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onlyswan · 9 months

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summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

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—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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cherryjuiceblues · 8 months

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟑

➯ Y/N STARTS TO LEARN HOW HARRY LIKES TO PLAY AND THINGS TAKE A TURN WHEN SHE VISITS HIM AT WORK. ✰ dom!harry brief unwanted male attention. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. spanking as a lighthearted punishment. inspection kink if you squint. slight daddy kink. tummy bulge. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 15k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Y/N wakes up whilst the rest of the world is still asleep.

Granted, much later than she usually does, but she wakes up nonetheless. With a somewhat surprising lack of body heat pressing against her. She doesn’t register it at first because, well, Y/N is very much used to waking up on her own—without the weight, or heat, or comfort of another person—but then the memory of Harry asking her if she likes to cuddle resurfaces. Followed by the one in which he holds her tightly to his front and sends her to sleep quicker than she can ever remember doing so before.

So she doesn’t need to be any sort of sneaky as she makes her way down the lavish staircase and into Harry’s kitchen—the tiles cold on her bare feet. Somewhere deep down, Y/N registers that it’s probably a little weird and inappropriate to treat Harry’s kitchen as her own when they’re not really an item, but that hesitancy is quickly replaced by the idea of presenting him with breakfast as he wakes up. To treat him with the same care he has shown her. It erases all residual sleep from Y/N’s head.

She doesn’t even ponder as to why Harry was not next to her when she awoke—brushing past the questions in favour of searching his cupboards. Jars of sauce, tins of all sorts of healthy beans and soups Y/N wouldn’t dream of eating—stocked full and regularly consumed. His fridge is glorious; if not because of its contents then because it has a built-in ice dispenser. (Serious luxury that Y/N is confounded by.) And she immediately hones in on the punnet of blueberries that are practically beckoning her to pick them up—glowing and chanting her name—it would be rude to ignore such a demanding presence.

Immediately, Y/N knows what she wants to make, and starts going through unexplored drawers and cupboards with pointed scouring. “Come on, come on,” she whispers to herself, waiting for the long, thin box to jump out at her. It’s all she needs—everything else Harry is bound to have, but this? It’s the key.

Back in the fridge, is where Y/N finds it. Completely missed in her haste to search elsewhere; Y/N will admit it bypassed her that it needed to be stored in there at all (and maybe deny that she just wanted to snoop). Ready made puff pastry. Perfect for a blueberry pie.

Y/N is giddy at the thought—cheeks squishing with an excited smile as her top teeth dig into her bottom lip—of waking Harry up with the fresh smell of home baking and watching him as he swallows each bite. It’s exhilarating to her. Pleasurable, some may say. (Well, Y/N wouldn’t dare, but it certainly gets her heart racing.)

She’ll come to realise that doing something so elating, in the midst of night when she cannot sleep, is not the correct way of tiring herself out. Her cheeks practically ache from the smile she’s wearing as she tosses blueberries in a bowl with sugar, cornstarch and generous sprinklings of cinnamon and allspice. When she starts working on creating the lattice for the top of the pie, the concentration needed does admittedly cease some of her excitement. But it is only replaced by the stress of trying to make it look perfect. Which, additionally, only awakens her further. Everything but the idea of sleep is floating around in Y/N’s head.

But it’s going well! And Y/N stares down at her creation with a proud grin, ready to refrigerate in order to sneak back down in a few hours and cook it. She’s starting to clean up as quietly as she can when her lack of presence in bed is discovered.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Y/N spins around from where she’s washing up in the sink, heart lurching and utensils clattering against the porcelain, a shriek forcing its way out of her mouth. She relaxes when she sees Harry. And then panics again at his stern expression and the way his eyes drop to the hem of his shirt that brushes her thighs and the slight peek of his boxers that he’d graciously offered. “Um…”

“Ummm?” he parrots. “You’re just um-ing in my kitchen, are you?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, but she’s aware this is not her house, or her kitchen, or her food. “No, I’m… I was baking you something. I’m sorry.”

Harry nods, biting back the urge to ridicule with a ‘I can see that’. Instead, he asks, “What did I say not even twelve hours ago, love?”

“Uh…” her lack of articulation puts a smirk on Harry’s already smug face.

“Can’t remember? Were you not listening to me?”

Y/N flusters, scurrying around the counter to get closer to Harry’s leaning figure. “I was! But then you…” she trails off, looking towards the floor at his socked feet.

“I…” Harry coaxes. “I what?”

She looks up slowly, taking in the soft of his sweats and the tempting bareness of his chest. “You… y’know. It was hard to concentrate.”

“And why’s that, darling?”

“Harry,” Y/N whines, eyes rounding out at his expression—one of a winner—one of a person with the upperhand.

He becomes serious. “I told you I expected you to go to bed when I said.”

“I did!” she tries, “You didn’t say I couldn’t get up.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

Harry removes his weight from the doorframe. “I know.”

“Where did you go?”

“The garden.” The massive garden. “You see, I find some fresh air does wonders to tucker me out. Instead of spending hours baking a cake—”

“—It’s a pie.”

He laughs. “A pie. Forgive me. It couldn’t wait ‘til the morning? Hm?”

“I jus’ wanted to surprise you,” Y/N frowns. “Wanted to wake you up with it as a thank you.”

“A thank you? A thank you for what?”

She hesitates, “For this,” gesturing with her arms.

“You have nothing to thank me for, darlin’. I don’t want you to keep believing that.” He steps forward. “You’re very sweet. Incredibly sweet… I don’t need a pie, lovely. Especially not at three a.m.”

“But—”

Harry lifts the knuckle of his index finger to brush across her cheek, shaking his head softly.

“Finish cleaning in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I wanted to—”

“Y/N. Listen to me.” He moves closer. Y/N has to crane her neck to look at him. “Come to bed with me. I’ll get you back to sleep in no time. And in the morning, I will let you feed me pie until I bloody turn into one, okay?”

She hesitates—just for a second. Her eyes do feel heavy, and she really is tired. Harry’s eyes dance over her face so delicately, it feels as though they’re casting some sort of spell. And the longer she looks at him, the sleepier she becomes. So she nods her head. “Okay.”

ㅤㅤ

Harry’s bedroom is much like the rest of his house. White. And vast.

His bed—super king size, of course—lies temptingly in the middle of the room, sheets tastefully dishevelled, and the soft green of leaves printed on cotton contrasts against the drab lacking of the walls.

Harry trails Y/N back to his bed, soothing in the way his palm ghosts across her back as he coaxes her under the covers. He lies down next to her, lifting an arm to allow her to rest on his chest. She’s shy, feather light in the way she puts her head upon him, but they both relax the moment they’re weighed down by one another.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth f’me… nice and slow.”

She listens, encouraged by the dance of his fingers across her skin. Swooping curls and waves along the soft lines of her shoulder, down her arm and back up again. Brushing tendrils away from sensitive extremities and smoothing them in a nurturing caress against her head. It’s cathartic—the silence that overtakes Y/N’s mind. Or hushed whisperings as opposed to the usual blaring exclamations; as though Harry has crossed the threshold of a library with Y/N’s hand in his and hidden her away from the domination of her thoughts.

So it takes very little for sleep to crowd her senses, unconsciousness barrelling towards her when Harry starts painting whispering images behind her eyelids—the deep, vibrating timbre of his voice soaking into her skin and carrying her away.

“You’ll love the garden…”

“...enough flowers to bathe you in…”

“It needs a little care but I think you’ll breathe life into the soil just by standing on it.”

“...plant thousands of yellow tulips just for you…”

And Y/N can only just hear the way his tongue moulds around the syllables to form words, as the tender hands of sleep pull her deeper into the fog, and if she were more alert her heart would soar… but her lips pull upwards and her nose presses into the soft of Harry’s throat as he waxes lyrical about his garden.

She falls asleep with a mirage of colours forming kaleidoscopes in her mind—petals, and leaves, and tendrils of grass harbouring a certain figure bathing in the glistening sunlight.

ㅤㅤ

Wet.

Sensitive.

Those are the only two feelings Y/N can process as she’s torn from the comforting embrace of slumber.

Harry’s hair is soft and smells far too familiar for a man she has known for a handful of weeks. But it smells good, and Y/N nearly pushes her nose into it before she realises the culprit of her waking emotions.

His tongue flat against her neck… followed by the blunt nipping of his teeth around her delicate skin. It’s not something Y/N is well equipped to react to—especially not as she is waking and the world is still blurry around the edges. A shaky breath is what alerts Harry to her consciousness and Y/N feels him smile into her throat, ministrations doubling as he rumbles a rogue growl and opens his mouth wide in the pretence of a chomp around her jugular.

She squeals, hands coming up to the solidness of his chest of their own accord, palms flattening against him. The weight of his body against the side of hers bears no struggle against her pathetic attempt—he only leans in further, licking and nibbling to his heart’s desire. His encompassing hand swallows one of her own on his body, pulling it away and pushing it into the pillow as he stimulates every nerve on her neck—coaxing the blood to the surface of her skin and leaving behind the aching reminder of his presence.

“I surrender…” Y/N whispers into the air, words trailing off into a sigh.

Harry hums, “Too bad.”

She could fall asleep again so easily. Believe this is all a dream and let Harry gently abuse her flesh until her breathing evens out. But then his hand settles on her stomach, large, and warm, and weighted—only soothing her further—until it starts to trail lower. Under the covers, under the boxers he’d let her wear, and over her pubic bone.

Y/N’s eyes shoot open then, and her back darts up from the mattress in surprise. Harry peels away from her neck, lips succulent and begging to be chewed upon the way he demonstrated against her throat. His eyes are still slightly puffy from sleep and the mess of his hair makes him look charmingly youthful. But he’s far too smug for a regular person’s liking—really embodying that of his teenage self, Y/N is sure—however the assurance he displays on his face only has the warmth of his hand searing her further as they look at one another.

“Good morning.” His vocal cords rub together like gravel and his fingers dip down with fluid contrast.

Y/N gasps, letting her back press into the mattress once more as Harry strokes along her lips almost playfully, like they are his own to toy with. His eyes smile teasingly at the girl and her little breathy inhales. She opens her mouth to speak but words fail to form when Harry touches her clit with a circle so light it may not have ever been there.

“Sleep well?” A finger ghosts around her entrance, arousal coating his digit as he brings it back up and presses with intention.

A shaky inhale. “Y-yes…” she pauses, clings onto coherence, “Sir.”

Harry smiles. “Oh? Maybe you were listening t’me… that’s a shame. I still have to demonstrate my utmost disappointment in you, pretty girl.”

“You don’t ha-have to,” Y/N gasps, eyes catching the movement of Harry’s hand to the top of her head—gentle caressing never suggesting he could be doing anything else under the sheets.

“Oh, but I do, darling. But just to make sure we’re on the same page…” he pushes his middle finger inside her to the hilt. Y/N’s back arches. “Why am I disappointed in you?”

The question stirs something murky inside of her. Completely different to the feeling of his finger curling upwards and pulling a moan from her mouth.

Why am I disappointed in you?

It feels so… wrong, so ugly parting from his lips. Y/N never intended to disappoint him—it’s not part of her nature to upset anyone on purpose. Her brows furrow slightly, self consciousness brewing in her heart. Was she always doing things wrong? Frustrating people? Letting them down?

“I— um…” she swallows, “I got up after you told me to go to bed.”

Harry continues to display apathy. “Mhm… and you—”

Y/N covers her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her breathing is shallow, mind screaming at her for messing this all up so soon. She thought she was being nice, she thought Harry would be pleased, she thought—

“Hey,” Harry pulls her hands away. “You know you’re such a good girl, don’t you? It’s all words, lovely, I would communicate with you if I was really affected by something you had done.”

She exhales some—relief flooding her eyes. “Oh…” palms pushing into her sockets to soak up the tears. She grimaces. “I feel silly.”

“Don’t.” He presses a small kiss to Y/N’s cheek, right under her eyelashes. “You understand the idea of punishment? That I am to reprimand you if you misbehave?”

Y/N nods. It was exciting… she knows that… once the fog has been cleared. Just a fun, little game.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I— I want you to… to tell me off… I deserve it, Sir.”

“Because you got up, didn’t you? And what else?”

“I… I used your food without permission…”

“What else?” he whispers.

“I don’t… know,” her voice quietens to match his.

“Three a.m., Y/N. There is no need to zombify yourself because you think it will make me happy. It won’t. I’d much prefer a pie baked whilst the sun is still shining.”

Harry moves his finger inside of her, stroking before pulling it out and smearing it over her clit. He brings the wetness to her mouth, rubbing it along her bottom lip and smiling when her jaw unlatches ever so slightly.

“But I recognise the sweetness,” Y/N’s tongue darts out to entice his finger. “You wanted to feed me, wake me up with a hot breakfast—so quick to become my good, little housewife, aren’t you?” His words send shivers through her chest, down her stomach, and between her legs. That’s… God, she doesn’t know but she likes it. “And so… I’ll be nice. Flip over.”

Y/N’s not totally daft… but the question falls out anyway. “Why?”

Harry’s eyes harden, fingers squeezing her cheeks together. “Do it, darling. Now.”

She does. With haste, face pressing into the pillow as she turns it to the side. Harry lifts a leg over the back of her thighs, weight holding her down as his large hands smooth up her back to push her shirt away. “Let me see that pretty, little arse,” he sighs to himself before tugging her borrowed boxers down just enough to expose the soft flesh. Y/N doesn’t expect the kneading that his palms start to soothe her with. His perfect fingers massaging in pushes and pulls. It’s a little humiliating, knowing that he’s observing her—the most vulnerable of states—but with it comes the most trusting freedom and she breathes a deep sigh as her limbs relax into his mattress.

But it’s supposed to be a punishment, isn’t it? And Y/N realises too late, once Harry’s hand has already retracted and sliced through the air to deliver a well-connecting smack to the round of her ass. She gasps, hips twitching—and her leg even threatens to bend up in the air—as heated pinpricks tingle around the shape of Harry’s handprint. It’s admittedly quite nice. Nice enough to probably not be considered a punishment but Y/N would never complain. And she supposes Harry had promised her his niceness.

“Is that okay?” he asks quickly, relieved when Y/N nods just as fast and pushes her bum back into his hand.

The heat spreads, sending electrical currents through Y/N’s veins and making her already wet cunt contract around nothing. “You are a divine little thing,” she hears him through her rushing blood. Another slap to the other cheek, followed by her quivering breaths and muffled whimpers as she turns her head into the pillow. “Even more heavenly with a hot bottom,” Harry hums, stroking the backs of his knuckles over her fiery skin.

Y/N’s already lightheaded, after two measly spanks. She suspects somewhere in the depths of her brain that Harry could knock her about if he so desired and that she really must take efforts to improve her stamina but… when she feels his lips press soft kisses to her bum—everything melts away. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is even and she’s sinking into a fluffy cloud miles and miles above the ground.

And she’s silly. Very silly.

Because Harry spanks her again, and she should’ve expected that two would hardly count as her retribution but they felt so good and her brain was so easily consoled by him.

These ones are harder. And in rapid succession. These ones have Y/N’s head rising from the pillow in a gasp that sounds less dreamy and more like the predecessor to a very loud—

“Shit!”

Which earns her two more smacks to either cheek. “Language, Y/N.”

“Sorry, Sir. Hurts—” The initial heat she was bathed in is now closer to that of a scalding shower than warm sunshine. It’s pulsing, radiating, steaming heat that may as well be smoking off her body in profuse clouds of vapour. Harry’s rough in the treatment of her skin now, kneading to watch the malleable flesh bend at his will instead of caressing to lull Y/N into a peaceful state.

He hums. “I know, bum’s on fire, love. You’re doing very well. Let’s do two more, shall we?”

“O-okay,” Y/N nods face down. Until Harry leans over her back momentarily and positions her head to the side once more, smearing his lips to the corner of her mouth in a possessive reward of a kiss.

“Such a good girl. Just two more f’me.” His voice is soft but his hands stay bruising as they come down twice more. Y/N sighs as soon as the last one resounds around Harry’s room, and the vibrations die down into their residual tingles. It hurts—but in a calming way. Y/N’s body feels not her own; she needn’t move her own limbs or think thoughts with her own brain. There’s no need—she has nothing to contemplate anyway.

On another day, she might have cried at this realisation—at the complete and utter profuse emptiness that allows for the first serenity she has ever known. No anxieties, no needs or responsibilities. Just Harry and his bed. And her hot skin. But right now, as Harry leans over her again, gracing her with the sight of his handsome face… Y/N can only smile.

“I think someone enjoyed that a little too much,” Harry murmurs, bracing himself above her, hair curling over his forehead whilst he tugs her boxers back up.

“Sorry, Sir,” Y/N whispers, tongue heavy. “I’m good? I won’t get up in the night, I promise.”

“You’re good. Took your first spanking so well…” He pauses to stroke down the bridge of her nose and relish in the fluttering of her lashes as her eyes fall shut. “Shall we fill up on some pie now, yeah?”

Y/N snaps out of it a little then, and is suddenly hit by the waves of her throbbing pussy, as she pushes up slightly on her elbows. “B-but…”

Harry leans back, confusion passing over his features. He was sure she’d be more excited. “What’s wrong, love?”

She whispers it, like it’s some sort of secret. “You… I’m still…” her eyes clench shut in embarrassment.

He clocks the cause of her whinging immediately. “Mm, I know you are. Probably made a mess of my boxers, haven’t you? Should we check?” Y/N squeals and rolls out of Harry’s reach… or she tries to but fails to make any sort of meaningful distance. “You wanna come? Is that it? Your greedy cunt wants to come.” Harry watches as she nods her head pitifully, eyes wide and lip protruding like she has no idea what she’s doing. Minx. “What have you done to deserve that?” His hands clasp her hips deliciously as he takes his place above her, securing her in his prison of arms. “Not much of a punishment if I give you an orgasm, is it, darlin’?”

She doesn’t speak. Only looks up at him like he built the very house they lie in. Harry leans down to kiss her awaiting mouth. A sweet smack as they part and the widening of Y/N’s already melted eyes... and then he’s taking her by force, manoeuvring her back onto her stomach and hitting right in the centre of her bum, before pushing up from the mattress to look down at her with a mischievous grin and an offering hand. In a dizzyingly fast sequence of actions.

Y/N squawks, unexpecting of his cruel attack. “Ow!” She cries, kneeling up to protect her sensitive skin from his barrage. (Not that Harry couldn’t put her in any position he liked.)

“Come on, up y’get. S’breakfast time. Colazione!”

And Y/N is left to watch Harry’s broad, bare back disappear from view as she kneels on his mattress with a scorching ass and sodden underwear.

ㅤㅤ

She doesn’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s a lack of filter combined with a slight grumpiness which is understandable after the way Harry left her.

So it’s with instant regret that Y/N enters the kitchen, slides onto a stool and asks, “What’s this?” in reference to the bowl placed before her.

Harry scoffs in amusement. “It’s fruit, darlin’, you eat it all the time.” And fruit it was. An eclectic pile of all sorts of yummy stuff—strawberries, bananas, mangos, kiwis to name a few—no blueberries because Y/N had used them, of course.

She can’t help herself. “But not for breakfast!”

“What’s wrong? Not good enough for you?”

And she realises then, how unthankful she had sounded. “No! I didn’t—” she clamps shut her open mouth, eyes widening and then narrowing when Harry’s lips start to curl.

He sits himself on the stool next to Y/N, knees turned to the side so he can look at her. “Tell me,” he pokes her thigh with his index finger, just as she places a chunk of mango into her mouth.

She reaches over to poke him in return. “Tell you what?”

“What do you eat for breakfast?”

“Oh… no,” she shakes her head, mango sitting in her cheek for a second as she speaks.

“No? It’s bad then… Let me guess…” He hums, fingers tapping his chin in faux contemplation. And somehow, in true Harry fashion, he gets it right first try. A horrified look overtakes his features. “Don’t tell me… you eat those chocolate filled pillow things, do you?”

Y/N tries to school her shock to no avail, but she says nothing, eyes darting between his in rapid motions. She shoves a strawberry in her mouth.

“Oh, the terror! How could you?” Harry gasps, helping himself to a slice of toast from the rack on the middle of the island counter. He starts to spread raspberry conserve on it, head shaking the entire time—fighting the urge to start spewing fabricated statistics in order to frighten her. “Who am I kidding? Of course you eat that filth… I don’t know if I can have relations with someone who starts their day with a bowlful of pure sugar.”

Y/N giggles, fruit bulging in her cheeks as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Have—” she swallows, “—relations with? Were you born in 1954?”

Harry smiles, “That’s very specific, love.”

“Well I like to specify, so…” she supplies midchew, face looking ever so matter of fact.

He watches her as they eat, eyes trained to her fingers as they pick up lumps of fruit and bring them to her wet lips, her tongue as it pokes out to catch whatever she offers, her throat as it contracts around a swallow. It’s peaceful, and quiet as the two share the silence with one another. And when Y/N has finished her last mouthful and Harry has long since eaten his toast, he makes his way to the oven to retrieve the most beautiful blueberry pie he has ever seen. Golden lattice, bubbling purple spilling, and the divine smell of home baked confection.

Y/N’s eyes light up as though it’s Christmas morning, hands clapping under her chin and eyes crinkling in the most beautiful sight. “Oh! It looks good, Harry!” She sounds surprised, relievingly so—like it had been weighing on her unnecessarily.

“It looks delicious, Y/N, thank you. Want some?” She nods eagerly. Harry can’t help but smile, gaze directed to the floor as he shakes his head and represses the urge to coo. She’s so cute. “See, since you made it for me, I should really make you beg for even a taste.”

“Wh—” Y/N huffs, “what? That’s not fair,” she pouts.

Harry sits back down with a steaming slice on a plate. Fork in hand, he cuts a sizable segment and purses his lips to blow cool air before presenting it to Y/N. “Be careful, s’hot.” She pretends not to notice his stare concentrating on the appearance of her tongue as she opens her mouth for him to guide the pie into. It is hot. But Y/N is a master of deception… or so she tries to be. Decides the twitch of her eye and the sharp inhale of breath is unnoticeable to Harry. “You burned your tongue?”

