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scarlett-o-horror · 2 years

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Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and… the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert, porn with plot, longfic

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW, breath play, choking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst!, threats, fear

Word count: 5,759

Author’s note: HI. OMG HI. 😭😭😭

IT'S DONE, THE CHAPTER IS FINALLY DONE.

OK I know I shouldn't be but I'm so sorry this took so long for me to update!!!! I've had a lot going on (I'm starting a new job soon!) but I'm so so so excited to be updating this fic!!!! I sincerely hope you enjoy it and I hope everyone is well! ❤❤❤❤❤

**This chapter is NSFW**

Please read the warnings above and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! Comments and reblogs always appreciated ❤️

Musical Inspiration: bury a friend by Billie Eilish

- Part Fourteen -

The crowd began to clear the room as you stood staring ahead, your mind racing. What just happened? Harvey couldn’t be Batman, you knew he couldn’t. What reason did he have to say that he was?

“Much to do, doll face. Outside, southwest corner,” Joker’s voice instructed in your ear.

Your heart began to race, and you tried to orient yourself while joining the rush of people out the door. Cameras continued to flash, following a now handcuffed Dent who was being led to the back seat of a police car. He kept his head down and his mouth shut, not responding to the barrage of questions being fired in his direction until the car door was closed and the air was left abruptly still.

“You look just, wonderful out there sweetheart, but the clock is tick-ing.”

The shiver that ran down your back was almost startling, forcing you forward toward the intersection at the southern end of the block. Your footsteps fell heavy on the pavement, deliberate and willful, but it still didn’t feel like you had any power over them. You’re his, remember?

The black SUV that dropped you off grew closer with each step and thoughts of him waiting for you in the back seat tied the familiar knot in your stomach. It was almost like everyone in Gotham was occupying one big stage, believing they had control over our own actions. But behind the curtain, you knew who was pulling the strings. Yours especially. Why didn’t you want to stop it? You’d become some kind of puppet, acting only through the movements of its master. The more invested you became, the more you were setting yourself up for disappointment. Or was there something more to this? It was all too much for you to wrap your head around, but you could feel little traces of doubt crawling up your back every now and then, reminding you that certain desires of yours were putting you in danger and you should get away while you can. But you didn’t want to. Does that mean you’re like him?

Shaking your head to clear those unsettling thoughts from your mind, you reached out for the door handle without and wrapped your fingers around it. Cooler air from inside the car washed over your face, carrying the scent of greasepaint and leather. From the moment you opened the door, those dark eyes were on you, and you could feel them, right in the center of your body. You stared back, holding the door open while the breeze swept through your hair. He raised his eyebrows and as if your brain had restarted, you suddenly flinched, forcing yourself to slide onto the leather seat next to him.

Once the door shut, you noticed how fast you were breathing. Your body had already begun to react as it always does around him. It made it difficult, if not impossible, to look up from your lap, trying not to let him see the way you were pressing your knees together.

The car quickly pulled away from the curb, headed west, and your face began to heat up. You suddenly felt so awkward, sitting only inches away from him in the presence of two other men you didn’t recognize in the front of the car. The memory of your back pressed against that cement wall, his voice growling in your ear while he thrusted, your cries echoing off the ceiling, flooded your mind and you swallowed back the wave of nausea that followed it. How could you forget? They must have all known by now. Pressure began to grow behind your eyes and the uneasy silence was becoming too much, you had to say something.

“Where are we going?”

Your voice had barely made a sound, but it felt like you’d shouted it. The driver’s eyes shifted toward you in the rearview mirror while the man in the passenger seat turned to cast his gaze subtly from the side and you wished you could shrink back into your seat.

“Never the right questions, doll.”

Taking breath, you finally turned your head to look next to you. Joker sat with his ankle propped on the opposite knee, his thumb hitting a button on the phone in his hand before sliding it into his coat pocket and locking eyes with you. Your mouth went dry, and you tried to think of what to say. Any more of this deafening silence was likely to make you scream.

“What questions should I be asking?”

You wanted to take it back as soon as it left your mouth, but his lips stretched into a smirk, and he stared at you, seemingly pleased by the irony of your question.

“If you don’t know what to ask, then you don’t wanna know the answers, sweetheart.”

You watched his tongue prod at his scars while a strange feeling grew in your stomach. Not unpleasant, just strange. Like you’d finally developed some semblance of understanding him, but it was too heinous for your mind to allow you to fully comprehend. Instead, it made itself known in the pit of your stomach, just enough to tangle with your thoughts while you stared back at him. Maybe you did know what to ask.

“Why Batman?”

The tension coming from the front seats was visceral, and it was quiet again, but not the same kind of quiet. His dark eyelids, always so heavy, blinked slowly at you while he drew out the silence a bit longer. You could sense a change in his demeanor but couldn’t identify what it was.

“Ah, the one thing ev-erybody wants to know. Why… Batman.”

Your heart had begun to beat faster but you kept still, standing your ground, staring back at him, waiting for him to continue. You’d followed through with everything so far, it was about time you heard some sort of explanation.

“It’s dichotomous. Duality, a para-dox, limitless incongruity where one cannot exist without the other, it’s reciprocal. Every force needs an equal and opposite.”

He kept his eyes on you while he spoke. It was strange, the way he was talking to you now, divulging information that it felt like you shouldn’t know, everything else at a standstill.

His tongue ran along his lip, and he nodded, taking a pause while he studied your reaction then continued, “It’s all about perspective. Things are never as simple as they appear. Opposing forces can’t be good or bad, moral or immoral, they just equalize each other. And d’you know what it is that keeps them both balanced?”

He waited for your answer but all you could do was stare back. The world outside of that car felt so insignificant in that moment. You’d hung on to his every word, trying to reach for that insight that had seemed so elusive, but now sat so heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” you asked, marginally louder than a whisper as you leaned in closer.

