KINKTOBER WEEK 3: FINGER SUCKING (ft. Chefrry!!) (Patreon)

HIIIIIIII :D HEHEHE THEY MADE A SURPRISE RETURN FOR THIS ONE!

When i think finger sucking I think chefrry so this only felt right!! I don't know if you maybe read my comment under the post saying I would be double posting tonight, but I'll say it here too!! I want to switch the tentacle blurbie to next week! So I'm going to swap it with spanking, and swap one of next week's original blurbs to the fifth week!!

OKAYYYYYY!! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!! LOVE YOU!!!

(2.4k+ words)

i.

Y/N doesn’t feel silly when she sucks on Harry’s fingers. 

She thinks, maybe she should – it’s never like she’s doing it in a necessarily hot way, despite Harry getting hard every time she does it. From the first time, when she’d licked and suckled the pad of his thumb clean of chocolate icing, she’d not been very sexy, at least in her opinion. Y/N thinks that’s what Harry likes about it though – that she’s messy and needy, desperate for it, like a puppy licking your fingers clean of something sticky and sugary sweet. Y/N had theorized a while ago that Harry must have special skin cells that make everything he touches and cooks taste a thousand times better than what anyone else could do, no matter if they followed the recipe to a T. 

And she still believes that. Like, Y/N hasn’t sucked on a lot of fingers at all, but there’s something about Harry’s that just. . .hits different. She doesn’t know if it’s because they are attached to him or what. 

The thing is, Harry had been gone for a week – he had some fancy conference in France with some of the best chefs in the world, and as badly as Y/N would have liked to go, Adam was going to. And since Adam was going, that meant their two lead chefs wouldn’t be in town, which meant that the kitchen was sort of leadership-less and would run amok. Especially if Y/N and Niall left too. 

So they stayed back. They did not take to the leadership roles, so much as they just enacted what Harry and Adam would’ve prepped for the week anyway. Y/N thinks that they did have some grandiose idea that they would be running the kitchen like the Navy, but really, some of the older chefs took the reins while Y/N and Niall just let them know what was on the menus. 

Y/N hadn’t realized just how needy she’d become, though, until Harry wasn’t close by. It’s not like she spends every single night with him (most nights, though, honestly – one of them was usually at the other’s flat, and while Harry’s flat was nicer, he called hers “cozy and cute,” so they spent a lot of time there), but knowing that she couldn’t just call him if she was feeling lonely and he couldn’t show up within ten minutes is sort of bumming her out. It doesn’t help that he’s gone during her luteal phase either, so she’s convinced herself she’s unlovable and that he was probably being enraptured by some French beauty while she rotted away in her bed all evening long. At least until she was forced from her flat to actually work. 

There is solace in cooking; she feels most at ease when she’s at work, despite how whiny she is before she gets there. Still, even with that, she misses Harry lording and looming over the kitchen. She can’t remember the last time he wasn’t there at the same time as her. God, when had she become so clingy? Is he slipping love potions into her food or something? 

And because he isn’t an idiot, Harry clocks it on night two. When he video-called her once he’s back at the hotel, she only let him see the corner of her face because she felt ugly and bloated, and she checked her app only to find out she was still 7 days out from her period. Which was just cruel and unjustified, seriously, and she was in a worse mood because of it. This is when she wants Harry around her the most, to cook her sweets and leave his hand warm and big on her lower belly, soothing any bloat or cramp that could torment her. But he’s in France, living it up with Adam, the lucky duck. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted her that night, then swiftly added, “Why am I only seeing the corner of your face? Show me all of it.”

Y/N made an indignant noise in her throat, “No,” she answered, “I look ugly right now, so you aren’t allowed to see. Tell me how your trip is? Are you eating anything good?” 

“I’m eating very delicious things,” he murmured, “But the sight of my very pretty girl would be even more delicious.” 

