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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#nta

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The kiss to her cheek was something that made Harleen’s heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. For a second her hands clamped together between her hips while Jack went inside the warehouse, but a quick head shake got her game face back on and she scuttled back on in. A sharp kick to the door shield them from any passers-by in the alley and she even locked it for good measure.

“I gotta admit…even though he’s, yanno, clay this is still kinda gross,” Harls commented in her naturally squeaky voice as she cautiously peered over Jack’s shoulder. A hushed groan accompanied with a grimace tugged at her features once he pulled the brain out, but she stayed committed and didn’t shy away. There was still a job to do after all.

Once the brain was prepped, Harleen placed it into a box and followed Jack back out into the alley. After he loaded the car up, tainted liquor and all, Harls looked out at the street ahead of them and took a breath. She wasn’t nervous per se, but there was no denying how important the next hour would be to not just them, but to Gotham City. Yet Jack’s dapper smile set her at ease. A calm one mirrored his confidence and she gave his hand a squeeze just before he put the car in gear.

It didn’t take long for them to get to where Jack had asked everyone to convene, but when they did, Harls stepped out of the car as quick as she could. Jitters were easier to get rid of when she was standing. A few bounces on her toes and she was good. The box with Basil’s brain was quickly grabbed and she shuffled over to the driver’s side, placing a firm kiss to Jack’s cheek. “This is gonna work, Jack. I can feel it. Go get ‘em!” She rounded out her words with a big grin then went off to her spot to prepare.

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Once they arrived, Jack slipped from the car and received her kiss with a warm smile. “Of course it will, kiddo,” he pinched her cheek affectionately, and then fixed the Hatter’s hat atop her head. “Just wait for the signal.” He watched her skip off to her hiding place and then took the crates of alcohol and walked into the warehouse where they had scheduled for the meeting. By this point, he was sure his fellow Villains had sent in spies and what not to watch his movements to make sure they weren’t being tricked.

Little did they know that the sabotage had already been set. He made quite the show of casually placing drinks on the beverage table as well as the larger table where they’d be meeting. He also took the time to drink selected beverages that were not tainted to make those unseen eyes assured that the drinks weren’t poisoned. Then came the appointed time.

One by one, the villains of Gotham arrived. Penguin, Ivy, Two-Face, Calendar Man, each and every one stepped inside--suspicious, but curious. Jack made sure they all had a drink--and had turned up the heat in the warehouse to make sure they would become parched enough to drink--before sitting down in his chair. “I want to thank-you all for joining me tonight,” he began.

“Who are you?” one of them asked. “Never seen you before in my life.”

“It’s the Clown,” Penguin squawked. “He’s just a regular man underneath the makeup, like I’ve always said.”

Pride was pricked at the suggestion that he was a regular man, but Jack let it roll off of his shoulders for the time being. “I thought it best we begin this new venture . . . face-to-face so to speak. You see, there has always been one problem between us as villains. We never could work together. Always backstabbing one another in some way. We practically did Batman’s job for him.” There was an awkward bit of shuffling here. Everyone was guilty of it. Himself, far more than the others, perhaps. “Because we just can’t seem to set aside our egos. If we did why . . . Batman and his little family wouldn’t stand a chance.”

He’s stalling. Only one person hadn’t drank his little cocktail yet. Harvey. Jack pauses to drink his own beverage, making a big show of rolling it down his throat. The reflex works. Harvey finally lifts his drink and takes a sip. Psychology 101. Harley would have been proud. “I can’t trust you to change your tune. So, I have to do it for you. I’d like to thank-you for volunteering your service. Harley?” he called her calmly into the room.

The other villains were growing uncomfortable by this news. “With a little help from Clayface and Hatter, we’ll all make Gotham a better place.” Once she joined him, he nodded to her to take control of them. Already, they were rising, sensing a threat, and rushing to take down both Jack and Harley.

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#v: white knight

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The flood itself was cool enough to send a shiver up Harley’s spine once Joker took the dominant position, rolling over and covering her completely. The kisses left her lips sore, abused even more after extended use. If it wasn’t for the maddening euphoria already coursing through her frazzled system, Harley would be quivering in pain. Tortured and worn down by her beloved coupled with the extraneous murdering of his treacherous henchman had really taken their toll on her formidable form. But adrenaline was an interesting chemical as was dopamine — both of which flooded her veins in abundance as she gazed up at her lover while he stood up.

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#nta #not tumblr appropriate

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It was easier to feign blush in her cheeks than Harley was ready to admit. A soft giggle even accompanied the rosy hue while an agile leg bent with toes pointed daintily behind her. “Aw jeez, Basil…” she sighed as she waved him off. But immediately after, she was quick to take his arm then wiggle her fingers at Jack.

“Sorry, sugar. I got a hot date with a shapeshifter.” A kiss was planted to Clayface’s cheek, which was mimicking Jack’s chiseled features almost perfectly, and Harley was quite proud of the crimson stain it left behind. They were off, prancing lightly down the alley to where the bustle of the nightlife seemed to be calling them. However, just before the vibrant neon lights touched their skin, Harley paused.

“You okay there?” Basil inquired only to have Harley bite her lip while grinning mischievously in response.

“You wanna do a quick pregame? Get this party really started?” she asked in a hushed, playful tone to which Clayface replied with a sly grin. Harley giggled with delight, then grabbed his hand and yanked him sideways. A quick kick to an inconspicuous door and they were greeted by crates of liquor, an obvious distribution warehouse.

“Impressive,” Basil observed when Harls let his hand go to seemingly browse the options before them. When she was sure the attention had been taken off of her, Harleen slipped a small vial out of her bra then snagged a bottle of vodka. The top only had to be unscrewed to be opened so she did that quickly and dumped the vial’s contents into it, using the sound of her erratic steps to mask any questioning noises. Once the action was complete, she grabbed a second bottle.

A split second later, she reemerged with the bottle clasped in her left hand. “Ta-daaaaa!” she exclaimed before skipping back to him. “Hang on, sugar, let me open this one for ya.” Feigned effort was given quite convincingly as she opened the tainted bottle then handed it off to Clayface. Quickly after he received it, she opened the second and held it out for them to make a toast. “To mischief and mayhem!” she toasted to which Basil nodded.

