Spanksters part 2 (Patreon)

Things are a lil hot hot hot  

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ii.

Harry wishes that he could have taken her home after lunch, for the sake of both of them. 

Because Y/N couldn’t not be a brat if she was paid once she’s started. If she got into the swing of being snappy, pouting at him, grumbling words beneath her breath, and just doing everything in her power not to listen to him -- then she continued on until he could see to it she was punished. For him, because he felt guilty in some aspects that his whiny little thing wanted attention and he hadn’t been able to give it to her. Whenever he wanted her to pet on him, or to be cuddled, or to even be taken care of in ways more intimate than that -- she almost always immediately yielded to him, if it were within her power. If she were studying, she would make room on the couch for him to lie between her legs and card her fingers through his hair as she flipped through her cards. Really, if he wanted to snuggle at any point, she would make room to snuggle, and if she were cooking when he wanted her, if he whined enough she’d turn off the stove and they’d order in.

Yet when she wanted him, they had things to do, and while she can normally step back and accept that they’ll just have to wait until they’re home -- some days, she’s softer than others. Some days when he says no, it feels like a rejection and she gets bratty because she doesn’t like admitting that it hurts a little. 

But she wants the punishment -- dare he say, sometimes she loves the punishment. Revels in the heat of it. . .the soothing release. . .and the aftercare that follows shortly thereafter. The snuggles that come are even Harry’s favorite as well, the way she snuggles into his throat, and he can feel her breathing his scent in deep. She clings to him like he’s all she needs, and bringing her back from her floaty state to one where she’s comfortable, satiated, and calm. All the worry that had plagued her had sputtered out like a fire on wet branches. 

After the lunch, Y/N resorted back to her grumbly, disgruntled ways with a pout on her mouth and a deep furrow in her brow. He wanted to go to a new boutique that had opened up to pick up a new pair of boots that he’d seen passing the window a few weeks ago, Y/N was convinced this was a useless trip, and at first she had insisted that she would remain in the car until he was finished. Harry wouldn’t have it, which made her huff and roll her eyes, but before she could get out of the car he looped his fingers around her wrist, his grip tight. 

“If you don’t watch yourself, I’ll take you over my knee right here and spank your ass so sore you won’t be able to sit on it without a bloody pillow, you hear me?” 

Y/N had rolled her eyes in response, and Harry made good on his word. He moved quickly and Y/N goes with him easily. He’d never been more grateful for his dark tinted windows, as he slid his arm beneath her armpit and gave her a good tug, bending her over the console so she raised her up just enough that her bum was showing. Harry reached out swiftly, swatted her bum with the flat of his palm in such a firm way that even her hand stung. 

She gasped, such a pretty soft noise that sounded so incredibly innocent and gentle coming out of her mouth. He releases her armpit but she stays leaning into him, her chin tucked over her shoulder, snuggling a little against him, “Sorry,” she grumbled lowly, “M’sorry --” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he all but grits through his teeth, “Not one fucking bit. Now you either start being my good fucking girl again, or I spank you again, harder, and with the windows open so everyone can hear how terrible you’re being.” 

Y/N shakes her head, “I’ll be good -- promise, I’ll be good, Daddy.”

That tears Harry from the moment rather abruptly -- the name leaving her mouth so easily. She doesn’t call him that unless she is in the depths of her head. . .warped into a special space that he had only been privy to for a little while. And to get her out of that headspace is particularly hard when they’re at home, with time and space and no other people around. 

But she had never fallen into her subspace in public before, and Harry wasn’t sure how to draw her out of it right now. Because when he guides her to draw backward, away from his body, and he gets a clear look at her face he sees how far gone she really looks. Then he almost immediately feels guilty for swatting her, pressing the few strands of hair from her face, and stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb, “Oh, Love,” he sighs, “Are you floaty?” 

She nods her head sadly, “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, pushing into the cradle of his palm, “I started to this morning, n’I thought. . .I thought maybe if I could have you in the car, I’d be fine for the rest of the day.” 

Harry feels like crap for brushing her off, and even worse for punishing her when she was already feeling like this -- he should have known. Should have been able to tell from that glassy look in her eyes all day, and how easily she had given up before when he had called her an eager brat at lunch. Normally she puts up much more of a fight, protesting his calling her a brat for at least several hours until she finally admits it, and that’s after he’d spanked her sore and edged her to the brink about three times. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, continuing to stroke her cheek with the careful pad of his thumb, “M’g’na park us somewhere, alright, and I’ll take care of you -- tide you over until we can get home, okay?” He checks his watch, seeing that they have a little under an hour until he has another meeting. 

She nods, “Okay, Daddy,” she murmurs and his heart aches in his chest. 

So that’s what Harry does, pulling out of their parking space and he scouts the area for any probable areas they could go unbothered. Anywhere, really, his windows were perfect in that reflecting mirror aspect but any suspicious rocking or noises could possibly give them a one way ticket to a public indecency charge. He keeps his hand on her thigh, letting his fingers dig into the flesh to keep her at least a little satiated. Touch can work wonders with her, he found long ago, and the amount she enjoys just being held onto is enough to make the stoniest man swoon. 