Never mind.

Through a mouthful, Y/N goes, “No…” and chews the result of her hard work until she can swallow. “It’s nice,” she hums.

“Mm,” he agrees around his own bite. “Sweet little baker, you are.” Y/N buzzes from his praise. “Let me see.”

“Hm?”

“Your tongue, let me see.”

Y/N nearly laughs, but the look in his eyes stops her. A smugness that she’s used to by now. So she displays it for him, wet against her bottom lip. Harry inhales, a dismayed whistle sounding from his mouth. His thumb swipes along the side. “Very red. Told you t’be careful.”

She wants to grumble at him, complain about the unfairness of his statement. You fed it to me! It’s on the tip of her tongue. Her very red tongue, apparently. But she bites it back—because quite frankly, the middle of her thighs are still sending turbulent waves through her body and Harry’s patronising inspection of the inside of her mouth has pulled her back to the edge she’s tried so hard to scramble away from. The edge in which Harry only needs to look at her funny for her to topple over it.

“Poor thing,” he frowns. “I’ll have to kiss it better later.”

Y/N stares at him as he eats, opening her mouth obediently whenever he offers her another bite. His words, however teasing or condescending that they may be, float around in her skull like a DVD logo as she makes every effort not to slip into the palm of his hand.

ㅤㅤ

When Harry announces he’s off to shower and beckons Y/N to follow, she knows it can’t be good—whatever he is about to subject her to. He plays it off like it’s nothing, like it’s casual to leave the bathroom door open whilst he steps under the hot spray, completely naked. And maybe it is… to people that aren’t Y/N, but she knows Harry is trying to embed his way under her skin. That’s why he tells her to wait for him on his bed.

She doesn’t snoop, although she wants to, but it would be a violation of his privacy and who was Y/N if she wasn’t good? She doesn’t look into the bathroom either, despite not being able to see a thing through the gap (closer to a chasm) he’d left open. Was he trying to tempt her? To corrupt the last shred of virtue in her body? Did he want her to go in there… strip down and join him? Or was he looking for an excuse to play rough with her skin again? Waiting for her to walk in so he could look down at her with conniving eyes and shake his head in disappointment. You filthy girl. Are you a pervert, Y/N? Who gave you permission to come in here and sneak a glance? You’re so naughty, darlin’.

Clammy fingers press into her cheeks, trying to will away the shame. She felt perverted just thinking those things. Which perhaps is a little silly of her, seeing as they’ve been as connected as two people can be on two separate occasions now but… maybe there’s an inkling of something there that Y/N doesn’t want to accept. That the coalescence of the humiliation and arousal means for an intense curling in her abdomen. That the longer she pictures Harry belittling her for being so dirty to peek at him at his most vulnerable, that the hotter her face gets and the further her thoughts stray from sanity.

Maybe she’s just wound up from this morning… or maybe Y/N likes it best when she’s treated like she’s just a stupid little girl. Her thighs squeeze. Stupid for hypothetically walking into the bathroom, stupid for baking a pie at three a.m., stupid for burning her tongue after Harry told her to be careful. She’s stupid—and she needs Harry to do everything for her. Maybe that’s it.

The water turns off. And Y/N can hear the swishing of a towel as Harry pulls it off the rack, the way it rubs over the droplets running rivulets down his shining skin, and then nothing. She hears nothing… but it hardly matters for very long because when Harry steps into his bedroom undeniably naked, Y/N is far from thinking about identifying sounds.

Her first urge is to look away—to provide some sort of privacy for the man in his own bedroom. But she forces herself to look into his eyes. This is the man who cherished her first time, who cared to speak in soft caresses and made the effort to take her on dates and cook her food. She didn’t need to look away, she was allowed to stare by this point. But it was still… heartstopping. Nudity was still novel to Y/N—she was, even now, fairly uncomfortable by her own, let alone someone else's, but God if Harry wasn’t the best example to study.

“Pervert,” Harry murmurs. Y/N blanches; she opens her mouth but nothing comes out. And now her eyes are fixed on his—any attempts at subtly trailing them down his body are strictly thwarted—and Harry is loving it. His perfectly square teeth digging into his pink bottom lip whilst he strolls his way over to his wardrobe. Y/N looks down for the moment she thinks he cannot see, only to realise there are mirrors inside of the doors and he can watch every movement of her eyeline. He turns. “You’re a little peeping Tom,” walking towards where Y/N sits at the end of the bed.

She has to look up at him (avoiding the sight of his cock that she is sure must be the only pretty one in existence) and he stares down at her. She hardly recognises the irony—that he’s the one parading around in the nude and it was hardly fair to call her out for simply observing that. Because then he’s moving forward again, and Y/N is shuffling backwards on the bed—inadvertently giving Harry enough room to climb on and pin her down. He glides his eyes over her still clothed body as though she’s as exposed as he is, and yet Y/N still doesn’t let her gaze drop. No matter how hard it is.

It isn’t hard. Yet. But she gasps at the feeling of Harry against her thigh—soft, and lingering, and most of all… promising.

“How would you like it if I scrutinised you?” His hands tease her waist. “You’d be squirming all over the place. Perhaps you’d enjoy that.” His fingers dig into her flesh and Y/N lets out somewhat of a scream. The unexpected prodding has her body twisting under his, desperate to escape his digits and proving his point in the process. Her hands push against his chest and her thighs wiggle between his; she’s surely not imagining the hardening of his dick against her. The arousal he’s receiving from watching her struggle… it makes her move even more. And maybe it’s simply an accident when her hand slips down his body and wraps around his half-hard cock. And maybe it’s just reflexive when Y/N giggles, a happy, surprised noise, at the stuttering of Harry’s tickling and the little rut of his hips. But then her arms are pinned down beside her head and his breath is ghosting across her mouth. “Who told you it was okay to touch? I thought you were an obedient little thing… not a brat.”

And Y/N nearly feels offended. A brat? Never. “Sorry,” she whispers, eyes shimmering with light.

“Are you?” Harry hums, dropping enough to draw his nose across the line of her jaw.

“Yes,” her eyes flutter closed. She needs to be touched, more than ever before. She can feel the increasing weight of Harry growing against her stomach, and the heat of his breath kissing her neck, and the wet tendrils of his hair dripping down her temple. “Not a brat.” He’s won already, if the breathiness of her voice is anything to go by.

He sits up, leaving cold air in his absence. Y/N blinks with confusion. Why’d he stop?

“Okay, little miss ‘Not a Brat’, up y’get.” She sits, frown on her pretty lips. “Your turn, off y’go.” Harry points to the bathroom. “There’s a clean towel in there for you,” Y/N could cry, “and I’ll lay your clothes out when you’re done.”

She doesn’t argue. She wants to, but her eyes only round out, silent begging getting her nowhere as Harry smiles and leans down to kiss her brow. So saccharine and gentle after being so cruel. It drives her round the bend. But as she makes her way over to the door and makes sure to shut and lock it—her own little victory—Y/N starts looking forward to lathering herself in Harry’s smell… and maybe memorising which shower gel he uses so she can buy some herself…

It’s with false confidence that Y/N exits the bathroom, towel gripped tightly around her but not tight enough to suggest shyness. Even though Harry can see right through her. He’d said he’d lay her clothes out but all she sees is a dress hanging up on the door of his wardrobe, and Harry sitting back against his pillows—dressed in his corduroy shorts and a blue t-shirt with a big yellow smiley face in the centre—nursing a cup of tea.

“Uh— is that…” she starts, eyes struggling to look away from the delicate fabric.

“Mhm,” Harry hums.

“How did you… how did you know my size?”

“I’m observant, sweetheart.”

“I… Thank you, Harry. It’s so pretty.” And it is. Dark green with an intricate décolletage and no back, thin straps and two lines of fabric hanging down behind ready to be tied into a bow that rests just under the ribs. It looks as though it’ll hang mid thigh and swish against her skin airily. It’s exactly something Y/N would have picked out herself.

He’s looking at her when he hums once more in agreement. “Isn’t it just…” He takes a long gulp. “Pop it on then, love.” Y/N reaches out to grab the hanger, eyes roaming along the lines of the dress and then floating up to smile at Harry. Hesitant, worried she doesn’t deserve it and elated at the same time. “G’na drop your towel?” He grins.

And sure, maybe Y/N was more than happy to admire a naked Harry but that doesn’t mean he’d be lucky enough to see her in the same position. Shameless eyes roving across her curves and searing her skin in the process. So she shakes her head with flaming cheeks and quickly bolts back into the bathroom to the sound of Harry’s disbelieving chuckle.

It’s snug to her body, and something about knowing that Harry had browsed through clothes with her in mind, had seen this very one and decided it was perfect, makes it all the prettier on Y/N’s body. She giggles to herself, admiring the dress against her skin, and angling her body in the mirror to get a better look.

She was pretty and she believed it. It felt nice.

Save for the glaringly obvious breeze in between her thighs.

“Harry…” she calls as she opens the door. “Can you tie me up?”

He smiles, choosing to ignore the versatility of her question in favour of drinking in the sight before him. A Goddess, he’s sure. “You’re just lovely, aren’t you?” Y/N’s face blossoms, shy smile fighting to stay and claim its place. Her eyes crinkle and her irises brighten and the laugh that echoes around the room makes Harry’s chest hurt. “Turn around.”

He wishes bows were notoriously difficult to tie—so that he would be able to spend much longer brushing his fingers against the exposed skin of her back and tracing his gaze over the hair that rises on her arms from his touch alone. His hands close around her hips once he’s finished, as he bends down to press a kiss to her shoulder, stubble scratching her in a way that’s all too familiar.

She exhales, “You ripped my underwear,” and feels him smile into her skin.

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” Warm palms squeeze, bunching the material around his fingers. “At any moment… a breeze could just…” he flips the hem of her dress up and over her ass, “expose...” Y/N squeals, trying to step forward but Harry’s heavy grip has her thumping into his front with a loud exhalation of breath and smaller hands falling on top of his. The material of his shorts is rough against her flesh, but she wants to grind back against it despite the fact. Harry’s hard chest pressing into her back and his deep breaths fluttering over her shoulder has any attempts at escaping evaporating into the air before them. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” He whispers, face turning into her cheek as he pushes into her behind gently.

“N-no,” Y/N shakes her head as it lolls back slightly to rest against him.

“Well… let’s hope the wind doesn’t pick up,” and he’s stepping away from her, grinning at her little stumble when the sturdiness of him is gone.

“What?”

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? I was thinking we’d go for a little walk.” Y/N turns, fingers coming down to pull her dress tight against her thighs. Harry looks at her with no remorse—like her flustered expression and the clear want in her eyes means nothing to him. His tongue darts out to lick his lips; weapons as far as Y/N is concerned. “Grab your shoes,” he nods and Y/N follows his gaze to the top of the wardrobe… conveniently out of her reach. And not where she had left them the day before.

“You—” she narrows her eyes. He’s the pervert. “I can’t!”

“Try.” A cunning smile.

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest—which only serves to push her adorned breasts up—so she drops them with a huff and stomps over to make a fool out of herself, she’s sure. She stands on her toes, ignoring the cool air on the tops of her thighs. Whether Harry may or may not be watching the hem tease the underside of her bum is none of her concern, quite frankly. That sounds like a him problem. Her fingers stretch out as far as they can go and she’s a fraction of a hair’s length away. Maybe she could reach them if she jumped but there’s no way her modesty would stay hidden and Y/N refuses to let him win.

“Can’t reach,” she pouts, somewhat satisfied that Harry didn’t get the full eyeful he was clearly looking for. But it seems that Harry finds a way to win even when he’s losing, because he steps up to her, smooths a big palm over the top of her head and says as though it's the most casual thing in the world…

“That’s okay, let Daddy get it,” as he plucks her shoes down without the slightest hint of a stretch.

Y/N’s mouth falls open and her brain goes silent for a split second. Let Daddy get it. Surely she didn’t like that… did she? But he doesn’t even let her question it, because he’s telling her to put her shoes on and meet him downstairs, before walking out of his room and leaving an astounded Y/N on her own.

ㅤㅤ

Flowers are fucking pointless, right? What purpose do they serve, other than looking pretty? Y/N thinks she might just pick the next petals she sees right off their stems.

Sure. Maybe they're crucial to the welfare of bees, and maybe they’re very important in the cheering up of a person after a long, hard day—or even just as a silent way of apologising to your nan for your lack of visits… but Y/N doesn’t care. She does not care. Fuck walks, fuck flowers, and fuck Harry’s fingers twining with hers. Even though they feel really, really nice. Y/N can’t take it anymore.

The wind, thankfully, stays at a very enjoyable speed. Light and breezy; nothing that may cause frantic hands to fly to her dress to hold it down after a shocking gust. And whilst Harry may have alluded to the fact that her indecent exposure was some source of amusement for him, he too is relieved that he’s not had to do any emergency fixes.

Quite surprisingly, actually, Harry has turned off all allure. Literally. As though he has a switch on the back of his head that flicks from sultry to sweet. The moment the pair had reached a road, he’d been alert—insistent on Y/N switching with him to be furthest away from the onslaught of cars. It was… thoughtful. Unexpected, somewhat, when the whole Daddy thing was still going round… and round… and round inside of her head. She hadn’t really been paying much attention to his soft murmurs, asking her to change sides with him as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Perhaps she was further gone than she realised, when all she could do was nod with a sort of lag, and only meet his eyes for a second before she caught the look of an incoming pram—weighed down by the peaceful sight of a sleeping baby.

If Harry notices then he doesn’t say anything—perhaps his hand tightens around hers and he walks a little closer than necessary—but he doesn’t mention her mood or his.

He buys her ice cream and walks them to a public park in which he prompts her to sit on the verdant grass and props his sunglasses on her nose. He pulls her calves across his lap and watches goosebumps follow in the wake of his soft fingertips and the bumps of his knuckles as he caresses her skin. He kisses her chin where a melty drop paints her, licking his lips with a smile that scrunches his eyes. He behaves appropriately and yet… Y/N suddenly wants to have very public sex. He calls her a messy girl in the most innocent of lilts but the insinuation, the different sort of mess that she starts picturing—the very same colour of the frozen treat she is licking.

Y/N’s eyes are absent, the pair are hardly talking to one another, and her legs buzz with every touch of Harry’s hands against them. Her answers are reduced to halfhearted hums and gradual nods all while he watches her with a fond regard.

She can’t be blamed—when the closing of his front door prompts the last of her composure to disintegrate; to fall apart at the seams and land in a frail mess on the floor. Y/N wants to join it more than anything. “Please…” a whisper falls from her bitten lips, too quiet to make out the word but the noise is carried. Harry’s hand meets the small of her back and then brushes up to smooth over her shoulder as he lifts her chin up with his index finger.

“What is it?” His brows pull together. Y/N can’t speak. Her focus dances from left to right—rapid movements—unspoken urgency. “You need to tell me… with your words, no matter how pretty your eyes look.” Smaller, nervous palms push into his stomach. Knees bend and meet hard floor. Harry’s fingers tangle into her hair, gripping but not tugging—holding her head at an angle. “This isn’t talking, darling. What are you trying to do down there?”

Y/N cups the backs of his knees, hardly registering the sarcasm that drips from his tongue. “Harry…”

“Is it?” A little yank against her scalp.

“Sir,” she tries again around a swallow. “Please can I…” her hand flattens to the front of his thigh, fingertips brushing the locked teeth of his zipper. “Can I?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to,” he hums, warm voice forcing her deeper into the plunge pool filled with honeyed tones and twining brunette tendrils. “I thought you liked to specify.”

She shuffles closer on her knees, hardly possible to do without nosing his shorts. “Can I suck your cock, Sir?”

Harry breaks out into a smile—his teeth appear in straight, pearly lines—stuttering Y/N’s train of thought; her exhale hitting his skin. And then the hand in her hair tightens, and his jaw clenches as his words harden. “May I.”

Y/N gasps at the sensation, blink overcoming her as her head is jolted from the weight of his hand. “May I?” She urges. “May I suck your cock, Sir?”

“Hm, better,” his grip loosens, other hand lifting to thumb over her brow. “Not perfect. What are you missing?”

“Please?” When Harry nods, Y/N’s hand digs into his thigh. “Please may I suck your cock, sir?”

“That’s nice,” he smiles. “How much do you want it, hm?”

Y/N’s brows twitch, lips forming a sad curve. She wants it so much. Too much to be able to coherently express it. So she leans forward, nose finally meeting his thigh—pressing up on her knees to reach where a slight bump is forming and letting her face push into his covered skin. His thickening bulge.

Harry sighs; his lungs forcibly deflating as Y/N’s warm air saturates through the corduroy. Her nose nudges around as she nestles into his crotch, delicate hands scratching the backs of his thighs. A muffled please reaches his ears, quiet but desperate. He’s a patient man—he really is—but his tolerance is being tested.

The fingers in her hair untangle, moving to hold the back of her head and push her further into him. His hips move of their own accord, suffocating Y/N with his hardening cock. She deserves it; she deserves everything. He knows that—but it had been too fun to tease… to watch her silently struggle all afternoon. To know that the spanking he’d delivered earlier this morning had stayed with her all day. He already knew they could hardly count as a punishment… not when she mollified into his mattress after the first smack. But he’d been cruel today. And now Y/N was desperate.

“Go ahead ‘n’ unzip me, love.” The eyes that greet him make Harry want to get down on his knees himself. Wide, glistening, one step away from filling with tears. Her face relaxes with an almost-smile as she tugs his zipper down, looking back up to him with a hopeful expression. “Oh, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He slides his hand into the hair behind her ear, firm grip grounding Y/N, and takes himself out for her.

Y/N unfolds her tongue for Harry like it’s a red carpet—like it’s been awaiting his cock all day. His fingers wrap around himself in firm strokes, eyes stuck to hers. They’re slow motions, hips jutting forward to smear across her tongue and then pulling back to rub her spit into his head. Groans settle in his chest but all that comes out are quiet breaths. Too quiet, if you were to ask Y/N. But the harder he gets, the louder too, and those breaths become pants when Harry slaps his cock on her open mouth.

“Look at that, you’re so sweet—so eager to please.” He can tell she wants to close her mouth around him. She gets another thud against her tongue instead. And then a smear as Harry guides the tip of his cock along the plush of her lips. “So please me, baby.”

Y/N lags a little, like she’s just become shy again, and then she slips forward just enough to take the head. Her slick lips wrap around him like a dream, pulling back just to run her tongue around the mushroom tip. Her blueberry-pie-burnt-tongue. Slender fingers massage the side of her scalp, thumb stretching to stroke her cheekbone.

Harry grips himself, “Hands behind your back, f’me, there you go.” She suckles the tip, anticipating eyes saying more than words could even try to articulate. Y/N’s posture slouches some, arms pressing into her back serving to be much too heavy in her state. “Sit up straight.” Because it’s not ladylike to slouch but it is to suck cock. She listens, taking Harry deeper into her mouth in the process. But he pulls back to push into the side of her cheek. “Pretty,” he swipes his thumb back and forth over the bump.

Y/N’s face twists into a frown, pulling against the resistance of his big hand and off his cock. “I thought…” she breathes in a deep breath, “Please let me. Let me…”

“Why do you want to suck my cock so bad, huh?”

He has an idea. He’s not dim—he knows there are probably floods of thoughts swimming against the tide in her little head. That’s just the way Y/N exists; constantly battling her own mind. And Harry had somewhat decided, earlier that day, that he would go searching for all her buttons. That he would learn her tells as soon as possible in order to keep things smooth sailing.

Of course, learning where someone’s buttons are also means they must be pressed… all at once… and not switched off. Harry isn’t punishing her, per say—he regards it as more of a necessary evil. A process that cannot be ignored.

Y/N certainly isn’t ignoring it. Or she isn’t now. He was impressed with her, in ways. Those sweet attempts at concealing all feeling; at pretending she wasn’t pulsating between the centre of her thighs. Perhaps in order to keep him happy, or to win the silent war they were waging—he’s unsure as of yet. But he’ll find out.

However (and this is precisely why Harry felt the need to do all this) he’s somewhat perturbed by Y/N’s lack of vocalisation of her emotions. Communication, Harry feels, is the most important thing in any sort of relationship. He’s urged her, although perhaps not enough, to tell him how she feels—no matter if he is the one causing those feelings. In fact, that means for even more of a reason to let him know. So that he can make it better. There’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that if Y/N had asked at breakfast to make the ache go away, he would’ve sunk to his knees. And then rewarded her even further just for telling him.

But now they’re here. And Y/N is crumbling, and desperate, and beautiful. Harry squeezes himself, once, twice, around the base of his cock before jutting his hips out just enough to rest the length of him atop of her cheek—and then some. He’s long, and thick, and the pretty girl on the floor for him barely competes for size.

“Hm?” He nudges.

“I wanna make you feel good,” she insists—and Harry doesn’t think she’s lying on purpose… But by omission, maybe. “Sir.” She tacks it on in haste, like the two seconds in which she hadn’t uttered the honourific would result in cruel and unusual punishment.

“Y’want to make me feel good? I see. Even after all my teasing today? You still want to put those pretty lips around me.” The contrast between his cock on her face and the light, scratching strokes he’s giving her head is mind boggling. When she nods, his tip threatens to poke her in the eye. “I’m going to give you… one chance to tell me what you’re actually thinking. Or else I’ll put m’self away and carry on ignoring you.” He doesn’t know if he hallucinates the increasing warmth of her face underneath him.

“Thought if I made you happy… you’d… you’d be pleased with me,” her eyes struggle to maintain contact with his. “And… and make me… y’know...”

“Hm, make you a nice dinner? Make you laugh all bright and bubbly? Make you—”

“Make me come!”

“Ohhh,” he smiles, “how silly of me.” He’s incorrigible. “Well let’s see then, shall we? If you can be a good girl and make me happy.”

She moves her head, mouth open and awaiting. Harry doesn’t tease her anymore—he gathers her hair in both hands, pulls it all away from her face whilst maintaining a controlling grip, and lets her do as she pleases. It’s perfectly imperfect, the way she delicately kisses up his shaft like it’s just been cruelly treated. Her hands stay unusable behind her back and her sultry mouth struggles to know what to do first. He can see the way she wishes she could do everything at once. Kiss him, tongue him, suck him. Harry thinks she could simply breathe on him and he’d feel good.

