, slow and deliberate, her eyes locked on his. "Wanna know what I told him?" she whispered, her hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking lazily. "I said, 'Sorry, sugar, but my heart—and my pussy—belong to the king of Gotham.'" Her thumb circled the head, smearing the precum, and she leaned down, her tongue flicking out to taste him, a soft moan vibrating in her throat. "And that's you, Puddin'. Always you."
Joker groaned, his head tilting back, cigarette dangling from his lips as he watched her through half-lidded eyes. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding her closer, but not forcing—yet. "That's my girl," he growled, voice thick with lust and pride. "Now show me how sorry you are for even lookin' at that fucker." His hips shifted, urging her on, the city's hum outside fading into nothing compared to the storm brewing between them.
Harley's lips curled into a wicked smile, her breath hot against his skin. "Oh, I'll show ya, alright," she purred, her voice a promise of sin. "But only if ya say 'pretty please' first." She winked, her tongue teasing the underside of his cock, waiting for his move in their delicious, dangerous dance.
Her lips hovering just above his throbbing cock, her breath teasing the sensitive tip. Her fishnets were torn to ribbons, clinging to her sweat-slick thighs, and her blonde pigtails hung loose, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks. The smear of her red lipstick streaked across her chin, a chaotic canvas of their passion. Her pussy, still dripping with their mingled cum, pulsed with heat, the slickness coating her inner thighs and staining the silk sheets below. She tilted her head, blue eyes glinting with defiance and desire, her fingers gripping his shaft firmly, stroking with a slow, torturous rhythm.
"Pretty please, huh?" Joker rasped, his voice a low growl, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. His pale chest gleamed under the chandelier's fractured light, tattoos twisting like dark promises across his skin. He leaned forward, his hand tightening in her hair, pulling just enough to make her gasp. "You think you're callin' the shots, Babygirl?" His grin was all teeth, sharp and feral, as he flicked the cigarette to the floor, grinding it out with his bare heel. "Beg for it, or I'll fuck that smart mouth of yours 'til you can't talk."
Harley's laugh was a wicked melody, her tongue darting out to lap at the bead of precum glistening on his cock. "Oh, Puddin'," she purred, her voice thick with mischief, "you know I don't beg easy." She squeezed his shaft, her thumb circling the swollen head, and leaned closer, her lips brushing the tip without fully taking him in. Her other hand slid down her own body, fingers grazing her soaked pussy, parting her slick folds to tease her clit, swollen and sensitive. "But I'll play your game… if ya make it worth my while." Her eyes locked on his, daring him to push her further.
Joker's grin widened, a dangerous edge to it, and he yanked her hair back, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Worth your while?" he murmured, his free hand sliding down to grip her throat, thumb pressing against her racing pulse. "I'll fuck you so good you'll forget every other bastard in Gotham." He shoved her back onto the bed, the mattress creaking as he loomed over her, his silk pants sliding off completely, leaving his cock hard and heavy against her thigh. He pinned her wrists above her head, his rings cold against her skin, and leaned down, his tongue tracing the bite mark on her breast, tasting the salt of her sweat.
Harley squirmed beneath him, her hips bucking, her pussy grinding against his thigh, leaving a wet trail. "Mmm, big talk, Mistah J," she teased, her voice breathy but taunting. "Show me you mean it." Her legs parted wider, her labia flushed and glistening, the scent of her arousal sharp and intoxicating. She arched her back, her nipples brushing his chest, and bit her lip, eyes sparkling with reckless hunger. "Fuck me like you hate me, baby."
Joker growled, his patience fraying like a lit fuse. He released her wrists, only to grab her hips, flipping her onto her stomach with a rough jerk. "Oh, doll," he snarled, his voice dripping with dark lust, "you're gonna feel every inch of me." His hands spread her ass cheeks, exposing her dripping pussy and the tight ring of her ass, both slick with their earlier mess. He leaned down, his tongue swiping across her folds, tasting her sweet, musky juice before spitting on her pussy, watching it mix with her cum. "Look at that," he murmured, his fingers plunging into her, curling against her cervix. "So fuckin' wet for me."
Harley moaned, her face pressed into the sheets, her ass high in the air. "Harder, Puddin'," she gasped, her voice muffled but desperate. "I want it rough—make me scream." Her fingers clawed at the silk, her body trembling as his fingers fucked her deeper, her pussy clenching around him, juices dripping down his hand. She pushed back against him, her hips rolling, chasing the edge of pleasure and pain. The city's distant sirens wailed outside, but they were nothing compared to the storm of their bodies colliding, raw and unhinged, in the heart of their twisted empire.