“To Harley and…well…whatever the Joker is now,” Clayface added before taking a generous gulp of his beverage. Harleen seemed to do the same, but actually only sampled it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before putting the cap back on. Then she watched, waiting during the passing seconds which seemed to tick by so slowly. Then Clayface began to wobble, his Jack facade morphing back into his regular form. Soon enough, he toppled over and was out for the count.

Harleen walked over to him and kicked him gently. “Bas?” she tested, but only got shallow breaths in response. A deep breath taken, the few seconds pause allowed to double check Clayface wasn’t getting up, then Harleen shuffled to the entrance and whistled down the alley. Jack had to bring the car quickly so they could get the liquor they needed, scrape enough of Clayface off into it, then set up Hatter’s device quickly before the others arrived.

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“Of course,” Jack smirked when Harley took Basil’s arm. “I’m just a call away if you want to make it a threesome.” Blue eyes watched his girlfriend saunter away with their victim, feeling a pride deep in his bones at her skills to seduce. Some may have thought Harley was crazy, and perhaps she was--one had to be to shack up with a guy like himself--but she was damn beautiful and knew how to use it.

Once they left the room, he took his time getting to the car. They’d take awhile to meet at the strategically placed liquor warehouse. Within the car, Jack examined himself. Blue eyes. Carefully smoothed back hair. He was doing just fine. Perhaps the Joker had left for real at last . . .

Once enough time passed, he started the car up and drove leisurely down the streets towards the nightlife. A quick turn around a corner and beside an alley . . . and there she was waiting. Without Basil. Everything was going according to plan. Parking the car, he got out and kissed her cheek. “That’s my girl,” he murmured to her.

Following her to the warehouse, he knelt beside the big gloop. “Well, he must have a brain. Otherwise that wouldn’t have worked.” And a brain was exactly what he needed. Jack picked him up and sat him against a table. “Things are going to get a little messy now, baby,” Jack warned her.

Taking a scalpel, he cut away at the clay until, eventually, he reached a brain attached to a pair of eyes. They were unseeing in Basil’s unconscious state. Taking a mind control card, Jack stuffed quite a few within Clayface’s brain. “There,” he wiped off the remaining clay from his hands. “In theory, he should belong to us now.”

Next came the liquor. Jack packed stores of it into the car, lacing each one with a bit of clay. Once the car was filled, he waved for Harley to join him and got inside the car. “Now, pumpkin, I’m giving you control.” He grabbed the Hatter’s hat and placed it atop her head. “Once they go for me, and you know they’ll try to get at me, you work your magic and store them away. We’ll need them later.”

Resting his elbow on the car seat, he looked her over. The hat was quite large for her, but it only made her cuter in his opinion. “We’ll tuck you away somewhere out of sight . . . but so you can hear everything.”

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#v: white knight

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She didn’t get a chance to say much else before he kissed her, the union throwing her down a nostalgic path that scared and aroused her all at the same time. If there was something no one else could match, it was the Joker’s intensity. The fire he created not only warmed her, it consumed her. Harley’s body melted against his and she grabbed tiny handfuls of his clothes to keep herself pinned to him. And when he lifted her up, her ankles locked behind the small of his back, securing her in that position.

Giggles upon giggles bubbled out into the kiss as it eventually left Joker’s lips and travelled along his jaw to the side of his neck and ear then back again. She bounced in his arms with every step, cute, but maniacal laughter wracking her little body as they reached the bathroom. “Oh, Puddin…” she exhaled as he set her down, nuzzling their noses together. “Wash me up good and proper.” A slow smile spread across ruby lips before they pressed against their wicked counterparts, hands busying themselves by removing Harleen’s raggedy pajamas.

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There she was again, Mr. J’s vicious little doll all mangled up and bloodstained just like he wanted her. But Harley really wasn’t one to complain. Even as he plopped her on the bed and anointed her with the blood of the man she’d just slaughtered, she was peaceful, breathing in the blessed metallic concoction of crimson and sweat. Lids shut over those crystal blue hues and she allowed her skin to absorb each sensory trigger as tumble fingers created a masterpiece all over her body.

Giggles and sighs left her bruised and battered lips as Joker continued, only breaking the pattern once to shudder as he drew the target between her legs. Soon enough they’d play, but for now such touches began a creeping anticipation that made her body tingle with excitement.

When he was done, Harley sat up, the smile ever-present on her face. The brushing of their tiers burned as much as it felt wonderful thanks to the wounds on her plum, but when Joker started speaking of her union with Jack, the corners of her mouth turned slightly downward. It truly was a bittersweet memory. Harley proposing, the pregnancy, the botched wedding then Arkham. Everything hinged on the promise of a brighter future only to come crashing down and turn to ash at the hand of their underlying madness.

So the short kiss was returned, but the moment of melancholy was quickly replaced by one of great curiosity. Harley looked to the window with the colorful funhouse lights making a holiday-esque frame around the edge. They could see the city skyline from here; something Harley knew Joker sat up many a night glaring at during his manic plotting.

Knees pressed together, Harley scooted forward then stood up in anticipation and when the building exploded, Harley squealed with delight. It rained fire and debris all over. Sparks of incinerated metal shot into the sky and her eyes sparkled with wonder before she even noticed what was behind it. She was applauding the spectacle then her reverence came to a halt when she was the message burning brightly through the ashy cloud.

“Aw PUDDIN!” Harley sighed before turning around to see Joker now eye-level with her waist, a shiny ring in his hands. A very puppy dog-like look washed over her girlish features. Harley just stood there, overwhelmed, for a moment, her hands dropping down by her side, the movement making certain parts of her body shake a little. “You mean it?” she whispered right before nodding her head vigorously. “Yes, yes, yes, yesssss!” The acceptance came out in a high pitched squeak before she jumped towards Joker and knocked him to the ground. What seemed like hundred of little pecks were planted all over his face as Harley pressed herself against him. “I do, Mistah, J! I do!”

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Green, vibrant, eyes watched her own spark with glee. Lips curled into an almost devious smile when she asked if he meant it. Of course, he did. Her time with Jack--and Ivy--had proven to him that he needed to take certain measures to ensure she never left him again. What better way than the sanctity of marriage? The old ball and chain?

