multirem - Tumblr blog

[multirem]

balancesoflight :

Clark laughs softly, hearing Lois comment that she does, in fact, look better in everything, and he knows he cannot argue her on that. Being with Lois, having her around on a day like today, with the two of them not having to go into work makes Clark feel a little more at ease – but also having her around makes him feel more… human, in a way. He would never know how to phrase it to Lois to tell her that, so he doesn’t – keeping it to himself, like a small secret, locked away in his chest. He likes how he feels with her. “You sure found her, didn’t you?” Martha asked Clark one day, when he’d taken Lois over to meet her. He smiled, perhaps a little bashfully as Martha had hummed quietly, reaching over to hold Clark’s hand in her own for a few moments. They’re both thinking about the same thing; or, in this case, the same person, Jonathan floating in their minds, unspoken between the two of them for a few moments. “He would’ve loved her, you know,” Martha says quietly after a few moments, her voice shaking slightly. Clark nodded, leaning over to kiss the head of the only mother he’s ever known – even if she isn’t his mother, per say, she always will be to Clark. He gripped her hand, smiling a little as he glanced back to see Lois in the kitchen, insisting she did the dishes as he leans back a little in his chair. He misses being out there, in the country, hearing Jonathan’s voice calling him to come inside, and wishing he couldn’t seen his impressed face when he’d met Lois for the first time. But that moment never came, because he wasn’t there. But Clark so badly wished he was. Clark smiles a little, feeling the playful bite of his jaw as he runs a gentle hand through her hair. “To combat my height? I’m sure that could be… interesting,” Clark teases her now, humming quietly as he kisses her hair for a few moments before pulling back. Something doesn’t feel right, settling uncomfortably in his stomach as he makes his way to Lois’ bed, taking the dishes he’d left from food they’d made earlier into the kitchen, starting to run some water to clean off the stacks of plates from their day in. “Do you believe them? The articles and the – things they’re saying?” Clark finally asks Lois, pouring some soap into the water and immediately watching it bubble up, seeing the steam from the water starting to float up toward him. “You obviously don’t, because why would you still be with me,” Clark says after a moment, feeling a little ridiculous he’d even asked.  “It’s like I –” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath, clearly frustrated; not with Lois, never with Lois, but with everything else, “it’s like Superman can’t do anything right. One minute, he’s a hero and the next he’s painted as a villain.”

   the redhead nodded her head with a grin on her lips. It is rare for anyone to see Lois like this. To see the happy, carefree side of her. The side that can have fun. That enjoys cuddling and wearing her boyfriend’s hoodies. The side that allows anyone to see that she is - in fact, human. And not the machine the world of journalism thinks her to be. The side that everyone is used to, the famous Pulitzer winner, the woman not afraid to stick her head into the jaws of death to find the truth. She was that. All of that. But you cannot be the strong, independent journalist all the time - everyone needs a break.

    Lois laughed softly at Clark’s comment about that being interesting. It sure would be. To see her standing on a chair only because she wanted to be taller. How much more childish could you get? That was something that Clark brought out of her. A little spark of happiness, of joy in the simplest things in life. The redhead rarely thought about her past, about how she dove in head-first into any work Perry would offer her, not wanting to think about just how sad and lonely her personal life was. And it was silly to admit that, even to Clark.

     “Do I believe who?” The redhead asked, arching a brow as she paused in mid-act, her hand freezing before it could reach her favorite mug to prepare herself a cup of coffee. Suddenly the light atmosphere of the morning became heavier, a little thicker, making her sigh softly. Lois bit on the inside of her cheek, watching Clark silently as he spoke, talked to himself asking and answering questions. She understood where he was coming from. She really did. Being out there in public, searching for news to write about there were people who thought her to be doing good - but there also was a crowd of those who did not like her. Not at all. She could only imagine what it would escalate to when it came to Clark.