A small smile sneaking onto his expression, he answered, “Chaos.”

Then the car suddenly pulled down an alleyway and you drew in a sharp breath, grabbing on to the door to steady yourself. Panic that you’d done something wrong, and they were about to leave you behind, gave way to a mixed rush of relief and agitation that your much sought after conversation came to an abrupt end when Joker stepped out of the car. You blinked, the rush of air from the slammed car door sweeping over your face before you quickly pushed your own door open to follow.

His purple coat billowed in the wind twisting its way down the alley, leaving you standing there, watching while he approached the door to a large five story building that spanned almost the length of the block. It looked unoccupied. Newspaper covered the windows, the walls were stained by the elements and the door at the entrance was boarded up.

Your feet spun around in the gravel at the sound of the car pulling away, leaving you behind with Joker and the man from the passengers seat. But hesitation had deserted you. It seemed that by now, you’d abandoned any attempts at anticipation of what any given moment might bring. Don’t think, just follow. He continued on toward the door and, as you’ve now become accustomed to do, you followed.

Then your eyes went wide when from his coat, he pulled out a crowbar and began to promptly pry the wooden boards free from the door frame. They cracked and splintered loudly, and you found yourself looking over your shoulder, checking to see if the noise was attracting attention as your heart thumped harder. But somehow, not a soul seemed to notice. Within a couple of minutes, he’d made it through all of them, forced the door open, and tossed the crowbar to the man who’d been standing next to him before casually stepping inside.

The man went in after him then turned to look at you, gripping the door handle. Suddenly a shiver ran across your body and out through your feet, taking a gasp of air with it when your eyes met his. Unkempt stubble covered his face and his hair had been buzzed almost to his scalp, drawing your gaze to the center of his face. Something didn’t feel right, your feet wouldn’t move, locked in place by some ominous force. But your compulsion to stay close to Joker struck harder and you willfully moved yourself forward toward the door. You tried to take deep breaths as you got closer, but only short puffs could get past the lump in your throat. You forced it down and quickly averted your eyes before rushing past him into the dilapidated building.

It was hard to see, your eyes bleached by the bright mid-morning sunlight, but they slowly began to adjust to the darkness. The sound of the door slamming behind you pushed you to move faster, blood rushing in your ears. Why were you here? Small bits of rubble littered the floor, getting caught under your feet until you could see better in the beams of light leaking in through gaps in paper that covered the windows on the other side of the building’s lobby. Along one wall, you could make out the outlines of what looked like rows of small mailboxes and next to them, an elevator that looked long since out of service with a metal gate locked in front of it. Coat racks, umbrella stands, and wheeled luggage carts were knocked onto their sides among the plaster and wood debris. There was a smell like mildew and dust in the air. Then your breath slowed when you saw him, standing at the foot of a once ornate staircase straight ahead.

His face caught the light and seemed to glow against the darkness behind him, contrasted with smears of black and red. His eyes shifted to watch you approach him. It brought that feeling back to the pit of your stomach. The feeling that you’d gotten to know him in some way. He certainly was keeping you around on purpose at this point, but whether there was any other reason other than to use you for whatever he had planned, you couldn’t decide. Things are never as simple as they appear.

You could see his eyes scanning your frame before connecting with yours and the heat in your face suddenly returned, spreading over the rest of your body like wildfire. You stopped in your tracks while it moved through you, settling between your hips and in your chest. Your lips parted and you blinked back at him before he turned and quickly climbed the stairs, nearly dropping your heart into your stomach until he cast a glace back at you. The look in his eyes, it said everything that was left unspoken. Your eyes flashed toward the door you’d entered and caught no sign of that unsettling man before returning to the smoldering gaze looking down at you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. How many times have you given in? How many more? Your mind raced, trying to give you an answer to your questions, but all you could think about was him. You wanted to feel him touch you again. If he was so willing to give it to you, why shouldn’t you take it? Your feet grew light as he drew you closer. The air felt so still as you moved to follow him up the dingy red carpeted stairs, a precarious flame flickering in your chest. It gave you that sense of reverie, that the outside world had ceased to exist. Then at the top of the stairs, the leather of his gloves brushed against your skin before you were backed up against the wall.

He stole the breath from your lungs, his mouth over yours in a frenzied locking of your lips, dizzying and inebriating. Your head became light, and you opened your mouth to let him in, keeping no control over your hands that had begun to roam his body. His chest rumbled beneath your fingertips as they worked at the buttons of his vest until he bucked his hips against yours, forcing a moan from your throat.

Air rushed back into your lungs when he released your mouth to bring his lips to your ear and in a low growl he said, “Tell me how much you want me.”

The only sound you could make was a small gasp as your jaw dropped before his hand began slide up your thigh, his breath hot on your ear. It was happening so fast. Your knees buckled, and you nearly melted to the floor, your state of arousal becoming more uninhibited by the second.

“Tell me.”

Shuddered breaths passed through your lips, and you held on tightly to the lapels of his vest while the familiar ache between your legs grew stronger. Every time he touched you, it felt like the first time. You needed it, more of it.

“I… please, please more…”

He hummed before he reached the top of your thigh then lightly stroked you through your panties, drawing out the cries he wanted to hear, “Fuck! Please… I want… I want you so bad!”

“Mmm, how bad?”

You could feel his mouth curl into a smirk beside your neck where he nipped at your skin. When his fingers slipped away from your center, your desperation hit fever pitch, and you shouted, “More than anything!”

Your skin felt so hot when he chuckled against it before suddenly moving your panties to the side and sliding two of his gloved fingers into you, as far as he could reach. In an instant, your head plunged into a foggy high, a flood of hormones now surging through your veins with each push of his fingers. That delicious pressure, a reward most gratifying. You let your satisfied moans fly free between heavy breaths that had begun to make your head feel even lighter.

