first & careless
the dark knight; fem!joker/rachel; nc-17
genderswap, femmeslash, dub-con, mild bondage, knifeplay. Unbetaed, so please say if you see any mistakes ♥
You should never open your apartment door after midnight.
(didn't need the laugh or the introduction to know who she was -- recognised the smile before the makeup and was pinned against the wall before she could speak, that face from the news and from bruce's clipped descriptions (be careful) and now the girl pressing up against her -- something slippery on the glove against her neck and the smell of blood hitting the back of her throat and dark eyes, something like glee glinting as her head meets the wall sharply and she drops to the floor with barely a gasp. the joker smiles down at her)
She wakes up slowly, the back of her head throbbing tenderly. She's still for a few moments, chin almost touching her chest, then she feels the tight friction around her wrists and jolts upright, knocking the chair back an inch. There's a laugh somewhere behind her, drawn out and stifled and then there's two hands gripping her shoulders tightly and a voice skittering close to her ear, pauses accented by damp air brushing her skin. "Wakey wakey, beautiful! You look ravishing tonight. How did you get your hair like that?" The Joker sings in a high falsetto, her hands pushing almost gently up through the loose strands until she reaches the crown and pulls, a pained cry jumping into the air and she cackles, pleased.
She spins around the chair with her arms wide to face her, a flutter of air and purple cloth and then she lands on Rachel's lap, knees either side of the chair and her hands back firmly on her shoulders, face suddenly inches from hers and Rachel doesn't let herself look away. Her legs aren't tied down to anything and for a moment she imagines bucking her off, knocking her unconscious with a sharp kick and screaming for help, but the Joker tilts her head to the side and shifts her weight to rest heavily on her thighs, and she doesn't move. The Joker leans back a little with a smirk and draws her hands up between them, pulling her gloves off slowly to reveal surprisingly pale and dainty hands (nails short but unkempt) and wiggles her fingers -- frowning when Rachel just raises her eyebrows in reply.
Her eyes unwittingly flicker over the scars of her smile, only for a moment but the Joker sees and the wounds lift a little as she grins.
"Do you know how I got these? I had this boyfriend once, you know how it is, he was always saying how much he loved to see me smile. Every day he'd tell me he loved me." Her hands slide from her shoulders down to her waist, almost a caress, and she leans closer, the smell of wax and blood and something like rainy nights smothering the air. "He was such a sweetheart, except when he drank. He had these horrible friends, you know, they never liked me. He came home one night, completely stinkin' of booze, and he looked at me and said 'Why so serious?'" --whispered into her neck, a hot breath against flushed skin and Rachel squirms a little against the rope-- "'Why so serious?' again and again until he saw the knife in my hand -- I don't know what it was doing there -- and he grabbed it and told me to smile, and well. I dumped him, of course! Ha ha!"
Rachel just stares, lips slightly parted. The Joker waits for a moment, tongue darting out, then she rolls her eyes and lunges forward to kiss her roughly on the mouth. She swallows the surprised gasp with breathless glee and rushes her hands up to grab each side of her face, hold Rachel still as she struggles and tries to wrench her face away from hers (she goes limp quickly, a surrender that's too easy but the Joker wants to take and take anyway), nails digging in to jaw and cheek and bone and every time she tries to cry out the Joker just pushes further until she's breathless and dizzy. Her mouth tastes like candy and wax and salt.
She pulls away without warning and looks proudly at her work, the closed eyes and hot cheeks. Her fingers are still gripping her face tightly and she draws a thumb over Rachel's bottom lip, smearing the red residue up and across her cheek in the beginnings of a half-smile, christening it with a quick closed-mouth kiss and laughing when Rachel finally opens her eyes again and glares (there's heat but not enough, and there's something like a token resistance in the way she struggles again to get her hands free).
"Would you like me to cut you free, hmm?" The Joker asks, eyes mockingly wide as she pulls a knife out of her jacket pocket with a flourish. There's a moment -- half a second -- when Rachel thinks she's actually going to do it, as the Joker stands and steps away (shrugging her jacket off in one fluid movement, bare hands and a couple of shirt buttons undone), but then she kneels down in front of her and rests the edge of the knife against her thigh, barely enough pressure to make a dent in the material stretched over her legs. She looks up and licks her lips, drawing the tip of the knife slowly down to her knee before dropping it carelessly on the carpet and darting forward to grab the hem of her trousers.
