His Little Bad Thing
- Reads 399
- Votes 14
- Parts 14
"Why are you here?" I ask as theirs stand by my side, "I'm here to claim what's mine, Harley" he said stepping closet to me as his friends relax in their positions "and that's you" he pulls my chin up and kisses me. I pull away before I fell into kissing him back. I yanked away and glowered as he smirked at me I saw through his facade, and he was sad and lustful. "Too bad, Joker, I don't belong to you or anyone else," I smirk as I turn around to walk away. "Not for long" he says as I walk away with one thought in my head. He is probably right.
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The Art of Taking [+18]
"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked at last, his voice deep enough to crawl right under it. I shook my head. "No." Something in his expression sharpened-approval, maybe. "Good." He didn't come to me right away. He took his time, pushing off the door with deliberate slowness, each step closing the distance in steady increments. I didn't move. Couldn't. My back found the wall before he'd even touched me. He stopped just short-close enough for the heat of him to seep through the small space between us. His scent hit me first-smoke, whiskey, and something clean that didn't fit the chaos of the party outside. His head tilted slightly, studying my mouth, then my eyes, then my mouth again. His hand lifted-not to grab, not yet. Just to trace. The backs of his fingers skimmed my jaw, slow enough that I could feel every millimeter of skin they passed over. They trailed down the side of my neck, pausing in the hollow of my throat, not pressing-just resting there. "You've got that look," he murmured. "What look?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "Like you want me to ruin you." I should've laughed. Teased. Something. Instead, I held his gaze. "Maybe I do." The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but something hungrier. Still, he didn't touch me the way I wanted him to. Instead, his knuckles dragged down my collarbone, over the bare skin just above my dress, grazing the swell of my breast without claiming it. "You sure you can handle forgetting?" he asked, his voice lower now, as if we weren't already breathing the same air. "Try me," I said. That broke something in him. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones, holding me still as his eyes searched mine like he was committing the color of them to memory. Then-finally-he kissed me.
Runner (Riders of Apollo #3)
I know he's followed me when the door shuts and locks behind me. His breath is on my ear before I can even think about anything and I relax against him as his teeth nip at the lobe. He reaches around me to start the shower and starts undoing my belt without even looking at what he's doing. He's leaving hickeys up my neck and almost rips my shirt in an effort to get it off me. I spin around once it's off and smirk at the lust in his eyes. I push him back against the door and press close enough to him to feel everything, every breath and every rumble of his chest as he hums in approval. "Are you going to keep teasing me, mi vida?" (my life) I shiver at his tone and lean forward, close enough for our lips to brush. "This is not teasing, love." My hand drifts up his torso to wrap around his neck and I turn his head to return the favour, leaving red hickeys and bite marks as he grinds against me. The room starts to steam up as the water reaches the right temperature and I tug his shirt off and yank my belt off along with my jeans and boxers. I back up into the shower and his eyes trail me heatedly, I can almost feel his look on me and I savour the feeling as I step under the water and slick my hair back. He removes the last of his clothes and drifts over to me, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. He reaches for me and slams his lips down on mine viciously, his teeth nipping and pulling while his tongue soothes the pain. He pulls my hair back to release himself from the kiss and starts kissing down the column of my neck to my collarbone where he leaves another mark. His grip is tight enough to leave bruises and I relish in the pleasure pain he gives me as he completely numbs my senses to everything but him.Complete
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This is my own personal version of how Dr. Harleen Quinzel fell in love with a sociopathic clown, also know as The Joker. My internet is down, so I have to type this on my phone instead of my computer. If you see any typos or spelling mistakes please tell me. I will fix the problem. I do not own any of these people or the original story. I just made my own remake of it. All rights go to the DC Universe and the makers of all these characters. Thank you for choosing my story. I promise I will try to answer any questions that you have. Please do not put any mean comments or shame anyone. I worked hard on this story. I'm sorry if Jokers POV parts aren't as exciting. I've had a hard time trying to think of what he would say or do. Now on with the story.Complete
"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked at last, his voice deep enough to crawl right under it. I shook my head. "No." Something in his expression sharpened-approval, maybe. "Good." He didn't come to me right away. He took his time, pushing off the door with deliberate slowness, each step closing the distance in steady increments. I didn't move. Couldn't. My back found the wall before he'd even touched me. He stopped just short-close enough for the heat of him to seep through the small space between us. His scent hit me first-smoke, whiskey, and something clean that didn't fit the chaos of the party outside. His head tilted slightly, studying my mouth, then my eyes, then my mouth again. His hand lifted-not to grab, not yet. Just to trace. The backs of his fingers skimmed my jaw, slow enough that I could feel every millimeter of skin they passed over. They trailed down the side of my neck, pausing in the hollow of my throat, not pressing-just resting there. "You've got that look," he murmured. "What look?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "Like you want me to ruin you." I should've laughed. Teased. Something. Instead, I held his gaze. "Maybe I do." The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but something hungrier. Still, he didn't touch me the way I wanted him to. Instead, his knuckles dragged down my collarbone, over the bare skin just above my dress, grazing the swell of my breast without claiming it. "You sure you can handle forgetting?" he asked, his voice lower now, as if we weren't already breathing the same air. "Try me," I said. That broke something in him. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones, holding me still as his eyes searched mine like he was committing the color of them to memory. Then-finally-he kissed me.
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