With his forehead pressed against yours, his movements gradually grew faster, his voice carrying hurried and profane affirmations to your ear. Faster still, his panting grew heavy to match yours and your abdomen drew tight, your pelvis bucking against his hand. A carnal spell had been cast, incantations whispered on desperate breaths as you approached a feverish climax.

The heat of it all consumed you. If you had any drive for self-restraint left within you, it would only succumb to the blaze that so readily engulfed you. Volatile. He doused you in fuel just to set you alight with the smallest spark. It was a volatility you desperately craved. It was always there, hiding, and once he coaxed it out of you, there was no stopping it.

As your immanent release grew closer, you felt cool leather against your skin. His other hand had slid up to your throat where it stayed, his fingers and thumb on either side of your windpipe. A shiver ran down your back before his grip tightened and he drove his fingers into you harder, holding them there as your hands flew up in a panic to grab his wrist, your constricted breaths rushing in with just enough room to make it to your lungs.

“Shhh sh shh relax, doll. Panicking will ruin it,” he purred. “Now be a good girl and stay still.”

Then he curled his fingers to stroke you where you were most sensitive and your head fell back against the wall, the sudden surge of pleasure slackening your muscles. You could hear a growl rumbling in his chest as your jaw dropped and your eyelids fluttered, air trickling in past his grasp. The feeling welling up inside you had quickly swung from fear to excruciatingly intoxicating with the pressure of his fingers growing stronger below his hold around your throat. Sound became muffled, your vision blurred, your heart pounding as your body grew distant.

You were getting what you craved, here within his grip. Submission. You loved this feeling, the way he so easily had control over you. This is the ultimate surrender, isn’t it? He could kill you, if he wanted to. It unlocked something inside your mind. Primal, erotic, manic. His hand at your throat, his power over you, wielded for your pleasure as you let your skin burn.

In your daze, time seemed to both slow down and speed up, decadent pressure continuing to well up in your core. All you could see was the inky black of his eyes, the echo of your own shallow breaths in your ears. Then it was set free. Moans got caught up in your throat before pushing their way out with the ferocious entrance of his hardened length after ripping his fingers out from inside you.

Agonizing pleasure, epicurean and paralyzing. Oxytocin in place of oxygen. It was an eruption of euphoria, physical ecstasy like you’d never felt. The unholy ache overtook your body, arching it like an electric current before coming out through your mouth in one lewd sound. With the contraction of your every muscle, you drew tighter around him, and you could sense his body go stiff through his grip, the ghost of his groan floating past your ears. Then, like being pulled up from beneath the surface of some dark water, a gasp for air rushed into your lungs.

Everything came back into focus with the sound of his deep chuckle while your chest heaved to draw in more life-giving atmosphere. You could almost feel your blood becoming saturated with it as it reached your brain, consciousness regaining its footing. With his hand still lingering at your throat, Joker leaned in once more, his voice lowered to a husky growl.

“Mmm you know just how to drive me crazy, don’t you?”

A chill ran over your scorching skin and left you feeling even more breathless before he suddenly moved to slide out of you, provoking yet another gasp. You stood propping your back against the wall, the multiple shocks to your system slowing your recovery from it all. It seemed so quiet now, aside from the rush of your own blood. Once you could lift your head and your panting slowed, the reality of where you were and what had happened began to poke holes through the post-coital veil hanging over your eyes.

His gaze has fixed on your face while he buttoned his vest and straightened his tie, wearing a knowingly conceited expression. It made your cheeks feel warm, but you weren’t surprised. You wanted it. Begged for it, even. He’d known since he first saw it on your face, that you’d give him anything he wanted. Because it was what you wanted. You belonged to him and soon, so would the whole city. How much of what you acted on was his volition and how much was yours?

After prodding his scars with his tongue, he blinked and slowly moved closer, raising the heat up around your ears. You forced your breath to quiet after one more deep inhale, watching him stop in front of you to brace himself against his hand on the wall beside your face.

Then he licked his red-smeared lips and said, “You know the thing about chaos, doll?”

Your lips parted as your heart fluttered in your chest and any thoughts disappeared from your mind in a puff of smoke. That inexplicable feeling, the one that weighed heavy in your belly, was back. He was leading you on, knowing you didn’t know the answer to that. You kept your wide eyes on his while you slowly shook your head.

“It’s fair.”

But as quickly as it showed up, the feeling was gone when he suddenly stepped away. His entrancing gaze disappeared from sight and took the heat from your face with it. You stood still for a moment, stuck in a strange headspace between shame and indignation until a twinge in your muscles made you jump, and you pushed away from the wall to follow him down the stairs. You wanted to call out to him while your steps weaved to avoid the same rubble on the way back to the door, but you had nothing to say. What could you say? Stop? Wait? I thought we were going to have a talk, just the two of us? It was ridiculous, what your mind was doing to you.

His back was to you, the bottom of his coat trailing behind him, until he stopped, and your heart jumped into your throat. Your anxious pursuit came to a halt, and you tried to force your stiff posture to appear as though you weren’t just following him with the dismay of a lost puppy, but you knew it was in vain. He turned around, raising his eyebrows and scanning your disquieted appearance.

“Am I, ah, forgetting something?

You nearly choked on your embarrassment before swallowing it down and coming up with a quick but quiet answer, “Me?”

He smirked. Like he found your trepidation endearing. At least, that’s what you hoped. Blood flashed in your cheeks, and you felt like shrinking into the floor. Why were you like this? Were you ever going to be able to control yourself? It was like your body and your mouth acted all on their own.

“I need you to do something for me, doll,” he stated plainly.

You blinked at his response, the humiliation prickling your nerves subsiding below an odd emerging hope, and you hesitantly nodded, “Ok.”

“Wait here.”

Then he simply turned back around and continued toward the door.

