Trigger warning: Abuse, foul-language, sexual depictions that are not *necessarily* consensual
Anyone who glimpsed the King and Queen of Gotham City roaming the streets would assume them as the psychotic, perfect power couple, albeit dangerously homicidal, similar to a ticking bomb, but they were far from such in truth.
These "lovers' quarrels", which more often than not transitioned into a full blown fight between the demented jesters, became more and more frequent as the Joker found himself worn down by the suffocating stress of planning the demise of good ol' Bats. Somewhere within the green-haired lunatic, he knew his poor little Harlequin wasn't to blame, and yet he got such pleasurable satisfaction from watching her pretty face contort into confusion and blissful pain. To hurt her removed a heavy weight from atop his shoulders.
"Harley!" the man growled, snatching her wrist within long, threatening fingers. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
Normally, such a gesture would ensure instantaneous trepidation within the Clown Prince's wench, for it would certify a severe beating was soon to follow. But entrapped within the fog of fury and determination, Harley only wrenched her limb from his vice-like grip, causing his nails to rake down her skin in red scrapes, which thus made her hiss with pain.
"I'm goin' out!" she snapped in return, shooting him a nasty glare, her blue eyes piercing through his icy ones, that only displayed his shock and rage towards his former submissive Harley's little outburst. "I'm sick and tired of being your little toy, to do as you please!"
Though she meant to sound dignified and bold, only a pitiful laugh surpassed his crimson red lips, jaw trembling with the sudden itch to connect his fist with her nose. Not yet, he reminded himself, growling once more as he took both of her shoulders within his grip, shaking her without care of how rough it was. But then again, when did he ever care?
"Ya little bitch!" he roared, his palm coursing against her gaunt cheeks, a cry emitting from her cherry-red lips. It certainly took her by surprise, giving her a glimpse of what was soon to come from her talking back, though it would seem innocent compared to what he would soon do. "How dare ya talk to me like that, hm? Since when do you get to decide when you come and go? You belong to me, Harley!" His knee slammed into her abdomen, sending her down to the floor, keeled over, a groan escaping from her throat.
Still, this wasn't enough to send her to her knees to beg for forgiveness. No, ever the stubborn little brat, she persisted, shakily climbing back to her feet, even staggering a bit. Quite amusing, he deemed it. She glared pointedly at him, cheek already starting to darken with a bruise. "Ya don't own me, Mistah J! If I wanna go out, I'll go out!"
Spinning around on glittery stilettos, she stomped over to the door, arm outstretched for the doorknob, but before she could reach it, he rushed up behind her as fast as lightning. He slammed her up against it, earning another screech, before he once again took her shoulders and tossed her carelessly to the ground. A soft crack of her wrist sounded, and however muffled it was from her whimpers, he caught it and grinned devilishly.
"Y'know, I really thought ya were starting to learn..." he mused aloud, pacing directly before her, making sure to steal glances of the fear within her glassy blue eyes. "But then you pull this shit."
"You fucking bast - " she began, before he brought his fist down to her face, watching as her body crumpled against the floor, blood spewing from her nose. It coated his knuckles, adorning the white skin with the bright crimson hue. With a sickened laugh, he towered over her, admiring the way she cradled her broken nose gingerly, a simpering, teary mess. Poor thing. It truly was a shame he wasn't finished. No one left Mistah J.
Continuously, as if there was no end in sight, he rammed his feet into her ribs, watching her writhe and groan and yelp. Every sound of agony she made was the most beautiful music the Joker could ever picture. His pretty little Harley, at his complete will.
"Please Puddin! Please, lemme go!" she begged desperately, relieving her from her attempt at acquiring dignity in standing up for herself if it meant he would let her go. She was begging now, and he hated it when she begged. It turned him on, made him purr and growl, but now he was forced to contain himself, no matter how much he longed to launch himself right into her.
When the torture had taken its toll upon her, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, carelessly tossing her within the master bedroom, practically slamming the door behind him. God, that vexing creature managed to both annoy the shit out of him and fascinate him so wonderfully. She was the only one he could love hurting so much, but could never kill, no matter how much he wished to at certain times.
As if nothing had even happened, he placed himself back within the desk of his study, going back to the work he'd begun before she began spouting nonsense from her pretty little lips he loved to nip and kiss, if he was feeling nice. He removed his bloody gloves, maintaining a frown as he listened to her cries for him.
Countless nights Harley would spend in the exact same position, after losing yet another battle to the witty Joker, sobbing uselessly despite the fact no one cared. So many endless strikes, to her face, to her ribs, to the heart that beat only for the man who broke it over and over. The pain seemed endless.
But...perhaps she deserved it. Perhaps she'd hurt him. She had tried to leave, after all, and she did know better. He was right. How stupid could she be?
"Puddin?" The meek little creature crept into his office, swallowing the remnants of fear that lingered within her. It was strange, how fearless Harley could be before their enemies and certain death, but was so timid before her Mistah J. Her eyes settled on his frown, wishing desperately she could see him smile again.
As always, he mumbled, "Not now Harley". Neglecting her, as he always did.
"Puddin..." she persisted, and soon he could hear her painful sobs. Even after her rightful, brutal beating, she always came crawling back to him. He hated that. From the very beginning, he knew it wouldn't work, their so-called "relationship".
"Puddin, please." She was desperate now, and her whimpering bugged him. He spun his chair around to face her, cocking an inquisitive brow towards the persistent blond. She approached him very slowly, taking extreme caution, before she climbed within his lap. For a moment, she felt him begin to tense, his body going rigid against her petite little body, which scared her. Perhaps he'd start all over again. But then he slowly draped his arms around her, setting his hands atop her waist. Harley, catching her opportunity, set her head down upon his shoulder, sobbing.
"I'm so sorry, Mistah J. I was so, so stupid. I won't eva' try to leave again." She stroked his cheek, begging him to look at her, and he simply sighed, tightening his hold on her, smiling briskly.
"I know you won't, baby... I know you won't.