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This was always how you liked to start your mornings: With rose tea steaming the porcelain of your very best and very prettiest tea cup; your hair tied back in a bun at the nape of your neck; and copy of Vogue in front of you, you lay on your stomach with your legs hooked above you as they bobbed forward and back to the merry tune on your little radio.
'How do you like your eggs in the morning? I like mine with a kiss...'
The lilting fifties ballad was calming, and you hummed along idly, occasionally interrupting yourself with an excited: 'Ooh!' before you'd pop the lid off your special pink marker pen and circle the item which had caught your eye on the glossy scented pages of your favourite fashion magazine.
Normally your mornings were spent alone. You used them to get ready, or practise your dancing, or to draw things for Mister J when he got home. (He did love your pretty pictures. He said so himself!) Mister J himself was working, and didn't like to wake you. Well, usually. He always said that the early bird caught the worm, so he was out ruling Gotham City from the very crack of dawn, leaving you to enjoy lazy mornings in your boudoir without any disturbances from him.
Usually.
You were snapped from your happy daze by a voice singing along to the radio from your door:
"I've got to have my love in the morning, or the rest of my day is positively mayhem. I'm a regular monster."
You gasped.
"Puddin!"
Sure enough, Mister J appeared from around your door, and grinned when he saw you. He was shirtless and clad in only a pair of silk dress pants with a jacket folded over his right arm, which he had obviously taken off on the way in. He kicked his shoes off at the door, and draped his silver dress jacket over the arm of your chaise-longue You scrambled up from your position on your front, and sat up on your knees. You went to stand up and go to him, but he lifted a hand, smiling.
"No, no, no Duchess. You stay right where you are. Don't let me... distuuuuurb you." He drew out the word, his voice dropping an octave and falling into a low chuckle which you reciprocated as you giggled behind your manicured hands.
"You never come visit me in the mornings Daddy!" You beamed, looking up at him all wide eyed and a wide happy smile.
"Well I thought I'd come and give my baby girl a visit - I do know how much you love surprises." Joker said, walking his way around your canopy bed slowly, taking his time. Your eyes followed him, and you bit your lower lip as you did so. Neither of you said a word. Your radio carried on with it's jaunty melody, and Dean Martin went on singing. Faintly, Joker mouthed along to the words here and there, flashing you glimpses of his silver teeth as he did so. Suddenly he swung around one of your bed posts and landed just behind you in an elegant motion, much like a cat. He sat back on his haunches and looked at the magazine you had previously been engrossed in.
"What's this, my dear?" He drawled, his hand ever so faintly ghosting down your spine. The pads of his fingertips against your silk nightie made you shiver a little and you turned to look over your shoulder at him.
"Pretty things Mister J - Look!" You replied, pointing to the items your had circled.
"Ah!" Joker chuckled lowly, pressing the flat of his palm to the small of your spine. "These are my Duchess's little treasures! Heheheheheeee!"
His voice descended into maniacal laughter as it often did, and you broke into giggles too nodding your head happily. Two arms snaked around your waist like poison ivy, and tugged you backwards. You were now reclining against Joker's chest, his pale arms keeping you there as he leaned over you and picked up the glossy magazine. Your manicured fingers traced up and down his forearm. Up and down, up and down. He noticed this and let out a huff off affectionate laughter as he flicked through a few of the pages you'd highlighted.
"These trinkets are what my Duchess wants? Hmmmm?" He asked, tilting up your chin so you were staring straight up at him. Even upside down, his eyes pulled you in, entranced. Pressing your lips together, you could only nod in response, watching his red lips as they twisted up into a smile.
"Y/N..." He hummed darkly against your earlobe. You had not answered him.
"Y-yes..." You whispered, having to blink a little to break your trance.
Sometimes that happened.
Sometimes you just got so absorbed in your puddin's utter beauty that you were at a loss for words. His smile made something in your heart do triple somersaults. His eyes drew you in the way dolphins get caught in fishing nets. His tattoos were like scripture to you. Sometimes if you stared at them for long enough they came to life upon his skin; like how nuns who spend their whole lives on their knees at an alter claim they see the statue of the Holy Virgin move at their words of prayer.
"Yes Daddy, I do."
Joker threw his head back and laughed, and the magazine fell from his fingers to the floor with a heavy noise as it collided with your carpet.
"Then these trinketssss..." He hissed, drawing out the word like he was savouring it on his tongue. "She shall have!"
His grin grew wider and in just one instant he was lifting you up only enough that he could pull his legs out from underneath his body and stretch them out. He kicked aside your tea-cup and your pink marker pen, sending them to the floor with a clatter. It all happened faster than you could blink. Cackling, his hand flew from your waist up to your throat and squeezed. Your heart felt like someone had just stepped on the gas, and you gasped in excitement: Morning sex with Daddy was as rare as a precious gem! Your jaw fell open and you felt Mister J's legs hook under yours and force them apart with his own. Your legs were pinned to the mattress by his, and you couldn't move them even if you'd wanted to.