A thrilled giggle left him as she plowed him right to the ground, his face assaulted with kisses. The blood on her skin stained his clothes, but he didn’t mind. She was his now. Though he missed a few times, he managed to find her lips amid her assault and kissed her hard, both in celebration . . . and possession.

Slipping the ring onto her finger, he pulled back and admired it. Yes. That did wonderfully. “Now, we just need to find ourselves a priest to marry us,” he smirked. Easier said than done, that was for sure. But where money could not motivate, violence certainly could. And it wasn’t as though the priests in Gotham were any holier than the criminals.

#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#nsfw

dipped-in-silk-and-decay‌:

Things had progressed fast than Harleen could’ve ever participated. Jack was absolutely serious when he told her he was going to run for councilman. It was his ‘foot in the door’ so to speak in order to start bringing real change to Gotham; make it a place that maybe they really could raise a family in. With her current legal situation, it was as real a dream as any so she went along and helped him. Anything from designing banners to strategizing a campaign — after all when you have a psychiatrist on your side, it gives great advantage to know how people think. Harleen did anything and everything she could to help Jack.

…Even break the law.

The first time he suggested his plan to orchestrate all the villains in Gotham City to weaken Batman, the fear of being replaced once again by obsession with the Caped Crusader gave Harleen pause. Why was everything always about him? Why?! Why couldn’t it just be to better their circumstances as well as those who were doomed to live in the god-forsaken city? But as time went on and explanations rolled out, skirting around such legal practices was just the way politics worked here. They weren’t reinventing the wheel here, no. Jack was planning on breaking the wheel. And to do so meant they had to get their hands dirty.

Harleen still had many of her old skills, though they needed some brushing off, it was a role she could easily slip back into. One night while he was asleep she donned her harlequin costume and slipped out into the night. She knew where Hatter was. He never made any qualms about a secret lair and to nab both him and his mind control device was a walk in the park. Clayface would be a different story. Jack would have to help with that one. But at least with Hatter contained in one of the Joker’s old warehouses, that was one thing checked off the to-do list.

So the day Jack set up for all the villains to join them for a little pow-wow, Harleen simply looked up at him with a certain glimmer in her eyes. While they drove, she pulled up her phone and tapped into the security feed that showed Hatter tied up and hat-less. “I took care of somethings about a week ago. Trying to unburden the enormous amount of stress you have on your shoulders. baby,” she explained as she put her phone away and leaned back to grab a backpack from the backseat. The top opened, she revealed Hatter’s card and mind control device resting comfortably within. “I’m not sure about Clayface, but I don’t think it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

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The plan had been set. Jack could see it so clearly. How the pieces would fall into place. The moves Batman would make and end up falling lower and lower in the opinion of the people of Gotham. To the point where they understood just how much of a menace he truly was. Jack had already ordered the construction of a new library for Backport. He’d set a little aside for a house, too. Harley didn’t know about that. He was going to surprise her.

Suffice it to say, he was in good spirits when they reached the warehouse where Harley had subdued Hatter. A proud smile pressed to his lips, and he looked up at her from the phone. “You unburden more than just my stress, puddin’,” he assured her softly, kissing her cheek. “As for old Clay, he should be arriving here soon,” Jack checked his watch. “I invited him with the promise of a starring role in my new line of work. Appeal the man’s vanity, and he falls right in line.”

Jack shook his head. “Such is always the case with the criminals of Gotham. For all their power, the threat they pose, they’re woefully predictable. Or maybe I’ve just ran this city with them for too long. They’re practically old schoolmates by this point.” Placing his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, he felt the cards in his hands. They were activated. All he needed to do was stick one right where it hurt.

Hearing the flutter of wings, Jack’s head lifted. “Oh good. You’re here.” A crow that had flown into the warehouse landed on the floor and morphed into the familiar brown pile known as Clayface. “Good evening, Basil. Punctual as ever.”

“First rule of show business,” Clayface said, morphing into what Jack assumed was once his real form, “always show up early to the gig. It shows professionalism.”

Jack gave a friendly smile. “That’s something I’ve always enjoyed about you, Basil. Professional to a fault.”

Clayface smiled wide. “Speaking of roles, this new one of yours is certainly . . . interesting.” He morphed into Jack’s replica. “Perhaps I’ll try for your part when they make that inevitable biopic of you.” Basil, wearing Jack’s face, turned to Harley and winked. “Hey, Harley. You want to go for that drink now?”

Jack smirked, amused, glancing at Harley. Two for one deal.

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#v: white knight

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Before Harley could even put her hand on the door, something had hooked into her waistband, briefly tugging it down and causing her to turn around, looking like that kid on the front of the sunblock bottle. “Oh!” she squeaked as Joker twirled her into his arms. Mallet was immediately dropped and Harley stood there looking up at him, beaming with pride.

The blood was cool now and Harley felt it smear wonderfully against her skin. It was the perfect shade for blush too, if she recalled correctly. Had the splatter been a little higher up, she could’ve used it as such. Look all pretty and homicidal for her Mr. J. “Maybe I am and maybe I ain’t. I’m just me, Puddin’.”

She didn’t get a chance to say much else before he kissed her, the union throwing her down a nostalgic path that scared and aroused her all at the same time. If there was something no one else could match, it was the Joker’s intensity. The fire he created not only warmed her, it consumed her. Harley’s body melted against his and she grabbed tiny handfuls of his clothes to keep herself pinned to him. And when he lifted her up, her ankles locked behind the small of his back, securing her in that position.

Giggles upon giggles bubbled out into the kiss as it eventually left Joker’s lips and travelled along his jaw to the side of his neck and ear then back again. She bounced in his arms with every step, cute, but maniacal laughter wracking her little body as they reached the bathroom. “Oh, Puddin…” she exhaled as he set her down, nuzzling their noses together. “Wash me up good and proper.” A slow smile spread across ruby lips before they pressed against their wicked counterparts, hands busying themselves by removing Harleen’s raggedy pajamas.

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#nsfw

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Once Joker took his first shot, Harley perched herself at the foot of the bed, legs dangling over the edge and swinging just above the floor. The throbbing from the cut on her face kept her from fully enjoying the show, but for the most part, she enjoyed watching Mr. J play with his food, so-to-speak. A high-pitched squeal of excitement left her when he proposed her suggestion, the girl highly amused as Joker shed his jacket and high tailed it under the bed.