“What?” your voice cracked in your throat.

The surge of anxiety that followed was so overwhelming, you couldn’t help but act on it. You practically ran after him, as fast as you could go in the heels he’d given you to wear.

“You’re leaving me here?” you blurted out, circling around to plant yourself in front of him.

“You make it sound so… contrived,” he said, shifting his eyes up toward the ceiling.

Your mouth fell open while you stared up at him in disbelief. Here? Why? What were you supposed to do here? The walls were barely standing. For how long? Wait…were you going to be alone?

He must have seen the questions passing through your mind but provided little in the way of any answers. “Youare gonna wait here until I come back for you.”

Blinking at him with your unease creasing your forehead, you responded, “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

You had no responses left, nothing more you could say. He stared back at you, his face expressionless and resolute, while you struggled against the escalating distress that threatened to twist yours into a mess of distorted tension and bitter tears. Don’t cry. Your jaw tightened and your eyes stung, but you managed to keep your resolve beneath the crushing pressure with a stiff frown while you drew deep breaths in through your nose. If it was his intention to make you cry, he’d just have to be disappointed.

Then a shiver ran down your back and everything from your chin to the top of your head began to feel even hotter than before when fear suddenly dissolved into anger. Were you just entertainment? Not a person, but something he used for his own gain as he saw fit? You didn’t want to be some kind of plaything, his toy, a doll.

“I need an explanation,” you stated through gritted teeth.

His brow furrowed and you felt as though steam may erupt from your pores while you thought about smacking that look off of his face. Your fingers twitched, your muscles stiffened, but didn’t move. Was this the time to stand your ground? After so readily giving yourself to him in such a way?

You unclenched your jaw and took a deep breath, feeling that rising heat steadily drop as your thumping heart rate slowed. But you kept your eyes on him, awaiting whatever thin and ambiguous response he was going to give you. But he didn’t even give you that. No sarcastic remarks, no vague statements, he just stepped past you and opened the door.

Rays of unfiltered sunlight assaulted your eyes and before the door slammed shut, you heard his stiff tone repeat, “Wait here.”

The metallic sound echoed around you, and you opened your eyes, surrounded by darkness once again. Then your breath began to pick up speed. You stood glaring at the closed door, nostrils flaring as they drew in short, quick breaths and your blood ran hotter. Anger returned and bubbled up inside you, squeezed your forehead, balled up your fist. It scratched and clawed in your throat, until it tore its way out of your mouth in a sharp scream. It rang in your ears and burned in your chest as it sounded out into the empty building. It didn’t even sound like you.

You gasped for breath once it emptied your lungs, and you could feel the tears that had been forced out, gathered in the corners of your eyes. It was even quieter than before. Still panting for air, your muscles remained fixed in place, there in front of that door. Then, as it often does, anger gave way to sorrow, and the tears began to flow.

You didn’t hold them back. They streamed down your face, free to let go as your muscles melted and you lowered yourself to the floor. It was a bitter relief. You wished you weren’t reacting this way. You were supposed to be numb. You were supposed to be complacent, following along with whatever ignoble act he asked of you without a thought otherwise. But now, it felt different. Why? Was it because he left you behind?

The tears gradually stopped as you grew still, staring at the door again. It’d become clear, where that feeling in your stomach came from. You’d let yourself get attached to some strange ideal that had culminated from the thoughts swirling around in your head. The idea that you were a part of all this, like a sort of partner in crime. It felt ridiculous, admitting that to yourself. Had you really fallen for that? If you hadn’t, then why did you feel so betrayed? He’d turned your life completely upside down and yet, you gravitated closer and closer, hoping for some more meaningful reward. You had feelings that he couldn’t reciprocate. You knew this, but you still didn’t listen to yourself. Who’s fault was this? His or yours?

Then the back of your neck suddenly prickled with an unexpected feeling of dread that made your blood go cold and you whipped around to look behind you, sucking in a gasp. Did you hear something or was your mind playing tricks on you? But all you could hear now was a deafening silence as you kept very still for a moment, your eyes scanning the darkness. Your breath began to steady after a moment, but your heart continued to pound against your ribs.

You slowly stood up from the filthy floor, anxiety still crawling down your back while you stepped backward into the light leaking in through the front windows, keeping your gaze fixed on your surroundings. You could go investigate but you didn’t want to move from that spot. Were you being paranoid? It was hard to trust yourself lately. It was like your instincts had been blunted and sharpened at the same time. Something didn’t feel right, but the longer the space around you remained quiet, the more your abrupt burst of adrenaline faded. The tension in your muscles began to relax and you felt a little more at ease, blinking and letting your eyes lower toward the floor while you took a deep breath.

“Looks like it’s just you an’ me.”

You choked on the scream that got caught in your throat, smothered by the sheer startle that gripped your vocal chords as a man stepped out from around the corner of the staircase. Your feet reflexively scrambled backwards but your back hit the window, nowhere to go. Like a doe in headlights, you just stared wide-eyed at him until your panic ridden mind could process what you were seeing. It was the man from the passengers seat.

Your cheeks burned and you blurted out, “You scared me, you asshole! Why did you do that?”

His mouth curled into an ugly smirk, and he let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snarl before stepping a bit closer, pushing you to flatten your back against the windows even further.

“I scared ya huh? Well, my apologies of the sincerest, princess,” he replied in a wry tone.

Your heart leapt into your throat before your face grew hotter with contempt and unease over the way he was looking at you. The vicious pounding of your pulse slowed only marginally before you realized how precarious this situation was and it hammered against your ribs once again.

Focusing on breathing, you kept a tenuous grasp on your composure and asked, “Why are you still here?”

The man casually pulled a long cigar from his pocket and placed it between his teeth, acting as if he didn’t hear you, until a flick from his lighter briefly illuminated his face and he answered, “I could ask you the same thing.”