Seeing your puddin' getting so dominant excited you. Already you felt a slickness between your thighs, which only intensified as Mister J began to attack your exposed neck with his mouth. The back of your neck, your shoudlerblades, the crook of your neck, your collarbones - He left a litter of red lipstick marks and purple hickies behind him like a trail. He was seated behind you, and had you in his lap like a puppet, and you were his to control. Your hand went to graze your inner thigh to perhaps release some of the throbbing desire that was slowly but surely beginning to rear it's head, but it was almost as though Mister J could read your mind because before you could even think of doing such a thing his hands came slamming down on your wrists, pinning both of your arms to the bed.
"No, no, no Duchess!" He scolded, giving a particularly vicious bite to your neck which was hard enough to draw blood. You trashed against his hold as you yelped with pain, but under Joker's grasp you could not move a muscle.
"You don't get to come on anybody else's fingers but mine today, do you understand?"
Blinking wildly, pupils blown, you nodded. Hearing Joker talk so authoritatively was making you practically drip with desire. You loved it when he lost control like that; marked you as his. You longed to just rub your thighs together to lessen some of the aching between them with some friction, but you knew what Mister J wanted. He removed his hands from your wrists slowly, waiting to see if you'd be obedient today. When your arms stayed firmly where they were, he grinned against the back of your neck and moved his hands up to the thin straps of your nightie. His breath was hot against your ear, and you shuddered as he gently scraped his fingernails down your forearm to draw goosebumps on the skin.
Your nipples were poking out against the fabric of your silk nightie, and Joker noticed this with a low chuckle.
"Such pretty, pretty tits, Duchess." Joker growled against your ear, barely above a whisper as he brought one hand up to gently trace the circle of your nipple through the silky fabric. You swallowed thickly, wiggling against him as he took one between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a squeeze. It was when, without warning, he brought both hands up to grab your breasts in both hands that you nearly convulsed against him.
"Hehehehee!" Joker cackled, making sure his arms were wrapped tightly enough around you that you couldn't move anywhere he didn't want you to. He kneaded your tits in his cool palms, and with a snarl ripped your nightie right down the middle from it's v shaped neckline.
"Daddy!" You whined in protest. "This nightie is my favouri- AAAH!"
A sharp slap to your left breast had you cutting yourself off with a shriek of both surprise and pleasure. The silk garment out of his way, Joker grabbed your naked breasts hard enough to leave bruises, and you hoped that he would. While he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Joker's other hand was travelling down between your legs, and your thighs began to quiver in excitement (Something Mister J took note of with a dark chuckle).
"Now my Duchess... I want you to stay stiiiiill as a statue for me. Can you do that?" He crooned against your ear.
You nodded immediately.
"Yes Daddy!" You replied instantly. You were so desperate for his touch that he could have asked if he could rip one of your limbs off and you'd have said yes without hesitation.
His fingers danced teasingly around the space between your thighs; just inches away from where you wanted him the most but not quite. You stayed still though, as much as you wanted to wriggle against his grip and force him to touch you right where you wanted him, you were going to be good.
His fingers went to your mouth first ('Open up for me Duchess...') and once your saliva had coated Joker's fingers thoroughly, two fingers spread your folds open while another slipped right into your tight entrance.
"Ooohoohoo! So tight, Y/N..." Mister J hummed against the back of your neck as the pad of his thumb brushed over the hood of your clit. He pulled it back with his thumb and then swiped the digit down; right over that sensitive bundle of nerves right as his middle finger curled up inside you and caressed your g-spot.
The sensation caught you off-guard and you nearly folded in half. The Joker kept you in place of course, forcing your body back against his with a snarl.
"What did I tell you Duchess?!" He demanded. "Now I'm going to have to punish you for not doing as Daddy asked!"
And punish you he did.
Ten times over, he brought you to the edge of your orgasm with just his fingers alone. The thing was with Mister J, was he knew your body like the back of his hand: He knew every sweet spot, every inch of skin which had you shuddering, every trick which would get you screaming in no time at all. He worked you open with one, two, three of his fingers. He rubbed your clit until he felt your walls squeezing his digits like a vice, and then he'd retract both of his hands and bite down on the spot behind your ear which made your entire body shiver. He got to four fingers, and then to all five.
"Heheheheheee!" Joker laughed manically, staring over your shoulder at the expanse of your body which was all on display for him.
"Look at it, Duchess. Look at how your pretty little cunt is just begging to come." He growled, removing the hand which was rubbing quick circles against your clit up to grab your jaw roughly and force your line of sight down to your gushing opening where he was five fingers deep inside of you; fucking into you with a rich squelching noise as your juices dripped down his wrist and seeped onto the bed.
Your aching canal was twitching as he brought you so close to orgasm after orgasm that your eyes actually prickled with tears of frustration, which you felt rolling down your cheek moments later.
"Oh my Duchess..." Joker tsked, brushing away your tears and grazing his lips over the shell of your ear. "No tears, hmmm? If you'd only LISTENED to Daddy when he told you to stay still, all this could have been prevented." He said as though explaining to a young child why the'd been put on the naughty step.