While the search for the mallet continued, she turned her attention to Steward who was whimpering and whining, dreading the unescapable pain headed his way. “Oh SHETTEP,” Harley snapped as she hopped off the bed, heading to meet the Joker halfway as he brought ol’ reliable to her. She took it from his hands ever so daintily and bless him with a kiss on the cheek before turning to face the intended target. The mallet bounced lightly in her hands, Harley reacquainting herself with the weight and balance. The request dropped upon her ear made her smile and a squeaky giggle emitted just loud enough so he could hear.

As soon as he released her, Harley began skipping across the room to the chained up traitor and she peered up at him, rolling up on her toes to get uncomfortably close. He stank. OOF! Did he smell. Who knew how long Mr. J had kept him tied up, but the sour combination of piss, shit, and blood did not bode well. Gonna hafta light a candle when this is all done or somethin’ Harley thought before taking a step back and gripping the handle like she was getting ready to step up to home plate.

“Iiiiiit’s Harley Quinn batting for the Gotham City Rogues,” she began with a maniacal laugh, her accent harkening back to announcers of old. “Not too sure about her average, but heck does that girl have a swing. The pitch is release aaaaaaaand….” The mallet’s face connected with Stewart’s right knee, a loud cracking noise muffled by his pitiful screams. “Oooo, that’s a hit, but is she gonna take it home?” Another swing mirrored the first and the left knee was quick to mimic its twin’s condition. Now the poor man hung loose, weight pulling down against his restraints. Weakened sobs escaped him. It set off something dark in Harley, something that made her continue hitting his legs until they were nothing more but shattered bone in two skinny meat sacks.

By the time she was finished, pathetic please to end it were barely discernible, but they were there and Harley took yet another step back to study her target. Without even consulting the Joker, she decided to grant him his request. So she brought the mallet up over her head and swing it down like the wrath of God, obliterating his head and anointing herself with a few sprays of blood. “And they say I ain’t merciful,” she commented with a giggle before resting the mallet behind her shoulders. Without a second’s hesitation, she turned around and smiled wide at the Joker. “Puddin’? I need a shower,” she said very nonchalantly before skipping off towards what she hoped was still their closet to grab some clean clothes.

@theymadeus

A bright grin spread on his face when she kissed his cheek, and his eyes were warm and adoring as she took her favorite mallet towards Stewart. Oh, how he squirmed!! With good reason, too. Harley may have been small, but she had incredible strength. “Ooo! Ouch! Get him, kiddo!” he cheered her on, cackling all the while as she broadcast her very own game. He thought she might be done when both knees were broken--the old Harley would have--but instead she continued to hit him.

Over and over and over until his legs no longer made sense anatomically. J was panting. Even a bit of blood had splashed over to the grand stands where he was, thoroughly enjoying the show. She wasn’t done there either. Without J’s prompting--or permission--she took the mallet and whacked it over Stewart’s head until his brains were all over the wall.

J gaped. “Ooo, mama,” he purred finally. Jumping off of the bed, J was quick to follow her. “As I said before,” he told her, “you’re different.” And he liked it. He really liked it. His fingers stuck themselves in the hem of her pants, stopping her progress and pulled her back against him. Turning her around, he admired the blood splatter against her ivory cheek.

A thumb caressed her cheek, spreading that blood over her skin in the process. J stared at her for a long, heated, moment before diving down and claiming her lips. His kiss was violent, possessive, as punishing as it was rewarding. His arms tightened around her waist, lifting her up off of her feet and around his hips. J carried her away from the shower and back towards the mess and their bed.

Dropping her down on it, he followed with, their lips connected the entire time. “I’ll give you a shower,” he chuckled low, nipping at her neck.

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )

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After a few more days of casual, mundane, normal life, Jack and Harley finally began to set in motion the plans that would help Jack become elected Councilman. The biggest threat to Gotham was the big guns in the criminal underground. The ones that couldn’t quite be taken down easily by the local law enforcement. Without them on the streets, all that was left was the run-of-the-mills robbers, rapists, and murderers. Those were thugs that the GCPD could handle.

At least Jack hoped they could. Unless they had become too lazy and were used to letting Batman handle everything.

There was some impulse to just find a way to kill the criminals. That part of his mind that sometimes woke up when his pills were wearing down certainly thought it was a good idea. But Jack had to show that he was better than both the Joker and Batman. No killing. But a better solution than just placing them in a prison or asylum where they could inevitably escape and go back to hurting people.

Luring Clayface where he needed to was easy. Just play to the man’s ego and promise him a starring role in some production, and that was it. Since his plan hinged on the Mad Hatter’s participation, he was the hardest cog in the wheel to control and predict. Jack and Harley awaited the meeting in a closed down store. They were supposed to meet up with the other criminals later for a good ole pow wow, so Jack hoped that Clayface and Mad Hatter were on time.

“Alright,” he sighed, turning to Harley. “Let’s go through this again. We get them here. Subdue Clayface. And get Hatter on our side . . . how?”

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#v: white knight #this is mostly because i don't remember how they got mad hatter to help them out lmfao

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In response to whether she was tipsy or not, Harley scrunched her nose and shook her head vigorously. The motion made her hair flutter about, but after she calmed down, it settled wistfully around her face. The bandaging was pretty much painless, such things almost a norm to her by now. Once J let go of her arm, she stretched it out straight and flexed her fingers to examine his handiwork. Well done…as always. Whenever Joker actually wanted her to heal, his first aid skills were impeccable.

However her inspection was cut short when a giant lollipop was revealed, those big blue yes of hers widening when she saw it was the kind with bubblegum inside. She squealed and clapped with delight, snatching it from his fingers and unwrapping it furiously, plopping the cherry-flavored sucker into her mouth. She smiled warmly at him as she slowly slid the candy out between picked lips, in a rather suggestive way, when he touched her chin. The crazy girl, the damaged girl was glad to be back as well. This was where she thrived. But there was still a voice of sanity, hesitation keeping her from simply throwing herself at him…for now.