    “I don’t believe them.” Lois replied simply, tilting her head as her soft voice filled the silence around them “As journalists we should know that not everyone tells the truth.” She pointed out before nodding her head “People are idiots, Clark.” Lois added with a shrug of her shoulders “We cannot appreciate what we have, a helping hand, someone who does the dirty work for us - it is so much easier to be arguing and saying bad things.” She began, leaning against the kitchen counter “But that does not mean everyone thinks so. There are people who love Superman no matter what bullshit is displayed on the news. People who believe in you, people who pray for you.” The redhead softly added, reaching out her hand to delicately cup Clark’s cheek “You need to prevail. For them. For the people who love you.”

[multirem]

&& @balancesoflight //  Lois and Clark

    the shower she took worked wonders on her slightly aching muscles, on the sore spots that needed to be used that day. She was thankful it was not a day she had to go to the office, and neither did Clark - this was a day just for them. This was the day for relaxation and walking around in sweats and hoodies, not having to worry about anything else. Well, he did. Lois had quickly realised that a relationship with the famous SUPERMAN was not going to be a piece of cake. The man did not get a day off, people did not go out of their way to make it a bit easier on him. HELL NO.

     The thoughts clouded the woman’s head as she walked out of the bathroom, wearing Clark’s old hoodie that Martha packed in some boxes along with Clark’s other old clothes, but Lois could not help it as she snatched one of them for herself. She enjoyed the way the soft fabric felt, how it still smelled of him. That wonderful, intoxicating mix she could not get enough of.

      “I look better in everything.” The woman teased, taking the elastic out of her hair to allow the long, fiery red locks to tumble down her back in soft, messy waves. Watching as the beautiful man got up from her bed made her almost groan in displeasure - such a pretty sight being interrupted, but as Clark walked up to her and kissed her. All of that immadiately forgotten. Nothing but the feeling of his lips against hers mattered.

     Lois did not control her hands as they moved to rest at Clark’s hips gently and then further forward, wrapping her arms loosely around the tall man’s waist. She chuckles, as from this up close she could really feel the height and size difference between them. On daily basis at the office, in her high heels, it did not feel as much but now, as they both stood barefoot - Lois felt tiny.

     “Next time I’m gonna stand on a chair.” She teased, pressing a playful bite to the Kryptonian’s jawline “---see how you like that.”

[multirem]

silverstays :

Serenity washes over Clark at that moment. With Lois resting against him, her perfume invading his atmosphere, the warmth of her body, the sound of her voice… it brought him solace. Even if she didn’t know it, she managed to bring the calm amidst the storm. His fingers absently stroke her arm, gently tracing lines up and down. And he listens. Clark always listened. 

Lips fall back to neutral when he catches her gaze, a flash of concern in his eyes as he too tries to piece it together.  ’ Maybe they did.  ‘  He says decidedly, eyebrows arching. It wasn’t hard to tell she was ruffling some feathers; Lois rarely went into a story that didn’t. That’s where his worry lies, what keeps his ears always attune to her movements when she’s out on the field.  ’ Who exactly are you looking into, Lo?  ’

    her head tilted slightly so she could comfortably rest it against the man’s shoulder. She could feel her muscles immadiately relaxing as soon as her frame leaned against Clark’s - it was the way the man affected her every single time they touched. As soon as she was close, as soon as a part of his body touched hers - it was an momentarily sign for her mind that she was safe, allowing her to relax and stop her wildly racing thoughts. Every single time - Clark was her safe little haven, he was what she could call HOME.

     “---that is classified information.” Lois teased, taking another sip of her drink “What if I tell you and next time I’m out in the field you tell that man with a cape and red panties?” The redhead couldn’t help herself as she jabbed at her lover with another playful comment, holding back a giggle that threatened to escape her rosy lips.

[multirem]

silverstays :

Clark did not need to use any enhanced senses to perceive how fatigue had taken a toll on Lois. There was the illusion that their jobs consisted mostly of sitting in front of a computer, typing up words and hoping together they would make something. While that was true for some, Lois Lane took reporting to a level of her own. Her searches were tireless, her determination taking the better out of her at times  –––  and Clark didn’t mind being the net that would catch her when those days came about. 