"I'm so sorry Daddy!" You sobbed miserably, your bottom lip wobbling pathetically. "I'll never be naughty again, I promise!"
You could feel Joker grinning against your earlobe.
"You promise?" He echoed.
Desperatly, you nodded.
"Weeeeeell..." He drawled, his tongue lapping at a bead of sweat which trickled down the back of your neck. "Perhaps my Duchess has learned her lesson... For now."
As fast as lightning, Joker's hands were working their magic again. His fingers curled inside you, hitting your g spot in perfect tandem with every circle he made on your clit. He pressed down against your poor throbbing nub as his circles became quicker and quicker. Your moans became shrill desperate pleas, and you clawed desperately at his arms. Distantly you could hear yourself begging:
"Don't stop! Oh please don't stop! Oh God!"
Your eyes were rolling back in your head and every nerve in your body became focused on that: Those quick circles on your clit, those fingers curling against your g-spot. You were seeing every colour in the spectrum. Falling and flying all at once. He had brought you to the brink nearly twenty times. You were soaked with sweat and you were so close to the release you so desperately craved that you could almost touch it.
"Not yet my Duchess! Don't you come yet!"
"I can't!" You let out a strangled sob
Suddenly your back collided with the mattress. Joker's fingers were gone, that blissful release running away from you but not gone, not yet.
"Hold on my darling. Together. Come with me, only with me, my pretty fuckin' whore! Look at me!"
Crack.
Mister J's hand collided with your cheek and your back arched in delight. You were grinning as you watched him through your half-lidded eyes: His hands were practically a blur as he tugged down his zipper and threw his trousers away God-knows where. His cock was angry, red, and leaking. Clearly he'd been thoroughly turned on by watching you begging to come on his fingers, and you should have known he'd demand his own release in return for yours. You reached out for him, eyes pleading, and he thrived on every drop of your vulnerability. His arms braced either side of your body, covering your body with his as he leaned in close to your face.
"Beg me, Duchess." He hissed, biting your earlobe, then your neck. "Beg me for it. Beg me for my cock."
"Please!" You sobbed, voice cracking. "Please daddy! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease lemme have your cock, please lemme come, Oh God, please Daddy, please!" You begged all in a blur of words, barely forming coherent words as you clawed desperately at his shoulders.
Mister J forced your mouth open with his; your tongues colliding and teeth clashing as he smeared his red lipstick across your mouth and chin. Your hand went to the base of his neck, pulling him down and keeping him there on your lips like you needed him for oxygen. He sucked your tongue into your mouth and bit down suddenly and forcefully. You shrieked against his lips, and your shriek turned into a wall-shaking scream when he used your distraction to fill you in one thrust.
There were no words to describe it. It felt like you were full in the very best way, and little jolts of electricity fizzled down your spine as you arched up into him, your eyes going all the way back. And oh how Joker loved to watch you.
"That's it, my Duchess. Atta girl. Look at how you writhe on my cock after begging for it so prettily." He growled filthily, staring down at you and admiring every second of your breathless gasps and plea's and moans. With every snap of his hips he hit something inside you which made your already sensitive cunt squeeze desperately around him, seeking that sweet release you wanted so badly. Every squeeze earned you more filthy praise, more bites to your golden skin that he so loved to mar: To mark you as his for all the world to see.
"O-Oh! Oh God. Mister J-" You said, almost warningly as your knuckles went white from gripping the bedsheets.
"I know Duchess. You're close. I can feel it. I can feel you squeezing my cock. It's alright Are you gonna come for me again, my little slut?" Joker said gleefully, manic eyes staring down a you; grin wide and pupils blown and you nodded desperately.
"Then do it." He growled, gradually losing himself in his own pleasure. "Fuck!" He cursed. "Fuckin' come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fucking feel it baby, you know I love how fuckin' wet you get me when you come like this. I know you can do it for me. Fucking come Duchess!"
That petname was all you needed and with one vicius thrust your world did a three sixty spin and something behind your eyes exploded. You screamed his name like you were dying, and your back arched so violently off the bed it was almost like a scene from the Exorcism of Emily Rose. Your cunt gave way in a soaking hot geyser of pleasure which Mister J drew back to watch in utter euphoria as your juices soaked his cock, thighs, and abdomen. Your nails raked down his back like talons, and his cackles became cries and curses before with a shuddering moan of:
"Y/N! Ah! Fu-uck YES!"
And then Joker fell forward and collapsed against your chest. He laughed first. A panting breathless cackle. A lazy bubble of laughter as he heavily propped himself up on one arm and rolled off you, tucking you under his right arm as he continued to laugh.
"You've more than earned your treasures, baby girl." He told you and you giggled into his chest; tracing the joker tattoo there with your finger. You settled in his arms and let your head loll back against his torso, revelling in the feeling of your puddin' stroking your sweat soaked hair and deciding to yourself that THIS was how you always wanted to start your mornings.