However, what happened next would certainly tip the scales in Joker’s favor. A curious look pulled at Harley’s features as her head tilted to the side and she watched Joker make his way to the side of a pair of rich, heavy curtains. Her focus switched to them when he tugged the rope and an instant later, pure joy overtook her. It was her original suit. Her beloved. Her true self. One leg kicked out with arms extended in such an acrobatic way. It was so beautiful that it brought a single, wistful tear to her eye. “AW PUDDIN!” she exclaimed, clutching her hands together, the lollipop tucked inside her left cheek as he spoke, making it bulge out.

Harley kicked her heels and went to get up so she could smother J with a death-defying hug, but he’d already made his way to the bar and retrieved two glasses of wine. She took hers and sipped it, much the opposite of Joker’s approach, and settled back against the wild array of pillows and simply watched. Playfully she nudged Joker in the thigh with her foot, popping the sucker from her mouth so she could take a sip while he extended himself to press a hidden button under the nightstand. This wall must’ve been a feature he installed after her departure and she had to admit, she liked it a lot. Sooo many games could be played with this, but such things could be discussed at a later time.

After finishing her wine, Harley set the glass down on the nightstand ant he lolly resumed its place between her teeth. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on it, blues laser-focused on the bloody meat sack tied up before her. “Huh…” she grunted, clamping her teeth down to break the candy shell and get to the bright pink gum inside. She tossed the now-useless stick off somewhere then stood up off the bed. Bare-feet padded over to the battered goon while she chewed her gum, wanting to get a better look at him. “Penguin? Reeeeeeaaaallllyyy?” The dart was snatched from her rookie’s hand in sync with the popping of her first bubble. “Can’t ya think of anything more original?”

A high-pitched titter shook Harley’s shoulders a bit as she took a few steps back. Tongue poking out of the uninjured side of her mouth, Harley aimed and hurled the dart having it sink into his fleshy cheek. “Yaaaay! I got a bullseye, Puddin!” she cheered, clapping for a few moments before snatching another dart and rocketing it into his neck. She didn’t take another though, deciding Mr. J could have a few turns. Instead she looked Stewart over and was almost disappointed his legs weren’t broken. “Pumpkin…you still have my mallet? His kneecaps look pretty put together still…”

@theymadeus

J rested comfortably on the bed, a hand tucked under his cheek as he examined her inspect their little Benedict Arnold. The way she was moving, toying with the lollipop, at long last. He felt her. There was his girl. Kicking off his shoes, J wiggled his toes and watched her move away to line up her shot. A throw later, and she had embedded a dart into the man’s cheek. “WOWZA!” J exclaimed, sitting bolt right up and applauding over the man’s cries of pain.

When the next dart hit the man’s neck, J watched in satisfaction as a trickle of blood began to roll down Stewart’s skin to stain his shirt further. The grunts and groans of pain continued, J giving Harley quite the warm look. And people wondered why she belonged here with him. Since it was his turn, J lifted up a dart and commanded, “open your mouth, Stew. Spit that traitorous tongue out.” Stewart was not happy with this suggestion and begged quite a bit, but J had little interest in his words at the moment. With a sigh, J lowered his aim and threw the dart--skewering the man’s dick instead. The second Stewart screamed, his mouth opening wide, J threw another dart--embedding the man’s tongue into his mouth.

Stewart kicked and fought wildly, the pain quite extraordinary at this point. J smiled quietly. This was satisfying. But when Harley brought his attention to the fact that his kneecaps were quite healthy, he realized how right she was. “Oh, pumpkin, you think of everything,” he praised her. Rising off of the bed, he shrugged off his jacket and then dove under the bed. A few rubber chickens were tossed out, a Batman action figure, a new rocket launcher, and finally, J pulled out a familiar mallet.

Cradling it like a babe, J handed it tenderly over to her. Then he slipped behind her, his hand moving to her hip. His lips pressed to her ear. “Make him hurt,” was the whispered request before his lips kissed the back of her ear. Then he lifted his head, hand moving off of her hip in an indication of setting loose the wild animal.

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“Mmm!” Jack moaned sharply once he managed to make the half-way mark. The tight clamping on one half of his cock was a stark dichotomy that was driving him wild. He could feel himself pulsing in response already. “Good girl,” he whispered to her--against her skin--when he felt her start to relax, the tension melting away bit by bit. “That’s it, baby. You’re such a good girl, I love you so much.”

Harley seemed intent on touching him. There was slight shifting, and not wanting to harm her, Jack went with her, moving until they were resting on their sides. The position was actually quite comfortable, and once he had his hand secured underneath her, holding her by the hip, he was able to move with ease. Her legs were tangled with his, feet just as tangled. Jack pulled her tight until they were pressed flush together.

“Harley,” he breathed in bliss and love. After the pause, his other hand resumed the tracing against her clit, pressing more firmly now that he was inside of her in a way that actually mattered. His hips pivoted, sinking his entire length within her, and he grunted heavily, biting back the immediate response to just release inside of her. “God. Fuck,” he said sharply, biting her shoulder for a moment, and then relaxed.

Lips reached for hers, kissing her deep as he began to move at a set rhythm. Her ass was opened and stretched around him, length providing a rich and deep friction for the sensitive nerves of her ass for inches and inches. His other hand released her hip, quickly grabbing her by the bread instead. Jack held there tightly, massaging her breast and gripping her firmly as a support to pull his hips back and thrust forward. While he kept the same slow, building pace, he shoved harder, giving them both a small jolt of surprised pleasure each time.

#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #nsfw #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#v: white knight

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Home sweet home. Well…as far as her madness was concerned, more home than any place else. The boys emerged from what seemed nowhere with a plethora of homemade gifts ready for her. “Aw daisies! You remembered those are my favorites…George? Georgie is that you?” Harley always had a habit of naming each and every one of her pets, goons included. So whether that was the original George or not was irrelevant. He was George from here on out. She plopped all her shoes into the burly arms of one of the larger boys then took her time to squeeze as many of them as she could before Joker came, took her hand, and led her away.

“See ya latah! AND TAKE GOOD CARE OF MY SHOES! Only nice things I got right now…” The last sentence was uttered under her breath as she crossed the threshold into a room she knew very well. But she paused for a moment and took it all in. It looked abandoned and lived in all at the same time. Her Puddin’ was never much of a housekeeper, but her lower lip stuck out for a moment as she looked about at all the faded memories. She could fix this once she was ship-shape again. She could fix this.

