HARHAR randomly telling you how muvh he loves your little pussy and how cute it is gksdjgnsd
You’re making chocolate pancakes one day and he’s sucking the batter of your fingers as you both giggle and sneak little Hershey-flavored kisses and he stops for a second, pulling away with his eyes lulled half shut with fondness.
“I love your cunt.”
You choke on the pancake mixture, spluttering and coughing. “What?”
Harry shrugs, a small amused smile tugging his lips upwards as he sucks the sugary liquid off the cherry-patterned mixing spoon. “Just saying.”
You had been craving ice cream, and might as well go big. Three scoops, chocolate syrup, nuts, whip cream, and a small spoonful of cherries later and your sundae was done. You picked it up and turned to take it out to the living room, though you nearly ran into someone even though you thought you were alone.
“GRAH!” your boyfriend, Clint, roared, lunging into your face to scare you.You let out a shriek and dropped the sundae in surprise. You watched in horror as the bowl flipped over, ruining your dessert as it splattered on the ground.
Clint, however, laughed. “I’m so sorry, but that was a better reaction than I was expecting,” he said.
You, however, were angry. Of course, you couldn’t do anything really mean, but some petty revenge sounded great. You grabbed the can of whip cream and sprayed it at Clint, getting him in the face and chest. “That’s for making me drop my sundae,” you stated. You gave a little smile, that already made you feel better.
“Okay, I deserved that,” Clint commented. He stuck a finger in the whip cream on his face and licked it off his finger. You gave a smirk and sprayed a little more on the top of his head. “Oh, you got the hair, now that’s going too far,” he stated with a playful glare as he grabbed the chocolate syrup.
You let out a shriek and tried to dodge as he squirted chocolate syrup at you, grabbing your arm to make sure you couldn’t get away. “Ah! Clint!” You tried to fend him off by blindly squirting more whip cream at him.
Eventually, he stopped, so you did too. You stepped away from each other, looking at each other’s states of mess. He was covered with whip cream, you with chocolate, both with a bit of the other on you, and both a sticky, gross mess.
“I call first shower,” you stated instantly before heading to the bathroom. However, Clint put his whip cream-covered arm around your shoulder to walk with you.
“I have a better idea. Shower together,” he suggested.
“I like the way you think, Barton,” you stated, taking a bit of whip cream off his face with your finger and eating it.
Clint was getting the shower going as you took your clothes off. “Ugh, the syrup got everywhere,” you complained, realizing that the chocolate seeped under your clothes. “You got the better end of the deal here.”
Clint got into the shower first and you stepped in after him. You watched him rinse off the whip cream, which came off easily.
“Missed a spot,” you commented, leaning in to kiss Clint’s cheek where a spot of whip cream remained. “My turn to rinse off.”
Clint, however, smirked. “No it isn’t,” he said. “I want some chocolate first.” He took a tiny step towards you and pulled you into a kiss, before trailing kisses down your jaw to the side of your neck. Once he got to your neck, he licked off some of the chocolate, then started sucking.
You let out a contented sigh. “Was this your plan all along?” you asked.
“Since I grabbed the chocolate syrup,” Clint replied, not fully taking his mouth off your neck. He trailed his mouth lower, alternating between kissing and licking up the chocolate. “Mm, that stuff did get pretty far.” You let out a gasp when his tongue made it to your nipple. You knew the chocolate hadn’t gotten that far. Though, before you could make a snappy comment, Clint gently nibbled, cutting you off with a small moan.
Clint stood back up straight. “There’s so much chocolate, maybe I should just let you wash it off yourself,” he commented.
You knew that look. Clint liked to play dumb, but he was a lot smarter than he looked. And he knew just how he was playing you. But two can play that game.
“Gladly,” you replied with a smirk of your own. You traded places with Clint, letting the water rinse the chocolate off your body. But you couldn’t just leave it at that. You ran your hands slowly over your skin to help the chocolate along, bending over to make sure your legs were clean, doing what you could to taunt Clint with your form.
“Fine, you win,” Clint stated, interrupting your show by pulling you into his muscled chest and giving you a kiss.
You felt his erection pushing into you, and wrapped a leg around him to pull him even more into you. Clint brought one hand down to guide his member into you, and you let out a soft moan.
“Well, really I win too, because who wouldn’t want shower sex?” Clint commented.
“Just shut up and fuck me,” you whispered before pulling Clint back into a kiss. He started moving carefully in and out, getting a feel for the area before picking up his speed.
The trees that had once been in such close proximity to you now slowly faded away as the train began to move along the tracks. The wind proceeded to move the trees from one direction to another, the countryside expanding further and further as your eyes ventured across the rich landscape of farmland. The train station and the train itself with its tracks seemed to be the only objects made by man, while the curves of the hills and the flowers blooming across the grass were made by the hands of mother nature herself.
You found it gratifying to be away from the stress of the city, the shouts of people along the streets. You felt the remnants of your stress culminate within your stomach. You had suffered social anxiety for as long as your brain permitted you to remember - today had been one of the days where you had felt constricted within a meeting that morning. You had called your boyfriend, Loki, to tell him of your imminent panic attack, to which he left a small cafe he had near inhabited as you attended such meetings. You had calmed, thankfully, away from the array of faces and proximity of work colleagues to be alone with the most recognisable and comforting of all faces.