A smile of amusement colors his features as he pours the much needed whiskey into a tumbler, shoulders releasing the tension they’d held moments before. He turns, making his way to take the spot next to hers on the sofa with the drink in hands.  ‘  They’re tights, actually.  '  He corrects with a smirk, putting an arm around her and pulling her in closer.  '  Now  ––  '   Cue to his offering of the glass.  '  Lay it on me. You’ve got that the-lead-was-a-dead-end frown on your face… was that what went down?   ’

      She watched Clark as he poured the alcoholic drink into a glass for her, observing silently as the man’s muscles moved underneath the clothes he wore. The redhead often wondered just what kind of good she had done in this ( or previous ) life to deserve someone like him actually LOVING her in return. She still remembered how, as a young girl, she used to watch the romance black and white movies with her mom, baby blue eyes focused on the scenes that passed before her on the small screen of the tv. From that moment, there had been a flame of need growing deep within her, a flame she was used to hiding on daily basis - but not around Clark. The flame of need for someone to hold and love her unconditionally.

        Lois thanked him softly as the man sat down and pulled her close before handing her the glass. She leaned into him with a soft humm, loving how perfectly their bodies seemed to fit - he was always such a good pillow. “It was not much of a dead end...” The woman spoke after swallowing a small sip of the burning, amber liquid. She looked down at it, swirling the drink in the glass for a few seconds as she thought things through “I had so many solid informations that lead to one point. And then it DISAPPEARED.” She frowned, turning her head to look up at the dark haired man, a pout tugging at her lips “---Just as I was about to grab it, everything disappeared, as if someone knew I was almost there and packed their bags and left.”

[multirem]

        a low groan fell from the redhead’s lips as she kicked off her heels and felt the cool surface of the wooden floors beneath her feet. She walked into the living room and fell back onto the sofa, sighing softly as the comfortable seats wrapped around her frame and allowed her tired body to rest at least a bit after the long, tiring day. Some people said that the reporters were machines, never needing a moment of rest in their chase for news --- those people had no idea what they were talking about.

        “Whiskey.” Lois called after Clark when he asked what she wanted. She was too tired to even lift a hand to grab the drinks herself. “---not THAT much of a rough talk, don’t get your panties in a twist.” The woman teased, knowing the man was already thinking about all possible topics of the conversation they might have.

&& @silverstays   //  cont

[multirem]

    the dark haired elleth smiled softly as the King turned to her and she nodded her head, beckoning him closer. Pale arm wrapped around the Aran’s waist as well, both of them walking back into the bedroom, her green eyes looking up to gaze at the tall ellon’s beautiful profile.

     a soft laugh escpaed her lips as Thranduil spoke so pleasantly about her, making her shake her head in amusement as she lead him towards the fire burning in the fireplace. “---I know, meleth nin.” Alathiel replied simply, though with a playful smile on her rosy lips.

      “You need to get warm now.” The elleth added, gently patting at the man’s arm to make him sit before she went to grab a goblet of herbal drink that had been steaming on a table. As she walked back towards the ellon, she could not help the curiosity gnawing at her bones “---what made you so lost in thoughts?”

( @rxclaimwhatismxne  //  continued )

[multirem]

     the blonde watched the King as the man moved closer to her, though whereas he inflicted a whole lot of fear in other people, made them tremble and their knees shake --- for her, all that she felt as the dangerous man approached her, was a tightening need in her lower stomach. An animalistic lust that grabbed upon her heart and mind and did not lessen up, even slightly --- especially not when the King’s hand found its way to her throat.

                                   Oh, how much she loved this.

      a wide grin took its place upon the Queen’s lips as she tilted her head back slightly, baring even more of her delicate, pale neck to the Joker’s grip. She did not stray away from his touch, even if it was meant to bring pain and fear --- how could she? How could she deny herself the pleasure of being touched by her Puddin’?