Y/N falls into a rhythm, soft eyelids closing in contentment as her mouth works around him. Head moving back and forth, slowly but attentively. She rubs her tongue on the underneath of his cock as she takes him, each retreat of her lips sucking tantalisingly. And when she manages to look up at him for just a second, Harry can’t help the quirk of his lips and the twitch of his dick as he mutters praise through quickly thickening fog. She buzzes with it, pushing herself further onto him until she stills in an attempt to adapt to the constricting weight nudging at her throat. When her breaths start to hit Harry harshly, he curls his fingers in her hair and urges her off of him.

“I’m plenty happy enough, my darlin’,” he shakes his head, “don’t choke yourself. We’ll do that another time.” And his words are breathy, sure evidence that he is happy, but Y/N doesn’t feel satisfied. She wants to see his tummy quivering underneath his t-shirt, wants to hear him pant, and groan, and lose all semblance of himself. She moans around him, at the promise of him filling her throat, at the sight of his glowing face and dishevelled hair. And then she speeds up. She feels the saliva collecting in her mouth and she lets it cover him—she moves her head in urgent bobs and digs her nails into her palm when Harry grunts.

“Oh, fuck,” he looks down at the shine she’s leaving behind around him. “Sweet little thing’s got a filthy mouth.” Spit drips down her chin and he thumbs it away, wiping it on his shorts. It makes her go even faster. “Good girl—shit. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Y/N whines around him, eyebrows dipping in delight from his words alone. Her core is numbing, sure she must’ve dripped onto the floor and yet she doesn’t have it in her to be embarrassed. Not when all she can think about is making Harry come.

But he’s mean. He says, “You’ll get up then, won’t you?” voice lilting.

What? “Mm-mm,” she shakes her head, disgruntled that he’d even suggest it, and pushing further down his cock in retaliation.

“No? But I thought you were a good girl. Good girls listen. So listen to me… and get up.” He drags her off by the hands in her hair, feeling smug when she gasps down multitudes of air. She’s annoyed—swollen, slick lips pouting—no aversions to showing how she truly feels now. “Don’t look so sad,” he mimics her pout, fingers squeezing her cheeks together as she stands on wobbly legs. Then he kisses her rumpled lips, tastes himself and her saliva and rubs his tongue on hers. Bless her heart, she keeps her arms behind her, melting into Harry’s grasp and forgetting all about her own limbs. His grip finds her waist, tugging her up his body and coaxing her thighs to wrap around him. He hums against her lips, content to feel her pressing into him… then her dress rides up and… oh—

“You poor thing,” Harry gasps, when his prick nudges very soft, very wet skin. “Just dripping and you didn’t say a word. Is that very sweet or very selfish?” Y/N can only whimper as their flesh meets. “You’re not selfish, are you, baby?”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently, hands finally moving of their own accord and sitting on Harry’s shoulders.

He exhales a humoured breath through his nose. “Ah well, you see, I consider myself to be rather selfish. I want things. Do you… want things, Y/N?”

“Yes,” fingers sliding into curls, “want you. Please, Sir, want you.”

He can feel the heat of her pussy. All he’d need to do is nudge his hips forward… “Why didn’t you ask me earlier, hm? See how easy that was? S’all you needed to do was ask.” Y/N nods, apology on the tip of her tongue, but Harry kisses her again before she can talk. And then he’s moving—taking her somewhere—she’s unsure where. It doesn’t matter. She hears the rubber soles of his shoes against the floor, a door sliding open, the chirps of a bird from nearby. And then she feels the soft cushion of a chair as she is placed down upon it.

Y/N opens her eyes, reluctantly, as she hears Harry zipping himself back up. She curves her lips downwards as she leans back, expecting to feel a support, but she falls. Not far. The chair seems to be of the reclining sort, and Y/N’s back moulds into the soft fabric. Harry smiles… and then he’s digging his fingers into the supple flesh of her thighs, pulling her down towards him, and flipping her over. Y/N squeals, palms pressing down to push herself up.

“Hips up,” he swats her thigh, “back arched, good girl. Relax your arms, put ‘em out in front of you.” She focuses on the sight of a pool out of the peripheral of her vision, crystal clear water, pretty bushes, a coffee table under an awning—trying to keep her heart steady as Harry flips her dress up. There’s no hiding now. She’s completely bare and he can see everything. Y/N hides her face in her arms at the feeling of the breeze against her. That breeze becomes warmer, and more pointed, and suddenly it meets her directly—the swipe of a tongue through strings of slick. She jolts forward but Harry tugs her right back, kneeling at the end of the recliner with his face mere centimetres away from her swollen sex. “Don’t move. Don’t try and run away from me unless you want to play like this morning.” Y/N makes a little noise—it’s forced from her lungs, really, at the reminder of the heat his hands left behind. So she tries something, just a little something… she moves. She twitches her hips forward so slightly, he shouldn’t have noticed. But it’s Harry. And he knows that she wants to play like this morning very much.

So he smacks her. Hard. Right in the middle of her left cheek. Something akin to a choked squawk leaves her mouth and she jumps forward once again. So he hits her other cheek, “Stop,” again, “moving,” and again.

“Harry!” Y/N gasps—half moan, half cry. It burns deliciously.

“Keep still for me. I want to eat this pretty cunt,” he breaths over her, taking her in. “You remember your Yellow and Red, yes?” He looks up the expanse of her back.

“Yes—Sir,” Y/N forces out, lungs going at a rapid rate. Every word is a struggle.

“Good girl.”

And then he devours her.

Y/N is grateful he put something soft beneath her, because she struggles not to flatten out immediately. Despite the possessive grip Harry displays over her waist and on her thigh. She’s at the halfway point—of still feeling scrutinised and losing all inhibitions. Embarrassment being a turn on surely makes that line a little silly to place herself upon. But she forgets her thought process entirely with Harry’s tongue flicking between her legs. He’d gone straight in, initially, mouth meeting her centre with no motive other than to taste and to feel her on his lips. He kisses her—as much as one can there—open mouthed and impassioned, trailing from left to right over her thighs… then up to her ass that to Y/N’s curious horror he spreads, coming close but never right where she wanted him.

Did she though? Want him there? The thought has never crossed her mind before but the closer he gets the more her hips shift. But Harry only kisses the skin of her round flesh, moving back down to spread her lips and take a good look at her. The moment of waiting feels like years to Y/N. Years of being pulled apart and stared at like she is tied to a pedestal. Then he hums, deep from within his chest, and sucks her clit into his mouth. She lets out a long, pitiful moan, face dropping to the cushion with a thud. Her body must be moving—shaking or twitching—but she can’t tell. Not when Harry is holding her thighs with his thumbs still spreading her open, and switching between pulling her into his mouth and smoothing his tongue over her. In languid motions that start to unravel Y/N incredibly quickly.

He stays slow—which is something she envies, really—the ability to heighten an orgasm by dragging it out. Y/N always finds, and she’s not the best at masturbating anyway, that in the midst of the pleasure she speeds up her hands with the incoming sense of her climax. And it never feels completely satiating. But Harry… of course he knows what he’s doing better than her. But God, does he prove it. It builds so steadily; the pleasure elongated and intensified as Y/N grapples with her hands to find any sort of grounding. She pushes up, and then falls back down. She stretches her arms out, and then pulls them back to her chest. It’s a restless kind of pleasure—it’s disabling and wonderful and shattering and—

Harry pulls away. The sensation is so jarring that Y/N forgets all semblance of the concept of composure. She cries out and turns herself over. Her brows furrow so hard she’ll surely induce a headache and her wet mouth is open in the most betrayed of gapes.

“Please,” she reaches forward. For Harry who stays kneeling. He cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Were you about to come?”

Y/N could roll her eyes. “Yes! Please, please make me come.” Her hand falls down against the cushion fruitlessly.

Harry pushes up higher on his knees, caressing palms smoothing up her calves until they reach her thighs and sling them over each of his shoulders. Y/N’s head falls back with relief. But he reaches up and grabs her face, angling her head upright so that he can slide two fingers into her mouth. She whimpers in surprise, heat rushing all around her body. His index and little finger rest on either side of her face as he strokes her tongue in depraved motions, sliding over the expanse of the wet muscle.

“What do we say when we want something?”

“Pleathe,” Y/N begs… except she doesn’t really because the word comes out garbled and unintelligible. But Harry smiles.

“Hm?”

“Pleathe!”

Then he slaps her thigh and Y/N yelps around his fingers. “Please what?”

“Thir.” Her eyes clear a little as she tries to inhale. “Pleathe make me come, thir.”

No matter that it’s near impossible to identify her words, Harry is pleased. He pulls his hand away to let her take a few deep breaths, and then he’s coaxing them back in with a little grin. Y/N seems eager for them, tongue laying down for his fingers. “That’s better.” And then she bites them. Not hard, but her teeth press into the skin enough to indent as Harry’s mouth meets her slick centre once again. He keeps his eyes focused on hers and his tongue on her clit—flattening out to collect her arousal from her messy entrance before smearing it over her sensitive button and building her back up agonisingly slowly. She climbs higher and he pulls back, teeth sinking into the inside of her thigh and lips trailing her wetness everywhere, stubble scratching her in a lusciously painful way. His palm stays flattened to her hip, holding her firmly to his face. Until he leans back just enough to purse his lips and drip saliva down onto her shiny pussy. Y/N gasps around his fingers and Harry smirks into her skin as he presses his face back into her, eyes never wavering from hers.

It builds up much quicker now, regardless of the excruciating pace that Harry sets. She tightens up, body desperate as her pelvis lifts up into his mouth. “Pleathe!” Y/N’s eyes clench shut. “Pleathe let me come, thir.” Harry smiles at her incoherent speech and doesn’t stop. He hums instead, long and deep, vibrations tingling through his face and her cunt. Y/N’s harsh breaths hit his knuckles, shallow from her nose. Her hands find his wrist, clinging on as Harry nods into her—not pulling away for a second.

“Ah!—ah—ah,” tiny noises are all she can muster as her eyes beg Harry not to stop and her orgasm dangles her over the edge. Just a bit more… a bit more… don’t stop. Her thighs tighten around his head and Harry moans, grateful to be crushed by such beauty. And if Y/N could speak she’d be more than grateful—she’d be at his feet, she’d pledge to make him happy forever. As long as she came.

And all it takes is one more long hum, fizzling through her clit. Her nails dig into his wrist and her hips surely lift up enough to suffocate him as her orgasm rips through her. It’s blinding…and stilling; Y/N can neither see nor move for five paralysing seconds. Then the sounds seep past Harry’s fingers and her pelvis starts to shake, and the lack of satiating inhalation proves to make her lightheaded. She tugs at his hand to pull it out of her mouth, drowning her lungs in oxygen when Harry complies. But she’s high, head throwing back against the cushion and eyes falling shut as her chest heaves and her body tingles. Y/N misses the way Harry moves his spit-slicked hand down to her puffy core, lips pulled away to give some semblance of respite… until he pushes his two middle fingers into her and curls.

“Oh!” She jolts upright. “No, Harry, I—” her words fall away. The pressure is consuming as his digits press into her, forcing this unprecedented, extended pleasure out of her. And it’s good but… Y/N’s certain she’ll pass out if he takes anymore from her, “—need—a moment,” her back arches and her hands finally search for him. To push away or pull him closer, she is unsure.

Harry retracts his fingers, leaving a kiss to Y/N’s stomach as he gently places her feet flat on the lounger. “Yeah? That’s okay.” The skirt of her dress sits under her ribs and Harry traces the line of skin underneath with the pad of his thumb. “Was that a lot?”

“Mhm,” she nods, struggling to peel her eyelids open for long enough to look down at him. Who slowly stands and lifts her calves to rest across his lap as he seats himself at the foot of the recliner.

“G’na let me fuck you or do you want to stop?” He asks it so casually, as though they’re in the line at the supermarket and he’s offering to let her go before him. The centre of her legs is buzzing—she’s messy and can feel sweat gathering underneath her arms—but she wants more. She wants his pleasure now.

Y/N nods. “Your turn.”

He smiles, “My turn to be eaten out? I wouldn’t say no.” She giggles but it’s to mask a gasp as her eyes widen and her stomach fills with heat. “Let me go grab a condom,” his delicate touches form goosebumps along her arms whilst she nods dumbly.

The urge to cover her face with her hands and laugh is strong. She doesn’t. She presses her lips together instead, hard enough to feel her teeth indenting from the inside, as she watches the wind create ripples in the swimming pool before her. Y/N pulls her dress over her thighs; to tease Harry or herself, she’s not certain but it feels mischievous to do either way. To force him to rediscover the treasure between her legs. To make herself desirable once more.

Not that she doesn’t feel desirable. In the afterglow of her orgasm, Y/N’s sure she’s never felt as pretty—practically glowing and all pliant on Harry’s sun lounger. But if hiding the place Harry wants to see most, makes him lose a little composure? She smiles harder at the thought.

ㅤㅤ

His shirt is missing when he comes back, revealing the hard plains of skin and muscle that Y/N would spend hours tracing if she could. The broad of his shoulders, dusted in delicate freckles—contrasted by the full of his pecs and the stone ridges of his abs that soften into plush hips that beg to withhold the indentations of fingertips. It’s all radiant to Y/N. The sunlight paints the shadows of leaves onto his front as he makes his way back to her. His shorts are considerably tight, tenting obviously. She struggles not to stare. Especially because she knows what's underneath… and wants nothing more than to consume him again.

He looks cheeky, hands behind his back (Y/N truly hasn’t noticed because his arms bulge with the strain and any observation skills she may have possessed become completely redundant at the sight of his thick biceps) whilst he smiles at her reclining body. He stops to the side of her. “I’ve got something for you.”

Y/N looks up at him, eyes curious. “Oh. What is it?”

Harry drops a velvet baggy into her lap, watching with an attentive gaze as she loosens the drawstrings hesitantly. “It’s small and unassuming, yeah?”

A bullet vibrator. “I’ve never used one before,” she admits, cheeks hot and heartbeat racing.

“That’s not on, is it, love? You g’na hold this right here f’me?” He takes it from her and sneaks under her dress, tapping once where it's sensitive. She jolts. “Right over your pretty clit whilst I fuck you?”

She nods, mewl lodged in her throat. “Thank—thank you… Sir.”

A deep hum and a kiss to her head before he says, “Go on then, show me,” kneeling onto the end of the recliner, palms smoothing up her thighs to push the encroaching fabric out of the way. Y/N lets him put the vibrator in her hand, his eyes kind despite the excitement coursing through his veins. She thinks for a second—difficult under normal circumstances but even harder now—and brings the small cylinder to her mouth, pushing the rounded tip past her lips and forcing her stare not to wander from Harry’s. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, all gentle smiles and easy eyes dripping into molten liquid. His pupils blossom and his fingers stop their trailing across her skin as Y/N slicks the vibrator up with her tongue.

It’s overwhelming; the tremors that hit her oversensitive bundle of nerves. She pulls it away as soon as she turns it on, a loud gasp sounding out around them. “Can’t,” Y/N shakes her head.

“Yes, you can, baby. For me.” It’s likely she would do anything as long as Harry asked she do it for him. He unzips his shorts, pushing them down his thighs along with his briefs, thick hardness begging for attention. He’s a harsh blushing colour, and veins stand out against the taut skin, pearls of precome shining from the slit and coating the head deliciously. Y/N feels herself clench around nothing, the weight of the calm vibrator suddenly a very welcome sensation. Harry pulls a condom out of the pocket of his shorts and rolls it on. “Turn it on,” he demands, rubbing the thick mushroom tip of his cock around her entrance, smearing arousal.

She takes a deep breath, eyes cast downwards to the sight of Harry pushing himself in just past the opening and pulling out. In and out. In and out. Teasing. Torturing. Y/N switches the vibrator on, immediately writhing under the overstimulation, just as Harry rocks in to the hilt—hips meeting and breaths mingling when he bends over her body. Strong hands grip the underside of her knees, folding them to her chest and granting the most stimulating of angles.

Her grip on the bullet is weak, unable to maintain placement as it slips down to press into Harry’s shaft as he thrusts into her slow and hard. He groans from the sensation before gripping her wrist and tugging up—back directly on her clit. Y/N moans, head shaking and hips squirming, but Harry only digs his fingers into her thighs and pushes them further into her chest.

“You’re so—fuck—so wet, darlin’. Can’t fuck you or I’ll slip out,” he grunts, pulling out to the tip painfully slowly before skin slaps as he fills her back up heavily. It expels all the air out of Y/N’s lungs, his every thrust jolting her entire body. “Clench f’me. Hold me in, baby.”

Y/N mewls, tightening her pelvic floor and making Harry groan out as he smears his mouth over hers. She doesn’t know what to focus on. His lips scattering tingles all over her face, the harsh buzzing of the vibrator on her clit, the vast span of his fingers indenting her skin, or the heavy thrusts of his cock into her tightness. Over, and over, and over again. She moans into his mouth, crying out as he speeds up. His palm slips over the bottom of her stomach and presses down in search of something.

He pounds into her harder when he feels it. “In your tummy. So fucking deep inside you, pretty girl.” Y/N can’t speak, she can’t do anything but whine out helplessly as Harry pushes his palm into the bulge he’s swelling. Her orgasm starts to build—the convulsing sensitivity of her clit has surpassed to a near numbness—she knows she won’t be able to come again after this. But as she looks down and Harry moves his hand for her to see each thrust, Y/N throws her head back.

“Come all over my cock, baby. Squeeze me so hard I see stars.”

And she’s convulsing, vibrator falling away from the immense sensation of it all—chest heaving, fingers reaching out to dig into Harry’s biceps as she shatters around him. “Harry! Thank you—thank you—th— thank you.” Tears slip out of her tightly shut eyes, wet lips hanging open as her arms grow numb and they fall atop her ribs.

He’s grunting, low and gravelly, curls falling over his forehead like cascading waterfalls of chocolate. His hips don’t falter as he gathers her into his bulging arms. Y/N’s still twitching from the aftershocks when he stands up, fingers splaying on her ass and encouraging her legs to wrap around him. The vibrator stays buzzing on the sun lounger, falling on deaf ears as Y/N clings on and Harry fucks up into her. If she hadn’t just come she’s sure his display of strength would have her drooling.

And she’s close to drooling now. Involuntarily from the pace in which he sets, forcing her to grip onto his shoulders. She smooths the backs of her arms over them, shaking fingers weaving into the hair on the back of his head.

Harry is relentless. “Good girl. Such a good girl. You take it so well. I’m so proud of you.” She keens into his throat, tired smile stretching against his neck. The words warm her.

I’m so proud of you.

She’s elated, she’ll never ask for anything ever again… But she wants one more thing.

“Come in my mouth, Sir.” Her voice tickles against his ear. So shy, so unsure. Harry’s knees nearly buckle.

“Is that a demand, little one?” Fuck, he’d give it to her even if it was.

“Please?” His hips snap up harder, their skin is slapping and sticking, and their bodies are going numb.

“You want me coating your tongue, yeah? You w’na swallow me?”

“Yes, Sir,” she nods desperately.

Harry pulls her off him, setting her down onto the hard floor as gently as his sex-muddled brain can offer. He tugs the condom off, shoving it into a pocket of the shorts he never managed to take off. Y/N opens her mouth obediently, her tired eyes fighting to stay open and watch Harry’s frantic strokes. His head thrown back, jaw sharp and veins in his neck jumping—she’d be a fool not to look.

“God, want you here forever. On your knees f’me,” he looks down at her glowing, sweating skin. “Want to keep you,” his voice trails off into a moan, shuffling forward so the leaking head rests on her tongue as he tugs his length. “Will you let me keep you, Y/N?” She nods, tongue moving on the underside of him. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

It’s her eyes that get him. Big and pleading. Like the only thing she’s ever wanted in her entire existence is for him to come for her. In her mouth. Her eyes… and maybe her tits too. When she pulls the pretty décolletage of her dress down to free them and holds the underside as if to display them for Harry. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he whimpers, leaning forward to spurt thick streaks onto the back of her tongue and watch it drip down. His other hand shoots out to hold the top of her head, strokes slowing and becoming little ruts of his hips when it all becomes too sensitive.

Y/N kneels there for him, mouth open, come painting her tongue. It’s only when he thumps his softening cock against the mess he’s left that she pulls back, making a show of swallowing it all. He’s spent but the sight is one to behold. She smiles shyly up at him, so clearly overjoyed. “Thank you, Sir.”

ㅤㅤ

During their shower, he asks her an important question.

“Was there anything I did to you that you didn’t like?”

Y/N is nearly a deadweight in his arms—so exhausted, so sweet—as she blinks up at him. “Hm?”

Harry smiles. “Did I push your boundaries at all today?”

She nuzzles into his chest, shaking her head, as they stand under the hot stream. “No, Sir.”

“You liked the vibrator?” Harry drags his soapy nails across her back, scratching wonderfully.

“Sore now. Too much, I think,” Y/N admits, as she tightens her arms around his waist. She’s fighting the fog and failing. Harry doesn’t mind.

He hums. “Abused her a little, didn’t I? We can work on that, if you like.”

“Mhm. Anything, Sir.” Then suddenly she pulls back, looking up with harsh brows. “Didn’t like how much you ignored me… down there. Wanted to come all day.”

Harry laughs, “That,” he emphasises, “is something you’ll have to put up with, darling. S’fun to play with you—watch you silently suffer. Promise it won’t be all the time. If only you’d just asked for what you wanted.” Y/N grumbles to herself, basking in the serenity of their touching skin and the clean smell of shower gel as the hot water cleanses them.

The next thing Harry says is unwise. In Y/N’s floaty state, and generally as a rule of healthy relationships, it’s unwise—but he says it anyway.

“You should quit your job.”