“You’re corny,” Y/N’s smile threatened to split her cheeks, and she popped her face onto the screen anyway. “Alright, but when you have nightmares after seeing me, that’s your fault.” 

Harry clicked his tongue, “Shhhh,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I’m not there for this part of your cycle, puppy, but the good news is I’ll be back by the time you actually start.” 

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Wait, how did you – do you keep track of my period?” 

“I have an app,” he told her, “But I don’t need it. You get grumpy and start talking down on yourself, and you like one of my hands on your belly and the other one in your mouth.” 

She was feeling very seen right then, which is both invigorating and completely embarrassing. Was she really that habitual in her actions, he could tell? Alternatively, he cared enough to note changes in her behavior because he pays attention to her – very close attention to her. It made her feel all squirmy and loved, and also made her mouth feel criminally empty. Y/N does suck on his fingers quite a bit in general, but she guessed it did happen more leading up to her period, for whatever weird reason. Some of it is for comfort, and some of it is because she’s horny, but they all get so mixed up in her head that she doesn’t bother figuring out which reason she’s doing it. If Harry gets hard, then they’ll fuck about it; if he doesn’t, then she’s content just taking him down to the knuckle and holding him there. It’s like cock warming, but he can spoon her while she does it, which is a plus. 

Y/N sighed, “Ugh, okay, yeah. But I don’t want to talk about that; I want you to tell me about your trip.” 

So, yeah, once it’s brought up, it really is all Y/N can think about. Her mouth feels too empty all the time now, no matter how much gum she chews, how many mints she eats, how many lollipops she keeps tucked between her gum and cheek. She even started putting her own fingers in her mouth, which just isn’t the same at all (and she sends Harry a picture when he’d asked what she was doing, only to be called immediately with him having stowed away in the bathroom wherever he was, “My poor puppy,” he cooed, “I should’ve left you chew toys.”) 

By the time Harry comes home, she feels ridiculously needy. He came earlier than anticipated, around 6 AM, because they rescheduled his flight. So Y/N wakes up that morning, groggy and thinking she’s hallucinating when she smells food and hears someone in her kitchen. Then, when she’s more lucid, she’s almost certain that someone had broken into her flat and started using her kitchen and food to cook. They stole her fucking cat too; she’s quick to learn, because Y/N doesn’t feel a warm ball of fur tucked against her back like she usually is. She’s confused and a little pissed, until she hears the low hum Hardy does sometimes when he cooks at home. It's soft and sweet, and had she not crept to her door to see if there were any clues to who it might be, she wouldn’t have heard it.

Y/N has some manners, surprisingly enough. While she does attack him with a back hug that he chuckles and returns with a warm, soft embrace — she doesn’t immediately beg for his fingers in her mouth. She has some decorum, at least, to wait a little while. Over breakfast, she pokes his brain about the conference, makes him show her pictures of the food and tell her recipes and techniques that he learned, discussed, or practiced. Harry doesn’t really like conferences like these, because he really isn’t big on socializing, and he claimed the population at these events is ‘rich smarmy fucks who lack taste in more ways than one’. Still, he makes the effort to attend for the love of cooking alone, and a lot of the speakers and event organizers are typically well-renowned chefs.  

Harry tells her everything, and Y/N is practically in his lap while they eat. She does drag herself away (almost unwillingly) to shower and brush her teeth, and she gets like three steps into her skincare routine before she decides she’d been good enough for long enough. Once Y/N gets out of the shower, she finds Harry on the sofa. He leans up against the arm of the couch, back resting on a pillow, with a hand resting behind his head and the other resting on his chest. He’s watching the telly, and it’s a view she missed so horribly that she is just about beside herself. 

So she crawls into his lap. Harry accommodates her readily and without fuss, spreading his legs for her to snuggle her hips in between before she sprawls on top of him. He turns to look at her, smiling softly, and he must know immediately why she’s over there and what she needs, because he picks up the hand from his chest and presents 2 fingers to her mouth. Y/N parts her lips, taking them against her tongue, and sighs softly. Yeah, yeah, yeah – this is good. She missed this; she missed him so much. 