      “It bothers you.” Harley replied simply, though her voice was a low, seductive purr. How many times she had done that thing, how many times had she allowed other men to touch, to dance with her, to reach for the spots only reserved for the KING just to get a reaction out of the green haired man. And he was reacting now. When all she did was TALK to the new man among the ranks of their army.

       “He had ideas I liked.” Harley tried to explain, though did not make a move to get out of the grip her King still had “---he looked promising, had that spark in his eye that made me think we could get another Frosty out of him. We could need some men we could TRUST.” She shrugged her shoulders “---that’s it, nothing to be jealous about.”

&& @fallesto  //  continued

[multirem]

“It’s not an ‘S’. On my world, it means hope.”

Henry Cavill as Clark Kent/Superman in Man of Steel (2013) dir. Zack Snyder

[multirem]

❝ he adores you. ❞

       “---GOOD.” Harley replied simply as she walked towards the parking lot where the car was waiting for them, hearing Joker’s footsteps following. She knew who the man was talking about, but really couldn’t detect any emotions in his voice. Was he pleased? Angry? JEALOUS? “He only adores me because I got him an audience with you.” The blonde pointed out, turning to look at the King with a playful wink before she leaned against the side of the car, her long, tight yet thin white dress hugging her frame and the golden accents of her jewlery fitting the whole image “---does that bother you?” Harley asked simply, arching a brow “That other men talk to me?”

&& @fallesto  //  meme //  accepting

[multirem]

     OUT: I am still around, but mostly on my other two blogs. Is anyone still here? Anyone who would like to write with any of my MUSES so I can return and have something to actually do around here? ^.^

[multirem]

#NEWYORKGLOW by Xavier Portela

In the words of the artist:

Since I started the Glow series I wanted to add one of my favorite city in the world: New York. After Tokyo and Bangkok here is New York Glow, showcasing night photographs from Times . Glow is an ongoing project feel free to check the complete series on my website.

[multirem]

reblog if your gross and murderous muse would have sex whilst covered in blood

[multirem]

crimson-smirks :

He had to bite his tongue, holding back laughter. Now was not the time for such a thing. He could easily tell she was annoyed, him laughing right now would be like throwing a fire into a lava pit – it would be meaningless – she was ready to burst. From the look in her eye she did not need him to mock her right now, someone somewhere was going to be at the end of her wrath, a baseball bat across the side of their fear, her foot on their head as she crushed them under her – this was going to be funny to witness.

“CaNt LeT ThEm GeT AwAy WiTh It.” It was only a photo. Only a stupid image. The meaning was lost on him. She found it important, but he didn’t. He truly did not care if he saw the photo again, but the meaning behind it was all to worrying and real. Someone had stolen from her – from him. It may have been nothing more than a mere photo – but it was one of the queens riches. It belonged to her. It had her mark on it – if they could easily still a photo without fear of what would happen if discovered.

THEN WHAT ELSE HAS BEEN TAKEN… FROM RIGHT UNDER THEM…

“YoU WhErE A BlAnK CaNvUs.” He commented. Walking towards her desk as his hand ran across the numerous pieces of paper – a thick layer of dust upon them as he just stared downwards. She was a piece of clay that landed right in his hands. A nobody who got walked all over. A pushover who out her life into him, only for someone else to take her work and all the credited from her. He taught her to stand up for herself and from there it snowballed downwards until she became what she is today…perfect.

“YoU WhErE HaRdLy PrOfEsSiOnAl WhEn YoU StArTeD SeEiNg Me In HeRe.”

     the blonde hummed, then chuckled softly as she remembered the countless sessions the two of them had in her office, how different they were than the ones lead in the commonly used room that had been made especially for that. She remembered how proud of herself she was when she heard the news about the Joker himself wanting more meetings with her, wanting to spend time with her and talk to her - it truly seemed as if he had made her stand on the pedestal amongst the rest of her doctor collegues.