A single protest ('no' or 'wait' or 'please') but Rachel lifts her hips a little anyway, lets the Joker tug them off completely and throw them over her shoulder without a glance, rests a hand on each bare knee and pushes her legs apart with ease. Rachel sucks in a breath as the Joker reaches down to pick up her knife, her eyes never moving from Rachel's face (still warm with panic and fervour) and her lips curl into something wicked -- her free hand slides along the inside of her left thigh and she feels the muscles tense beneath her palm.
The knife is set down on the top of her right leg, the Joker's palm covering the hilt and her fingers splayed out across the exposed skin, the edge of the blade tilted in a little but not enough to touch, and Rachel stares at it warily, waiting for her to move -- in a flash her hand is wrapped around it again and she skims it, edge facing down, up to the crease where hip meets leg and catches the tip of the blade under the trim of her panties, reducing the material to scrap with a single flick (Rachel makes a sound in the back of her throat, makes a point of not gasping and presses her fingertips hard into her palms). Her legs are still wide apart and the Joker settles herself comfortably between them, glancing up with a leering grin and her face paint still mostly intact, red smeared obscenely around her mouth (ravished springs to mind, and Rachel doesn't think about her own expression).
She can't help but shout when the flat of the blade is suddenly pressed against her, cold and smooth and the hint of sharpness so close that she doesn't dare move, high tension in her thighs and for the briefest instant she wants to tip her hips forward, push herself into it and see the surprise on the Joker's face, but the knife is drawn up and away before she can even twitch and she whimpers quietly. With one hand on her left knee the Joker pushes her legs wider still and watches Rachel's face with delight, sees her gaze dart from the knife to her hand to her own eyes and freezes (and yes, this is what she came for, to see the fear in her eyes and the surrender in the corner of her lips).
The Joker lets the knife hover over her stomach for a moment, barely a threat and then drops it to the floor -- the hand on her knee suddenly tightening viciously and two fingers shoving roughly inside her without warning, those nails catching and it hurts but through the shock she refuses to scream, to look away, sees the triumphant thrill on the Joker's face when she drags a nail over her clit and she shivers, gasping -- and God, wait, she shouldn't like this, there's no logical way she could be enjoying this but then the Joker's thumb flicks over her clit again roughly and she cries out, bucks her hips, sees a flash of the scars before she lets her head fall back and stares wide-eyed up at the ceiling.
"Oh, no! You have to watch the show!" Glee in the Joker's voice and something like a growl, low and dangerous, as a hand reaches up, glistening oddly, to cup the back of her neck -- fingers tangling in her hair for a moment before her head is pushed forward with a rough jerk and Rachel hisses, wrenching at the rope binding her hands.
The Joker giggles, deceptively girlish, and Rachel bares her teeth at her (she simply smiles wider, a flash of teeth in return).
"Aren't you having fun, Ms Dawes? The party's only just starting!"
There isn't time for any kind of reply -- the Joker flashes her a wide grin before pushing harder on her thighs and leaning swiftly in, a tongue suddenly on her clit and fingers brushing her folds and everything drains to a single point of focus, of need and heat and sensations crashing, unable to tell between lips and tongue and teeth and nails and the single thought of more, struggling against her bonds just for the friction and pushing her hips up, not even caring when there's a faint chuckle. Until the Joker stops, and pulls back a little, and Rachel calls out in protest.
"No, no, you're so impatient. Those boys... they just don't get it. They don't see how much you want--" The wet smack of her lips, tongue pressed to the corner, "--this." She's barely listening, just focuses on that mouth and tries not to whimper. "Poor Batsy." And then the Joker is laughing, her head thrown back as she cackles and sniggers and screams with joyous abandon, and suddenly Rachel remembers that she's been attacked and tied up in her own home by a madwomen. She starts screaming too.