ps… continuation of this post. fem! reader w/ harley as a human. possibly ooc and not proofread. nsfw at the end.
thinking about . . . his sleepy face as he lazily brushes his teeth in your tiny shared bathroom in the morning next to you. his eyes are blinking owlishly, his hair messy and curled against his sleep flushed face. he pinches your forearm when he catches you staring at him a little too hard— but he knows and you maybe know it, it’s a sight not many get the pleasure of seeing(& living)
thinking about . . . all the emails he drafts to you; it’s a small reprieve when work is tedious and frustrating, airing how much bearable it would be if you were there to keep him company. he solemn sends it, but after his disappearance from human society, he wishes there was some things he said more out loud.
think about . . . how he calls you ‘my wife’, emphasis on the my part. he prides himself on not being the jealous type but something ticks him off when one of his colleagues manages to make you laugh a little too hard. “what exactly is so amusing?”
thinking about . . . his scoff when it’s cold outside and your ill fitted clothes are doing little to protect you from the weather. “if i recall correctly i did warn you for this,” he flicks your forehead but he has already peeled off his coat and pressed it over your shoulders. the sleeves and collar run a little big on your frame, your fingers peeking from beneath the cuffs. it’s doesn’t miss on him how they twitch. “give me your hand,” he sighs, slipping his fingers through to hold it. predictably it’s cold and he tightens his grip just a tiny bit. “if you get sick i will have to deal with it and i will not miss work over this.”
thinking about . . . “i told you so,” he sighs when he tests your temperature with the back of his hand, warm to the touch. you sniffle weakly as he blows on the soup he’s bought before he gives it to you, testing to make sure it’s not too hot. “it’s almost 10, you should get ready for work,” you say around a spoonful. his brows furrow and he looks mildly offended at the suggestion. “i will be staying right here.” “i thought you said you couldn’t miss work.” “the fever has made you delirious.”
thinking about . . . how he remembers everything you say. you think he’s just saying ‘mhms’ and ‘yeahs’ with brief nods of his head for show, only for you to get caught unawares when he brings it up later. “oh this thing? hmm you mentioned it earlier ago. when? a week ago or so.”
thinking about . . . teaching you how to hold and use a scalpel. his chest is pressed to your back, voicing instructions into your ear and he guides you how to hold and use it. “control comes from the fingers not the wrist,” he says, adjusting the angle. “just like that. you look so well listening to me.”
nsfw
thinking about . . . how cruel he can be even in public. his fingers would mindlessly thumb over the controls, the bud of the toy against your clit jumping to life randomly during your outings. the little fucker gives you a knowing grin, faux concern pouring from his lips as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “oh my dear, why has you looking so red? i’ll have the waiter bring us a cold water.”
thinking about . . . how he mostly likely has written notes of your anatomy buried in a locked drawer. he’s noted down all the things that make you make you come undone, what’s makes you arouse, where to bite and touch you; he knows your body more than his own hands. probably has fantasized hypothesized ways to make you dumbed out for him.
thinking about . . . cockwarming him as he tries to teach you something. he taps on the document, asking you to repeat back to him what it says but your words are broken between a string of moans, his cock pressing impossibly deeper when he’s gives an imperceptible shift of his hips. he isn’t in a rush either, willing to tease you until you get it right. moments when you almost correctly recite the passage, he would buck into you, forcing you to restart again.
thinking about . . . phone sex when he’s away for days on work trips. he’s instructing you what to do all the while his voice remains steady like he’s answering a work question.
———
might write up one more part as i didn’t include some. tho if u have any crumbs for thought, drop it in my inbox hehe
ps… fem!reader w/ harley as a human still. maybe ooc i wrote this instead of sleeping(not proofread). smut at the end. this man has occupied my thoughts for too long.
thinking about . . . how he would personally remove your jewelry every night, standing behind you so close you can almost feel his heartbeat through his shirt. he traces the skin with his fingers teasingly slowly, cold and practiced from holding a scalpel. the tips of his thumbs graze the back of your scalp as he parts your hair to the side. when he sees your nape exposed he can’t help but brush his lips there not bothering to hide his grin when you shiver.
thinking about . . . him slipping his hands beneath your sleeping shirt when you're bundled in his sheets and he can’t sleep. he spreads his palms wide around your ribcage, trying to drink as much of you in. mentally, he maps out where all your bones and tissues would be.
thinking about . . . how he shows moments of softness in the small things. only when he’s with you does he allow a frustrated sigh, pulling off his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. sometimes, sometimes you catch him staring at you(he doesn’t look away, even if you look him dead in the eye. when you yield and look away first, the corners of his eyes crinkle and he mutters a small “i win.”)
thinking about . . . how he has you sit on his lap when he’s dealing with the bureaucratic activities part of his work. one hand is typing or writing without fail but his other sneaks to sometimes to hold you in some way. you sometimes fall asleep and wake up in a new room, the warmth of a freshly washed comforter keeping you company(harley is predictably still working, his side of the bed waning his presence. it’s only in the dead of night that you feel a shift in weight)
thinking about . . . sticky notes he places around when you have important deadlines coming up(it goes without saying, he knows your whole routine from when you wake up to when you go to sleep). they are curt and straight to the point but then you notice the cup of brewed coffee or your required notes neatly stacked next to it.
thinking about . . . how in public you call him dr. sawyer or just the doctor for reputation sake. but sometimes you let a harley slip and his jaw tenses, his eyes blinking for a second and two. he would never admit it out loud but he’s very much addicted to his name coming from your mouth. “say that again, i did not hear you so well the first time.”
nsfw
thinking about . . . how he talks you through it. “touch yourself just like that,” he says, the glint in his eye growing brighter when you obey his commands. “on your knees, darling. oh how adorable you look like that,” he adjusted his weight against his chair, hand making a home in your hair. his breath hitches sometimes, something between a sigh and a groan leaving him without permission.
thinking about . . . how he presses his palm against your bulging tummy, his cock still nestled and warmed by your walls. his lips quirk when you make a wanton moan, “so predictable, my dear.” he’s always looking for new ways to make you come undone, measuring your response rates. it’s also how he knows how to be incredibly cruel, drawing it out until you’re pleading for release. “since you asked so kindly, i will offer you some reprieve.”
thinking about . . . the sound of a shutter of a camera as he shamelessly takes a picture of your pussy, messy with fluids and his cum evidently leaking from your hole. “now this will keep me company at work,” his words are teasing but his hands are thumbing away the last of your tears and patting down your stray hairs. he only offers a hum as he pockets your soiled panties too. i believe in pantry sniffer harley sawyer yall
thinking about . . . sitting in his bathroom counter after morning sex, harley standing between your legs as he fixes himself. he lets you do his tie and doesn’t fight when you give it a little tug for a kiss.
———
might write a continuation cause this is just some of my thoughts heh.
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