        “Were you not charmed by my tight skirts and killer high heels?” The blonde asked, her brows wiggling playfully as she looked up at Joker from her position on the office chair. She could not help but giggle a bit at that, oh how pathetically she had tried to gather his attention, to grasp even a slight lustful gaze from the Clown Prince --- and look where it took her. Look what she had been gifted with.

         “Because I remember clearly you quite enjoyed my red stilletos and the red lipstic I wore for you.” Harley added in a teasing tone, winking at her King before she stood up and spun around, gazing at the office and sighing softly. Memories, memories that seemed stuck in the darkest parts of her mind now kept resurfacing. And she was not sure it was a good idea.

[multirem]

crimson-smirks :

HE HAD HER IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND… SHE BELONGED TO HIM…

She could have refused him. She could have walked away. She was his doctor and this was not a card game. There were meant to be no bets, no deals that could be made, she was in charge, that’s the way it was meant to be. She was his doctor. She was meant to run things. She was meant to take the charge, but it had all become twisted and fucked up. He didn’t care about more meetings. He didn’t give a fuck who else she had to treat and see. He wanted to test the water, throw a little bit of bait out and see if she would bite and she didn’t disappoint him.

She gave in to his demands. She agreed to do what he asked. She set up more meetings with him, at least three times a week now – meaning he could more time out of his cell. More time to rebuild his strength. Being trapped in that tiny box with barely enough room to fully stand up straight, it was weakening him – getting out – blackmailing the guards with riches beyond their wildest dreams to take him on different routes to her office – all of it was thanks to her, he was learning the routines of the guards, he was seeing how many they where, how often they rotated shifts with one another – he would drag these meetings out for hours upon hours, to see if there were new faces in the hallways.

He kept his promise to her. He gave her what she needed to keep her happy. He spoke about his father to her. About how he was a cold and uncaring man. How he had no education, which meant he had no movement, he would be part of the working force and nothing more. He drank and wasted their money on gambling. He would strike his mother and him when he returned him. He would beat him, abuse him mentally and sexually – the prince painted the worse possible picture for the little doctor – balancing out darkness with just a little light.

He liked to make people laugh. He liked to make people smile. He liked to create his own fun. He had nothing. No money meant he barely had clothes on his back. He created his own fun, his own amusement. Laughter was the only thing he had and no matter how much he was beaten, his father could not take that smile from his face. He told her everything about his upbringing – about when he was a child – pulling back the curtain enough to reveal to her that he did not just have one bad day to become this – he had one bad fucking life – and that from even back then – he knew he was different than anyone else – he knew that being weak got you no where – being weak got you beaten – being weak – got you killed.

“I KiLlEd HiM YoU KnOw.” He shrugged – the laughter they shared had been cut short. She had pressed him for more information – no one knew anything – no one knew nothing about him – where he came from – who his parents where – she was the first to hear such stories and he was telling her what she wanted, at a price. A soft drink here. A pudding cup there. Little things. Items that he was not permitted to have, but she brought them to him, in exchange for these stories.

“WaNt To KnOw HoW?”

     and as the meetings started again, as they were moved from the one room made for it and into her office --- it seemed they also became less tense. She had a special chair moved into her office, up against the wall where her patients could sit or lie down, and there was her facorite armchair standing next to it so she could look at them during their meeting. Well --- at HIM.

       the blonde lost count of how many times they had met in such circumstances already, but it seemed to be working. Wether it was the little game the man was playing, or the sessions actually helped - she had no idea. Harleen could clearly see the difference between the man the guards had brought into the Asylum way back, and the man in front of her now. She had demanded he be left free, without the jacket restraining him and with only one hand handcuffed down to the chair he laid on. She was trusting him more now --- not quite sure though, if it was a wise decision.

         but in the confiness of her own office the two of them could talk more freely, without the conversation being taped, without any microphones hidden around the room - she had checked, many times, making sure she was not being listened to no matter what the reason would be.

         “I’m not sure.” Harleen said, leaning back in the armchair, one of her legs crossed over the other, her high-heeled foot swinging back and forth in the air as she listened with great curiosity to the tales the Clown Prince spoke of “---was it nasty?” The doctor asked, wrinkling her nose a bit at the thought of some gruesome, gore picture that the Joker could have painted.

