bubblegum brat.
❝such a dumb little thing. only thinking with your pussy❞
pairing; yuta x (f) reader
genre/warnings; smut… profanity, sexy business yuta, oral (m) receiving (aka face-fucking), allusions of masochism/sadism, mentions of gum, cum eating, crying from pleasure/frustration, edging (lots of it), reader calls yuta daddy once and yuta loves calling reader a brat (duh)
summary; y/n is bored. why not bother yuta? what y/n didn’t know was that the pink bubblegum she chewed would end up in the trash and her on yuta’s lap.
word count; 1.8k (a Record…!)
authors note; my first long drabble / one-shot in a while. i promised you all something and i hope this makes up for me not being active as much anymore. forgive me angels. hope you enjoy it, please let me know if you do!!!
YUTA HATES BRATS.
at least that's what he wants to believe. because even as much as he says he does, yuta still keeps up with you.
there's something so arousing about him putting you back in your place that makes you go a little dumb. you'd purposely go into his office while he's working and he'd look so sexy on the phone, manspreading and twirling that pen of his. eyebrows furrowed and his jacket disregarded which only left him in a plain white shirt and slacks. yuta is sexy, and he knew it. what he didn't know was that you had made a plan in that little brain of yours to get his attention. yuta surely wouldn’t call it thinking with your brain but instead thinking with your slutty cunt. and sure, he was busy, but you've been alone for so long, misbehaving was the least of your worries.
entering his office as quietly as you could, just sitting on his couch and staring. not affected by your starting, yuta offers a pretty smile and goes back on the phone. then you go on to sighing and tapping your feet, which yuta only gives u a look and tells you to quiet down. frustrated, you left the room, making him believe you had walked out of the office for good, leaving him confused until you came back with nothing more than pink bubble gum in your mouth. yuta knew what you were doing the second you stepped into his office again. he debated holding off his call and putting you in your place or giving you the benefit of the doubt. he chose the latter.
yuta was clearly wrong for doing so since it seemed like your mouth was capable of something else other than talking back and sucking his cock. you start blowing bubbles, and seeing yuta stare at you with such intense irritation, gave you the chills as heat pooled where you needed him most. since he was still on the phone, he managed to call you over with just two of his fingers.
although excited and shameless at first, you started to feel a sense of regret, knowing how harsh yuta can truly get when you don't abide by his rules. he points for you to kneel in front of him as you reach his desk. you follow mindlessly, finding nothing more than satisfaction in seeing him pay attention to you, even if he was angry. yuta still converses with whoever was on the other line. he extends his hands, creating a cupping motion under your chin, expecting you to drop the gum from your mouth onto the palm of his hand. when he doesn't feel any movement, yuta looks back down, rage glosses his eyes, and disbelief at your unrelenting brattiness.
"i'll call you back," yuta exclaims shortly with a huff to the other line. you don't hear him utter another word, not to you or whoever he was calling. yuta only squishes your cheeks together, creating a pout on your face and mouth slightly widened. even if he doesn't say it, you know what he’s waiting for, the pink gum to drop out. but instead of submitting and spitting it out, you close your eyes and whine, trying to make him let go of your cheeks.
“spit it out, you fucking brat.” yuta doesn’t let his hands leave your face. the grip becoming rougher and making your mouth widen. the tighter his grip got and the angrier his features his face started to form, and your heat trembled in want, making you rub your thighs together.
you know you’re pushing him and stretching his limits, it's what you want. you want him to put you in your place, for him to mark you up and make you feel good in places yuta only gets to feel and touch. yuta couldn’t find you any dumber. although he was amused that you let the act go for so long, he’s surprised you think he’ll give in so quickly. he knew you were acting like a brat just to get his attention and make him see red.
he doesn’t give up. instead of smushing your cheeks together, he lets them go and pinches your nose with his thumb and forefinger. shocked, you stare at him, seeing a smirk on his face. yuta knew you weren’t expecting him to get the upper hand. due to the lack of oxygen, you opened your mouth slightly. but even with the smallest movement, yuta takes the chance to bring his other hand in your mouth and take the gum out.