One of the boys arrived with the med kit and J requested that she sit on the bed so he could tend to her. Her feet still didn’t reach the floor, but with the boots she could graze the floor every once in awhile. However once Joker positioned himself on the side of the bed, she stopped dangling her legs and held out her arm to him.

“Hm?” she replied when he asked if she knew what was interesting. Her hair was longer now than when she was with Jack — just under her shoulders. Sure it wasn’t nearly as long as when they first met, but with the way it sashayed around her face when it moved convinced her it was begging to be tied up in two. But Harley stopped her wandering thoughts and listened to J speak, smiling impishly as she did so. A quick hiss was given as the cotton ball ran over her new skin decorations, the grin was quick to resume its position.

“I ain’t gotta rely on no one no more,” she replied, quite proudly. “Was by myself all that time. Learned ta stand on my own two feet. Gonna surprise ya, Mr. J. You’ll see — YOWZA! What is that stuff? a hundred-proof vodka?”

@theymadeus

J scoffed when she said she was all alone. Ivy was there. Jack was there. But after that? Yes, he supposed she had been trying to find her own way. “I do love surprises,” he smirked, but looked over her face once more. He saw the madness there--the part of him that had taken a bite out of her soul. It was nice to see that there . . . but he wasn’t sure who else he saw there. Her, yes, but what else? Who else? Surely, it couldn’t be more of her. Time would tell, he supposed. He’d have to wait for those surprises.

“I hope you can still have fun,” he murmured. Smirking when she remarked about the strength of the disinfectant, he dabbed a bit more. “You tell me. Tipsy yet?” he grinned. Once he was satisfied with the disinfection, he took out the bandages and securely wrapped her arms. “There we are, princess,” he smiled tapping her nose. “And for doing so well,” he rose and opened a drawer, pulling out a lollipop, “a sweetie for the sweetie.” He placed the lollipop in her hand, then kissed her forehead.

J smiled and tenderly touched her chin. “Glad you’re back, kiddo,” he told her. And to show her just how glad he was, he stepped towards a curtained off area. Tugging the velvet rope, the curtains parted and revealed . . . her famous harlequin outfit hung on a mannequin. It was positioned in such a way that Harley, herself, would likely pose herself. Lights lit up, shining on it, and above it, a neon heart sign flickered.

“And to celebrate!” He opened up the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Filling each, he handed her one, then downed his own in a few gulps before filling his glass once more. J jumped on the bed, nearly spilling his new glass of wine and leaned back on his side. “We have a game to play,” he informed her, pressing a button underneath the nightstand.

The wall facing the foot of the bed slowly revolved, showing a bloody goon chained to it. J’s eyes burned cold when he saw him, bringing his wine glass to his lips. “Please, Mister J! I didn’t mean to! My little girl needed the money! Please!” the goon begged through broken teeth and bruised lips.

“Stewart here was selling secrets to Penguin. Every heist we had planned, we’d always found cleaned out just before we got there. Stewart did it for the money, as he’s so fond of reminding us. As if money is more important than loyalty,” he ended in a low, dangerous, voice. “So! I thought we’d have ourselves a little game,” J pulled out a few darts. “Pin the tail on the Stewart!”

“No! No, please, no!” Stewart begged.

“In honor of your return,” J handed a dart to her, “you get first throw, pumpkin.”

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )

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A joyful squeal emitted from a delighted harlequin while Joker exclaimed his delight from her request. She clung to him even tighter, her face painfully pressed against his back, causing that cheek to be almost as sore as the sliced one once she allowed some reprieve. The cold air hit her feet instantly once Joker walked outside, an unpleasant whine leaving Harley the second he did so. The car itself took some time to warm up, having been turned on after sitting for who knew how long in the cold and snow. But once it did, Harley huddled against the vents, switching between her hands and feet while the Joker maneuvered them through Gotham’s abandoned streets. No one would be out in this mess.

When they arrived at a very swanky store, Harley gazed up at it with as wide a grin as she could manage through the pain. Then when Mr. J parked and scooped her out of the car, she buried herself against his chest, using it to shield her as much as it could before he got them inside. “Ahhhh…” she breathed once he set her down. Hands clasped together and she took off running towards the fancy shoes, finding several pairs she liked and that were utterly impractical for their situation. Lots of ’fuck me heels’, as her mother used to call them, but the need for warmth and movement called out to her as their clock began to tick down to the final minute or so.

Once the sirens could be heard, Harley was hopping towards the door on one leg, trying to yank some really luxurious boots on — all black and a rather feminine take on a worker’s boot (some styles never ceased to amaze her). Harley aimed to leap through the broken glass they’d entered through, but paused to grab a mink coat that was on display in the store window, her body instantly thanking her as she put it on, juggling the many pairs of shoes she’d snagged. The mannequin that once donned the coat swayed then fell, but Harley was already outta there.

Mr. J’s whistle was the final call and Harley stomped through the snow in those unlaced, fancy boots, making sure to click off the excess snow before swinging the door shut. She smiled wide, the left side of her face swollen from the previous assault, the bounty hugged to her chest. “Too bad we didn’t have more time. Coulda gotten some nice outfits for these,” she said with a squeal, dangling a svelte black heel with a red sole from her index finger.

@theymadeus

A wolf whistle sounded from his lips when she came out with her new boots. A few other pairs were clutched to her chest. J opened the door for her, then jumped into the driver’s seat. As lights of blue and red emerged through the heavy snow, J kicked the car into high gear. They spun for a moment, wheels spinning on the road before it dug into the ground and launched forward.

A few minutes later, and J saw the explosion he had rigged brighten the night’s sky. A cackle left his lips. No doubt those officers were smiling now--skin melted right off of their face. J drove them to Amusement Mile, then made it to their amusement park. Parking in the concealed garage, J hopped out of the car and whistled loud. “Boys!” he announced, “Mama’s home!”

Goons in their clown masks emerged, clapping and welcoming Harley back home. J ordered one of them to get the first aid kit. Her arms had been exposed long enough. One of the goons even gave her some flowers. J leaned against his cane, smiling and pleased with the obvious relief and joy that the goons felt having her back with them. The goons knew that their lifespans were lengthened when she was around to keep J in check.