It took only a moment for the smell of smoldering tobacco to reach your nose and it burned in the back of your throat. You tried to hold it back, but a sputtering cough forced its way out, making your eyes water. Then the thought that he’d done that on purpose entered your mind just before he began to chuckle at your languish.

“Awful sensitive ‘aint ya? Thought maybe the clown woulda’ toughened you up by now.”

A flash of anger traveled through your body like electricity and your face dropped into a derisive scowl focused directly on him. Anger clouded judgement, he wanted you to be angry. It was clear he was playing some sort of game and wasn’t going to let you in on his motive easily.

Keeping your voice as still as possible, you replied, “And I thought you’d tell me why you’re here by now.”

His chuckle raised the hairs on the back of your neck again before he took another mouthful of smoke and said, “I wouldn’t be so eager to know that if I was you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Your voice was like the crack of a whip and your fists were squeezed tightly, trembling while your blood buzzed with anger. Your emotions betrayed you. You couldn’t escape the burning disgust that’d set your mind ablaze when you heard that word leave his mouth. But it was short lived. The realization of what he’d said washed over you like icy water when his eyes locked on you, his expression like stone. Was that really what he said?

Your boldness withered and a chill hit you as you drew a short breath to ask, “I… I what?”

His unsettling smile widened to reveal a gold tooth and your stomach began to churn. How did you end up here? Here in this place with this man, alone.

“I said,” he replied, over-pronouncing his words as he stepped closer, “I wouldn’t be so eager to know that if I was you… sweetheart.”

Your breath came in quick, shuddering puffs, your skin on fire with dread from your neck to your ears. That cigar smell. How could you be so oblivious? This can’t be happening again. Tears began to build pressure behind your eyes while you willed yourself to disappear through the window behind you as he got close enough to smell the stale tobacco on his breath.

“So, what’s it gonna be, girlie? Easy way or hard way?”

You needed your anger back. Clouded judgement may be the only way you get out of this. You searched your mind for anything other than the fear that was rapidly overtaking it. Then you thought about him. He left you here. He left you here alone. He let this happen. A twinge rose up in your chest and you grabbed hold of it, letting it grow until it flooded every muscle and heat began to build inside you while you stared back at the man.

“Better answer quick, or I’ll choose for ya.”

Then it boiled over. Anger lit your body on fire and blocked out all thought outside of pure instinct before you suddenly drove your knee straight into his crotch then his stomach in a powerful blow that you’d never thought yourself capable of.

Run.

His curses echoed off the walls as you ran as fast as you could into the dark, your blood roaring in your ears. Each step was a risk, a minefield of rubble surrounding you. You scrambled around a corner, flattening yourself against the peeling plaster, your chest heaving as the air burned in your lungs with each ragged breath.

“It’s personal now, cupcake! Chechen don’t give second chances!” he shouted out to you.

That dread returned and threatened to paralyze you were you stood until a thought suddenly trickled in past the blaze of terror burning up your mind. This was his fault. His.

Reaching down, you quickly stepped out of your heels to take one in each hand before taking off down the hall beside you as fast as your bare feet could carry you. You would never be his toy.

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Taglist: @amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @liz-rdwitch @germansarechill @thesadvampire @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @apocalypticwafflekitten @astheworlddturns @komatheterrible @jokersqueenofchaos @killingjokee @into-crazy @youmaycallmebrian @jslittlebirdie @vipervixxen

This fic is taking me so long it’s getting grey hair lmao so if you’d like to me removed from the taglist let me know!

#l!joker #tdk

38 notes · View notes

scarlett-o-horror · 2 years

Note

hi darling-- could i request something ? ive been trying to write some jealous/sensual/slow smut for J (maybe reader gets hurt during a heist ??? maybe J comes home feeling particularly posessive ???) but i can't quite get it right and keep deleting it-- and i was wondering if you'd be up to the task lol ! if not, thats okay too !! i hope you're doing well dear <3

Hello beautiful! First of all thank you for the request 💚 now, about this fic. I loved this concept - slow, sensual Joker × reader - but I understand this could a bit different from what you may have been thinking. Jealousy is considered here in a more intimate and subtle way, more like an implicit Joker's possessiveness towards the reader.

I don't want to spoiler anything. Read it and tell me what you think. I hope you'll like it and that it may be of inspiration if you want to write more about this. 😊

And here we go.

Ledger!Joker × gender neutral reader

Rating: Explicit (smut +18)

Jack decides to take care of you after a bank robbery that has left you covered in bruises.

Just Jack

Bruises. Bruises everywhere. Purple and bluish constellations on your skin, spread like huge lakes all over your back. Walking around is even more difficult after letting time pass, when every single hit has come to light and has shown its consequences. It is a silent pain as long as you lie on the bed.

The latest hit at Gotham Central Bank was a success, there has been nothing left - nor anyone, probably. It blew up like a flaming balloon, a firework at noon, in the city center. If you close your eyes you can still see the golden flames reflecting in his eyes, big and deep like dark wells, like warm abysses, like the heart of hell. It is always worth it, even when you carry the consequences of that violence on your skin.

You fell, tripped. Let's say, crashed from the first floor, throwing yourself out of a window to survive the blast and miraculously landing on the tarpaulin van. You hadn't sustained major injuries or fractures, but the bump hadn't been gentle either.

Now you wake up at home without remembering how you got there because you passed out right there, in that truck, with the image of his crimson smile and those hellish eyes imprinted in your mind.

It was fun, it was worth it.

When you try to get up - and drag yourself out of bed to drink some water, eat something, take a shower Jesus Christ, whatever rather than still lying down here - the pain stings you everywhere, penetrating your flesh like many little knives - and you know what it means to be cut, right? You groan. Or rather, grunt. And your silent lament is not unheard.