She doesn’t register his words immediately, but even when she does, Harry doesn’t receive the expected reaction. She laughs, “Yeah,” sighing. “Can stay in your house all day. Make you happy, whatever you want, all the time.” It feels like she’s joking—like she believes he’s joking and is just playing along—and Harry knew better than to suggest it to her in this moment. He knew better, especially because they were hardly any time at all into knowing one another. It was a rash thing to say… and Harry can’t quite believe he’s thinking it. But he is. He’s thinking it very much. And it feels right. It seems easy.

But he won’t mention it again. Not yet. Not until the girl in his arms is a little less incoherent.

He’s a patient man, is what he tells himself. There’s no rush; Harry certainly isn’t desperate to rush out of the shower, or rush Y/N home, or rush to work the next day. He can wait.

He can wait.

ㅤㅤ

Working with people takes a particular set of skills. Sociability, quick thinking, a strong backbone... Y/N wouldn’t say she particularly possessed any of these qualities—which would largely explain why she hates her job so much.

But she gets up and does it. Every day. And she returns home feeling as though it can’t get any worse, and then the next day proves her wrong.

Despite this, you’d think—after all the practice she has—that entering Harry’s work shouldn’t be so intimidating. That having to ask for him at reception whilst holding a lunch box and a cake tin needn’t stir up the incessant swirls of nerves in her stomach. And even though the woman who tends to her has a soothing smile and a lilting tone of voice, Y/N still stands there feeling obvious. Obvious and unaware at the same time.

Would Harry even want her here? Was showing her face in his workspace breaching a rule? Did he leave his lunch behind on purpose? Would he want the cake she’d brought with her?

The receptionist talks to someone on the phone, announcing Y/N’s presence and her request to see the CEO. She’d thought, perhaps, that she would be immediately denied. Mr. Styles is a very busy man and he doesn’t take surprise visits. Good day. But the lady had smiled almost knowingly at Y/N, as though she’d been expecting her—which seemed even vastly more silly than the prospect that Harry might turn her away himself.

Which hadn’t crossed her mind until now. What if he scolded her? In front of all his employees? Y/N would die.

A man suddenly appears in her peripheral vision. Hair tied back, suit pressed of all wrinkles, and a harsh line of a mouth that curls so minimally that it could be passed off as a twitch when he meets Y/N’s eyes. “Follow me, Miss L/N.”

He takes her up stairs, through halls and to a small sitting area that she assumes is outside Harry’s office. One sofa and one armchair, adjacent to a water cooler and a vending machine in which two other men in pressed suits loiter, trading inconsequential small talk no doubt. And really, it is too small to be considered an area of any sort, and their looming presence does nothing to quell Y/N’s worry.

“He’s just finishing up a phone call, please sit.”

Y/N smiles at the man and rushes out a small thank you before he disappears down the hallway. The soft cushioning of the sofa cradles Y/N’s heart none, despite the silent appraisal her legs give when they’re granted respite. No, her heart is still beating rapidly, and the mumblings of the two men are pecking away at her ears as she tries to block them out without success. She sees one nudge the other out of the corner of her eye, and she hopes—no, begs—that neither talk to her. But it seems there’s no one there to listen to her pleading.

“Excuse me.” One of the men says. Typically those words come attached with a questioning swing but he doesn’t ask her anything. He demands her. “What have you got in there?”

Y/N slides her palms around the spherical tin, the cold metal granting momentary bliss for her clammy skin. On top of the tin is Harry’s lunch. In the box he’d forgotten to take with him on his way out.

Y/N had a day off—calling her boss to fake sickness had been scarier than it should have been (Harry rewarded her for her bravery in ways she can still feel if she clenches her thighs together)—and Harry had ordered she lay about his house all day doing, and she quotes, absolutely nothing.

He’d silently managed to pick up on her preference for a little time alone when talking and coexisting got to be too much (after observing the way she’d spend just that little extra in the toilet after a long day, or insist she’d be with him in a minute that turned into three), and had asserted she finally explore the depths of his garden whilst he was at work. Y/N had thought about asking him to stay home—after all, she only took the day off because of him… and now he was leaving?—but the idea did appeal to her. And he’d kissed her so fervently goodbye that the shape of his lips existed in tingles against hers for an hour after he’d gone.

She’d felt whimsical, like she was existing in a dream, as she slipped on a new dress Harry had bought for her—made of pink silk—and floated around his house like she owned it. She ate fruit whilst perched on his kitchen counter, and sunk her toes into his fluffy rug, and wandered the garden that surely Harry had stolen from another era.

From the patio that leads out to the pool (and those sun loungers that Y/N can’t look at the same), nothing about the vast stretch of grass and towering trees suggested that there were any hidden passageways or undiscovered alcoves. But as Y/N walked down the lawn, she spotted an archway twined with ivy and vines that nestled in between consuming bushes and thick trunks.

Once she walked under it, it seemed as though she’d entered another time period—one that rejected the modernity of white interior decor and lavish patios with swimming pools. A nook—was what Y/N first described it as in her head. A walkway through foliage that led to an opening that homed stone, and trellising flowers, and complete and utter silence. It was circular, a donut shaped stone bench in the centre with bushes and flowers galore surrounding it. Y/N was stunned. And she hadn’t even discovered all of it.

“It’s Harry’s lunch,” she says, focusing on maintaining steady breaths.

The men look at each other with curling lips. “It’s Harry’s lunch,” the other one parrots, nodding once to his friend like her answer was obvious… which it was, she supposes. What else would it be? “Did he forget it at your house?”

“No…” Y/N doesn’t understand what the pair are trying to do. But she recognises the cruelty of their voices. The mocking—immensely unlike the way Harry speaks to her.

“Did you bake him a cake too?”

“Has Styles got himself a little housewife?”

Her skin heats and her chest aches, as their words crawl inside her head, with the intensity at which she is trying to school her lungs. They want to inhale as though she’s been underwater for twenty minutes. They want to heave and splutter desperately and loudly. But she only allows tiny, little teases of oxygen. She doesn’t know what to say.

Her mouth opens and closes again.

“Fancy coming round to my house and baking me a cake?” They both laugh. “I could do with a little lady like you. Always forgetting shit.”

She fidgets uncomfortably on the sofa. It is now made of unrelenting stone. Even the bench in Harry’s garden would grant more comfort than this. A quick glance to the door handle to see if she is capable of summoning him only encourages the men further.

“I didn’t know he had time for a woman.”

“I know,” the other scoffs, “probably very neglectful of his nice housewife…” He pauses, “Are you? His housewife, sugar?”

It had sounded so much nicer from Harry’s lips. Now she just feels dirty.

“No— I’m… We’re…” What were they exactly?

Harry’s door handle turns.

“I’m his—” Submissive. She couldn’t possibly…

His door opens.

“—friend.”

Harry steps out. Y/N doesn’t know how much of the conversation he heard but… from the look on his face, he’s stern. The two men have straightened their backs and are pretending to be involved in unrealistically riveting small talk once again. But Harry glares at them.

His voice is hard, clearly indicating that he had in fact heard their unpleasant probing. “Mr. Acosta and Mr. Havers, as pleasurable as it has been to have you working here,” his tone drips with sarcasm, “resign or be fired. Immediately. Your choice.”

And then he’s glancing down at Y/N, gaze hardly lingering as he nods towards his office with a clear expectancy that she follows, before he turns his back and leaves the water cooler creeps spluttering in their spots. Y/N rushes behind him, not looking back for a second.

“You forgot your lunch,” she exhales once his door clicks shut. Her breathing deepens now that she’s out of the prying stare of those men. Harry stands with his back to her, hands in his pockets as he looks out the window.

“Yes, I see that.” He seems… short-tempered... Angry. He’s never seemed angry before. “Thank you, darling. And a lovely baked treat to go with it, no doubt.”

And maybe his voice lacks his usual authenticity but Y/N smiles a little, though he can’t see her, as she creeps forward slightly to place the tin and his lunch on his desk. She looks up as she stands beside him, observing the harsh line of his jaw and the furrow of his brows. But he walks around his desk and prods a finger into the hardwood, rolling his chair out of the way.

“Take a seat,” he orders. Y/N always obeys Harry but his tone carries a sharpness she’s not used to—lacking the soft feathered curves for when he speaks to her—and she lifts herself onto the edge with a haste that surpasses that of her general avidity. Perhaps, in this moment, a part of her is pretending he’s her boss—and he is in a way, she supposes. Then Harry crowds her senses, thighs brushing her knees as he steps forward and utters something that makes Y/N’s stomach drop. In a bad way. In a definitely bad way.

“I want to have a little chat with… my friend.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles x reader #mutually beneficial #writing #domrry #dom!harry #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #fanfiction

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sugurizz · 8 months

Text

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI)

ANNOYING HIM JUST FOR FUN ✧ Feat. Toji Fushiguro

Synopsis ── You got bored and felt like the best option would be to mess around and piss him off. Just for personal amusement.

Contents ── established relationship (Gf!reader x Bf! Toji), anger, reader badmouthing/ being a brat, degradation, insults (slut, bitch etc..), rough spanking, unprotected sex.

He was laying over your shared bed on a quaint night, scrolling through his phone waiting for you to join him in to sleep just as you were used to. But to his surprise you stepped into the room, got your pillow and exited the bedroom in the most casual manner you could display.

The annoyed groan he let out as soon as you turned your back caught your ears, and you couldn't deny how prideful you felt right at that moment, a glorious smirk threatning shape your lips upwards.

'Where tha hell ya think you're goin' ?

'Sleep'. You etched a dry reply. Not even looking him in the eyes.

'Don't know what yer on about but better come back here, missy'. He rasped with a hint of menace, his glance still locked on you.

'Oopsie. Sorry but not taking orders from you tonight, old man.'

You let out with the brattiest tone, chuckling provokingly on your way out of the bedroom. Hell the the brief moment of your inner brat celebrating its victory was cut short as you felt a calloused hand pull on your arm.

He turned you around to face him, darkened eyes stearing dead down into yours .

'Oh ya do know where this kinda attitude leads ya. Dont'cha?'

You coax your arm out of his grasp, eyes still glued to the ground. And he responds by pinning you whole against the wall, tho trying his best not to break one of your bones in the process.

'Guess I need to teach ya again. Tiny lil' brain of yours got a hard time learning the rules doesn't it, huh?'

'Fuck you.'

'Say again?'

You knew you just crossed the line. And you knew you were too deep into your silly little game now. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his face suddenly go empty, eyes stoic and expressionless. Not a sound skipped his lips later, but his hand brought your chin up, starring dead into his eyes.

Your chest swelled with all kinds of merged sensations. the fear overlapped with a witty arousal that powerfully grew down your abdomen. But screw it. You weren't backing off anyway, you chose to go toe to toe with your scary beast of a boyfriend and you were about to take the consequences like a champ.

And so you did... just in the most pathetic way possible. Each smack of his palm landing over your ass ripped into that little attitude of yours, leaving your heated face smeared with your own snot and salty tears.

You'd lie if you said you didn't like your face down against the mattress and your ass up facing his wrath. But soon enough he got you breaking down to tears, babbling all kinds of ridiculous nonsense and drooling over his lap like a braindead slut.

'Fuck! W-wait! T-Toji...s-too much, AH!' You let out the loudest moans your chocked cries could allow you to, tho your throat tensed so much from the stingy pain.

'Nah. Now arch dat back properly, fucking bitch.' His other arm slithered and wrapped around your neck in a headlock, keeping you still just so that every nerve under your skin could taste his sweet furious whacks.

'Toji! Fuck...p-please...it hurts!' Your mewly sobs filled the room, the choked hiccups and endless pleas only seemed to widen the wicked grimace on his face.

'heh. Go'head. mouth off again! Dying to hear ya.' He raised an eyebrow, challenging you to live up to the untamable brat you thought you were. Yet your drunk brain could barely discern his words at that moment.

Your eyes closed shut in defeat, almost passing out on the pain your poor asschecks endured. You could'nt quite formulate a response, but your tiny sobs had him lifting you off his lap with a false pity.

'Aww would ya look at dat. Figured out woudln't last long. Ya wanted me wrecking the shit outta yer ass from the start didn't ya?'

You gave him a dizzy glance and nodded, tongue lolling out of breath.

'Aw ya nasty thing. Could'a asked respectfully like the lil slut ya are ..but here we are again. Heh.'

He flipped you over and tossed you on the bed, pulling his sweatpants off his cock and pushing the damp fabric of your thong to the side. The sticky ropes coating your pussy lips riled him up further.

'Shit, Yer so fucking wet it's gross.' He shoved his thick middle and ring inside, giving you a few pumps before his length fully barged in, with no prior warning.

'Aghh... The fuck yer so tight for? Spanking yer ass got yer cunt this damn slimy, huh?..' he groans deep, thick fingers almost piercing into your buttcheeks as he throbbed inside.

'Toji...mhhh w-wait!' You squealed out, eyes going teary from the thick untrusion bullying through your guts.

'Oh shut it.' He spat and pressed a palm into the small of your back 'Ya knew you wanted cock, princess, nice and rough as you could have it.'

He pushed a low grunt and bottomed in. flashing you the nastiest grin before he started beating into your hole merciless...

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thefantasyden · 2 months

Text

Can't Help Myself

Pairing: Han + AFAB Reader

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: DUB CON, Filthy dirty talk, degradation, force, manhandling, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, AFTERCARE!

Words: 1602

Summary: Your dearest friend Jisung comes home to see you waiting for him half naked, and he just can’t control himself.

Authors note: I made sure to include the aftercare in this one, and overall, I just love this. Add it to my list of self-indulgent delights.

It’s not his fault.

What did you expect him to do, really? It’s not like he had planned to do this! Jisung had been so excited to come and binge watch some slightly cringey Thai dramas and that was absolutely all he had been looking forward to. At least, it was until he saw you.

You were spread out on his bed, sheets wrinkled where you laid on your tummy, legs slightly spread as you giggled at whatever had been holding your attention. You hadn’t even attempted to cover up, and the big shirt you were wearing had ridden up to your hips, your underwear on full display, barely covering your ass.

Your ass. Jesus Christ, he has never seen something so glorious in his life. It’s so perfectly round and it’s right there laying in front of him like an apple ripe for picking. Who could ever blame him for taking such an opportunity?

You weren’t alarmed at first. It felt perfectly normal when he climbed on to the bed, situating himself so that he was comfortably sitting on the thickest part of your thighs. It was perfectly normal, and you often would do the same thing to him, so why should it be weird?

You didn’t even question when his hand rubbed at your back over your shirt, taking it as a perfectly harmless display of affection from your very best friend. Your sweet, silly best friend.

The alarm bells don’t start ringing in your head until you feel his hands sliding lower, suddenly gripping your ass with a strength that almost hurt. You’re about to question what he was doing when you feel something pressing between your thighs, confusion flooding you, mixing with a strange new kind of concern that you’re sure you had never felt with him. What was he doing?!

You want to turn around to look at him, but his palm is pressing firmly between your shoulder blades the second he feels you moving, a growl leaving his throat as you realise the movement between your thighs is his cock which is now grinding purposefully against you, his weight pressing down harder against you.

“You look so good lying on my bed like this.” He moans out, fidgeting on top of you, his free hand struggling with his zipper until he’s managed to get it down, immediately freeing his cock from his pants. He can’t help but stare in awe as it sits against the pretty heart pattern of your underwear.

“What am I supposed to do when you’re spread out like this? You're laying here ready to be taken.”

There’s no chance for you to responsd, the palm against your back moving to lock in your hair when he hears you open your mouth, your face shoved in to the pillow that you had previously been using to prop yourself up.

“I don’t know what the fuck you expect.” He mumbles out, his focus captured by the view of his cock against your skin as he tugs your underwear to the side. Your pussy is glistening already and he wastes no time in dragging his tip through your dripping folds, groaning with a certain roughness that you have never heard from him before. It was something strange, something feral and you would be lying if you tried to say you couldn’t feel your pussy clench in response.

“You shouldn’t be lying on my bed half naked like a fucking slut if you don’t want me to do something about it.”

You’re ashamed of the moan that forces its way out of your throat when you feel his cock breaching your cunt, your walls gripping him tight as he forces himself to the hilt inside of you. His hand has lost its grip of your hair in favour of returning to it’s spot between your shoulder while his other hand manoeuvres you by your hips, wrapping beneath them and pulling you up until you figure out what he wants, you ass arching up in the air. He could come from the sight alone, your cunt swallowing his cock and your ass on display for him. It’s the closest to heaven that he thinks he could ever get.

He’s never been a man of patience, and that’s clear as he sets a brutal pace from the start, thrusting as hard as he sees fit as he pounds into your pretty pussy, the slick sound of your wetness covering both of your thighs as his hips meet your ass fills the room and it’s becoming impossible not to lose yourself when you can feel the way the tip of his cock digs in to your gspot with every thrust, the slight burn of your pussy being forced to accommodate him only adding to the pleasure that fills you with embarrassment. It shouldn’t feel this good. But it does.

“You like it, don’t you?” He growls, landing a firm slap to your ass cheek, a proud smirk gracing his features when he sees the burning red outline of his hand springing up against your skin. “You filthy little thing. You like having me force myself on you? Huh? You want me to use you like some worthless fleshlight?”

You’re trying to hard to muffle your moans and he simply can’t allow that. The way you’re trying to hide from him only serves to piss him off, practically forcing his hand when he tugs your hands behind your back, using his grip on your wrists as leverage to pull you back toward him so that you have no hope of hiding the sinful, untameable moans and whimpers that flood the room with the sweetest melody.

“I fucking own you. This pretty cunt belongs to me, yeah? Gonna use it whenever the fuck I want.”

You can barely hear him at this point, the blood pounding in your ears as he fucks you within an inch of your life, your orgasm rapidly approaching. He can’t explain how proud he is to see your falling apart, melting into a pliant little puddle as he destroys you.

“Say it. Tell me I fucking own you.”

“You own me!” It’s almost a scream when it leaves you lips, his teeth digging in to the sensitive skin on your neck almost hard enough to have you feeling like you might cry.

“That’s it baby. I’m almost done, I promise. I know it hurts. Such a brave little thing for me.” He coos at you in the most mocking tone he can manage considering how laboured his breathing is, his own moans fighting to interrupt every word as your walls flutter around him.

“Cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll let you go.”

You’re not trying to obey him. You don’t want to do what he says, but you can’t stop your high from hitting and your reaction happens so fast that it’s obedience whether you like it or not.

“That’s it. Milk my cock baby. You want my cum, huh? Want me to fill you?”

You’re trying to shake your head in response, but he quickly shoves two of his fingers into your mouth and you’re helpless to his whims.

It doesn’t take much longer before his cock is pulsing inside of you, thick ropes of cum flooding your pussy and dripping out around his cock as he offers a few more shallow thrust before pushing you down to lay flat on the bed, his weight dropping on top of you.

“Too fucking bad if you don’t. You’re mine, and I get to do whatever I want to you.”

There’s a full 8 minutes of you both huffing and puffing, your body completely spent when he finally climbs off of you, shuffling toward his drawers quickly before he returns with a pack of baby wipes and a small bottle of water, a hand stroking your hair as the other grabs wipes from the pack to clean the mess between your legs and across your thighs as best as he can. He knows you’ll have to shower properly eventually, but he won’t make you worry about that now.

“Baby?” He calls gently, your mind still too fuzzy to respond to him just yet.

He presses a sweet kiss to your temple, adjusting you so that you’re laying on your side, your favourite plush hamster being shoved into your arms. He can’t help but ‘aw’ when you nuzzle your face against it, enjoying the feeling of the soft material against your sensitive cheek. He really does think you’re the prettiest thing in the world.

“Baby, are you okay? Was that too much?” The worry in his voice is the only thing that draws you from your dreamscape, a quiet hum meeting his ears. He sighs in relief, opening the water for you and holding it up to your mouth, his hand cupped beneath the opening to stop it from spilling on to you as you take tiny sips until he’s satisfied.

“Was fun.” You whisper, reaching out to him and giggling softly as he lays beside you, pulling you into his arms and throwing a leg over you before he tugs the covers up, shielding your bare legs from the sharp chill that’s beginning to spread in the room.

“You did so good baby. Took me so well.” He keeps pressing kisses to your face, his fingers kneading at your aching arms. He’d make sure to book you a spa day tomorrow to treat you after all your hard work.

“This is why you’re my best friend.” You say with a laugh. “You always give me the good dick.”

#han smut #han jisung smut #stray kids han smut #stray kids jisung smut #skz han smut #skz jisung smut #skz han jisung smut #stray kids han jisung smut #jisung smut

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rizsu · 1 year

Text

please, be mines !! atsumu miya.

sum. love-struck atsu tries to court his new crush.

atsumu's confused. he finds himself sitting in his car practically devouring you with his gaze—no, none of you know each other but atsumu feels like he's in one of those romantic stories where the lovers reincarnate into the modern era.

am i a pervert, he fights with himself for an answer. by no means does he want to ever come off as a stalker but if you saw a silver coloured car with G5 tint parked parallel from your position... yeah he'd look like a creep. for another ten minutes atsumu sits there. he feels like those women in hallmark movies sitting at the table sighing lovingly as the blow their cup of coffee. “you know what,” atsumu talks to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt before finally making a move.

on your side, you're inside the café wiping the tables. you work here as a little side job—it's your friend's café to be exact, she begged you to work and you needed a part-time job to keep yourself occupied before summer. just seconds before you turn the ‘opened’ sign to closed, a rushed pair of arms slam against the glass door welcoming a lanky male.

you cannot be serious, your eyes twitch at the sight of two handprints on the very clean and very sparkly door. switching your mood into customer service mood, you welcome him, “hi! what would you like?”

an awkward silence introduces itself—atsumu's still trying to catch his breath from battling his luck versus the sign. sucking in a deep breath, atsumu gives a little grin before answering.

“'m new here. can you recommend something?”

“sure! how about an eclair with some frappucino to start?” gesturing him to one of the tables, you make a u-turn towards the counter.

atsumu follows and sits comfortably watching you do your job. he gets a little fidgety.. atsumu really isn't one for awkward silence. awkward in the sense that he's the only one here and you're the only worker here, probably on closing shift duties.

it takes him a few minutes and some playing with his fingers before he pulls out his phone to text someone (osamu).