“There’s my girl,” he hums, stroking her tongue for a moment before just letting her suck on them. “I missed my puppy, hm? Missed her hot little mouth.” 

Y/N groans around his fingers, readjusting so that she is pressed closer to his cock. He wasn’t hard when she’d sat down, but Harry was quickly filling in his briefs. She never for a second believed that he’d been fucking around on her, but it does help that he’s as responsive to her touch as she is to his. Someone who’d just spent a week in France with a lover probably wouldn’t have a cock get hard so fast. But Y/N takes his fingers down to the knuckle, lulling her tongue around the skin, letting her eyes flutter closed as she shudders with delight. 

Harry strokes her hair behind her ear tenderly before his hand slides down and grabs her thigh, tugging at it softly so that she can maneuver and start to straddle him a little better. “You missed me?” He inquires, though he knows the answer, as Y/N scrambles to readjust, lowering to the hard bump of his cock. 

“Yes, so much,” she muffled around his fingers, the words distorted, but he understood. Y/N rolled her hips, letting the swollen bump of her clit rub against him. The arousal that curled in her belly was hot and tight – she hadn’t touched herself while he was gone. Not that he really told her that was something that she couldn’t do; it was just more of a self-imposed rule that she liked to follow. Sex with him already feels really good, so it’s even better when she was all worked up, untouched and needy for days and days of want with no actual relief. And, for whatever reason, Y/N is always really horny just before her period. Whatever goes on with her hormones always has her chomping at the bit to get her hands down her pants. 

And he has picked up on this. Even when she feels her ugliest, she’s always her horniest (second to when she’s ovulating), and he always makes her feel so pretty still. No matter how dull her skin looks, or how dry or greasy her hair is, Harry looks and touches her like he can’t get enough. Which is no different now. Despite him only having one hand to work with, he lets his free one dance from her hips, up her ribcage, over her tits, and he maneuvers his neck so that he can suck over her shirt, biting lightly at her breast. They’re tender and sore, but it still makes her tremble all over. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, nuzzling against her sternum, “Missed my puppy, missed my girl.” 

Y/N moans around his fingers, feeling heavy in her mouth. Harry lets his ring finger hook around her bottom row of teeth and pulls them down, opening up her jaw for him. He peers inside like he’s just looking around, watching as her tongue wraps and licks at the skin, the salty taste sweetened by whatever syrup he made that morning and the jam he’d smeared over her toast. It’s hard to keep her eyes open, though she wants to look at him. She missed his face, and how soft it gets when they’re alone. She likes that only she gets to see this side of him and wants to milk every moment of it. 

She gets messy; it’s hard not to, when she can barely remember to swallow her spit. It’s even harder to swallow when he’s got her mouth hung open. Harry laughs, thumbs away the drool, and then leans into her messy mouth and presses a kiss to the corner of it. “Can you cum like this?” He inquires as her hips speed up, “Can you, you messy little puppy?” 

She can – Harry knows she can, because she’s cum for him before for less, but it’s how he asks that makes her warm all over. Like she’s just a dumb little thing, silly thoughts in her silly puppy brain; condescending and soft, his words patronizing, but his tone honeyed and sweet. Her answer is the stutter of her hips, jerking to these aborted, jumpy thrusts as her orgasm spills over her. It was a quick one, since she didn’t have much time to build it, but it was no less intense, rattling through her. The sounds leaving her throat are embarrassing, probably, but she can’t even think about that right now. Not when Harry is shushing her, nuzzling at her cheek, pressing kisses to the side of her face. 

His fingers fall away from her mouth, and he drags them over his shirt to dry them. 

“Hmm, let’s have a nice, sleepy day at home,” he murmurs, “Does that sound good?” 

Y/N, who is still catching her breath, grins from where she’d slumped into his body. 

“Please.”