You would recognize those footsteps even in a runaway crowd and the smell of paint and gasoline reaching you before you can open your eyes and turn your face enough to look at him.

"Hey. You look good."

He is leaning against the door frame with one shoulder and looking at you. He took off his make-up, took off his shirt and washed his hair. Now, it's just Jack. His blonde hair is still damp and unkempt, framing the scars that seem to make him smile even when he looks at you with that flat, steady, apparently empty expression. His mind is never empty.

"Can't say the same about ya" he comments. It is rare to see him like this, very rare. Completely devoid of him - Joker. Usually he doesn't talk much when he's this naked of that invincible mask that hides him from the world, even from you, but if he's there in front of you in that state it means he has something important in mind. "Are you hurting a lot?"

Ah. That's it, really? Your eyes widen gently at his question and then... Then you understand. He stayed there, in your house, making sure you were okay.

How much do you really care about me, Jack?

You smile. Shake your head. "It's nothing."

He chuckles, looks down for a moment and shakes his head dismissively, running a hand through his hair. If you told him how fucking beautiful he is in your eyes right now, he wouldn't believe it. Maybe you would even see him blush. Can Joker blush? Nobody knows, not even you. "You can't lie, kid."

You sigh. "These things happen, we've been through worse. It's just bruises."

"We've been through worse..." he whispers to himself without looking in your eyes, he seems to savor those words on the tip of his tongue trying to grab them, to keep them in the midst of who knows what memories. It's so strange to see him so... human. "You scared me, kid. I thought..."

"I'm here. It's okay." That's all he needs to hear. It is not the first time and it won't be the last. You don't want to wonder how many people he has really lost, if they're the cause of the chaos that inflames his soul, also because you may decide to write down names and surnames and go find them one by one to get revenge - even if you suspect that he's done it already. "And if it hurts, you can kiss it better." These words escape your mouth before you can think of them, but he smiles and when Jack smiles it's the sun on earth.

And then, suddenly, you see his light in those eyes again and that wicked smile on the scarred lips as he approaches you like a hungry predator, but you aren't afraid. Instinctively, your legs slide imperceptibly, opening for him under the sheet and you can feel it, the desire growing in your chest, in the beating of your heart as he kneels on the mattress - the knees spread trapping your legs in the middle - and reaches out to the edge of the sheet. You know you are naked. Gotham's summer is always hot.

"Mmh" he gets drunk on your beautiful image, your glorious nakedness in front of him. "Do you want me to kiss it better? You know it will hurt, kid, if I decide to kiss - here" by placing a hand beside you he lowers his face on your back. His lips are warm, rough as ever. Ruthless. A kiss on the shoulder, a burgundy bruise screams, but between your lips it's just a hiss of pleasure and pain at the same time. "Maybe lower down your back, what do ya think?" his mouth slides against your skin, pressing against a slight mark, just blue below the surface. His teeth brush against it, his tongue caresses you and silences every pain. There is only him, everywhere. "Mmh, look here, how many bruises to heal" and his mouth sinks into your spine. You feel startled when the scars on his cheeks touch the back of your neck and descend, slide south on your body, leave a trail of kisses and bites and wet caresses of his tongue, heat you up to ignite your desire.

You can take the pain, but this... this is heaven and hell together. It's love and hate, it's fire and ice. It's Jack... and Joker.

"Ya wanna say something, kid?"

You didn't notice your moans. You didn't notice anything that wasn't him, but at his words you smile, you shake your head: you won't break this moment with some silly words, you let yourself be guided. He knows what's best for you. And he goes on.

Jack grabs your butt, maybe with more force than he should, but it's nice to feel his hands on you. He opens it slowly, admiring the delicate beauty of your intimacy and licking his lips like a cat in front of a bowl of cream. "Did I - ah, did I ever tell you how much I like the taste of your skin? Answer me, pet." For a fleeting moment his tongue runs over your small, tight hole - the door to your pleasure - and you lose your voice, clouded by the heat that fills your loins. "The way you're always so sweet, so fucking juicy as ripe fruit, hm? Whenever I eat you alive and no matter how bad it hurts, you're always mine alone, aren't you?"

"Oh Jack - yes. Yours. Always yours."

His face sank on you, but not with ruthless impatience, rather with reverence and desire, his mouth open and his flat, rough tongue on you licking around your entrance, making you tremble, preparing you for him, bathing you entirely and closing his eyes as he worshipes your body and erases the memory of the pain. And then... Then, his fingers. His hands are sacred, perfect, strong, the source of all pain and all pleasure: two thick fingers penetrate you entirely, without warning, tearing an intense moan from your throat and a satisfied grin from his lips.

"Tight, always so tight" he mumbles to himself, contemplating the wonder of your body. It isn't enough for him, he wants to prepare you well this time and he won't force himself into you with mad anger - as it happens in the most ferocious and combative nights - so you feel copious saliva descend from his tongue on your stretched hole and his fingers push it around it and deep inside you, deeper and deeper, just touching the right point.

"You're going to cum on my dick, pet, aren't you?"

Oh yes. You can't wait any longer. "Please, please Jack, I need..."

"What do ya need? Use your words."

"You. Inside me."

His fingers still push. "I am inside you."

You smile. Even so, he likes to tease you. "I need your cock inside me, please. Take care of me, Jack."

And these words... These words do something to him. Perhaps because no one has ever asked him to take care of them, perhaps because his hands are made to destroy and not to heal, but he wants to try. For you.

He falls silent. All that remains is his labored breathing, the rattle of his belt falling to the floor and the rustle of his forgotten pants at the foot of the bed as he - naked, beautiful - crawls on you and spreads his legs next to yours. His cock is hard, hard like never before, he slides only once on your warm wet sex before he enters you: firm, but delicate. Intense, but sweet. It has never been like this before, you think you could die of pleasure and you would die happy in his hands. It is slow, tireless, inexorable. There is no rush, only you two exist in the world. And he's taking his time. You feel everything: his cock all the way in, his thighs against yours, his breath and his muffled moans as his hand grips your hair without hurting you, only to discover your face, your lips parted in an endless moan of lust as he slowly brings you to the most intense pleasure.