[multirem]

crimson-smirks :

There was not a living soul in the city who didn’t know about his nightclub. Of course knowing about it and gaining entry where two totally different things. The line to get in was long. You could stand there for hours and hours and not even move. Not just anyone ever gained entry. Every night it was full, with powerful figures from the underworld. It was the place to be and she was offered a free pass to gain entry and she was thinking about it.

“YoU CaN MaKe It HaPpEn.” He commented with a barely visible shrug of his shoulders. All she had to do was fill in a few forums to put the request in. No one would dare question her reasons. Doctor Young would be over the moon in fact, such a thing would mean that she was making progress when no one else ever had.

OF COURSE HE HAD HIS REASONS… HE DIDN’T LIKE SHARING…

He ignored what she had called him. A nickname that had somehow stuck to him in this living hell. They would not call him by his title, they would not acknowledge such a horrid name the papers had given him. No one knew his name – no one knew anything about him – Jay – that was what he was called and that is what she called him – he would let it get to him – to have a name he had no pride in given to him.

“No GaMes I PrOmIsE.” His smiled faded from his face, moving to straighten himself up. He was serious with her, but there would be a price like everything with him. He wanted more meetings with her, more chances to talk to her, more opportunities for her to open him up like she wanted, but she would have to give all her other patients up for him.

“No OnE ElSe – I Am ThE OnLy OnE YoU TrEat –”

      She had never considered going to any form of a club or a bar even in her older years. What she considered fun nowadays was a bottle of sweet wine or two and a good movie marathon - one where she would throw handful of popcorn at the screen because the movie got to her so well. Oh yes, she had spent countless mornings having to clean up her own mess with a pounding headache. Against any popular belief - when you drank two bottles of wine in one sitting, the hangover was quite the bitch.

        A brow was arched in response to his promise of this not being a game. She could not quite believe that, the Joker without any plan in his head? That was quite unheard of. Though she had to admit, that if she did fill out the forms and gave them to her boss - she would immadiately earn a few additional points. An agreement from the Prince himself, for more sessions, with her and only her? When so may doctors had tried before? Now that was an award all on its own.

        “No patients?” Harleen could not help the expression of shock on her face, blue eyes widening behind her glasses as she heard the Joker’s conditions. Now she was pretty sure he had something planned. “You want me all to yourself, huh?” The blonde chuckled. She had quite a few patients, the doctors who worked here quite a while gave her all the cases which they didn’t want to play with, she was swarmed with work most of the time. But now. since the request came from the JOKER himself, her boss could not deny it and Harleen knew that.

          “I’ll see what I can do.” the blonde agreed, nothing but curiosity burning in her head.

[multirem]

crimson-smirks :

The only time he walked these walls was with a security force around him. The only time he ever got to leave his cell and travel down here was when he had crossed a line. When he had attempted to escape. When he had killed another inmate or worse a doctor, that was the only time he was taken down here. To be question, beaten, drugged and tossed into a smaller darker cell as punished.

He would take his time. Allowing her to hum a musical tune for them as he turned his head side to side looking at the countless empty cells. How many times had he stayed here. How many times where these cells filled with his own men. Arkham at times seemed like another home for him. It seemed like a hotel for him and his men. They would do whatever they wanted and be tossed in here for treatment, but it would always end the same, he would escape and return to the kingdom to rule it only to be tossed back in here.

THE LAST TIME HE BROKE OUT… HE MADE SURE IT WOULD BE THE LAST…

His last escape was his greatest, because he killed everyone. No doctors, no Arkham, it was a simple solution to his problems and he could not have done it without her. He would walk forward, pushing the broken door opened as he entered her office. Even now – this place was a crime scene – it was sealed off to the world – no one was brave enough to enter this hell for what he had done – but to him – this was like a vacation.

