#harleyxreader

Your plan would be almost horrendously unfair on Harley. Green was her favourite colour on you, she had never outright told you this fact, but you were in tune with her reactions enough to recognise the extra glint to her eye when you donned the hue. And, so, you had found the most delicate lingerie available in the colour, with the most complex system of intricate straps and clips that you had ever set eyes on. It had taken you so long to even get yourself into the lingerie that you had begun to worry that Harley would be home before you had entirely wrapped yourself up.

After finally slipping the last clip into place and tying the loose ribbon just beneath the swell of your breasts, you barely had time to position yourself alluringly upon the ratty sofa before she burst in.

You stood immediately, allowing her to get a full view of your figure as her voice that had begun a greeting died entirely in her throat. In lieu of a greeting, she let the door swing shut behind her; a grin rising on her lips as she took a step towards you. The question that left her was almost giggled; “Is it my birthday?”

Silently, you shook your head.

Quickly, her face shifted into a sudden and overwhelming panic. Eyebrows scrunching together, she grimaced as she asked her next question. “It’s… your birthday?”

As much as you tried to steel your expression you couldn’t quite cover the giggle that tried to escape you. Her face fell into relief at the sound and she almost beamed as you narrowed your eyes at her - recognising the nature of the game you were trying to play.

As slowly as you could manage, you moved to her. Impatience clearly pulled at her as her free hand reached out to you with an almost childish grabbing motion, her other hand still encumbered by groceries. Delicately, you placed your hand in hers. Immediately, she harshly tugged you but you planted your feet as best you could to resist the movement. You were… partially successful.

Harley was strong. Even with your adamant resistance you were sent stumbling a few inches closer to her. “Harley,” you began, as sternly as you could muster, “I’ve got something to show you.”’

Excitement shone in her vibrant eyes as she almost cackled with glee. Nodding brusquely, ponytails bouncing with the movement, she closed the gap between you. “Okay!” She agreed, indelicate hand already grabbing at the straps of your lingerie.

Recognising that Harley was quickly becoming distracted from what you were trying to achieve, not that she knew what that even was yet, you pulled back completely. Not only were you concerned that she would break your clothing already, you were worried her grabbing hands would distract you from your mission. With a foot of space between you, your mind cleared of hazy, languid thoughts. “C’mon,” you murmured, head jerking towards the bedroom.

You winced at the sound of the grocery bag smacking against the floor and paused to look back at it. If she had bought ice cream one of you would have to put it away before you went any further, and she always bought ice cream.

Anticipation focusing her usually scattered attention to her destination, she didn’t notice your pause and barrelled straight into you. Or, perhaps, she did notice. The wicked grin you received when her hands gripped your upper arms to right you was entirely suspicious. She had caught you in the distracting trap of her arms.

Taking the opportunity presented to her, Harley pulled your smiling lips to hers and you fell into the kiss. The familiar comfort and excitement of her mouth melting against yours momentarily chased away your thoughts of ripped fabrics. The spark of her tongue swiping across your bottom lip, however, successfully pulled your mind back to your mission and you broke away.

“I said I gotta show you something,” you reiterated strictly. Tutting at her playfully, you pulled her into the bedroom.

Her face stuck in an odd expression, previous smile twitching slightly as her eyes darted across the fabric strewn over the bed. You had laid out, very neatly and carefully, all the clothes you had been forced to part with after she had torn into them. You moved from her to sit on the bed, beside what used to be your favourite blouse, and ran a delicate hand over the silken fabric. “This was such a pretty shirt,” you told her wistfully, pinching the flowery fabric between two fingers as you held its tattered remains up for her to see, “it used to be my favourite.”

“I’ll get you another one!” She exclaimed, full of hopeful enthusiasm.

Catching her darting gaze, you shook your head. “Nope,” you rose to your feet, letting the torn fabric fall forlornly back to the bed. “You are going to practice unwrapping me,” excited hands immediately reached for you but were swiftly stalled by your hands on her wrists, “properly.” You enunciated the word, emphasising it’s importance. “If you rip or tear anything - even accidentally- we stop.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes. There was an excitement sparkling within them at the thought of playing such a high stakes game with you but it was dampened by a concern that she would fail. The excitement, unsurprisingly, won out. A cackle escaping her, she lifted you easily to perch you on the bed. “Easy-peasy, sugar.” The grin she shot you was full of mischief and you felt your own excitement rise; you only hoped she could stop herself from ripping anything.

To begin with, she kissed you. Her mouth insistent and wonderfully harsh on yours even as her hands attempted unpracticed delicacy. In an effort to test her resolve, how much she really wanted to win this game, you nipped her bottom lip and used the gasp she gave as an excuse to slip your tongue into her mouth. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of your lingerie, the straps pulling harshly against your skin with her force and you were sure the fabric were about to snap. She relented at what seemed to be the very last moment, the fabric settling back against your skin unbroken but still fastened. An aggravated groan poured from her and she pulled away from your lips with a pout. “You’re playing dirty.”

You merely winked and giggled. “I know.”

The wiggle of her lips gave away her desire to laugh with you but she maintained an impressive level of faux agitation. “No kissing,” she warned you sternly, a finger wagging at you as though she were scolding you.

You nodded, laying back and stretching. Twisting your body this way and that, you raised your arms over your head and moaned with the movement. Harley seemed equal measures unimpressed with your pointed show and entirely entranced by the motion of your body. Hands on her hips, an almost business like manner overtaking her, she nodded to herself. You could swear you heard her mutter “you got this, Harley” to herself before she dove back into her attempts at unwrapping you.

She did much better than you had anticipated and you were thrilled by it. A few minutes of grumbling and fumbling later she had managed to loosen the straps enough to hook her fingers underneath. You still were not free but it was hard to care when she victoriously moved a strip of fabric to the side and dipped her mouth onto your clit.

Harley was a giver. It had surprised you the first time you had slept with her, the pure excitement and pleasure she drew from pleasing you, but this was a more selfish act than it seemed. In the few coherent thoughts you were able to string together, as her tongue flattened and licked over your heat before returning to circle around your clit, you recognised what she was doing. Her hope was to drive you so far into pleasure that your mind wandered away from the goal of this exercise and allowed her to undress you however she wanted. Determination filled you even as your pleasure built to meet it.

Letting the breathy whines that rose in your throat bathe the room in scandalous noise, you felt your back arch as she dipped a finger inside of you whilst her mouth sucked at your clit. Her free hand smoothed over your figure, reaching up blindly to pull your breasts free but became insistent when they were met with more fabric and straps. The hand tugged desperately, the straps digging into the tender flesh of your breasts in a way that only pushed you closer to the edge, but the fabric itself remained in place covering you.

Her groan of aggravation vibrated through you, the sensation thrilling and just enough to tip you entirely into your orgasm. The rip of fabric was barely audible over the wanton sounds you freely produced. Your back arched with the overwhelming sensations, hands moving down to grip Harley’s hair as she remained in place; lapping up the physical evidence of your pleasure.

Slowly, you came down. A happy tiredness weighed you down; the weighted weightlessness of your limbs a juxtaposition that only ever seemed to occur after such a blinding orgasm. Blinking dumbly up to the speckled ceiling for a few moments, you whimpered and whined when Harley pulled away.

Regaining some control of yourself, you glanced down to her sheepish expression. Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, the previous moans having stolen the volume, but Harley still got the message. “I heard that.”