Once he was tired of the goons showering Harley in attention and deference, he took her hand in his and led her into their home. Their room was exactly as she had left it so many years ago . . . just messier. Clothes and bottles and unfinished plans and drawings were scattered across the floor. A few pictures of her were on the walls, too. Some had hearts painted around them in what looked like blood. Others were ripped in two.

“Sit,” J nodded to the bed when the goon arrived with the kit. Removing his gloves, he put on a pair of latex gloves instead and removed the jacket from around her arms. The letters he had carved into her arms had more or less stopped bleeding, but the dried blood was stuck to her skin. And the wounds were open. J grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and a cotton ball. Soaking it, he crouched in front of her and dabbed her wounds.

“You know what’s interesting, toots?” he murmured as he drew the ball over her forearms. “I see you. I smell you.” He leaned forward and licked her cheek, “and I taste you. It’s all you. But you’re . . . different. I see my doctor, too. And something . . . else.”

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Her shivering was noticed by him, trembling with each caress and kiss he gave to her. “Slowly,” he confirmed, kissing between her shoulders. “You just lay there and relax, sweetheart,” he told her. “Let me take care of you.” Smirking, he slowly rubbed the length of his cock against her ass, rubbing her in circles. Jack moved his hand underneath her and slowly rubbed her clit in a figure eight motion, his touch gentle and light.

The tip of his cock slowly rolled against her anus, and then he pressed slowly inside of her. “MMmmfff,” he grunted, closing his eyes, straining slightly when she resisted at first. “Relax, sweetheart. Slow breaths,” he murmured, pausing until he felt her ass opening bit more. Then he pressed in further, opening her up for him. “Oh my god,” he moaned softly, eyes squeezed tight in pleasure.

Resting over her back, he worked back and forth, dragging his cock in and out of her tight ass. “Harley,” he breathed, “god, you feel so damn good.” He was slow in his movements, almost lazy. Resting heavily against her, he worked them together with intense friction. His fingers pressed a bit harder against her clit, still tracing in a figure eight.

Reaching her neck, he suckled the skin just below her ear. Tongue and teeth worked into the skin, marking her and then licking the spot. His other hand wrenched between her and the mattress, playing with her breast. Fingers pinched her nipple before stroking over the tip.

#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #nsfw #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#v: white knight

dipped-in-silk-and-decay‌:

At first she was going to let him leave. Let him wonder on the unanswered questions, the mystery of what truly happened versus what she’d said. Sure, in a sense, what she told him was true: any hope of a family died with Jack Napier. No matter what Joker said about training Harley to take care of anyone, were she to return and have something else more flagrant, cuter, and with greater mood swings supersede him in her affection, the happy little clown family would be no more.

It’s for the best…

But as Joker headed towards the door, Harley situated her behind on the edge of the table, legs swinging to and fro. Her feet were tingling with numbness from the cold, but renewal of blood supply thanks to the lack of restraints. It’d be the smart thing to let Joker leave. It’s was Harleen would’ve done. Let him go about and continue his mayhem while she waited out the storm then skip town. Gotham be damned. But Harleen wasn’t in the driver’s seat. Harley was. And Harley was watching a very apologetic Puddin’ waltz out the door.

So without further hesitation, she jumped off the table and ran full speed at him, the jacket flapping about behind her. “No! Wait!” she squealed just before jumping and clinging to his back. Her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades and she held on tight like his own, personal backpack. “Take me with you. I need shoes, Mistah J. I wanna see buildings explode. I want my old clothes. ‘Member that harlequin outfit with the white fur collar? Wouldn’t that be so cute right now?”

Harley gave him a squeeze and wiggled her toes, refusing to let go. The only way he’d get her to is if he literally peeled her off of him. “Let’s give it a try, Mistah J…for old times’ sake?”

@theymadeus

His back straightened when she called out to him, but before he could turn, she was grabbing onto him. A smile pressed to his lips when she asked to come with him, to give them a chance. “Harls, that’s the best thing you’ve said all night.” Turning in her arms--or trying to, at least--he held his arms out. “Pooookieeeee!” he sang, but he couldn’t quite get her off of his back, so a hug would have to wait.

“Come on, baby girl. Let’s get those footsies some shoes!” With that, he walked right out of the warehouse with her clinging to his back as casually as if she was his hump. J carried her right to the car he had parked nearby and then drove to the nearest high society shoe store. The kind Bruce Wayne would buy his dames of the evening a nice set. Humming happily, he twirled his cane, and then knocked the Jester top of it against the glass, shattering it.

“Well, I estimate we have about ten minutes before the coppers arrive, soooo.” J grabbed a basket and hooked it on his arm. “Let’s go wild.” Grinning brightly, he skipped down the aisles, grabbing a few shiny shoes for himself and stuffing them into the basket. Then he followed alongside Harley, casually pulling shoes off of the shelves as he went and throwing them over his shoulder.

J was his old happy self again. He had his gal, his goons, his funhouse, the precious disease that ravaged his mind . . . all was well and right in the world. The tell-tale sound of sirens could be heard coming down the street, and J glanced at Harls. “Pumpkin, I think we’re about out of time. You get what you wanted?”

He took a pair of heels and wrapped them around the front doors, taking a grenade off of his belt and hooking it to them. Smirking, he grabbed spray paint and drew a grin on the doors. Chuckling low to himself, he moved to the back door and whistled for her.

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#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )

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Just as Harley thought that he’d settled, a predator-like lurk simmered just beneath his movements. The almost-kisses and provocative positions of their bodies kept her on edge, unsure of whether or not she’d found a solid footing around him. Sure gestures like giving her his jacket and even releasing the last of her binds seemed like they were getting somewhere, but when he invaded her personal space again, the pinprick feeling of uneasiness was quick to settle in.

It was a war of familiarity, the invasive questions mixed with suggestive action. Inquiries regarding Ivy she could handle. The bond they shared was incomparable to what she and the Joker had…have. Wasn’t as simple as comparing apples to oranges, more like silk and dynamite. They weren’t even in the same category. Joker had basically given birth to Harley and who she was today. However Ivy nurtured her. Ivy showed Harley what it meant to truly take charge of her life.