“and here's your order...”

“it's atsumu.”

“atsumu! enjoy it.”

placing his order on the table, you give him your mastered customer service smile, walking away with thoughts about how pleasing he is to look at. meanwhile atsumu's malfunctioning—when your crush smiles at you (no matter the reason) it immediately stuns you. if there's anything that can describe what atsumu feels and thinks it'll be ‘!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?’

forcing a cough to recollect himself, he finally digs into the meal, relishing in it's glorious flavour (he's exaggerating). wait fuck, atsumu thinks. he's a bite away from finishing his order and after that he'll have no reason to stay here any longer. trembling hands brings the last bit of the eclair to his mouth as imaginary tears race down his face. a heartbreaking story, really.

looking up from your phone, you notice his table's lacking the food you gave him, “are you finished? i'll come get it.”

“huh? oh, yeah, i'm done unfortunately,” whispering the last word, atsumu looks at you with an awkward smile; he doesn't know what to do, so he decides to start a conversation.

“so... uh, you work here?”

“well...”

“forget i asked that—what's your name?”

stifling a laugh, you take off your apron, folding it in half before resting it on the counter.

“i'm y/n.”

standing from his table, atsumu stretches a little, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks up to you.

“so, y/n, do you need a ride home?”

“it's a bit too early for that but i'll give you my number.”

atsumu's lips shape itself into an ‘O’. a pink dust works its up his neck as he rubs his nape, looking away with another awkward smile. right, we barely know each other.

writing your number onto a random piece of paper, your fold it before handing it to him, “text me!”

muttering a little ‘thanks’, he gladly accepts your number. i'm too good, he compliments himself—celebrating because he got your number.

grabbing your stuff, you look at atsumu, tilting your head at the door to suggest you're going to close up for the night.

“oh right,” he grabs his keys, shoving his phone into his pocket before he walks up to you, “but what about the pay?”

“it's only two items. don't worry about it.” walking out the door you lock up the café, matching steps with atsumu out to your car. “you drive!?” atsumu's shocked. why didn't i think about that, he questions himself. god, he feels like a dumbass.

smiling at him, you nod your head. he's kinda cute, you think. unlocking your car, you dump your stuff in the backseat, slamming the door before you open the driver's door. “g'night, atsumu. see you later!”

“g'night. i'll text ya.” waving you off, atsumu walks back to his car with the biggest smile. he's going to make it everyone's business that he got a potential girlfriend and maybe even a wife.

#+ rizsu: haikyuu.#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #haikyuu fluff #hq x you

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zygomantic · 5 days

Text

I'M YOURS

Synopsis: Sukuna wants you to be his pet. You accept.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x female reader

Content Warnings: explicit!! reader referred to as "pet", unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, afab! reader

A/n: Because most of you voted for filthy Sukuna smut, this is what you get. (Btw I didn't expect so many to vote, holy shit, thanks!!)

Sukuna trailed the pads of his fingers over the swell of your breasts. "Your skin is so soft," he growled, watching the path his fingers made and leaned, then attached his mouth to your jaw.

Your body went ridged as he sucked and licked over that point. So distracted, you didn't even notice his hand move down to pop open the top two buttons of your blouse, before he plunged his hand into your top, kneading your breast with his hand.

You gasped in surprise, head falling back onto his shoulder as his large hand palmed at your breast, cupping the weight in his hand, rolling and pinching your nipple between his finger. A subtle pulse went straight to your core and you felt a pool of warmth beginning to form in your panties.

Sukuna chuckled as he watched you, knowing he was going to enjoy making you fall apart for him. "Look at you enjoying this" he said, his voice causing a shudder to rack through your body. His hand left your breast to trail down your stomach, aiming that burning place. The throbbing in your center grew stronger and your back arched of its own volition, desperately attempting to find stimulation.

You jerked a bit as he nudged your legs open with his knee, spreading your thighs apart to better gain access to the heat between. You barely had time to take a breath before he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear, "You'll never want to fucking leave after this," and then he slipped his hand between your legs.

Sukuna grinned as you released a shuddering sigh. He wasn’t even touching your skin and you were falling apart. His finger circled over your nub just over the black lace of your panties and he felt his cock twitch against his leg as he felt how wet you had already become even though he had just barely started touching you.

"Oh, I think you were made for me, pet," his sultry voice groaned into your ear, his breath caressing your skin.

His finger continued its slow motion around your clit, and you writhed against his body, barely contained sobs escaping from your mouth as he continued to stroke your center. Your eyes drooped, not knowing if you wanted him to kiss you or not, but before you thought he was going to do so, his hand slipped inside your underwear and his fingers were gliding through your wet folds. You could barely conceal a moan as a new gush of liquid flooded your center.

"Be mine, pet," his deep voice groaned into your ear. "Submit yourself to me and I vow that I will bring you pleasure like you have never known before. Trust me, woman, I know how to."

His fingers massaged through your folds, following the path down from where your clit was, and without warning, he plunged one long digit inside of you.

"Ohhh fuck," you cried, throat tight as a sob wracked through your body. Your hips rocked against his finger, feeling the slender digit slide in and out and in and out in a pattern that you hoped would never end.

Without warning, Sukuna added a second finger along with the first causing your tight hole to widen even more to accommodate his long digits.

You started a rocking motion against his fingers and he groaned in approval as he felt your walls squeeze around his digits. His hips started rocking against yours, looking to relieve the pressure he felt throughout his length. A pressure begun to form in your lower belly. You chased after it, panting and writhing against Sukuna behind you, and just before you felt yourself break, he pulled his fingers from your core.

You jerked forward, eyes wide as that glorious peak vanished from sight, leaving your pussy wet, throbbing, and completely unsatisfied. Your thighs were shaking and you could feel the slickness of your juices running down your skin.

Sukuna stared at his fingers, watching in fascination as your slick stuck to his digits. "Be mine, pet. All I need is for you to say it." He closed his eyes and stuck his fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them. He moaned at the taste of you, his pupils contracting in delight.

You didn’t care anymore. You wanted him. You wanted the pleasure he could give you, the satisfaction he would bring your body. Sukuna promised you he would. You whispered something, so quietly that it couldn't be heard. Sukuna raised an eyebrow at you, "You'll need to speak louder, woman. What was that?"

"I'm yours," you mumbled again, but a bit louder.

Sukuna grinned down at you, knowing he had you. "One more time, pet, I didn't quite catch that."

"I'M YOURS," You screamed, sobs wracking your body as you fell back into the hard form of his body and writhed against him, angling your hips against his in search of some sort of friction. "I'm yours, so please! Just… please!" You cried.

Sukuna grinned widely. "That's what ike to hear," he said as he pressed on your back, pushing you forward and making you bend until your cheek was pressed against the floor. He growled in satisfaction at seeing you like this. Bent over, legs spread wide, thighs quivering in anticipation of what he was about to give you.

He lifted your skirt und ripped your soaked panties off, showing what now belonged to him. Sukuna freed his cock from his trousers. It was stiff and swollen, almost aching as it stood at attention, the head coming just beneath his belly button. He groaned has he took himself in hand, stroking up and down his long shaft, feeling the veins pulse as he pleasured himself. He started leaking from his tip, grinning at the thought that his cock was weeping at the sight of his pet's pussy.

The heat in between your legs was near painful and you needed something, anything to release the tension. Almost of its own accord, your hand trailed downwards towards your aching center. You pressed into the small nub, almost sighing in relief as you circled it with your fingers, but before you could build her pleasure, a larger hand caught yours own, bringing it out from beneath you and pinning it back on the ground by your head.

"Ah, ah, ah, pet. That's my job," he playfully scolded you.

A whine escaped you and Sukuna smiled at your eagerness and leaned forward, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds, coating his cock in your juices. He pressed his tip into your clit, circling the head of his cock into your nub causing you to let out a loud moan of approval, eyes closed as you waited for him to take you.

Sukuna lined himself up at her entrance, and pushed the head of his cock into her.

You gasped at the same time he let out a long groan. You were tight and sinfully wet. Inch by painful inch, the pleasure taking over his senses, Sukuna pushed himself into his pet, nearly panting with the effort of holding back. He could have easily rammed himself into you, taking what was his without care, but he wouldn't do that. He wanted you to have fun too. Not wanting to prolong your pain, Sukuna flicked his hips and slid inside you the rest of the way.

A flash of pain disappeared as quickly as it appeared as the feeling of being completely filled took over your mind and body. You felt whole, like the missing piece inside of you had finally found its way home. Above you, Sukuna was feeling exactly the same way.

He groaned as he leaned forward, the angle making him to slide in even deeper if that was even possible, which caused sounds of pleasure to escape from your lips.

He leaned down to place an open-mouthed kiss on the unblemished skin. "I think you were made for me," he whispered into your ear.

"Sukuna," you gasped, hand reaching up to clutch at his wrist near your head.

"Yes, pet?"

You shifted your hips, gasping in pleasure as the ridges of his cock rubbed against your sensitive walls. "Please move."

"With pleasure."

His movements started out slow and controlled just wanting to feel the sensation of moving within you. He groaned into your shoulder, quickening his pace.

You let out ragged breaths every time he pushed back into you, his length penetrating to depths you didn't even know existed.

You bit your lips to keep yourself from moaning out too loudly. Noticing this, Sukuna cocked his head down at you, grinning at how modest you were. "Come now, pet, don't hold back." He gave a particularly sharp thrust with his hips, causing a small whimper to break free through your lips. "I want the whole world to know you're mine."

You let out a loud gasp, crying into the air as you felt the fingers of his right-hand reach down around your hip and rub against your aching nub. Sukuna released a loud groan as he felt your walls give a particularly tight squeeze around his cock, causing his balls to tighten.

He knew he was close, he could feel it, but he wouldn't allow his release to come without satisfying you first. He'd promised to satisfy you, and he would.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The combination of his cock massaging your inner walls, striking your womb with every thrust, and his fingers circling the pearl between your legs was almost too much to handle. You arched your back beneath him, your head leaning back and pressing into his shoulder. His fingers were working furiously on your clit and you whined as you felt those digits slip through your folds.

Sukuna felt your walls quicken around him, knowing you were about to come, just needing one last push over the edge.

"Come on, pet," he breathed into your ear, his huffing breath causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. "Let go for me."

With one last motion of his fingers, and one particularly angled snap of his hips, you let out a piercing scream as you felt the tether completely snap sending you spiraling into wave after wave of pleasure.

Sukuna gave a shuddering moan as he felt your juices burst from your depths, coating his cock in more of your slick, the liquid falling out and dripping to the ground beneath where you were joined. His thrusts continued, severe and unrelenting, and finally, he let himself go.

His groan sent shivers down your spine as he spilled his heavy load within you, riding out his high slowly, savoring every bit of it.

He stilled within you, chuckling darkly, as his red gaze was in your body beneath him.

"That's my pet."

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wreckedandpolemic · 2 months

Text

insatiable, is what she is - matty healy

prompt: love potion

(mdni) day 2 of the valentine75 prompts by the inimitable @abiiors <3 i hope i'm doing them justice

warnings: aphrodisiac use (lets pretend these are real its my mind palace ok), unprotected sex, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, dom/sub dynamic, choking, d word

You stare down at the chocolates sitting on the table, unassuming foil wrapped around an alluring promise. “You ready?” Matty asks, his tone chasing a shudder up your spine. You’d teased the idea of an aphrodisiac a little while ago, tempted by the idea of lust so uncontrollable it consumes you entirely. In his way, Matty had gone off and ordered it, and you’d both promptly forgotten until it was sitting innocently at your doorstep.

Smirking, you pick up a chocolate and tap it against his in a toast, twisting the wrapper off with your teeth and placing it on your tongue. The familiar tastes of chocolate and champagne fill your mouth as it melts, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

You aren’t sure what to expect, studying Matty’s face carefully, searching for any sign that he’s affected. His eyes flicker over you and he laughs, giving a little, clueless shrug. “Waste of money, that, innit?”

“Give it some time,” you say, hand wandering to unbutton your blouse and grinning as Matty’s gaze drifts downward.

“That’s cheating,” he mutters, swallowing thickly. “You know your fucking tits drive me crazy.”

Raking your fingers through your hair, you lean and arch your back, pushing your chest out towards him. “Is it working yet?”

A smirk pulls at Matty’s lips and he shakes his head. “Nah. Just you, I think.”

You lean across the table with a pout. “Well, that just won’t do,” you say, spinning around in your chair and getting to your feet. “We’ve got to see if it works for real. Give it…” You examine the box. “Ten minutes, and we’ll see, hm? Good boy.” You pat his cheek patronisingly as he nods, swaying your hips purposefully as you stroll into the living room. A smile plays on your lips as Matty’s gaze burns brazenly into your ass, heat licking up your spine.

You kick back on the sofa, flipping through the channels and settling on some mindless sitcom, obnoxious laugh track blaring as you sift through your thoughts. It barely takes five minutes before heat is prickling under your skin and you’re sweating like you’ve just run a mile. Your hands act without your permission, stripping off your clothes and tossing them away, leaving you stretched out on the sofa in blush-pink lingerie. It barely works, the cool air brushing over you doing nothing to combat the fire roaring to life under your skin. You palm one of your tits and squeeze gently, that scant touch sending a bolt of desire through you.

Yeah, the chocolate definitely works.

Without you even noticing, arousal has started pooling in your underwear, damp as you dip a finger below your waistband. The pleasure is dramatically intense with the barest brush over your clit, shooting up your spine with a fierceness that sends you reeling. A moan slips from your lips, and, as if on cue, Matty cracks the living room door open. He looks as dishevelled as you feel, face flushed and sweating, damp curls sticking to his forehead, already stripped down to his boxers. You moan his name and his eyes blow impossibly wider as he crosses the room in two strides, collapsing on top of you and attacking your lips with fervour. Your legs tangle around his waist, grinding hard against his clothed cock, frenzied desire swallowing you whole.

“Need you,” you gasp out against his mouth, erratic bursts of pleasure snapping all over your body, the heat of him against you glorious and extreme all at once.

Matty moans into your mouth and you swallow the sounds greedily, your lips meeting in a slick, messy facsimile of a kiss. “Need you so fucking bad, fuck,” he hisses. “Couldn’t wait any longer, can’t keep my fucking hands off you.” He shoves his boxers down his legs and kicks them to the floor, his red, dripping cock thudding against his belly.

Your hips rock as you discard your panties, a whine falling from your lips when Matty’s rough fingers find your clit, rubbing over it for the briefest second and sending a pulse of white-hot euphoria shrieking through you. “Don’t tease,” you beg. “Need your fucking cock, Matty, please,” you whimper, savouring his low moan as you grasp his drooling cock and guide it to your greedy, dripping cunt.

“Fuck, princess.” Matty’s breathing is shaky as he pushes into you, filling you in one fluid stroke that knocks the breath from your lungs, your cunt clenching around his cock like a vice. “Love this cunt so much, yeah? Love your pretty hole taking my cock over and over and over.” He punctuates the words with deep, intense thrusts that have you unspooling faster and faster with every passing second, the pornographic sounds of your hips meeting driving you wild. Matty dips his head to bite savagely at your neck and chest, sucking stark, red bruises into your skin.

Thrashing under him, incoherent curses fall from your lips; you pant as your heartbeat races, hammering like a wounded animal. Heat pools in your core, your cunt wet and sticking your thighs, your head swimming in pleasure. Matty rubs tight, fast circles into your clit, fire catching under your skin and raging into a blaze that melts your flesh and chars your bones. “God, you feel so fucking good,” you whimper. “More, harder, please.” Your voice cracks on the last syllable, breaking into a drawn-out, desperate whine that has Matty groaning into your mouth.

His hips snap against yours with abandon, your eyes rolling back as you struggle to breathe through the sheer pleasure that crushes your lungs. “That’s it,” Matty murmurs, breaths coming hot and heavy against your lips. You swallow greedy lungfuls of him, intoxicated. “Good girl. My pretty little slut. Fucking drunk on my cock, hm?” A smirk stretches wide and filthy across his lips, bruised and spit-slick. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Have you fuckin’ dripping for me,” he promises, his words sending steady drips of hot pleasure down your spine. Matty’s eyes go wide and he smirks down at you. “You like that? You like hearing how bad I wanna cum in this sweet cunt? Want me to stuff you full, put a fucking baby in you?”

Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, filthy words washing over you like a prayer. One last harsh circle over your clit, and you scream, the taste of iron filling your mouth as you bite down hard on Matty’s lower lip. Euphoria spills over you in unending waves, your grip on your consciousness going slack as Matty fucks into you over and over. He spills inside you with a sound that starts as your name and crumbles into a long, low moan, murmuring how he adores your cunt and how pretty it looks pumped full of him.

You’re dizzy, back arching and body sweat-soaked as you come down from your high, whining when Matty pulls out of you. It barely takes the edge off, your body still simmering and weak with desire. “Want more,” you beg, grabbing at him as he pouts down at you, the faint edge of humiliation coiling hot and heavy in your core.

“Sweet baby,” he croons. “Let me take you to bed, hm?” You crush your lips against his in lieu of an answer, your stomach swooping as he scoops you off the sofa and gets to his feet. Your legs stay twined around his waist, grinding your cunt against his stomach and moaning wantonly into his mouth.

You only make it a few feet before Matty is depositing you on the kitchen island, kissing over the bruises on your neck as he makes his way down your body. “Drive me fucking crazy, love. Need to eat you. Please?” he murmurs, kissing over your thighs as you giggle and squirm.

Carding a hand through Matty’s greying curls, you rest your legs over his shoulders. “So fucking pretty when you’re on your knees for me. Fucking cuntstruck, yeah?” Patting his cheek, you shift your hips, arching your back to press your cunt towards him.

His tongue darts out to brush over your clit and you gasp, a bright spark of pleasure buzzing intensely up your spine. Your hand fists in his hair and you drag his head so his mouth meets your skin. A silent gasp falls from your lips as Matty works his tongue over you in long, sloppy strokes, alternating between sucking your clit and lapping at your hole in a toe-curling rhythm. Unbidden, your hips grind against his face, ecstasy churning in your belly as your hands white-knuckle the edge of the counter.

Matty moans into your cunt, the sound rolling through you deliciously, white-hot pleasure flooding your vision as your eyes screw shut. “Taste so fucking good,” Matty murmurs reverently, palms gliding over your thighs and sending a shiver up your spine. “I can taste myself on you. So fucking hot,” he adds, burying his head back between your thighs and tongue-fucking you wildly.

Pulses of heat throb desperately in your cunt, a second heartbeat jackhammering against Matty’s mouth. His fingers come up to rub at your clit, calluses scraping at your tender nerves gloriously. Your thighs clench around his head, trapping him in place as he eats you like a man starved. Pleasure builds at the base of your spine, spreading through your limbs and setting your head spinning as you grind desperately against Matty’s mouth. The elastic band of tension in your belly pulls tighter and tighter until it rends in two, shockwaves coursing through you as you gasp and writhe. Your vision whites out, euphoria overtaking you, so hot it’s blinding.

Matty moans softly between your legs, murmuring encouragingly as your arousal drips down his chin, your cunt pulsing with the aftershocks. The storm of desire still rages under your skin, wanton and begging, thick and sticky in your lungs as you struggle for breath. He gets to his feet, leaning down to kiss you, and you lick the taste of you out of his mouth eagerly. On instinct, your legs lock around his waist, your wrecked, soaking cunt pressing against his cock. “Think you can take one more?” Matty asks, nails biting into your hips as he lifts you off the counter.

“If you don’t fucking split me open on your fucking cock in the next five fucking seconds—” Matty cuts you off with a searing kiss, your lips tender and swollen against his as he carries you into the bedroom. You smile blissfully up at him as you fall against the sheets, his eyes blown wide and his jaw slack. “Come on, baby,” you moan, hand falling to toy with your clit. You’re greedy, soaked in a pleasure so all-consuming that you can’t think of anything but him. You want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Can have me any way you want, just want your fucking cock.” Your words come out slurred, thick with desire.

Matty holds still, eyes roving over you. How he has so much control over himself still, you can’t begin to fathom. Then, a muscle jumps in his jaw, his fists clenching, and you realise how hard he’s fighting for it. You widen your legs and moan theatrically, showing off for him, and you watch the thread of his control snap. “Fucking slut,” he hisses as he collapses on top of you. “Greedy little whore. Fucking gagging for my dick, yeah?” he murmurs between kisses so hungry they border on violence. “So fucking wet and needy,” he adds, trailing teasingly across your cunt, sharp pleasure spiking when he meets your oversensitive nerves. “Just a pretty little hole for me, hm?”

“Yeah,” you moan out, whining needily. “‘M your whore, Matty, please—”

Your words break off with a gasp as Matty rests a hand around your throat; not yet choking you, just a warning, a promise that tingles deliciously up your spine. “Shh,” Matty murmurs, soothing tone at impossible odds with the pressure of his hand at your throat. “Be a good fucktoy for me, yeah? Nice and quiet?” You nod frantically, your grasp on language faltering, slipping from your mind to make room for the ever-growing pool of desire swelling there.

A dizzying burst of pleasure wracks you as Matty tightens his hand around your throat and fucks into you at the same moment. Your pulse hammers under his fingers, your heart racing so fast it’s deliriating, your limbs heavy with euphoria. A string of pathetic whines and moans fall from your lips as Matty — there’s no other word for it — pounds into you, the mattress squeaking rhythmically with every thrust. The stretch burns deliciously in your sore cunt, the angle mind-numbing as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“My pretty girl,” Matty murmurs reverently. “You love this, don’t you? Being a good little toy for Daddy?” Your mind goes blank, breath trapped in your lungs, your body suspended in endless pleasure. It’s constant, unyielding, stronger than you’ve ever felt, your cunt clenching around Matty’s cock, every thrust drawing you closer to rapture. Matty watches the change in your face with a smirk, gripping your throat harder as he speaks. “Daddy’s little slut, yeah? Just a pretty hole for me to fuck, hm? Get off on being used like this?”

