**Just a reminder that none of these oneshots are related to the wicked series**
This is dedicated to two amazingly wonderful readers: preciousbaylor and Jargot. I have been wanting to write this for a little while but never had the time or the motivation, but I've actually written it this time and I really, really hope it's good to you two. Thank you so much for requesting for me to do it, it probably would've been months before I got around to doing it otherwise. - Donna Jossee
Prompt: What Happened After The Joker Broke Harley Quinn Out Of Belle Reve
The Joker stared at Harley as Johnny shut the door of their penthouse and left them alone.
She took a deep breath, refusing to look him directly in the eye.
She thought he'd died. She spent three months rotting away in that God forsaken prison. Thinking there was no hope. No way for her to ever be free again.
Then he came and saved her. Somehow, some way, he survived the crash and she had him to herself again.
'Of course he survived the crash', she thinks to herself. 'The man's God.'
She was still in her orange jumpsuit from Belle Reve, her pink fuzzy slippers still on her feet.
But even then The Joker couldn't deny how beautiful she was, or even how much he had missed her.
"I'm gonna go get a bath," she tells him gently.
He nods, watching her go up the stairs.
Once she was out of sight and he heard the bathroom door shut, he rushed up the stairs and changed from the guard uniform, pulling on a clean pair of slacks and one of Harley's favorite shirts of his - leaving it unbuttoned.
When that was done, he ran back down stairs, lighting every frilly scented candle she always kept around before he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of grape soda out of the fridge.
While he did this, Harley was rushing to get bathed. When she was done, she hit her shoulder against the shower door, and slipped on the floor of the bathroom because she practically sprinted to their bed room to dry off.
She was nervous and giddy and well, relieved.
She towel dried her hair, and looked at herself in the mirror.
She was slightly malnourished, and even though her face didn't show it much, her body did.
Feeling a tad self-conscious, she took a deep breath and moved to her closet to pull a dark purple nightie out, his favorite one.
One more glance in the mirror and she was making her way to the door.
Joker had just lit the fire in the fire place when she came down the stairs.
She stopped a moment, appreciating the fact that he lit her favorite candles.
He kept his eyes on the fire until he heard her approach him.
He turned to face her, his breath hitching a little bit.
They were both oddly nervous. They had a right to be, though.
After you go so many months without even knowing the man you love is even alive, it's a lot to take in when he just pops up out of no where and rescues you from whatever hell hole you're cooped up in.
He holds out the glass of grape soda and she grins ear to ear at him before she knocks it out of his hand and tackles him, her legs wrapping around his waist.
He's taken back a little bit, expecting her to pepper his face in kisses as usual, but she just clings to him for dear life - almost like a cat who knows it's about to be submerged in water so it clings to what it can to avoid it.
She pulls back a little bit and looks down at him, her eyes watery.
Within seconds, she's off of him and pacing.
He can't tell if she's happy or mad until she hits his shoulder.
"Ow!" He gripes. "The fuck, Har - "
" - I thought you were dead, ya bastard!" She outbursts. "Scared me half to death, J, ya know that?!"
He can't help the smile that spreads across his features at her temper. She was adorable.
"It ain't funny!" She hisses.
"You're right, you're right." He coos, gently reaching out, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "You have every right to be mad at me." He can't hide the smirk on his lips and she groans, swatting at his hands to get him off her. "But I'm here now. I'm alive and well, you're alive and well. We're together and at the end of the day, that's all that matters. Ain't it, Harls?" He asks her gently and she takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Good girl," he tilts her chin up so she's looking up at him. "Now, give Daddy some sugar." She giggles melodically as his lips meet hers.
"I love you," she whispers when she finally pulls away for breath.
"Same, kiddo." He smooths her hair and she stares at him.
His eyes reflecting the orange brightness of the fire behind her, his eyes bloodshot it seemed.
She didn't overlook the mountain of empty whiskey bottles in the corner, or the holes burnt in the carpet from cigarettes being stomped out.
She knew he had been miserable without her. But really, who wouldn't be?
She was miserable without him, truth be told. And now that she had him back, she made no plans of letting him go again.