"Let me hear you. It's just us, kid." It doesn't even sound like his voice, but it's so warm, so deep...

"We don't need anyone else" you swear to him as he keeps tearing apart your soul and devour it every second he spends inside of you.

You hear him smile. "Oh no, we don't."

You're cumming. You want to tell him, really, but it seems so unfair to break this moment with those empty words... your orgasm is sudden, shakes you from within and reaches your lips, you explode in a moan of pleasure, you feel yourself twitching around him and in the end, at the end of it all, there is only Jack, your name like a prayer on his mouth and his cock pushing hard all the way in for one last time, throbbing inside of you, filling your sex with his cum, so much that drips out of you.

Magnifico.

When Jack lies down on the right side of the bed, you don't open your eyes, you both continue to breathe deeply and let the time pass; you know what happens in these moments, when every emotion comes back and hits him hard, when he really understands how many walls he just knocked down between the both of you, but that's okay.

You let him stroke your hair and keep smiling.

#l!joker

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scarlett-o-horror · 2 years

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scarlett-o-horror · 3 years

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You truly are incorruptible, aren’t you? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.

The Dark Knight (2008) dir. Christopher Nolan

#l!joker #tdk #the bat man

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scarlett-o-horror · 3 years

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Smoking Joker by rhomboidius

#l! joker #l!joker fanart

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scarlett-o-horror · 3 years

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I really want to see J in casual clothes, like ripped black jeans and a tshirt.

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scarlett-o-horror · 3 years

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So uh… I finally wrote something!! 👀

Things got so busy for awhile but I’m back at it and I finished this as a spicy little comeback piece! This one is by request for @heavymetalnarwhal! ❤️❤️❤️

“I’d like to request a little nsfw fic about J and the reader having a little kink session? Maybe some light bondage? Or domination? Or both! Writer’s choice!”

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, SMUT

Word count: 2,047

Warnings: NSFW!! Light bondage, dominance, dirty talk, oral sex, unprotected sex

Safe Word

“What’s your safe word, doll face?”

His leather clad fingers tilted your chin upward to face him just as the velvety words left his lips. He spoke with an air of sleek composure, but the deep rasp of his breath told the whole story. This dance between the two of you, this exchange of ungodly indulgence, was quickly approaching its boiling point and with each passing moment, he grew hungrier.

Gotham had never seen a man like J before and never will again. He brought the city to its knees then you onto yours. There was something about him you couldn’t resist. You held no power over the way he drew you in, like some insidious allure. You surrendered yourself to him and to your darkest cravings, the ones you’d never shown the light of day. But magnetism works both ways and you cast a spell of your own over him.

He didn’t like it, how agitated you made him. The Joker lived up to his reputation. He was feared, his ruthlessness rumored, sometimes even venerated. Above all, he couldn’t be had, but you… you could drive a mad man even wilder. His muscles grew tense, his breath heavy, his guts tied into knots. And there was only one way to alleviate it. That was when it all came to a head, the night when only a few rules would keep you in one piece.

The orange glow of the sun sank below the smog-heavy horizon, casting shadows along the walls while he tightened the rope around your wrists in a thick, sturdy knot. The sound it made, slipping across the leather of his gloves, raised goosebumps along your skin. You tried to steady your breath, but you knew he could hear it, the delicate tremor. Anticipation is a powerful aphrodisiac. It builds tension, sets your nerve endings on edge, waiting for the touch that was going to set them alight. You allowed yourself to soak in every sensation, letting that delicious fervor continue to grow with the tightening of your restraints. You agreed to this, you wanted it. Badly.

You watched the tendons in his wrists flex, and swore you heard a low growl before he lifted your arms over your head and secured the other end of the rope to the post behind the couch you laid on. He worked swiftly, but with slightly undue force, an urgency he was fighting to hold back. He wanted to savor this. Look at you. Your wrists were bound together over your head, chest rising and falling beneath a loose fitting blouse, your eyes wide as you looked up at him through your lashes. His pants began to feel tighter at the inseam.

“Now that I have your attention, let’s lay down some ground rules, shall we?”

“I thought you didn’t have any rules, J,” you answered softly before the unexpected boldness of your reply made your throat go dry.

His scars stretched into a crooked grin, and he leaned toward you before dropping his voice low, “Mmm fortunately for you darling, I’m feeling generous tonight. Seeing as this is our first, uh, session together, I’m willing to for-give that little transgression.”

Then he straightened up and blinked back at you, raising his eyebrows while you stared at him. Your lips parted, but no words came to you, so you nodded quickly. Accepting this as a satisfactory response, he turned and took slow steps across the room, his tattered shoes heavy on the creaky wood floor. He dropped his coat from his shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair before making his way toward the window while he rolled up his sleeves.

“First, from this point on until we’re finished, you are mine, hm?” he said, reaching out to swiftly pull the shade on the window down. He didn’t wait for a response before continuing, “Second, if you can’t take it, your safe word is your way out. Remember it.”

You felt the tension within you rise rapidly as he spoke, then he turned again to face you. “Third,” he said, walking toward you before leaning in even closer with a rumble in his throat, “let’s have some fun.”

Your breath even faster now, he took hold of your chin and tilted it upward. “Now… what’s your safe word, doll face?

His lips inched closer to yours, close enough to feel his breath warming them, stoking the embers that begged to be lit. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and answered quietly, “Poptart.”

“Good girl.”