“you’re not so smart, are you baby? such a dumb little thing, only thinking with your pussy, hm?” yuta sneers, bending down to your face, getting at your level. you don’t even see him throw away the pink gum, instead focusing on the heat settling on your lower abdomen, your body perking in excitement from his rough hands gripping the base of your neck and pulling your hair. tilting your head back, your eyes find themselves at the back of your head.
the slightest touch from his hands could make you shiver in need and yearn for him more deeply than before. yuta knows. a man with power in his hands to destroy you, he would know, he has to. yuta doesn’t even need to say it, unzipping his trousers with the hand that is not gripping your hair. your mouth salivates with the idea of having him in your mouth. your senses becoming aware of what's to come as yuta shimmies down his undergarments just briefly to pull out his cock.
yuta is known not to show much emotion even if he was in the most stressful situations. which is why you shouldn’t be so shocked to see him be as turned on as you are. his cock in your line of vision, almost erect with his arousal tempting to drip down his shaft. unconsciously, a whine releases from your throat notifying the man sitting in front of you how desperate you were for him.
“i know baby, i know. you want me to use that pretty mouth of yours, right?” yuta mocks you. although your knees started to hurt and your neck hurt at the angle he has you, you nod. you want to be his pretty whore. “please daddy, jus’ want your cock please,” you whine out, already widening your mouth to be filled up by him. yuta is nothing short of pleased. he doesn’t take much time debating if you deserve it, he knows he’ll punish you sooner than later.
he takes no time filling up your mouth. although you’ve taken him a number of times, his girth and size always seem to amaze you. his tip finds its way through your mouth, suffocating you in the best way possible. eyes tearing up at your gagging and the lack of oxygen. albeit painful, there’s a pleasure to see yuta throw his head back, groan at the way your tongue touched him in the right places, and see him lose control, lifting his hips up into your mouth while gripping your head. he loved face-fucking you, and you couldn’t complain.
his hips seemed to fasten up their pace, groans becoming more recurring as the grip on your hair tightens. usually, yuta was a man of extending pleasure and making you cum first. it shouldn’t have surprised you when he released in your mouth with a long and extended groan of your name. waves of heat and pleasure simmer into your pussy at the sight. you needed him, and you needed him now.
with a sigh, yuta moves your mouth off his cock and demands you to “swallow it all.” unable to fight back against his demand, you do as he said, even showing off your cum-free mouth to show him how good you are. you seem to think he forgot the stunt you pulled a few moments ago, rejoicing at the fact that he starts manhandling you up onto his lap and your upper half on his desk. lifting up the skirt you had on, finding you panty-less and dripping. yuta growls at the sight of your pussy that yearns for his touch. you moan at his subtle touches, whining when you understand he’s purposefully not touching your clit. instead, he delicately goes around your mound, spreading the wetness. you couldn’t take it anymore, surprising yuta with your quick ability to lean forward, wrap your arms around his neck, and kiss him.
he would have never admitted it to your face, but he loved the way your mouth tastes like the pink bubblegum he forcefully took out of your mouth. but he couldn’t let this brat act of yours go for any longer. his pointer and middle finger found their way onto your clit, purposefully circling the nerve harshly making you detach from his mouth to emit whines. he kept going until your legs started shaking, your back arching, and your moans started getting louder and higher-pitched.
your mind started getting fuzzy, body preparing to cum at any moment. until it didn’t. at the sudden stop, you open your eyes to see yuta staring intensely at you with anger, amusement, and lust brimming his eyes. without muttering a word, he starts up again, even thrusting his fingers in your weeping hole just slightly enough to feel something but not get off on. this time, instead of stopping his movements, you feel a harsh slap on your pussy. yuta finds it amusing at the way you let out a gasp of shock, pain, and pleasure. it ruins your orgasm but it feels too good to tell yuta to stop.
and it goes on just like this. yuta teetering the line between bringing you pleasure and diminishing the pleasure with pain. you can’t count the number of times yuta does it, all you can do is whine, scream, and become wetter at the releases you almost have. “please,” you whisper, eyes watering at the pleasure you're gaining from the pain. you don’t have to say another word because yuta understands you, he understands you too well. “no.” he finalizes, shaking his head in amusement as tears bring your eyes at the lack of release on your part.
yuta is the only man who has brought you this much pleasure without cumming. the only person who can destroy you with just his fingers and words, with his stare that makes you weak in the knees. who makes you pliant and yearn for his touch in a second. yuta can break you into pieces and kiss you right after to fix you. a lover who always teetered on pain and pleasure.
his fingers started back up again, plunging into your hole. you shake your head and gargle a whine out of your throat at the fact that you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t done with your punishment. yuta smiles at your state. bringing his mouth closer to yours, a few centimeters away from kissing you, he whispers.
“that’s what you get for being a brat.”
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Coming October 31st…
When the Trouble Comes by nonsensedarling
Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 80k | Explicit
Official fic post is HERE.