You moan out something that sounds enough like yes to satisfy him, and he lifts his hand from your neck to grip your jaw, pulling your mouth open. Your tongue lolls out expectantly, and his spit lands in your eager mouth. Eyes fluttering closed, you swallow obediently, a shudder rolling over you when Matty returns his hand to your throat. “‘M so close, Daddy, please,” you whine, rocking your hips up to meet his as ecstasy wipes you clean.

“I don’t care,” he hisses, punctuating his words with another squeeze against your throat. “Shut up and fucking take it like a good girl, yeah?” His words wash over you, degradation striking you with all the tenderness of a caress. Slick, pornographic sounds ring out, your world going fuzzy at the edges as a yawning chasm of pure bliss opens under you. You balance precariously on the edge, your orgasm pulling you closer every time Matty’s hips meet yours. “You feel so fucking good around my cock, princess. Such a good little cumdump for Daddy. My pretty toy.”

His words tip you over the edge, praise sliding sweetly against the burn of humiliation. Your world shatters into sparks that burn behind your eyes as you come harder than you think you ever have. A scream you’re only vaguely aware is yours rings out, arousal gushing out of you and soaking Matty, puddling on the sheets under you. Chest heaving, you gasp for breath, clutched in euphoria so dramatically intense you aren’t fully sure you haven’t died.

Your body shudders, wracking with aftershocks and finally sated as Matty fucks you through, making good on his promise to use you like a toy. He offers you the small mercy of lifting his hand from your throat, eyes glazed as he gazes down at you. “Fucking hell, angel. Such a good girl, squirting on my dick. ‘M so fucking close, fuck.” Matty drops his head to kiss you, muffling his whines against your mouth as he comes, cock twitching and pulsing, pumping you full and painting your insides.

You pout at the loss when he pulls out, and he chuckles fondly, thumbing over your bruised lips. “Such a good girl,” Matty says. “Did so well, princess.”

Still cradled in bliss, you smile beatifically up at him. “‘M your good girl,” you murmur happily, eyes slipping closed.

“Yeah, you are,” he whispers, rolling off you and pulling you close, gathering you into the safety of his arms. “That was fucking amazing, darling. Can’t believe I made you fucking squirt,” he adds, awed, and you can hear in his voice that he’s going to make a mission out of recreating it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you tease, finally coming back to yourself. “Never been that horny in my life. Fucking chocolate.”

You giggle when Matty pinches your hip in response. “Oi. Thought I fucked all the brat out of you already.” He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, adoration plain on his face as he watches you smile and blink sleepily.

“You’d try,” you scoff, whining and cuddling closer when he tries to move.

“Baby, we really need to get cleaned up,” Matty says with a quiet laugh, extricating himself from your arms and padding into the bathroom.

Matty runs you a bath, acting a complete gentleman the whole time, cleaning you diligently and crooning apologies at all the right moments. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you, your body bone-deep exhausted against him. Somehow, in that time you lost to your hazy, satisfied mind, he’s changed your sheets. He pulls one of his shirts over your head and lays you down gently, letting you relax against the crisp smoothness of the fresh sheets. Limpet-like, you cling to Matty as he falls next to you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck; the warm, familiar scent of him envelops you as your eyes finally flutter closed.

#can u tell i was ovulating when i wrote this #the ending of this is shockingly terrible but i feel that is not what u guys are here for #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #valentine75

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moshpitgamma · 3 months

Text

😚Zoom Zoom Mama G has posted again!!!

HOPE YALL ENJOY THIS ONE AND I HOPE ITS NOT TO BAD….(You’re older than branch but younger than Floyd btw😌)

Family Reunion||Brozone x Sister Reader

Warning:Angst and Mild Cursing

Word Count:1.3k

Other:It’s kinda proof ridden😝✌️

====================

You knew JD wasn’t always the best brother, but you didn’t expect for it to go like this…

“It’s called BRO-ZONE meaning BROS not GALS” JD said angrily at the h/c haired troll. “So youre saying just because I'm a girl I can’t be in the band. I’m basically the damn melody John.” you loudly yelled at him clearly pissed at how your brother didn’t want you to ruin brozone. “It has to be perfect and the name is perfect for bros. MAYBE IF YOU WERE PERFECT IT COULD WORK, BUT YOU’RE JUST A FUCKING MISTAKE FOR THE BAND” he yelled at y/n tired of her shit. He didn’t mean to totally call her a mistake, but it was too late. She already ran to her room in the shared pod, crying her eyes out and muttering small complaints. All the brothers stood with their mouths agape from witnessing the scene. “John what the hell,” Bruce said, holding the blue decorated egg with blue hair sticking out. “You just called her a damn mistake” “Maybe she is and it would be best if she left….The band is almost there and she’ll just get in the way.” John said it as if he was hoping y/n would leave to save the band for the family harmony. After John said that all the brothers left the area with sour and disapproving faces. Ignoring him till later that night.

It was now 2:34am and fast paced footsteps were heard around the pod waking John up from his humble sleep. He groggily dragged himself out the bed and headed towards the noise and found his three brothers and branch’s egg sitting in the living area. “What’s going on and why are you guys up so early.” John said, kinda annoyed from losing his beauty sleep. “Y/n left” Clay said barely above a whisper. “Huh,” John asked again, not being able to hear Clay. “Y/N FUCKING LEFT” Clay bursted as his tears started pooling his eyes. “You drove our sister away because of your stupid and glorious dream. Now she’s out in the wilderness by herself and we don’t know if she’s alive or dead.” John felt his whole body freeze and run cold. Did he fuck up or was it just you overacting? Before Bruce could add in to the statement, John wasted no time in leaving to go put on his jacket and shoes ready to go find y/n. He left out the door after he finished getting dressed, without a word to his brothers.

________________

{Y/n’s POV}

I woke up in a cold sweat, absolutely drenched from the wrenched nightmare of your older brother. My mind has been messed up recently ever since my eventful trip to mount ragous.

FLASHBACK

“It’s some kind of love”

A voice rang through the area. It was so soft, but with a familiar melody.

“It’s some kind of fire”

It was my part? But sung by someone different. An angelic voice.

“I’m already up, but you lift me higher”

But that’s when it hit you..it was your brothers with a now full grown relationship saving Floyd.

TIME SKIP DONE

{2nd POV}

After your brothers and those two mystery girls brought Floyd back, you couldn’t help ,but feel nothing but relief and a little wave of nervousness. All five of your brothers were standing right there together but the time just didn’t feel right for you. You wanted to go hug and celebrate with them, but you just felt disappointed and angry at them for not trying to find you. Without a word you started walking away, but caught what now sounds like a grown man spruce saying “How about we all celebrate at Vacay island this weekend.” You then had an idea set up perfectly for this Family Reunion.

{Y/N POV}

I sighed heavily as I parked my motor beetle in front of this big resort looking restaurant. “I hope they aren’t too mad to see me” I told myself, trying to hype myself up from all the nerves. As I step foot into the resort I see this tall yellowish woman at the bar, so I head over to ask her where the boys may be. “Umm excuse me…can you help me” I asked her in my nice bright tone. “Of course hun! What can I help you with and by the way you can call me Brandi” she exclaimed, clearly being an extroverted person. “Well you see I’m here looking for my brothers and i’m kinda here to reunite with them after basically being away for 22+ years” I say not trying to sound crazy or out of the ordinary. “Ok well what are their names?”Brandi asked me as she took out a notepad ready to write them down, assuming that it was more than one. “Well to start off it’s John Dory for the first one and Bru-” “Is that them?” she pointed to a corner before quickly apologizing for cutting me off. I was literally stunned when I saw all of them bonding and getting along like we were little kids again. I guess Brandi picked up on my distressed and nervous face that she offered and said” If it makes you any better I can go with you for emotional support” She says tucking a burgundy loc behind her head. “I would like that very much”I say releasing some pent up air that I didn’t know I had.

As Me and Brandi walked to the corner it felt like time was slowing down and my breaths were getting shorter by the second. I was trying to calm myself down in my mind, but I was brought out by Brandi speaking. “Um hi y'all sorry to interrupt, but you guys had a little surprise that decided to drop in today.” As on cue I stepped from behind Brandi with nothing but hope and fear in my chest.

“Who’s that?” Bruce said as he looked at the familiar troll. “If you wanted an autograph you could’ve asked us” John laughed as he pulled out a notepad and passed it around to each of the brothers to sign. “Are you guys kidding me?” I exclaimed, wondering if they were joking or not. Every single last one of them looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. “After leaving, you guys clearly forgot me” I said with tears in my eyes as i couldn't believe that they forgot me. “It’s me Y/n…. but I guess you guys didn’t care” I bitterly laugh as I see the visible expression changes on them except Branch. Guess John got what the fuck he wanted” I said getting ready to leave, but felt a hand gently catch mines, stopping me from leaving in the progress. Before I could turn around, I was pulled into a hug by a pink and white haired troll. “We could never forget you n/n” Floyd said genuinely. Slowly one by one the others hugged me except JD and branch.

Me and JD stared at each other as if we were to look away, we would die. Jd cleared his throat before saying “Umm are you good” while giving you that charming smirk. If looks could kill, JD would be dead right now. “That’s all? No sorry or are you ok sis.” I say starting to get angry. “Just be glad I'm happy to see you.” “Or what Jd” I said, letting a few tears fall. “You wanna know how tired I am from fighting with you. I bet Branch didn't even know he had a sister till now.” I advertise my hand to point at a shocked Branch. “But when I want my older brother to show me affection and let me be apart of the group it’s a fucking problem.” I say getting tired of his mess. “I don’t care no more JD. I will really walk out of this resort and leave again if that’s what you want.”I said, grabbing my helmet from the nicely made table. When Jd just stared at me I knew he meant it. So therefore without any words I got out of there and left. But before I did I said….

“So much for a Family Reunion….Hope we meet again, but on better conditions.”

IF YOU WANT A PT.2 WITH FLUFF LMKKKKKK!!!!!

#trolls #trolls band together #brozone x reader #brozone #trolls 3 #trolls branch #trolls viva #trolls x reader #angst

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takami-takami · 7 months

Text

Would You Still.

kinktober day 5: sensory deprivation.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. suggestive.

keigo loses his wings. he can't help but think.

It's been three months since Keigo lost his wings. You both are finally starting to settle into the routine of things.

It took quite a bit of time for the hero to adjust to being a man, a human being— in order to understand, in this circumstance, it would be helpful to consider being human as synonymous with being small.

Keigo never learned what it meant to truly be small, to not occupy the entirety of the space within a room and boldly carry the weight of responsibility that comes with it.

Even the color of his wings was large. They were born cursed to be painted a sovereign shade of red, carrying with it a saturation that elicited eyes from prey and predator alike.

Among beasts, there might be two reasons why a creature would carry such a bold and extravagant phenotype, and neither of them are by choice: to attract the attention of others or to instill fear in those same creatures; that is, to ward them away.

Was it the color of his wings that enticed the vultures of the commission to swoop down from their encircling above, plucking their fresh pickings from the gutter and thrusting it into a life of hero galas and assassination missions and spotlight?

Perhaps he shouldn't complain. It gave him a platform for his goals, after all, and the ends do begrudgingly justify the means.

Did his wings grow too big too fast? Maybe that's why his mother left. What are your wings even good for, she said.

Or perhaps it was he who abandoned her.

No. Even as a child, Keigo was never afforded the luxury of being small.

He used to step carefully, mindful of the clumsy expanse of a wingspan spread sixfold in glorious feet; but now, there is space for him in narrow paths uncrossed. His resilience, it seems, is rooted deeper than the feathers that used to sprout from his back.

He's taken up knife work in the recent months. You lay among the sheets, watching him sit at the edge of the bed. The muscles of his back flex when he flicks and twirls the steel of his butterfly knife, spinning with a speed you know better than to attempt to follow.

"Do you ever miss them?"

Keigo's ears perk when he hears you speak behind him.

He puts the weapon down.

You've asked him this question before. Keigo doesn't mind answering again if it's you.

"Sometimes," he says, still turned away. "But not in a way that really matters."

You crawl towards him, the mattress creaking below. The cotton of his shirt rubs against the flesh of his back when you pull it over his shoulders. He lets you.

Those shoulders don't carry the weight of the world's jagged stones like they used to. He doesn't have to cut holes in his shirts anymore.

When you plant your lips down the now-bare column of his spine, across his shoulder blades and back up to repeat the push and pull, the feeling is alien to him— like a flash of light that blinds the eye before its pupils have the chance to constrict.

To not be able to anticipate exactly where and when someone— you will be able to touch him…

Keigo is just happy it's you.

"Do you ever miss them," he asks.

Am I still useful, he means.

There's a tremble in his voice when he speaks. Your palms freeze where they splay against the constellations of scars that litter his back. If you could see his eyes, you'd find them transfixed and blinking at the glass window that hangs like a painting in your bedroom, illustrating the jump from here to the ground twenty-seven stories below.

But contrary to what one might expect, you wouldn't find insecurity. Just curiosity.

After a moment, chewing the question in each cheek, you answer with the truth.

"No. I don't miss them at all."

At that, the sheets ruffle softly as Keigo turns to meet you, laying you down on the bed like you're glass and slotting himself against your lips. The knife thuds as it falls against the fibers of your carpet, forgotten still.

His lips are soft now, no longer chapped by high altitudes and whipping winds. He can feel your smile begin to form against his, can feel the quirk of your lips at each corner when you toss your arms over his shoulders.

He made you smile. His heart soars up high.

His fingertips crawling beneath your clothes is to say, "thank you."

His eyes shutting with the kiss, muting his last method of hypervigilance, is to say, "I love you."

#🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #but also #🌶 spice #sort of #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader

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navaldiver · 6 months

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The Life of a Successful Fan

TW: Sexual Slavery, Piss drinking, Slight Scat, Slight Feet worship, Femdom.

A/N: OMG life took a real toll on me and my mental health was in the dumpster for quite a while. Finally got back to writing and got this out for you guys. I'm so sorry that I've been MIA as of late, but will try to post more.

Barely edited, and proceed with caution!! Read the tags before reading!!

It's six a.m. and the alarm on your phone rang. You stirred from the cot on your floor, rubbing your eyes and silently stretching until you hit a state of nirvana from that one particular pulled muscle. You were never a morning person, but for Chaewon, well you will be whatever she asks from you. And one of Chaewon's first requests after you decided to devote your life to her was to be her human alarm clock. Finally awake enough, you climbed out of the mattress and headed toward your master's room.

Opening the ornate wooden door, you were met with a sight that you could never get tired of despite seeing it every day. Kim Chaewon in all her naked glory, lay sprawled on the bed, the contour of her ass could be visibly seen even under the thick sheets. You gulped, knowing full well your Master's needs come first before your own. You are her slave after all. With another firm gulp, you suppressed your urges and crawled your way underneath the sheets to wake up your Master the only way you were supposed to.

"Good morning Master." You whispered, as you stroke the soft yet firm skin of her ass with your fingers, gently pulling the cheeks apart as you snuggle up against the tender skin right by the rectum, already fluttering in excitement as to what comes next. It is tempting to swipe your tongue against it, but you know better than to do something you are not supposed to. And besides, there'll be ample time for that later. You shift your face that much closer, pressing your own cheeks against her cheeks like you're in love with her ass. Which you probably are to be honest.

And just the way you knew she would, Chaewon shifted a little, pressing her ass into your face slightly as she reached over to pet your hair. You reciprocated as you shifted that infinitesimal distance closer to her ass in your own display of affection. With a murmur and a tug to your hair, she lets you know that it is time to move on to the next part of your morning routine. You retreat back under the covers, allowing her room to flip onto her back and spread her legs, propping her feet on either side of the bed and giving you a clear view of her pussy in front of you. You used to muse at the fact that the Kim Chaewon's pussy was so accessible to you, yet so desired and mysterious to those so desperate for her. But now, her glorious folds stared back at you, giving you a verbal command that it demands tribute. You heed its call as you wriggled on your belly, hands placed on the outside of her thighs and you pressed your mouth to her pussy, meticulously forming a seal with your lips as you flatten your tongue. You waited patiently for your first drink of the day, as Chaewon played with your hair, twirling and plucking at it as she waited for her own body to respond to her mental order.

With a strong hand, Chaewon grabs a fistful of your hair and lets out a sigh of relief and starts pissing, straight into your mouth. The flow is intense but the taste is familiar and nostalgic as you gulp it down without missing a beat. It did take you a while to reach this level of sucking down Chaewon's piss. Initially, you struggled to even cope with the taste of her piss but after a few stern beatings, you gargled down her piss like a pro.

As the stream finally stopped, you detached your mouth and licked your lips, before struggling out from under the covers and sinking onto the floor, greeting your master on your knees.

"Good morning Master."

"Good morning slave." Chaewon sat upright on the bed as you propped up a pillow for her. As a small reward, she leaned over and gave you some of her morning spit. You gratefully opened your mouth and accepted the gift, which earned a chuckle from your master. Chaewon giggled at the thought that now your belly is mixed with her urine and now her spit. She yawned and stretched, before she finally got off the bed and headed off to the bathroom. You followed behind her, on your hands and knees.

Chaewon picked up the toothbrush you had already prepared for her, while you peppered kisses all over her feet. She loves it, the feeling of being adored and pampered to the most extreme, and you love showering your master with all the devotion and attention you can spare. From the corner of your eye, you could see Chaewon was done brushing her teeth. You quickly crawled over to the next station of the morning, the toilet bowl. You see, when you signed that contract to be Chaewon's personal 'assistant', it included that you take care of anything that would bother her. And this includes her personal business.

"You better clean me up good, I have a long schedule ahead of me today and I don't want my ass to bother me." Chaewon growled as she sat on the toilet backwards, her ass facing you as you kneel in front of it. You nuzzle into her ass cheek and press a kiss to it, your own way of acknowledging what was to come.

A cute grunt and a whoosh of gas later, you see her asshole start to dilate and you start kneading the flesh around her ass, acting as some encouragement as she strains against the cistern. Soon, you could see a greasy brown log appearing from her asshole. You shifted your hands from her ass to her inner thighs, palming and massaging the flesh as you patiently waited for Chaewon.

"Mmmm, such a good slave for me." Chaewon mutters as your massage was hitting the right spots, as the log stuck in her ass finally breaks off and falls into the toilet. Chaewon makes more soft, guttural noises as she pushes more logs out, as you stay kneeling in front of her ass, massaging her until she's done. She leans forward a little more, her asshole gaping and inviting you toward the next step of your morning routine. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pressing your tongue and dragging it all over her brown-smudged asshole. The taste is as bad as one could imagine, but you obviously weren't doing it for the taste. You were doing it because of Chaewon, because this is what she needs and what she demands. So, you carefully and diligently lap her clean, listening to her praises and swelling with pride. Your favourite compliment was that you were the 'best toilet paper' she's ever used. You chuckled a little at that one, as she got off the toilet bowl and headed back into the room.

"Come slave, help me get dressed." Chaewon pulled out a long-sleeved crop top, a miniskirt and a pair of thigh-high leather boots from her dresser and tossed them at your face as she sat down back on the bed. You mused for a moment at the colour choice. It was all pink, her favourite colour. You slid the miniskirt onto Chaewon, tightening it at the hips, before helping her tie her boots as she wore the top herself.

"I have to go now. But as a reward for your good performance today, you get to kiss my boots." She said as she pressed the soles of her boots against your face. You happily lapped up at the soles like the dog you are, before she finally kicks your face away and heads out.

"I'll be back after midnight slave, use this to keep yourself entertained while I'm gone." Chaewon threw a used sock at your feet as she slammed the door behind her. You heard the familiar beep of the electronic door lock, meaning that she has already left the house. You stared at the sock in front of you, picking it up like it was your most prized possession.

"Thank you Master." You bowed even if Chaewon had been long gone. You heard your phone ring in your room. You rushed over to see if Chaewon had left something behind, but it was just that your brother had called you once again for the umpteenth time. You immediately cancelled it, and looked at the sock lovingly in your arms. This is your new life now, and you are loving every moment of it.

#kim chaewon smut #kpop smut

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foxigemini · 11 months

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Bound For Life - Chapter 3

Pairing: OC!Orc x Human Female Reader

Story summary: Your life is nothing exciting. Until one day when you encounter a creature in the forest and your life is changed forever.

Chapter summary: You submit to fate and let your new mate claim you.

Chapter Warnings: Nsfw, Smut, Size difference, Size kink, Unprotected sex.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

You were still trying to process what was happening when Tarod removed his loincloth. Your gaze lowered, your eyes widening at the sight of the massive member dangling between his thick, muscular thighs, and you hated how your pussy clenched in response. How on earth would he ever fit inside you?

"Undress for me, little lamb," Tarod ordered in his deep, guttural voice.

Pulse drumming in your ears, you flickered your eyes over to Yolmar, who looked like a wounded animal as he looked back at you with guilt-ridden eyes.

"Don't look at him, human. Look at me. He can watch me claim you and once I'm done, he's free to join us. But for now, you're only mine."

A wave of heat rushed through your core at his words, at the thought of having both these enormous orcs inside you at the same time. You glanced at Yolmar again who gave you a quick nod, and you thought you saw a spark of interest in his eyes. Would he enjoy seeing you get fucked by another orc? The thought of him watching was strangely enough arousing for you.

Wetting your lips, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. What choice did you have but to obey? This huge monster could kill you with a simple snap of his fingers around your neck. Opening your eyes, you held your gaze on the floor as you started untying your girdle with trembling fingers, too anxious to meet his eyes.

Tarod smirked and sat down on his throne, his icy blue eyes watching your every movement as you undressed and revealed your naked body. His dick twitched at the sight of your soft and tempting form.

"Come to me."

Tarod watched amused as you approached him with flushed cheeks. So innocent you appeared, so fragile and small. Tarod had always found the muscular features of the female orcs attractive, but there was something about having such a delicate little thing that aroused him beyond anything he'd ever felt before.

"Look at me."

Your pulse quickened at his voice, and you swallowed hard as you halted at his feet. You lifted your gaze, your eyes widening at seeing his hard, throbbing member. Oh, dear lord...He must be close to the size of your lower arm...Your heart started beating faster, sending another wave of arousal through your core at the thought of him inside you, stretching you out and pleasuring you in places you'd never been pleasured before.

