Just Tattoo of Us
A/N: Well, hello there. It’s been a while. This request has been sitting in my inbox for decades and I’ve only just found the motivation, inspiration, and dedication to write this up. What in damnation. This one… It’s not my favourite, let’s just put it that way. And also, I’ve made Harley seem like such a bimbo in this so I apologise, it was just a writing technique to create a contrast. But anyways, this was fun to write, taking some inspiration from my muse in my RP’s, thank you very much, @thekrazykeke and @i-got-that-smilex my darlings, I love you. So enjoy this one, my loves, and I’ll see you next time x.
Request: Hi! If you’re still doing requests could you do one where the reader is Mr. J’s tattoo artist, the only one he hasn’t killed. Maybe have a jealous Harley in it.
Warning(s): Swearing, slight (sexual) violence i.e. choking, sexual references, light dirty talk, Cheater!Joker, Jealous!Harley
Word count: 2,166
Pairing(s): Joker x Reader / Joker x OC (Original Character) / Joker x Harley
The bell dinged, signifying yet another customer entering the already crowded tattoo studio. Mind you, it was a Saturday at 1:19pm in the middle of a busy city - Gotham; to be exact.
City of Crime.
Has a ring to it.
Even though the dangerous city had quite the crude reputation to be… crooked, let’s say, she loved living in it. It was just something about living life on the edge - never really knowing whether the next day would be her last - that excited her and she couldn’t get enough of the rush that came with it.
Though of course, the perks also came with a few disadvantages, that many would say would be a little too colossal of a problem and would turn them away from moving to the crime-ridden town.
You know, just a tad of a turn-off.
She had run into - well, saw at the corner of a street and then swivelled in the other direction as fast as she could - many a criminal during her occasional strolls through the underworld.
Don’t take a midnight stroll on the wrong side of town, I’m telling you. It’s not a good idea.
There was one special occasion, however.
Meeting the one, the only, the infamous, Joker: Clown Prince of Crime - the ‘Jester of Genocide’, if you will - under the pale moonlight oddly drew her being towards him in some sort of way. Which way that was, she didn’t know herself yet. Maybe curiosity, maybe incredulity, maybe attraction, but she was certainly intrigued by the acid-washed man.
Now, the woman wasn’t an idiot, nor ignorant, at that. She had acknowledged the presence of his partner in crime - his Harley Quinn - nevertheless, she persisted in trying to get into his circle of trust, to be his friend, in an obscure form.
You would think being his tattoo artist wouldn’t get her very far, huh?
She was the only tattoo artist within a 3 mile radius of his unknown location in which he and Harley lived.
I wasn’t kidding when I said the tattoo studio was crowded. How much do you wanna bet getting a micro-sized rose on your ankle is? Joker made sure she was earning as much as your standard lawyer or doctor in the city by taking the liberty to act on some pretty drastic measures.
Basically, he execute every other tattoo artist in the general area, to put it simply.
But as one can imagine, his significant other would be slightly suspicious, and that was to be expected when your man paid special and notable attention to another woman. Yes, jealously wasn’t exactly an aspired trait in a normal relationship. But anyone who knew about them and their past knew that Harley Quinn and her Joker were anything but ordinary.
Jumping into a VAT full of bubbling acid to prove your love for a psychopath who manipulated you?
No thank you.
Although, with saying that, the adrenaline-addicted tattoo artist from a family background was seemingly willing to do anything and everything but.
“I was thinking about a new lip tattoo, whaddya think?” A deep yet velvety voice broke her from her trance and snapped her back to reality where she noticed she had just been staring out of the recently cleaned, sparkling window, wielding a tattoo pen that was still whirring from inscribing her art onto her last customer - she had forgotten to turn the machine off before spacing out.
Quickly switching the it off, she swallowed before looking up at the blindingly green-haired man standing in front of the mirror and pulling at his bottom lip, inspecting.
“Well if you want it to say "P U S S Y”, count me out.“ She retorted with a quick wit, something she never really understood if it was a gift or a curse. Her sharp tongue usually got her into some hefty trouble more than a few times. But hey, she was comical.
Her comment earned a chuckle from him which in turn made her smile to herself. Making him laugh was always a daily mission for her. To see him smile because of what she did or said was always an achievement.
"That’s why I like you, doll. You always have some sarcastic remark. It’s refreshing. Hearing the words "yes, Daddy” and “play with me, Daddy” from Harls everyday gets repetitive over time.“ He sauntered over after checking himself once over in the mirror - vain bastard - and sat on the extended tattoo couch, now level with her, as she had been sitting in her spinny chair, whilst she discarded of her old rubber gloves and put on a new pair, the sound of the material smacking against her skin as she pulled on them.
"Oh, I’m sure it must be very tiring to have kinky sex on the daily, J.” She rolled her eyes as she used his nickname that only certain people were allowed to call him. He normally only allowed others to refer to him as “Joker” or “Mister J”. She snickered at the glare he gave her before continuing, not adhering the warning. “I’m serious! Ya gotta use the handcuffs, the ropes, the ice, the foreplay, the whips… I would imagine fucking your tailor-made girlfriend who obeys your every command would be absolutely tedious.”
His hands were around her throat and squeezing within seconds after she had finished her sentence, making her stand up with him and letting him push her back into the wall with a thump, a constricted grunt of slight pain resounding from her closed throat. Her doe eyes looked up and met his narrowed ones with only a few inches between them.