“OoOoOoH…” He commented. He was looking around the office. Staring at the countless qualifications she had. Looking at the soft toys she had collected in her office. His eyes shifted to her desk, the picture she talked about was indeed gone. He would not normally care about such a thing, he would not even humour her, but it held value – it was rare for an image of him to be printed – even more rare was two of them captured together.

“AdD ThAt To YoUr LiSt – FiNd ThAt PhOtO.”

     Harley stood there, her arms folded across her chest as he glared at the desk, at the spot where the picture had held place through all that time. And now someone had dared to take it. Her favorite trinklet of the time before her CHANGE. She was fuming with rage, almost shaking from the intense feelings that coursed through her head. If she ever found out who had taken it, she was going to rain hell on them, hell worse that the deepest depths of purgatory.

       “Don’t worry, I will.” The blonde promised with an almost deadly smirk. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, Harley grinned widely, a cheerful expression back on her face. She looked around, walking across the room to look at the diplomas and certificates - oh the irony of the situation. How the insane had the knowledge of treating the kin of her.

         “I used to sit here for hours upon hours and think about your case, Puddin’.” The woman grinned, walking back to the desk where she sat in her office chair and propped her high heeled feet up onto the desk. She leaned back and sighed softly, the memories flooding her mind “---At first it was professional.” Harley said, giggling to herself. Oh yes, the first few weeks were full-on professional. But then as always, the Clown Prince began toying with her head and before she knew it - he had her wrapped around his finger. Her heart in the palm of his hand.

          “How the tables have turned...”

[multirem]

crimson-smirks :

No matter how much she grew. No matter how much confidence she gathered for herself. No matter how much she branched out and did her own things. Ran her own small operations with his permission. No matter how much she carved her own name into the city, to have her name uttered with as much fear as his own, when it came down to it, it would never affect him.

She had power, because he allowed it. She had success, because he wished for it. She was free, because he had made it happen. Everything she is or ever will be, is by the grace of his hand. She was a card in his deck like all the others, but her value was priceless to him. She had a seat at his table. It took people years to even get an audience with him, yet she had a chair, she had his ear and she had his undivided attention when she wanted – yet she had no power over him – her control was limited – it was hard to get and almost impossible to maintain.

THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS… WHERE HE WOULD TAKE IT AWAY FROM HER…

She could have fought back. She could have pushed his hands away. She could have denied him, struggled against him and taken what she wanted, but just as easily as she turned the tables on him he could do the same to her. She offered no resistance as he forced her against the wall. As he bared his fangs and sank them into her delicate neck. All that power she had only moments around was gone as he reduced her nothing more than a pleading little girl. Her legs wrapped around him as she pulled him close, as she held him close, as she brushed that warmth against him, begging for entry as he…denied her. Cruelly teasing her. It was so close and yet so far away as he just ignored her whimpers and cries – finding own amusement in this torment.

      So close and yet so far to what her body and mind seemed to crave for. The blonde almost whimperes softly at the touch of his length between her thighs when she realised that the King was going to toy with her. Oh how frustrating that was. Oh how she wished she could just pull him close and allow them both to find their release. After all, it was not every day - not even every week - that the Joker showed enough of interest in her that the both of them could indulge in such physical thing. It was not an often occurence and so all the sexual frustration she would acquire over the time in-between, now it was bubbling up inside of her.

        “Daddy, please, stop teasing.” Harley pleaded, her slender fingers reaching up for the man’s hair and she threaded the digits through the strands, tugging gently at the ends. Her fingernails gently scratched against his scalp, her other hand creating new, rough, almost bleeding claw-marks across the King’s back and shoulders. The need within her seemed almost ready to burst as the woman began to rock her hips against his, his length nestled between her folds almost perfectly - a perfect angle for her to get even the slightest bit of pleasure from such limited touch.

          “I need you, Jay.” The blonde added, leaning close to latch her lips onto the Joker’s neck, sucking and biting quite roughly, creating a mark that almost matched the one on her skin. She needed her King, she craved for him, she would do anything to have him.