Tarod chuckled lowly. "Touch me, human. I know you want to. I can smell your arousal."

Licking your lips nervously, you looked up into Tarod's eyes, and a bolt of electric spark surged through you. For the first time you felt the same connection you felt with Yolmar when you met him, how easy it had been to give yourself to him.

As if your body was moving on its own, you lifted your hand and wrapped your delicate hand around his meaty cock, your fingers barely reaching around its thickness. Tarod grunted, and his dick jerked in your hand. Your pussy clenched in response, pulsating with need to have him inside you. Slowly, you started moving your hand, amazed by his size as he grew even bigger in your hand. A trail of bulging veins appeared on his length, and the bulbous head was aggressively reddish. Fuck, this was the most glorious cock you'd ever seen. Flooded with newfound confidence, you bent down and flicked your tongue across the slit of the head, earning a breathy growl from Tarod. Encouraged by his noises, you lowered your head and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Slowly, you started bobbing your head, sliding your lips up and down his length. With each bob, you took more and more of him into your mouth until you started to gag.

"What a good, little mate you've found for us, Yolmar," Tarod grunted and grabbed your head, his huge hand covering your entire scalp as he pressed you down on his cock and bucked his hips against your face. You choked and spluttered as his length pushed down your throat. Tarod growled and released the grip on your head, allowing you to breathe. Gasping for air, you stared up at Tarod and glanced over at Yolmar. A pang of heat rushed through your belly when you saw the cock in his hand, his yellow eyes focused on you as he stroked himself.

Tarod wrapped his calloused hand around your throat and forced you to look at him. You gasped and stared up at him with big eyes and a wicked grin spread across his face.

"See how much he enjoys seeing his mate's mouth wrapped around another orc's cock? I bet he's gonna love seeing me ravage you."

"Please...," you whimpered, squeezing your thighs together to lighten the throbbing arousal.

"What's that?" Tarod snickered and lowered his hand down between your legs, slipping his long finger through your wet folds and into your soaked pussy. You gasped and grabbed his massive arm, moaning with pleasure at finally having something inside your aching core. Tarod growled at the sensation of your spongy flesh gripping his finger and the sloppy noises your pussy was making as he moved his finger inside you.

"You're absolutely drenched. You want me inside you, little one?"

"Y-Yes, please...," you mewled, nearly sobbing as you desperately rode his finger.

Tarod chuckled and pulled out his finger. Wrapping his hands around your waist, he lifted you up on his lap like you weighed nothing.

"I'm gonna let you start, little lamb, let you adjust to my size."

You nodded, your face flushed with arousal as you lowered yourself onto his cock. Slowly, the round head slid between your folds, and you bit your lip as you sank your body lower. You gasped when your pussy stretched and gaped for him, and the head finally pushed inside with a pop. A surge of pleasure went through your core, and a tiny moan escaped your lips. Oh fuck, he was so incredibly big.

Tarod grunted as he felt your tight cunt around the head of his cock, struggling to keep himself from slamming into you. He needed to be patient, and let you adjust to him first. Then, he could pound this tight, little pussy all he wanted.

You held onto his muscular shoulders as you slowly moved on top of him. With each bounce of your hips, you sank deeper and deeper. Your pussy stretched around his length, more than you ever thought possible, as more and more of his cock pushed inside you. You gasped and stared down at the bulge on your belly, amazed that your body could adapt so easily to him. Biting down on your bottom lip, you gripped his shoulders tighter as you started moving. Lifting your hips slowly, you moaned softly, feeling every inch of his cock move against your inner walls as you sank down on him again. Tarod grabbed your hips as you started to move at a gentle, steady pace, gradually adjusting to his size. Slowly, a hot, swirling sensation started to build up in your core, and you began to ride him faster, chasing that overwhelming feeling mounting in your core. Then, suddenly, Tarod made the slightest upwards movement with his hips, and a spike of sudden pleasure went through your core. You cried out as the warm sensation spread through your body like a wildfire. Your entire body jerked and twitched as your orgasm rippled through your body, and your head became a cloudy mess from the overwhelming sensations flowing through you.

"Fuck!" Tarod growled, his cock twitching at the feeling of your pussy gripping him so tightly. This was it. He couldn't hold back anymore. Holding you in a firm grip, he stood up and turned you around, placing you on your hands and knees on the floor.

Your blurry mind was abruptly woken by Tarod's cock plunging into you from behind. Back arching and eyes widening, you looked at him over your shoulder, at the erotic sight of him crouching above you and pounding his enormous member into your now gaping, soppy count. You caught something in the corner of your eyes and suddenly remembered Yolmar was there, the sight he was giving you sending another wave of pleasure through your belly. He was still stroking himself, his pace faster now, matching the pace of Tarod's hips. Yolmar's mouth was half open, his chest heaving rapidly with breathy moans as he watched Tarod's cock plunge in and out of your pussy.

All of these impressions flooding your body and mind were too overwhelming, and you couldn’t control your body anymore as another gush of pleasure swept through your body. Throwing your head back, you pressed your ass back against Tarod's hips, rutting against him erratically as your orgasm rolled like waves through your body.

Tarod growled and threw his head back at the feeling of your fluttering, clenching walls gripping his cock. He slammed into you one last time, his cock swelling and throbbing as spurts of his thick cum released into your cunt. Your eyes landed on Yolmar just as he came, and a fountain of white semen erupted from his cock and landed on the floor. You mewled softly at the sight, your pussy gently clenching around Tarod's cock still lodged inside you as your body relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Come here," Tarod boomed and lifted you up, cradling you on his lap as he sat down on his throne. "You took me so well, little lamb. Now, rest before we both take you and make you our mate."

You smiled tiredly, barely registering his words as his warm cum seeped out of you and sleep claimed your body.

#orc x reader #orc x human #orc x you #orc smut #orc fanfiction #oc x reader #orcs #orc #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x human #monster x fem!reader #monster smut #monster fanfiction #monster fucking #monster fanfic #monster imagine #monster #monster x y/n

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ellethespaceunicorn · 15 days

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The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: A flashback into the love life of Sy and “Bug”, and a look toward the future with Wolfie and Pup.

Warnings: mentions of military deployment, p-in-v sex, creampie, emotional moments

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me, guys! And I see y’all reblogging the masterlist for the series. And I thank you so much for keeping this story alive! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this story.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

The rumble of that old truck coming down the lane had you leaping off the couch to run to the front door. You swung it open, followed by the screen door; your bare feet padding on the old wooden porch warmed from the sun. You saw your man scramble to park before he jumped out and ran across the lawn to you. You threw open your arms as he took the stairs in one step to meet you.

The feeling of his lips against yours was just like the first time. And after he had been gone for the past six months, it felt glorious. Your arms around his neck allowed your hands to slide over his shaved head. You hated when he got rid of his curls before he shipped out, but you understood that it was less fashionable and more functional.

At least he got to keep the beard that you loved so much.

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along the seam of your lips, and you obliged his entry. He savored every little moan that escaped your mouth, putting on quite the show for his neighbors, who were surely looking out of their windows at this point. They hadn’t heard his truck in months, and now it’s back to annoy them.

When his hands started to wander from your hips to your ass with a healthy squeeze, you knew it was time to bring this show of affection indoors. You broke the kiss and pulled him into his house. He had given you a key shortly before leaving so you could look after the place. You had only been together for less than a year, but you liked where you were headed.

After you are both inside, he pins you against the front door. He’s kissing your neck before pulling away to sniff in the direction of the kitchen. He sighed when he turned around to look back at you.

“I have missed your cooking so much. I’ve missed you so much, Bug. Every night, I wished I could be back here with you so I could hold you close and kiss you goodnight. Every morning, I would wake up with the goal of making it back to you,” he professed, getting down on one knee before taking your left hand in his. “I wanted to wait to do this; I did. But I don’t want to wait anymore. While this ring may have been an impulse buy, I know that yours is the only hand I would ever take in marriage. That is if you’ll have me. What do you say? Will you marry me, Bug?”

He holds up the ring, and your eyes blur from unshed tears. You truly had not expected this, but you couldn’t be happier. Sy was the man of your dreams. He was funny, loving, and protective; you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to spend the rest of your days with. You realized you had been quiet for almost a minute and spoke up.

“Yes! I will marry you, baby,” you gasped, nodding furiously as he put the ring on your finger.

Standing up, he wrapped you in a giant bear hug before picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, so happy to feel his warmth against you again. Once he started toward the bedroom, you knew you weren’t going to be having your meal any time soon. At least, not until after some unfinished business took place.

Sy made love to you, worshipping your body, and leaving hickeys everywhere he could. The man was never subtle in his lust for you. He missed you, and he was going to make sure you knew how much. Rocking his hips into you, he had you right where he wanted you. In between huffs of air and moans of pleasure, Sy kissed every part of you that he could reach.

As he brought you over the edge repeatedly, he talked you through it. Nothing was better than that moment, having him so close as he played your body expertly like he always did. Listening to him grunt as he chased after his release was music to your ears as his hips stuttered soon enough.

Between moaning your name, praising you, and his filthy dirty talk, he had you wrapped around his little finger. Well, technically, he had you wrapped around something substantially bigger…and that’s why your brain short-circuited when he began whispering sweet things in your ear.

“Look how fuckin’ beautiful you look takin’ me so well, Bug. Missed you so much, and couldn’t wait to be with you again. Just like this, watchin’ you fall apart so pretty for me,” he praised, one of his giant hands coming to rest on your tummy while he continued his onslaught. “All I could think of was coming home and starting our little family. Bug, I want you to make me a Daddy. Please, please, please…” he trailed off.

The guttural groan he made as he finished was beastly. And you loved every second of it. What can you say? You were a fan of when men weren’t afraid to be especially vocal in the bedroom, be it moaning or speaking. More often than not, it was Sy’s voice that the neighbors tended to hear when you two were hot and heavy.

You waited until he had come down from his high to ask about what he said. He rolled off of you and laid next to you, opening his arm so you could lay on his chest. This wasn’t the first time he had brought up starting a family. He had the same idea before he deployed for six months. But this time seemed different. He was practically begging you to get pregnant, and you wanted to slow the brakes a bit.

But you can’t always get what you want.

“Sy, can we put a pause on baby talk? You only just got back. I want some time with you before I’m knee-deep in diapers and midnight feedings,” you confided, hoping post-nut clarity would come to him.

“So, before I left, it was because you would be alone. And now, it’s because I’m here with you? Come on, Bug,” he scoffed, running a hand over his buzzcut.

“That’s not fair. It’s not exactly like your body is gonna be the one going through changes. And yes, I am worried that you want to start a family, and we don’t even know when you could be called upon. Then what? I just sit here and wait for you to meet your kid after missing my whole pregnancy?” You supposed, picking your head up from his chest and meeting his eyes.

“You’re right, ya know? I might have to be deployed again. But don’t forget that I’m fighting for my country. That’s not easy either. And I would still be providing for you, Bug. Does that mean nothing?” He countered, leaning on one elbow.

“I appreciate what you do; don’t get me wrong. But I refuse to start a family until I feel comfortable enough to do so. I mean, we got engaged an hour ago, and you’re already planning children. I love you, but this is too much for me right now,” you reasoned, pulling yourself up to a seated position and staring at your ring.

He took your hands in his as he sat up. “I love you too, and I want to start a family with you. That means marrying you and having kids together. I wanted it then, I want it now, and I’ll probably always want it. But if you don’t feel ready, I won’t make you. All I ask is that you think about it,” he implored.

You promised him that you would think about it, and he gave you the space and time that you needed. Two whole days spent in your house, ignoring your phone and your life. Two whole days of thinking about how to make up your mind. You’d never wanted children until you met Sy. He would make a great dad, which wasn’t what you were worried about. You were worried about how much time he would get to be a dad. Or whether he would make it back to you at all.

When you made up your mind, you went over to Sy’s house to talk with him. Very few words were said, but the point was made when you gave him back his ring. As much as you wanted him, you couldn’t be the perfect little Army wife that he wanted, and quite frankly, that he deserved.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, the memory of Sy’s distraught face behind your eyelids. With a heavy heart, you decided to drown yourself in work and forget about love. And it was working so well, at least for a while.

You are awoken by a deep voice calling your name and a hand shaking your shoulder. Opening your eyes, you come face-to-face with a steaming mug of coffee. You sit up fully and accept the mug, looking up to thank who brought it to you.

Sy’s face is neutral as he lets go of the mug. He sips from his cup as he motions for you to let him sit next to you. Neither of you speaks for a minute or two, unsure of what to say. The last time you two shared a bed was pretty eventful, and now it’s the only thing on your mind.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask, not knowing what to say.

“Couple hours. Just couldn’t sleep. Went for a run to clear my head, and that worked for about five minutes. Now, all I can think of is the last time you were here. Then, I think of last night and how good it felt to have my arms wrapped around you,” he laments, sipping his coffee before continuing, “Anyway, I figured it would be best if I let that ship sail long ago. But you just had to come back into my life, didn’t you? You don’t make it easy, woman.”

“Technically, if it wasn’t for Liv, I’d still be out of your life. Maybe I should thank her. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you,” you admit, looking into your coffee mug.

“Yeah, thank her for me, too,” he laughs, bumping your shoulder with his.

You giggle, looking up into his eyes. “Do you think we can try and be friends? I know last night was fucking strange. And I can’t guarantee it won’t be weird sometimes. But you’re important to me. You always will be,” you confess.

“Of course, we can be friends. I want you in my life, Bug. And if that means that I had to be a damn wolf to get back to you, then I guess I can live with that,” he jokes.

“You’re a handsome wolf if that’s any consolation,” you say, holding in a giggle.

Sy fixes you with the look he used to give you when you were being bratty, and it still works. You can feel the heat rise to your face as you look down and sip your coffee.

“Well, look. It’s just about 10. What do you say we stop procrastinating and get you back to your boyfriend before he comes sniffing around? I’m sure he’s beside himself waiting for you. I know I’d be doing the same,” he insists.

“You’re right. I’ll get changed, and we can head out,” you sigh, feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.

Sy nods, taking your mug. He exits the bedroom, pulling the door shut, and you hear his footsteps leading away from the door.

You get dressed quickly, your mind running through different scenarios of how this could all go down. Your anxiety level rises when you think of having your first fight with Walter. Unsure of whether or not you are still upset with him, you push all thoughts away and exit Sy’s bedroom.

Sy notes your solemn expression and pulls you into a hug, whispering into your ear, “Trust me, if anything, he’s gonna be so happy you’re back in his arms that I’m sure he’ll wanna be done with this little fight o’ yours.” Giving you a little squeeze before he lets go, he pats your back, and you appreciate him for trying.

Soon, you and Sy are on the road to the cabin. He drives while you direct him on where to go. The closer you get to the cabin, the more your leg bounces up and down. When Sy reaches a hand to rest on your knee, you stop only to start biting at your thumbnail. He pulls your hand from your mouth and holds it for the rest of the drive.

As Sy pulls into the driveway, the front door swings open. You’re suddenly frozen in your seat until Sy reaches across you to open your door. “Go on, now,” he directs, a sad smile on his face.

You exit the truck, gravel crunching below your feet. Walter jumps off the porch, stopping on the lawn just past the house. You look up at him as you approach, your feet moving faster once you see the hurt puppy look on his face. You throw your arms around his neck, his scent strong in your nostrils. His arms wrap around you, picking you up off your feet.

You don’t see when Walter and Sy exchange a nod. A lot can be said in one simple head tilt.

When Walter places you back on your feet, you both start to talk at the same time. “I’m so sorry, Pup, I-” “Wolfie, I’m sorry-”

Apologies give way to surprised laughter, and you rest your forehead against his.

“Gimme a sec, ok?” Walter asked, stepping past you to walk over to where Sy sat in the truck. You watch as they talk for a minute or two, unable to hear what is said. They shake hands, and Sy smiles at you. Walter walks back to where you stand, kissing your forehead and smiling down at you. Before you can speak, he lifts your arm and ducks his head under it to heft you over his shoulder.

“Ooof, Wolfie!” is all you get out as Walter makes his way back into the cabin. You watch over his shoulder as Sy drives off.

As Walter kicks the front door shut, you hear Jace’s laughter at your predicament, followed by a snort from Olivia.

“Good luck, bestie. Have fun!” Liv chuckles from her seat, cuddled up against Jace.

You’ll have to ask her about that later. Right now, you are being carried upstairs by your boyfriend, who missed you something fierce. Ending up in his bedroom, he plops you down on the bed and jumps you. Leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw to your collarbone and back. All the while whispering how much he missed you.

“I missed you too, Wolfie,” you gasp as he sucks on a particularly sensitive area of your neck.

Putting himself between your legs, he finally kisses your lips. When you moan into his mouth, his clothed sex comes into contact with yours. You feel each other’s body heat, and it’s mere seconds before you are both undressed.

With the thrust of his hips, you feel his apology. With each kiss and nip, you feel how much he cares for you. He brings you to the brink over and over, until you are an emotional mess that clings to him. You’re impossibly close and you wish you could be even closer to him. Wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, you tangle a hand in his hair as he rips one more orgasm from you.

You throw your head back, a long whine exiting your throat as you ride out your high. When you bite down on Walter’s shoulder, his hips falter and he buries himself deep inside you. You can feel every twitch of his length and every spurt that paints your walls. He fills you slowly but surely, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he comes down.

Rubbing his back, you kiss where your teeth barely made a dent in his skin. His tired groan vibrates through your body, and you can’t help but shiver. His softening girth slips from you, and you both gasp. Walter starts to move off of you, but you pull him back, not wanting to lose his warmth.

He chuckles, happy to be your weighted heating blanket. He settles in with his arms around you until you hear soft, grumbling snores. Feeling his breath puff on your neck, you let out a yawn and give in to your own tiredness.

Everything else can wait for now. You are right where you want to be.

To be continued...

A/N: I would love to know what you think of this chapter!

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wanderingxiao · 1 year

Text

-My Goddess-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~

SPOILERS FOR SUMERU’S ARCHON QUEST BEWARE

Summary: Scaramouche brings you to Sumeru to have you witness his birth as a god, but he didn't plan for your reaction...

Pairing: Fatui! Scaramouche x Female Reader

Warning: Spoilers for Akasha Pulses Archon quest, foul language, god complex Scara, unprotected sex, Scara is nice but mean, degradation, creampie, and little bit of angst and fluff.

Word Count: 5.6K (How tf did this get so long)

Enjoy~

“Look at them, (Y/N)! All those tiny insects… building my chamber where I shall rule over them.” The silver blade that was normally referred to as the balladeer’s tongue was ever so gentle and caring as he gazed upon the contexts of the scholar’s creation. His pale skin shined underneath all the lights, arms outstretched marveling at the glorious creation. The mechanized machine loomed over you both, your place next to the Balladeer forever being cast out by his own shadow. He was an incredibly selfish individual. His goals were never to bring you with him in his accession into godhood. A small pawn on his chess board to dispose of. “Isn’t it magnificent? Everyone, is preparing for my birth into this world, as a god!” His tongue dripped with venomous anticipation, poisoning you to praise him, worship him, and bow before his feet like the underling you now realized you were. “Are you going to stare gawking or are you going to congratulate me on finally achieving godhood after centuries of careful planning?”

“I’m sorry, My Lord. Forgive me for my lack of words.” Your response clearly did not do much for his souring mood upon not receiving your praise. He turned his body towards you, the jingle of the bells on his hat chiming at his slow steps towards you. Your composure remained unchanged in the presence of The Balladeer, his cold expression having no effect on your heart. “Are you not happy that I am finally fulfilling my purpose for being created? I have my heart, and I will use my newfound strength… to rule over the insects of this world that grovel beneath me.” He stopped in front of you, dark lavender eyes gazing directly into your eyes that were unfortunately cast downwards. You knew he was looking, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, remaining silent instead. This only seemed to anger The Balladeer more. “What’s troubling you? Is there something you dislike about the design? I will have it changed if that is what you want.”

“…What I want, Lord Scaramouche?” The tremble in your voice was evident, there was no hiding anymore exactly how you felt in that moment. The upcoming god could easily pick up on your changed emotions, suddenly becoming stricken with anxiety. “I… I want you back.” It was plain and simple as that. Your first meeting with The Balladeer was nothing short of fate. It was a cold day In Snezhnaya, your village near the Fatui headquarters always patrolled and watched closely. Remembering how the cold snow felt on your bare feet would forever be ingrained in your brain from that day, along with finding The Balladeer practically frozen near a river. He was welcomed into your home for 3 days, secluded due to the raging blizzard that always took the lives of any who dared challenge its icy wind laced touch. “You’re… You’re changing. You’re starting to leave me behind. You… replaced me already.”

“Huh?” His cold tone only fueled the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, still recalling his harsh yet gentle nature as he resided in your home. He voiced his displeasure almost every minute, but he made no effort to walk out and take his chances with the vengeful blizzard. You learned a lot about him during those 3 short days. How he enjoyed bitter tea and despised anything sweet you had to offer him for dessert. The immense sorrow that lingered in his empty chest as he gazed over the stuffed animal in the house. The way he would become engrossed in reading about blade forgery, almost as if he had known about the art for centuries. And lastly, how much the all-powerful Fatui Harbinger detested insects. “What nonsense are you going on about? When did I ever give you the impression, I was every going to let you escape?”

“Just look at what you’re doing, Lord Scaramouche… you’re… ascending far beyond my reach anymore. It’s not a matter of trying to escape from you… you’re just starting to abandon me.” His breath hitched once those words left your soft lips. Never in his life did he ever think you would be saying those words to him. It was anticipated to be the other way around, but the tables had turned now. “You… praise Ms. Haypasia more than you do me…” That wasn’t true. Not to him anyways. You and that other human were completely different. She was just a mere follower, disposable, you were supposed to be by his side forever. “Even the way you look at this thing-“ You turned your head to look up at the machine that hung above. “-as if it’s your everything now. Your time with me has shortened, and the attention you once gave me has dwindled into but a small insignificant grain of dust… The gnosis, this machine… it’s your heart… I wished for you to gaze at me like that… I wished for you to stay with me until the world takes me… I wanted to be your heart.”