The Queens Trafficking case is the biggest one of Louis’ FBI career so far; eleven reported missing girls all disappeared under a similar set of circumstances. Louis has done everything he can to try and solve this case over the last nine months... while also absolutely ruining his marriage.
Harry has been co-host of Banter at Breakfast for five years now and finally has the opportunity to create his own radio show with the network. Unfortunately, it comes at a time where Harry's thoughts are consumed with his impending divorce from his (caring, loving, infuriatingly thoughtful) husband of eight years.
Harry and Louis have both been willing to lose themselves in their work… but are they willing to lose each other?
Or a story of (almost) exes-to-lovers.
Chapters will post on Tuesdays of each week, starting on October 31st (20 chapters in total).
(If you would like to be notified by email when it starts posting, you can subscribe here.)
Snippet under the cut:
💼🍷
With a copy of the case file in his backpack, Louis sticks his key in the door, unlocks it, and steps inside, trying to be as quiet as he can because he knows at this time of night, Harry will definitely be asleep.
Except when he shuts the door, he sees the living room light bleeding out into the hallway, a shadow moving back and forth. There’s the sound of footsteps – lots of them, very quickly. Louis stares at the light and for a brief moment panics that he’s walked into their apartment to find Harry with someone else.
He hears light murmurs. Louis leans forward, feet frozen but his ears straining, until he recognizes the murmurs as Harry singing. Louis sighs in relief. Harry isn’t with someone else. He’s singing and probably dancing in the living room, maybe with his headphones in, which is why he hasn’t stopped or popped his head out between the doorframe when Louis opened the door.
Louis isn’t going to look in. He’s going to walk right past the doorway and head straight to the guest bedroom and review the file again, and then go to sleep so he can meet Perrie early in the morning.
He isn’t going to look in.
He really doesn’t mean to look in. A motion pulls his attention in his peripheral vision and his head turns without him realizing it, then his whole body stops moving.
Harry is dancing, wireless earbuds in and a glass of deep red wine in his right hand. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, which tells Louis that the one in his hand is at least his third. He’s wearing just his boxer briefs and one of Louis’ hoodies.
Well, it was technically Harry’s hoodie originally. It’s heather grey, worn in to just the perfect amount of softness with a faded Greenbay Packers logo on the front. The first time Louis stayed over at Harry’s, he got cold just before they were going to bed. Harry took the sweatshirt from where it was draped over the top of the closet door and passed it to him.
When Louis pulled it on… he can’t really explain it, but there, in Harry’s dreadfully small room in his four-roommate apartment, wearing a hoodie that smelled exactly like him (like he’d been wearing it all day, soaked in the scent of his shampoo and body lotion and fabric softener)... Louis had the same feeling he got when he first visited New York when he was a kid. Like he was home. Harry had agreed. “Looks better on you then it ever has on me,” he’d said with a smirk. And from then on, it was Louis’ hoodie. Harry never tried to take it back.
So the fact that his husband is wearing it now makes Louis feel all sorts of things. Before he has even a second to figure out what any one of them is, Harry opens his eyes.
“Shit fucking Christ,” he exclaims, opening his hand automatically. It’s like Louis watches in slow motion as the glass falls and breaks, shattering in so many different directions. He pulls his earbuds out quickly. “Hell, Louis, you scared the shit out of me!” he scolds.
Harry rises up onto his tiptoes, and Louis’ hand immediately goes out in front of him in a stop gesture.
“Don’t, don’t move,” Louis says. “Stay there.”
He turns quickly towards the kitchen, throwing his backpack somewhere off to the side as he rushes to grab the dustpan and broom, as well as the roll of paper towels.
“I’m coming, stay still,” Louis shouts as he starts jogging back.
He keeps his eyes on the ground as he puts one paper towel down to soak up the wine there, then balls it up so he can sweep away the shards. He does the same as he works his way towards Harry’s feet.
There’s red wine all over his toes, that’s got to be uncomfortable. Louis grabs one of the paper towels and goes to dab his feet to wipe it off.
“Stop,” Harry says. He sounds angry.
Louis glances up and sees that he looks angry. He holds his hands up in a surrendering motion, not wanting to upset him anymore.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Well don’t,” Harry spits out.
He stands up slowly. Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Harry this angry with him. Even the time Louis accidentally threw out his favorite pair of boots it wasn’t like this. Louis isn’t prepared for this bitterness coming from his husband, and he didn’t think divorce brought on something like that when it wasn’t there before, at least not before they’d even filed the paperwork.
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