Standing on her tip toes, she kissed him again, pulling him closer, digging her teeth into his lip.
He groaned, his hands running down her waist to her hips.
"How bout we put the rug to good use?" He growls in her ear and a delicious hunger fills her, almost making her weak at the knees.
She shoves him back and he stumbles, his back hitting the soft bearskin with a thud. He beams up at her, his jaw slackening when she Straddles him, pushing his shirt up over his shoulders, her lips brushing over his chest and neck as more of his skin is exposed. His head falls back and he takes a deep breath, his hand gripping her thigh as the other tangles in her hair.
She glows under his silent praise, taking a deep breath and smiling widely at him.
Harley wasn't very use to being on top very much. Sure, they both agreed at the fact that they were equals, but when it came to sex and ownership - she was perfectly okay with him being the dominant one.
But now the tables had turned and she was the one in charge, for now at least.
When she pulled away briefly, Joker slid his hand up her side to her face, running his thumb over her full bottom lip.
He missed her. More than anything in his entire life.
He sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist, licking and biting at her neck after he rips her nightie over her head.
They both take deep breaths now, practically panting. Pent up excitement and buzzing through them.
Harley eased off his lap and unbuttoned his pants, trying to get her thoughts together, afraid she might screw something up.
She gulps, closing her eyes for a second. Feeling his hands grip her hips and guide her back to straddle him.
He remained sitting up, watching her blue eyes show a little hint of unease before he brought her down on him, his length burying into her to the hilt.
Her mouth opens, her brows knit together at the familiar sensation. She felt full: he'd always been too big for her to take. But he made her take all of it every time they fucked. Even if it meant her being uncomfortable for the time being. He knew she loved it, and the slight pain that came with it just made her even more excited for play time.
After adjusting to him, she started slowly rocking her hips into his. His pubic bone rubs against her clit, and her head falls back, eyes closed.
She tries to pick up the pace and he grabs her hips, slowing her back down to the pace he wants.
"J," she whimpers, her body itching with heat and aching for release.
"Ah, ah, ah," he scolds her, grinning widely.
"Daddy, please." She digs her nails into his biceps and he shakes his head.
"I ain't rushin' through this like we usually do." He tells her sternly, his breathing shallow.
Her heart sank in a good way as she admired the orange glow of the fire, not too far from them, reflecting off his body.
He looks almost angelic.
She lets him lead, moving the way his hands guide her to move. Back and forth, up and down, slower, harder, deeper . . .
He growls when a loud, high pitched moan slips from her lips after he hits her sweet spot.
Before she knows it her back hits the floor and her ankle is on his shoulder as he rolls his hips into hers, smooth, deep, thick strokes making her tighten around him and arch her back.
His hands are pinning hers down, and he watches her get to her high.
But she knows the rules.
"Ya wanna come, baby?" He growls in his chest.
"Yes," she nods.
"How bad?" He hisses.
"Daddy, please," she glances down between them and damn near comes a part at the sight of him moving in and out of her in such an erotic way.
After a couple more minutes of his torture, he kisses her passionately.
"Come for me." He tells her in a husky whisper and she does as she's told, practically crying out his name as he lets her hands go and she scratches her nails down his back.
Feeling her spasm around him, tightening and relaxing and repeating, he continues his thrusts and grunts when he finds his own release, spilling in her.
A throaty moan leaves her at the feeling of him finishing in her and she doesn't dare move when he's done.
His forehead rests against hers and she hugs him tightly to her, her bare chest pressed against his.
"Why did it take you so long to come get me?" Her small voice cracks and he rests on his forearms, staring down at her.
"I had to recover."
"It shouldn'ta taken ya that long to recover. It'd been six months, Pud'." She tells him. "I was in there for six months."
He's quiet for a moment, before he gets off her and sits up, staring into the fire.
He feels her gently grab his arm as she sits up, too.
"I'm sorry," She mumbles. "I just thought I lost ya."
"You should know you ain't gonna ever get rid of me. Even if you kill me yourself." He assures her and she smiles softly and brings his lips to hers, gently coaxing him to lay back down with her.