“No… that’s- that’s absurd!” His voice wavered just slightly, hands reaching out to grasp your arms, holding you tightly in his grasps. “You… You-“ The words kept getting caught in his throat as he tried to voice his conflicting emotions. After a few seconds of pondering for the right words, the thought died within his throat, choosing to remain silent. “I wish you… all the best, Lord Scaramouche. I’ll never forget my time with you. You will be in my thoughts always… and I’ll worship you until the day I die… I love you.” His breath caught in his throat hearing those words pass from your lips so carelessly. Throwing that phase out to him as if you weren��t about to leave him alone. His body was stiff when you suddenly placed your hands onto his cheeks, the feeling of your warm hands stunning him further. Your face was so close to his, he could feel your nervous breaths, almost hear your heartbeat hammering away at your ribcage. Your lips were soft against his own, moving gently against him even though he showed no sign of returning your affections.

Once you were gone from his touch, the world came crashing.

“You can’t leave. I forbid it.” You only gave him a sad smile, moving your hands off his cheeks. The attempt was quickly stopped by the harbingers intense grip slamming down onto your wrists to stop you. “I didn’t give you permission to leave. You are not allowed to leave my side.” His head was lowered, making it impossible for you to gaze into his dark lavender eyes and gauge exactly what he was feeling at this moment. You had an idea of what it was just by the way his hands trembled while holding you. “Lord Scaramouche, I hope you know I’m not betraying you like the others.” The grip he had on you tightened, his shoulders now trembling, still unable to gauge his emotions. You knew of his history as a puppet, and as the almighty electro archons creation. “I’m letting you go to achieve your purpose you’ve longed for. I won’t keep you grounded any longer. You’ve been through so much; you deserve this opportunity- “

“Then come with me! Let us both ascend together into godhood! Become my goddess. Rule by my side and stay!” The hurt in his voice was now clearer than ever. He was deeply troubled by your decision. To think you would ever consider leaving him drove him mad. All because of your selfless intentions not to hold him back? How absurd! Ever since he began seeing you more and more, he knew he could never let you go. That first kiss sealed his fate with you years ago. “L-Lord Sc-“ He lunged his hand forward to grab your mouth tightly, suppressing any words from coming out as he spoke. “You will be my goddess, whether you like it or not. We will become equals. Do not address me in that way again, or I will have to punish you.” Nodding quickly, your shaky fingers attempted to pry his tight grip off your mouth, slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst. A dark chuckle echoed in your ears when his lips came close to your ear. “Good… now there’s something I must take in order to properly claim you as my goddess. Something… I’ve wanted to do with you for so long.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips moved in slow motion in front of you.

“Your body.”

The sounds of machines in the background suddenly become more and more fuzzy as his demand came crashing onto your mind like a dozen bricks. The thrashing of your heart against your ribcage became more violent the more you imagined becoming one with Scaramouche. The relationship between you remained pure and innocent for a long time. The only thing you had ever done with him was hug him or give him a kiss on the head here and there and on very rare occasions give him a real kiss. To excel to something as serious as that? It was all too much for you to handle. You loved him. As much as you didn’t want to in the beginning you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Fatui Harbinger. Through his harsh acts and mean words, all he had ever wanted was to be loved and wanted. His walls broke when you indulged in his buried human desires.

“Kissing won’t be enough for me anymore. Once I finish claiming you… you will permanently be mine, to rule by my side forever, never to part from me. Doesn’t that sound nice? Bound to your god through body and soul. Is that what you want? Will that make you happy?” His questions were making your head spin. He knew the answers to his own questions though, it was all a means to influence you further. You didn’t need to respond to tell him how much you longed to be by his side. “It was idiotic to think you could simply leave after all we’ve been through. Even if you wanted to without such a selfishly selfless reason such as that…” His voice trailed off, slowly letting go of your mouth and replacing his cold hand against your neck, squeezing lightly. “Listen close, I will not repeat this.” He called, leaning towards your ear. His breath was hot despite his body being frigid. You shifted in his grasp, swallowed thickly before he spoke. “I love you too.”

“S…Scaramouche?” Your voice was soft and almost like a faint whisper whisked about by the clattering noise around you. That was the first time he had ever admitted such feelings towards you. His cheeks were a soft pink, scowling at you and himself in disgust over his emotionally human confession. He didn’t give you another second to speak or breathe before he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, you melted into his touch, your shaky uncertain hands coming to rest against his cold cheeks, nimble fingers edging closer and closer to his indigo locks. His hair was incredibly soft, so perfect to run your fingers through and pull. His hands came to your waist, pulling your lower body against his. His tongue slipped, parting your lips to rub against your teeth, ordering you to open your mouth for him. You obeyed him, letting him completely consume you. “M-Mmm… Scara-Mph!”

One of his hands came to grab your hair, pulling your head back until he was holding you against him, leaning you back to appropriately dominate you. Your arms wrapped around his neck quickly, scared of falling but knew he would never let you go. His tongue darted inside your mouth, swirling around your mouth in needy passion. His teeth clanked against yours as he pushed himself deeper, his tongue reaching the deepest parts of your mouth. Precious oxygen was beginning to become necessary, but you didn’t want to pull away from his blissful and loving touches. A low groan echoed into your mouth being swallowed by your small gasp of air before he closed you off again with his lips. You could feel yourself beginning to get weak in your knees, slowly falling to the floor while Scaramouche kept you close to him. He parted from you finally, a string of saliva connecting your tongues until he licked it away and swiped his tongue over his lips.

“Already weak from one kiss? Hah, how pathetic you truly are. It’s a nuisance that you’re human, that’ll change in due time if you’re going to be my goddess.” You didn’t understand what he had meant by those words, but you did know that your remaining strength dropped once he gazed into your eyes with a powerful, dominating lust. God were his eyes just hypnotizing. His gaze followed to all the workers in the large area, irking him further as he realized he had been too distracted by you. “Hey! All you pests! Get out!” His voice was booming and loud, his tone laced with toxic authority that should not be dared challenged. The workers all looked confused and exchanged glances, further angering the ascending god. “Are you all deaf? I said, get the fuck out!” The workers scurried away in fear, leaving all their tools, and exiting the area. He turned back towards you, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. “Come, my goddess.”

“Y…Yes, Scaramouche.” You shakily rose, clambering into his arms as he drug you up into the chamber of the machines head. It was sparkling red, its contents almost like you were floating into space. He swished his hand out, the machine face closing behind you, trapping you inside with the godly creation of an archon. As soon as those doors were closed, his lips were on yours again, this time more desperate and needy. His hands were trailing up and down your body, exploring his inexperienced hands over every curve and crevice that your body hid. A sigh left his lips into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of how soft and smooth your breasts were. “Tsk. Childe is always chattering about how pleasant these feel… damn idiot was right about one thing for once.”

His hands continued to knead and squeeze your breasts, getting rougher each second hearing your soft sighs of pleasure. “Yeah? You like that don’t you? So filthy.” His lips curled and arched into a grin, his perfect teeth showing just how amused he was at how much you were loving his touch. It gave him a confidence boost. Truth be told he’d never done anything like this either, only read about from human books or got lectured about it from Childe or La Signora. “Yes, Scaramouche… it… it feels good.” He gave a raspy laugh, narrowing his eyes as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing as you could only focus solely on the way his hands kneaded you. He took this invitation and leaned forward, his hot breath fanning over your delicate skin before sinking his teeth into you. He pushed you back against one of the walls, one hand slamming against it while his other continued to squeeze and grope. “Mmm! Wait-! Ngh…”

“No one gave you permission to talk back to your god. So hush, and be a good girl for me. Even your fragile body can do so much as that can’t it?” His voice was low and husky, his tongue slowly moving over the indentions in your flesh made by his teeth. A shiver slipped through your spine at the cool feeling of his salvia colliding with the cool air, your back arching into his greedy hands. Both his hands came and started to tear at your shirt, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in your ears that made your heart rate increase. He fumbled with the clothing that didn’t come off right away and yanked it off you, tugging and pushing your body to and from him. Once your shirt was completely off, he started to wander his eyes up and down your body, his cheeks a soft pink as his virgin eyes soaked in every bit of your untouched, pure skin. “Wow… if I had known that your body was this beautiful, I would’ve taken you for myself a long time ago. Haha, not as if I would let you go to begin with.”

“S-Scara… s-stop staring please, it’s embarrassing…” Your head turned to the side, squeezing your eyes closed trying not to focus on his hard gaze over your half-naked form. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his hands grabbing ahold of your waist tightly and leaning forward to aggressively kiss and bite your neck. “There you go again, ordering me around. Must I put you in your place the hard way?” He took a firm step forward, trapping you completely against his chest and the wall. You could only pant in response, whimpering in embarrassment as you urged your hands not to cover yourself. His head craned down, his eyes now intently staring at the gorgeous sight of your cleavage, fleshly mounds almost falling out of your bra from how they were pushed against his chest. “Let’s take this off and see the real thing, shall we?”

“O-Okay…” You pushed forward a bit, leaning into Scaramouche while his cool fingers traced up your back to find the clasps of your bra. His nimble fingers fumbled slightly, cursing under his breath trying to get the damn thing unclasped. Once he finally got the clasp undone, he pulled the back forwards, the straps adorning your shoulders becoming loose. “Shaking already? I’ve barely touched you yet.” You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until he made it known to your flushed ears. You were incredibly nervous. “There’s no need to worry so much, my dear goddess.” His hands wandered up your arms, lightly grasping the straps before pulling them down and letting your bra drop to the floor. Your hands twitched harshly upon feeling bare in front of him, the urge to cover up becoming increasingly more prominent. “Your god will take real good care of you. I’ll make sure you feel the best you ever have in your entire pathetic mortal life.”

“Y…Yes, sir.” You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks instantly flushing realizing he was staring intently at you. The deep pits of his irises lulled you in to fall deeper into the endless hole of desire and love. His eyes lowered to your bare chest, his own smooth cheeks becoming pink in surprise and embarrassment. He was starstruck. The beautiful curves and swells of your breasts were mesmerizing to him, and let’s not skip over the fact your nipples were cute and erected for him. He tested the waters of this new experience, pinching your nipple between his index and thumb, awaiting your response. A whimper fell upon his mechanical ears, his body urging him to do more for you. His fingers rolled the erect bud, causing your body to arch into his touch, a quiet moan resonating from your swollen lips. He groaned lowly at the noise. “Fuck… that’s hot. Give me more. Submit yourself to me, completely.”

His lustful actions continued, rolling and pinching your nipples while his eyes stared Intensely at your expressions, watching each and every twitch and wince of pleasure. He quickly found himself now addicted to making you feel good. Your sweet noises caused by his hands was such a turn on for him. Once he was done with your chest, he moved down to your hips, rubbing your hips soothingly before hooking his slender fingers around your panties and pants and pulled them down swiftly. A harsh shake shuddered through your body feeling more exposed before him. Of course, you’d never done anything like this before. It was all so embarrassing. For Scaramouche, it was all new and exciting. Seeing your voluptuous body on display for him, completely bare and vulnerable for him to pray on.

“You look so humiliating standing here, shaking before me. It looks as if your legs are about to give up on you.” He mused, lips curling into a sly and cocky smile watching you quiver beneath him. His dark lavender eyes trailed up and down your body, quietly admiring all your natural beauty. He couldn’t help but stare down at your nether regions, accented by tufts of swift curls. His hand came slowly, his slender fingers running over your upper thigh slowly. Your back arched in his cool touch, lip catching between your teeth trying not to cover up or run away from him. The thin digits of his hand slid across your thigh to run his finger down the middle of your folds, feeling the lewd slick that had started to gather and threaten to drip onto the floor. “It’s all wet and slippery down here. How lewd of you. Maybe I was wrong about you, maybe you are a dirty girl after all, hmm?”

“N-No… It’s… it’s because of you.” His eyes glimmered with lust hearing your confession, body involuntarily shuddering. He could feel a faint pulse in his shorts. It was at that moment he secretly thanked his creator for at least one damn thing. A dick to give you a nice, good fucking with (she really just wanted him to look as real as possible). The puppet grinned watching your shy eyes shift to meet his in a long and loving gaze, tainted with hints of lust. He leaned forward slowly not to startle you and captured your lips in an oddly soft and passionate kiss. Your body instinctively relaxed upon feeling his embrace, allowing him to slip his fingers up and inside. Your back arched into him, suddenly becoming tense and breaking the passionate kiss your lover initiated. “Ngh… f-feels weird, Scara…”

“Y-Yeah, it’s fucking tight.” His once confident voice was wavering as his finger was clenched tight by your hot gummy walls. The puppet experimented with his finger as he moved it around, feeling your cunt’s curvy walls and tight squeeze. “S-Scaramouche… Hmm.” He watched your expression closely before he added a second finger. You gave a pitiful cry of discomfort upon his second finger being added. His body shuddered, hips bucking forwards desperate to feel something, it was beginning to get painful. He used his non occupied hand and shyly placed your hand against the bulge poking out from under the metal plate that guarded his hips. The ascending god shuddered in ecstasy upon the light contact, a low growl emanating from his chest. “Touch me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

“Mmm, Scara, I-it’s so… so hard.” A quiet mewl left your lips when your hand hesitantly started to rub and squeeze against the tip of his cock. Scaramouche moaned lowly against your face, a flurry of curses leaving his lips once you got more confident with him. If you were to get confident with him why not he do the same? He started thrusting his fingers into your core, his slender digits reaching deeper and deeper with every movement. You both were moaning into each other’s face, your hot breaths adding fuel to the already out of control fire of desire. “Fuck I need this. I need you.” Your lover pulled his fingers out, admiring the lewd fluid on his digits. You gasped once his fingers left, your cunt squeezing at nothing, disappointed at the loss of his fingers. A harsh clank echoed in the red sparkling space around you as Scaramouche removed the metal plate adorning his hips. “Strip me. Use your pretty shaking fingers and take off everything.”

His word was law. You began running your fingers over his chest, carefully removing the electro symbol that usually gleamed in the light against his chest. You stripped him carefully until all that was left was his shorts. The bulge was clearly now present, showing you just how big it was. His skin was so smooth without blemish or scar or scrape. His complexion was utterly perfect. He was crafted for godly hood after all. “Well? Go on. Take ‘em off. I did tell you everything didn’t I? Or is your head to far in the clouds to even comprehend your god’s order?” You shook your head before you carefully slid down the shorts that adorning Scaramouche’s thin hips. The harsh thumping of your heart echoed within your ears meeting his erect member, standing tall and proud. Your eyes shifted up to him, blushing more seeing how red his face was too. “Scara-“

“Shut up and turn around.” He roughly turned you around and grabbed your hips, pulling your ass back against his hard erection. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth feeling the touch of his length against you. His hands wandered up your back to carefully grab your hair, pulling your head back to place kisses against your shoulder and neck. “Are you ready for the main event? To become my goddess and rule by my side? Tell me.” He pulled a little harder, his voice attempting to sound dominant and hungry but only coming out as desperate and a bit nervous. A faint affirmation left your tongue, leaving the godly puppet to hastily locate your entrance with the tip of his engorged cock. “Good girl.” The tenderness of his lip caught between his teeth once he found it, slowly pushing it in before looking up to watch your reactions.

A wince escaped onto your expression, the stretch of his length in your inexperienced hole becoming overwhelming. His eyes continued to watch you closely, his grip on your hair loosening when he dropped his hand down to your hip. He could see the way your jaw clenched, the way your eyes scrunched, and it sent a flurry of panicked thoughts through his mind. He never intended to hurt you. He had heard this was supposed to be a pleasurable act, something that would deepen your relationship and make it nearly impossible for you to leave. Even though the puppet had lived through centuries, he was still a bit naive. His hips halted, hands lightly caressing you in fear that you might pull away from him.

“Hey… If you’re in pain say so. Don’t be a stubborn brat.” You shook your head and turned to gaze lovingly into his eyes with a smile. His face bloomed in a light shade of red. “P-Please continue, Scaramouche. I want you too.” He gave you a glare, tender lips turning into a deep frown out of embarrassment of your actions. He leaned forward to kiss you again, his body urging him to seal his lustful acts with a loving kiss to solidify your bond to him. He pushed his hips up until his groin was flush against the plushness of your butt. A whine of pain came to his ears, only pushing him to please you more with his lips. The tight squeeze of your velvety walls had his mind clouded in ecstasy. The temptation to begin bucking his hips into you at a ruthless pace becoming all the more irresistible. “Scara-“

“I know. Shut up and keep kissing me.” Your lips came back to his, your mouth open to allow his tongue to mark and claim you once more. You could feel him slowly pulling his length out, making you feel empty inside before he suddenly thrust his hips back inside. A quiet cry of pain fused with pleasure echoed from your throat, your lover grunting in response to the tight squeeze around his length. Your fragile mind couldn’t choose what it wanted to focus on. The way Scaramouche’s tongue easily pulls you into him or the possessive way he begins to buck his hips to push his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy. It was all so overwhelming you couldn’t help but mindlessly moan and sigh at each thrust of his hips and flick of his tongue.

“That’s it, hah, good girl.” The praise of your god sent goosebumps down your spine, the urge to gaze into eyes while he claims you urging you to attempt to turn around. He stops you quickly and pushes your shoulder harshly to keep your face away from seeing him. “Stop moving and -ngh- just enjoy what I’m giving you, hah.” Truth was he didn’t want you to see what kind of expression he was making. His brows were furrowed, cheeks a lovely shade of pink with heavy pants coming from his swollen lips. He himself was beginning to get lost in the tender squeeze of your cunt around his cock. He had never experienced something that felt so good, he would definitely find himself getting addicted to this feeling. “P-Please -mm!- wanna see you, Scara.”

“Tsk! Fine, if it’ll stop your whining.” Before you knew it, an empty feeling engulfed you before you were spun around and shoved up against the wall by your lover. He lips met yours harshly before he sheathed himself back inside, almost knocking the air out of you at the sudden action. He ruthlessly thrust his hips against yours, lewd noises coming from below you as your sexes collided again and again. A musky smell enveloped the small space of the crimson galaxy that surrounded. The sound of your sweet moans filled the former Fatui Harbinger’s ears, spurring him to become rougher and more possessive in his actions of love making. The feeling of the mushy head of his cock kissing the entrance of your cervix sent you spiraling into the depths of lust.

“Feels good, Scara, ahhh, feels so good.” Your lover’s indigo hair brushed over your forehead as he pressed against you, his deep lavender eyes burning holes into your soul from his heated, obsessive gaze. Scaramouche sighed in bliss against your face, his indigos brows furrowing while he continued to quicken his pace. “Fuck, it feels fucking ama- ngh!- amazing! You like it don’t you? Shit… like when your god makes you good like this? Yeah? Huh? Hah, hah, answer me!” Lust dripped off every word of his sharp tongue. You could only cry a feeble ‘yes’ with a meek call of his name. The lewdly wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours increased, your walls becoming tighter around his pulsing cock. “S-Scara! Hmm! Wait! Something- Somethings coming! P-Pull out!”

“Come undone for me. Ngh, yes, yes- damnit!” His thrusts began to become sloppy and mismanaged, hot and heavy pants coming out of your sexy lover. Your hands raked down his back, clawing at his skin for something to cling onto while a tight feeling began to build in your lower abdomen. Scaramouche’s hands pressed your hips against the wall, ramming his cock as deep as he could, holding you in place. His face buried into your neck, moaning uncontrollably as he neared his sweet release. “Scara, Scaramouche, p-please! Hmm!! Can’t hold it! It’s co- Ahh!” Your warning for him was cut off by a loud moan as you felt the previous buildup of pleasure snap in your abdomen. Scaramouche felt your walls tighten around him and your climax splattering onto his groin.

“Fuck!” His head fell to your chest, letting out a loud moan before giving one firm and harsh thrust inside before he could feel his length twitching, releasing all his sticky seed inside you, overflowing to the point it started to come out of your connected sexes. You both were panting heavily, holding each other tightly as you attempted to calm down from the immense emotions and feelings you both had undergone. A wave of drowsiness washed over your form, your legs numb and heavy, eyelids becoming droopy. “S-…Scara?” The god lifted his head to gaze at your tired expression. A quiet huff slipped through his nostrils as he carefully pulled out of you, a mixture of your sinful fluids splattering to the floor. You let out a soft whine at the empty yet full feeling down there. Scaramouche held you tight, supporting you and your weak state to sit against the floor, pulling some of your clothes over to cover you up. “Tsk… look how weak you’ve become after just one round. We’ll have to change that.”

“You’ve… done this before?” The pure look of disgust on his face let you know that that was not the case. He gave you a soft glare, flicking your head at your stupid accusation. “Are you stupid? No. Reading and having to babysit Childe and listen to his bratty bantering taught me more than I cared to know… but I guess it came useful after all.” You gave a sleepy smile and a small laugh, laying your head into his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Out of all the horrible things Scaramouche has done, you knew deep down that he would never even imagine hurting you. He would always protect you. “Sorry… and I’m sorry about the things I said… I just… want what is best for you, Scaramouche. You truly do deserve the best.” There was a comfortable silence that followed your apology, your lover contemplating how he should respond.

“…you really are stupid, you know that?” He gave a frustrated and annoyed sigh and pulled you closer to his thin frame, embracing you with a flustered blush on his cheeks. A soft hum came from your place on his chest, your body slowly succumbing to your drowsiness, but not before you proclaimed your love one last time. “Thank you… Scara. I love… you…” Once Scaramouche could hear your soft breathing and faint snoring, he gave a quiet sigh and lifted his gaze up to the crimson galaxy of the mechanical mask you both were confined in. He felt like his chest was about to burst open, body on fire, lips twitching uncontrollably as he held back a gentle smile, something he wished to show you. One day… when the entire world is at his feet, and the people of Teyvat worshipped only him, he would show you that gentle side of himself. When he knew it was safe.

“I… love you too, stupid idiot.”

“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

-Scaramouche

#scaramouche x reader #scara smut #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #fatui harbingers #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #the balladeer

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