Harry finds one of those parks that have no playground -- a space reserved for picnics, morning joggers, and those one in a while Shakespeare in the Park production. None of the usual hustle and bustle was apparent today considering the less than subtable weather with clouds swollen with rain, a threatening storm bubbling beneath the surface that was due later that night. Which means they would at least be partially alone, apart from a few other cars parked there and the people he can see distantly playing a game of muddy, rain football but that only made them being parked there not suspicious. 

He retracts his seat the farthest it will go and pops his buckle, coaxing her over the middle console and she follows easily. Harry scoots back, repositioning them as well as he could in their position, one of his hands tucked beneath her knee as he pulled her closer to him. “Alright,” he begins, dragging the crotch of the soft shorts she had adorned to find that she hadn’t bothered with panties, “Fuck sake,” he murmured, and doesn’t bother with teasing her in anyway. The pad of his thumb finds her clit, far more swollen than he would have imagined having barely any thing to gear her up for it. 

Harry lulled her clit under his thumb, feeling as it flicked and moved, and her legs tensed and flexed as if they had anywhere to go. The soft little squawky sound that leaves her as her hips bucked against him, her face finds his throat, her lips tickling against the skin, “Thank you,” she sighs, “Are you g’na fuck me?” 

“Lemme just get you off with my fingers, yeah? Take care of you all nice like this, then we’ll go to this meeting, we’ll stop by the store and get some new fluffy socks and stuff for apple crumble, yeah? Have proper nice night in while it storms, and all stuff you so full you’ll feel me for days after. S’that sound good?”

He prides himself in how well he knows her, because there’s not even conflict that crosses her face before she’s nodding her head and melting back into him. Harry moves his finger diligently, listening to the soft panting of her gasps from her mouth into his ear. The noises that fill the car are those little squelches that make his cock twitch, growing hard, the pressure building, pressing into the zip of his trousers uncomfortably. He would give anything to push himself inside of her, envelope himself in the all encompassing warmth. Harry likes to make himself wait for the both of them, so that when he finally sinks inside of her, it’s toe curling for the both of them. Like a drink of water when you wake up in the morning post-nightmare. 

Y/N is so quickly unraveling, even faster when he sinks a single finger inside of her, stroking against her soaked walls, finding the soft little bump inside of her. He pokes and prods, tempting her orgasm from her and feeling her thighs tremble. A smile drags at the corner of his lips, a small chuckle leaving him when she starts grinding down against him. He only needed a finger to make her come undone and that was so invigorating, if he had the chance to do more than just a quick romp, he would take her in the backseat and give her a proper fucking. Give her everything that she wanted and more. 

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, feeling her begin to pulsate around his finger, “You want my cock, don’t you baby doll?” He cooes at her, his thumb still lolling the swollen bud as she drenches his finger, her juices running down to his knuckles, “Want me to push it so deep inside you that you feel me in your tummy?” 

Y/N nods, whining helplessly, “Please.” 

“When we get home, baby,” he tells her, “Once we’re home, you can have anything you want, yeah? At least after I make this little bum sore.” 

Her hips give an urgent roll into him, stuttering some when he starts moving his thumb back and forth opposed to the slow circles he had been, “But --” 

“You know better than to keep you feeling floaty a secret, Love, you should’ve told me.” 

She shudders, her fingernails digging into his shoulder and he wonders if feeling the muscles move beneath the skin is pushing her further, “I know, m’sorry,” she whined, “Can I cum?”

Harry hums, nodding his head, “Go ahead, Sweetheart.” 

Y/N does. She comes undone so pretty for him, a short cry out that he muffles by slipping his fingers loosely into her mouth. Clenching and pulsating waves around his finger, soaking him down his knuckles and he attempts to be mindful of getting her release on his pants. Which proves to be incredibly difficult when she’s bucking and pushing down, like she wants his whole hand inside of her or she’s trying to get closer to the bulge in his pants. 

He manages to preserve, spare a small drop that had stained the light washed denim. Harry keeps his fingers going until she’s twitching away from him, all too sensitive to take the onslaught of his fingers any longer. It makes him giggle as he withdraws his fingers and slides it into his mouth. Her taste as always been heady yet sweet and it only makes him want to stuff his face between her thighs -- he figures he’ll do it just as soon as they get home, pressed against the wall near the door and holding one of her thighs on his shoulder. 

Harry wipes away the imagery in attempt to save face, not break down and fuck her in the car. 

Instead, he helps re-situate her, pecking kisses on her mouth and all over her face, until she’s weakly shoving him away and laughing, “Get off,” she laughs, wriggling to get off his lap, but he had his arms looped around her, holding her close. 

“Are you okay?” He asks her, “Think we can work you out of your space until we’re done for today?” 

She nods, leaning forward and brushing their noses together, “Yeah, think so.” 

“Good,” he signs, pecking another kiss to her mouth, “‘cos you know how I feel about bad girls.”