But something inside of Harls told her that wasn’t something Joker was prepared to hear, so his first few questions remained unanswered. Yet the nerve that he struck when asking about the child created between Harleen Quinzel and Jack Napier was unavoidable. Angry tears welled up along her waterline as their lips brushed against each other. Lucy… the name echoed in her thoughts as fists clenched.

Joker had no right to that sweet angel. She was Jack’s and Jack’s only. He didn’t need to know that Harley had snuck away to find distant relatives to have and painfully give away the precious baby girl. A bundle of pure joy who had her father’s smile and her mother’s eyes. Harley looked away as the Joker’s words increased in volume then shut her eyes completely, a few of those tears streaking down her cheeks.

“That family died with Jack,” she growled, her words laced with regret. “The idea was too much for us, too much for me, and my body rejected it. My life rejected the child since you couldn’t let go.” A soft, magical sort of giggle quietly began terming in the cockles of her chest while delicate little fingers ghosted over the tummy that once held the promise of a normal life. “Our family is gone — hee-hee — POOF! Hahahahahaha! Like a magic trick.” Lucy would be almost six months old by now. It’d been over a year since Napier checked out of the Joker’s consciousness, so the tale cracked-up Harley was weaving started to make more and more sense as well as become more and more tragically humorous.

“ ‘Sides…you can barely take care of yaself let alone a baby. BUT CAN YA IMAGINE IT? Joker with a little baby in his arms? You’d find a way to strap laughing gas to it and drop it off at a fire station just for kicks. Haha! Wouldn’t that be a hoot?!” As she continued to laugh, Harley slipped off the table then began walking slowly around the room, her arms spread out wide as she wove in and out of the light. “I ain’t even fully decided I want ya back yet and here ya are demanding babies. Golly, Mistah J. You’re loosin’ ya noodle.”

@theymadeus

His brow furrows when he sees tears running down her cheeks. Tears? Why tears? But then she informs him what happened. That the child that had been as much a part of him as that boring old joke Jack was . . . dead. Somewhere in his psyche, the remnants of Jack writhed in agony. It was a tale twice told and didn’t hurt any less. The sharp brow furrowed even deeper when she laughed.

“That’s not funny,” he breathed, anger in his tone. For a moment, his anger was focused on her. She had lost the baby, after all. But her claim that it had been him that had caused her body enough stress to abort it? It sickened him. J stepped back when she slipped off the table, seeming entirely at ease with the fact that their baby had died, despite her earlier tears.

There is, however, a joke in there somewhere. That he thought he was going to be a father. Bring up the little tyke to make Gotham his--or her--own. Baseball games. Birthdays. Trips to the zoo. He’d even had a nursery made in the Funhouse equipped with all sorts of toys and fun rides. There was even a hidden room that the child could escape to should they receive unwelcome visitors.

A chuckle leaves him, and it’s split between one of amusement and one of misery. “Ooohhhhh too bad, I suppose,” he murmured after a moment, looking down at his feet. “That was our chance.” J didn’t believe he was capable of impregnating her when in the throes of his madness. The chemicals had ravaged his body as much as it had his mind. The pills had reduced its potent affect on his biology. It was the only reason he thought it was capable that he had been able to give her a child. Now? No more.

The frown pressed to his lips, the locks of his hair falling in front of his forehead and curling there. When she mentioned that she hadn’t even decided if they were getting back together, he looked back up at her. “It wouldn’t have been too terrible, Harls,” he told her, “having a baby with you.” Slowly, he smirked, “after all, I trained you well, taking care of me.”

J spun his cane, moving over to her. His hand slowly pressed to her womb, tilting his head as if he was imagining what it would have felt like if she was swollen with his child. “Too bad,” he said again. Then he raised his hand to her cheek--her uninjured one--and rubbed his thumb there. “Sorry, kiddo.”

A kiss was pressed to her temple, and he straightened. “Well, I guess I’m off. You know me. Buildings to explode, people to kill, and laughter to share. Christmas is a-coming, and ole Santa Joker is a busy boy. Oh-um . . . don’t buy any toys this year, hm?” he winked, poking her nose. Heading for the door, he continued to twirl his cane in his palm, leaving his jacket with her. “I’ll see you around, toots . . . right?” he glanced back at her.

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If heaven existed, surely this was what it was like. Jack could imagine no other version of paradise. She was warm beneath him, her arms holding him far more securely than any faith, belief, or government had. Resting against her, he could hear her pulse beating in her veins, and it was as hypnotic as a ticking clock. Jack was quite close to falling asleep right then and there until a sound that was not in keeping with the night’s activities jarred him awake.

“Mmm?” he grumbled, lifting his head and looking out towards the kitchen where the babes were waiting their turn for dinner. At Harley’s comment, he grinned and looked down at her. “Except for those babies, they’ll need to squeeze in here to get their mother’s special milk,” he hummed, giving her nipple a quick lick. “Hang on, baby.” Jack carefully pulled out of her, groaning as he did, and pulled her into his arms.

She was quite dead weight, but he held her close to his chest and managed to carry her into the bedroom. “You just stay right there,” he said, laying her on the bed. His hand came down on her perfect ass, spanking her playfully, and he went out into the kitchen stark naked to see to the hyenas. “You little critters,” he ruffled their ears and then gave them food and water. Jack turned off the TV afterwards, then returned to the bedroom.

Crawling on top of it, he pressed a kiss to her ass and then crawled up her form. “Don’t move now, Miss Quinn,” he tapped her shoulder blade, “Daddy’s going to dig for some gold.” Considering that her cunt was likely quite tuckered out, he drew his attention to somewhere he hadn’t had the chance to play with just yet. His cock, quite drenched, slowly rubbed between her ass cheeks, the tip of his cock pressing against her anus--giving it a kiss--before slipping up her cheeks once more.

“What do you think, baby girl?” he purred, kissing the back of her neck, “you want Daddy to fuck your ass?” A smirk curled at his lips, and he trailed a few kisses up and down her spine around her neck.

#dipped-in-silk-and-decay #( harley 'i'd bleed out if you told me your favorite color was red' )#nsfw #v: white knight

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