“I don’t think you want to know just how interesting I can really be with my toys, doll-face, so I suggest you shut up about my sex life unless you want me to prove to you that you’re wrong.” His threat was laced with a presence of sexual tension. The sensation of his fingers around her neck and his breath fanning her face with seducing threats that came with his body mere centimetres away from hers almost made her knees buckle from underneath her and she had to stop herself from releasing an audible moan of desperation and anticipation from thinking about what he could do to her right then and there.
The two of them must’ve stayed in that position - staring each other down with nothing but their laboured breaths filling the room - for a solid five or so minutes until the door to the room slammed wide open and a bustling bleached-blonde skipped in, the sound of her heels tapping against the floorboards jolting the woman held against the wall back to life and she tried pulling away, but to no avail. Keeping his grip tight, but not tight enough to cut off the airways, he continued to gaze intently into her eyes. His glazed over with a fire burning deep inside of him that he didn’t conjure with his girlfriend any longer.
“Puddin’?…” A mixed tone of anger, disappointment, and rejection was detectable from Harley as the nickname for her lover spewed from her red lips. Walking into a secluded room to see the man she loved with a woman she had already been jealous of, in a position she thought was only reserved for her in the bedroom, brung out the worst in her as she felt the rage bubbling up inside at an increasing rate. Ready to pounce at the bitch trying to steal her boyfriend, she was stopped by the voice she had fallen in love with.
“Harley, sweetums, I want you to go home and be ready for me for when I get back, okay? Daddy’s going to get a new tattoo and I was just in the middle of telling our artist here exactly what I want. Detail… by… detail.” The reply had a sickly sweet underlay to it which, to any typical person, could’ve been easily picked up on and scoffed at - something she almost did - but to Harley, blinded by her emotions towards the criminal, it was just another demand for sex which she gladly complied to every time. She looked past everything she had just witnessed only minutes ago after hearing the pet name she had been called, convincing herself that the man dangerously close to a woman that wasn’t her, still loved her in his own way.
“Alright, Daddy, but don’t be long. I’ll be waiting…” An exaggerated grin, accompanied by a giggle, was sent in his direction before she turned on her heel and walked through the doorway, shutting the door with a click after her.
Shoving his body off of her, the trained tattoo artist dramatically gagged and stuck her forefinger inside her mouth. She was amazed yet disgusted at the same time at how submissive a woman could be towards a man. Never in her life did she witness such obedience without question to someone who was clearly not right in the noggin’.
“You’ve messed her up, J. Like real bad. She worships the ground you walk on. She’s just your fucking sex toy and she doesn’t even realise it, thinking you "love” her and shit.“ A rant had been building up inside of her until finally it started to be projected. "I kinda feel sorry for the girl. She was a psychologist, a good one at that, with a Ph.D, and you’ve somehow manipulated her and worked your way into her mind so that now she’d do anything for you. She’d die for you.”
“And that’s how I like it. People in this city respect me, all becau-.”
“That’s not respect! That’s psychological torture and I’ll be damned if I end up like another one of your 'dolls’ you can have fun with one minute and couldn’t give a fuck about the next.” She didn’t notice but she had begun to yell with pent up anger flowing out of her, she didn’t even register entirely what she was saying.
She had wanted to be by his side for as long as she could remember after meeting him, as his companion, his partner, his lover. She had thought she could replace Harley and become his new Queen of Crime. However, after seeing what previous Dr. Harleen Quinzel had now become under his hands, she begun to have second thoughts.
“You think I would treat you just like some random woman I picked up from the club? Oh, no, no, no. You… are one of a kind. You’re unique… You’re mine.” As he spoke these enticing words in a sultry manner, he came closer. Each step forward he made, resulted in one step backward for her until the back of her knees hit the chair and she fell back into it, now laying down. She watched as he placed his hands either side of her on the arm rests and wedged his knees beside her, crawling up her body until he was hovering above.
Her breath became uneven as she tried to stop herself from giving in and looking down at his crimson lips that looked o so kissable. “I want you. And the things I want, I get, no matter how. I know you’ve been wanting me since the first time you saw me. I know you touch yourself at night at the thought of me doing dirty things to you. When you’re alone in bed and your mind keeps drifting off to think about what I could do with your body. And I know how badly you want to feel full. You want me inside you. Isn’t that right?”
The way he spoke her thoughts aloud without caring who heard him made her cheeks turn a shade of red so deep she didn’t even think it possible and her core slick with want and need. The rough nature of his gravelly voice mixed with the undertones of lust and greed for her, visibly shook her as goosebumps appeared on her skin. Hearing all of these sinful words whispered from the mouth she had tried to resist earlier made her reach up to pull his head down as she just couldn’t take the teasing any longer, connecting their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss.
A growl was released from the depths of his throat as he shifted his body weight onto his elbows either side of her head and pressed his lower half into her, allowing her to feel what she did to him without touching him once. Hands moving to grip his shirt around his torso, she opened her mouth to grant him access to explore with his tongue before moaning gently.
Amongst all the fiery desire and passion the both of them were sharing, she had managed to remember a specific moment that had happened during his visit to the studio earlier before which made her pull away from his hungry lips to add her sarcastic rebuttal, as she always did,
“Play with me, Daddy.”