Harley's face was buried in the crimson fabric, her ass raised high, trembling as Joker's fingers plunged deep into her dripping pussy, curling against her cervix with ruthless precision. Her labia were swollen, flushed a deep pink, glistening with her juices and his spit, the slick mess coating his hand and dripping onto the mattress. Her torn fishnets framed her thighs, the garters snapped and dangling, while her blonde pigtails splayed chaotically, strands clinging to her sweat-drenched neck. She moaned, raw and guttural, her hips grinding back against his hand, chasing the brutal pleasure. "Fuck, Puddin'," she gasped, voice hoarse, "don't stop—make me fuckin' break."
Joker loomed behind her, his pale body a canvas of tattoos and scars, his cock rock-hard and throbbing, the tip leaking precum that glistened in the chandelier's fractured glow. His green hair was a wild mess, sweat beading on his sharp cheekbones as he grinned, all teeth and madness. "Break?" he purred, his voice a dark velvet laced with menace. He pulled his fingers out, slick with her juices, and smeared them across her ass, watching the liquid glint. "Oh, darlin', I'm gonna shatter you." He gripped her hips, nails digging into her flesh, and lined his cock up with her pussy, the head brushing her sensitive clit, making her whimper. He leaned over her, his chest pressed to her back, lips grazing her ear. "You ready to scream for your king?"
Harley's laugh was wild, unhinged, vibrating through her trembling body. "Fuck yeah, Mistah J," she panted, pushing her ass back, desperate for him. "Ruin me—make it hurt so good." Her pussy clenched around nothing, aching for him, her juices dripping down her thighs, pooling on the sheets. She clawed at the mattress, her nails tearing the silk, her body taut with anticipation. The city's distant chaos—sirens, shouts—faded into a dull hum, irrelevant against the storm of their twisted love. Her breath hitched as she felt his cock nudge her entrance, the thick head stretching her just enough to tease.
Joker growled, low and feral, and thrust into her in one brutal motion, burying himself to the hilt. Her pussy stretched around him, tight and hot, her walls pulsing as she screamed, the sound raw and echoing off the high ceilings. "That's it, Babygirl," he snarled, his hands bruising her hips as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust slamming into her cervix, sending jolts of pain-laced pleasure through her. Her juices coated his cock, slick and warm, dripping down his balls and onto the sheets, the wet slap of their bodies filling the room. He yanked her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat as he leaned in, biting her neck hard enough to draw blood, licking the coppery taste with a groan.
Harley's eyes rolled back, her moans turning to sobs of ecstasy, her body shaking under his relentless assault. "Yes, yes, fuck!" she cried, her voice cracking, her pussy clenching tighter around him, milking his cock. Her clit throbbed, untouched but screaming for attention, and she reached down, fingers frantically rubbing the swollen nub, her nails catching the sensitive skin. Her ass bounced with every thrust, the flesh rippling, red from his grip. "Harder, Puddin'—fuck me like you own me!" she begged, her words slurring, lost in the haze of pleasure and pain, her body a live wire sparking under his control.
Joker's laugh was a dark, jagged thing, his hips snapping harder, deeper, the headboard slamming against the wall, cracking the plaster. "Own you?" he rasped, his voice thick with lust and possession. "Doll, I carved my name into your fuckin' soul." He slapped her ass, the sound sharp, leaving a red handprint that burned against her pale skin. He reached around, shoving her hand away from her clit, and pinched it himself, rolling the slick bud between his fingers, making her scream again, her body convulsing. "Cum for me, Harley," he growled, his cock throbbing inside her, swollen and ready to burst. "Show Gotham who you belong to."
Harley's climax hit like a freight train, her pussy spasming around his cock, gushing juices that soaked his thighs and the sheets, the scent sharp and intoxicating. She screamed his name—"J-! Fuck, Puddin'!"—her voice shattering, her body collapsing forward, only held up by his grip. Her thighs quaked, her toes curling, nails shredding the silk as waves of pleasure ripped through her, leaving her gasping, sobbing, a beautiful wreck. The chandelier swayed above, casting wild shadows across their tangled bodies, the city outside trembling in their wake, as if Gotham itself bowed to their chaos.