Then the flames suddenly ignited when his mouth took hold of yours, the growing heat making it that much more explosive. His tongue swept through your mouth before locking his lips with yours, devouring the moans he’d already coaxed out of you. You’d never felt them before, his scars. They pressed against your cheeks and glided along your lips, smoother than you thought they’d be.

You were already pulling against your restraints, subconsciously reaching to grab hold of him, like he’d disappear if you didn’t. The chuckle that came rumbling from his throat suggested that he noticed, but the bulge in his pants pressed against your leg confirmed that he liked it.

Everything had become fuel for the fire, and you’d begun to writhe beneath him while he took his time breathing you in. His nose trailed along your jawline, stands of his faded green curls falling over your face. Your chest rose and fell heavily, trying to pull air in against the mounting tension taking over your body. Dizzy from the anticipation that’d become almost painful, you rested your head back against the couch cushion while you tried to catch your breath.

Then his lips brushed against your ear, sending a torrent of goosebumps down your back when he hummed into it, “Tell me, little bunny, how much do you want it?”

Every muscle melted into the cushions before winding up even tighter. This was an excitement like you’d never felt before. It scorched your skin and ached in your core. You tried to speak but your puffs of breath didn’t make a sound, they only shuddered in your chest.

“Mmm, come come now, my sweet. You want something from me, don’t you?”

You panted faster and a strangled sound escaped your throat when his gloved hand slipped beneath your blouse, the cool leather caressing your skin.

Then your jaw dropped, and your words finally flew out, “Yes! Yes… I want… I want you to touch me.”

Your face heated up so quickly and your voice shrank down so small by the time you finished your sentence, suddenly feeling timid beneath his gaze. But then that heat spread through your whole body, swallowing up any emerging trepidation, when he leaned back in to nip at the skin on your neck.

“What’s the magic word?” he purred.

Excitement prickled across your skin once again and you called out, “Please!” before being plunged into intense pleasure that wrapped itself around every nerve.

The buttons from your blouse scattered over the floor as you drew in a deep breath, then he tasted your skin, promptly taking the air from your lungs. His fingers gripped your sides to keep you in place as he took his fill, your flavor whetting his appetite, his deep groan reaching your ears. The rope tightened around your wrists, the material nearly cutting into your skin. You must’ve been pulling on it again. Your hands balled into fists that you squeezed firmly, unable to feel if your nails had drawn blood from your palms as adrenaline surged in your veins. Your bra was gone, and his mouth took its place.

And just like that, you were high. High off of his voice, his mouth, his scent, his touch. It was white hot, consuming, frantic. His tongue had taken you higher than you thought possible. The luscious torment of his attentions was just as much his as it was yours. Whispered desperation filled the air, heat rising, his own excitement reaching its peak. His grip tightened, he couldn’t hold back anymore. The clatter of his knife hit the floor after a sharp rip of the fabric that kept him from the sweet reward between your legs and instead of the cool leather of his gloves, you felt the warmth of his bare fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Your breath hitched just before he came in close, his other had gripping your jaw, to breathe into your ear, “You are mine. And I’ll make sure you remember that.”

The rush of your blood roared louder in your ears and your head was spinning, at the mercy of his fingertips that knew exactly where to touch you. He hummed and squeezed your thigh while he watched you, his fingers teasing your clit, controlling you with the slightest of movements. Your body twisted and trembled, bucking your hips into his hand. Deep moans and cries scorched your throat while your heart pounded, chasing after his touch, like none other you’d felt before. Were your eyes open or closed?

His breath mixed with yours, almost as heavy, in the air around you, surrounding you and overtaking your senses. You were his. Then, it was suddenly like coming up for air. His touch was gone. The exultant thrill between your legs faded, but before the lusty fog cleared from your eyes, his hands gripped your thighs and pushed your legs open for a new sensation. Your eyes rolled back, your jaw dropped, and your back arched when his flattened tongue made contact. It swirled through your folds and over the sensitive bud within them, making you shudder and leaving you breathless while his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs. Your strangled moans finally left your throat just before he circled your entrance once more and pulled his mouth away. Before your body could react, he swiftly pushed his length into you.

The explosive pressure forced your cries of luxuriate agony out toward the ceiling, accompanied by his deep groan as he hurriedly stretched you to accommodate his hardened cock to the hilt, gripping your sides. It was consuming, the way it felt, him inside you like that. You couldn’t breathe, but whether air was moving through your lungs, it didn’t matter. He consumed you, in control of your every sensation, and held you in this place between consciousness and something more divine while he thrusted into you.

It went all the way up to your navel, the only thing you could feel. Your fists remained above your head, the tension on the rope at its limit, but you were hardly aware of its pull against your wrists. His huffs of breath were laced with murmured praises, his thrusts growing faster, fucking you as you moaned his name in response, the pressure building in your abdomen. Then a growl rumbling in his chest reached your ears before his thumb returned to your clit and what was left of your nerves shattered.

Release. It all unraveled at once. The swell of euphoria that started between your legs sounded out through your mouth and flooded your every synapse in an eruption of intense fulfillment. It was as though your nerves existed freely from the rest of your body. Every muscle contracted, squeezed, flexed, with blinding pleasure and J groaned as it all closed in around him. The severing of your mind from your body culminated in this explosion of physical ecstasy until it rushed back together with a breath into your lungs.

The room slowly came back into focus as the dizzying array of stimuli that’d just sapped your body of its energy melted away. Catching your breath that’d been so tenuous, you blinked your eyes and shifted your gaze downward before he pulled out from your center, drawing a soft groan out of you. You sat in a daze, all but drained while he moved behind your line of sight. Then the rope went slack, and your wrists slid out to fall limp at your sides.

You could hear him chuckling before he crouched in front of you, his smeared red lips carrying a satisfied smirk. “Mmm wow, look at you. I knew you were a naughty girl.”

@youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @drreidsconverse @vipervixxen

#l!joker fanfic #l!joker #tdk

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