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cherryjuiceblues · 2 months

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𝐘/𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒

➯ A VANILLA LIME EXTRA. ✰ demon!harry valentine’s day fluff. sexual content. mild degradation. mocking and teasing. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 3.4k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N blinks in a way that she can only assume demonstrates befuddlement. She turns around half-expecting Harry to shove something less than pleasant in her direction. Flick her nose or smack her arse. But he stands rather sheepishly before her, hand hidden behind his back and a hint of a redness spattered around his cheeks despite the harsh line of his mouth.

She frowns, “What’s this? What did you say?”

“It’s February 14th,” he states, surveying Y/N as if to make sure she reacts in a way that doesn’t catch him off guard. When she raises his eyebrows, silently expectant that he explain himself, Harry presents the object behind his back. He’d procured it only minutes before.

“It’s—”

“—a bouquet.”

Y/N bites her lip to curb a teasing smile—although she feels the pleasant warmth filling her chest unreservedly—stopping herself from saying I can see that. “Starting to like these human holidays, huh?” reaching for the flowers without hesitation, quick to melt in front of him contrary to the front she likes to display.

He plays dumb. “Holiday? Is a holiday obligatory to be able to give your girlfriend flowers?” He slings a cocky arm around her shoulder, now that his offering has been met with obvious tenderness, and presses a kiss into the side of her head. “Something about this Valentine’s made me want to celebrate it… can’t think what.”

A giddy giggle bubbles from Y/N’s throat, “Okay, softie,” she smiles, only slightly startled by the realisation that— “I didn’t get you anything,” looking up at him with apologetic eyes widened in adoration.

“Oh, well I’ll have these back then.” Harry’s paws hardly have to uncurl to make space for the stems, blindly reaching from over the curve of her shoulder.

“Ah! No!” Y/N shrieks, pulling them away from his thieving fingers. Her body is no match for the strength of his but she tries her hardest. “They’re mine now, you can’t have them back.”

“I could kill them,” his eyes darken around the edges as he threatens to curl the edges of the petals and turn them a sorry wilted colour.

“You wouldn’t dare.” And she’s right. No, he wouldn’t.

Their morning is no different to any other—aside from the blooming petals decorating Y/N’s kitchen table, and she’s certain Harry keeps leaving new flowers inside the vase. She’s half worried she’ll blink for a moment and her entire bedroom will be filled with an assortment of foliage; she’d be able to open a garden centre from the comfort of her own home.

Harry has seemed a little softer lately but Y/N would never say anything—worried he might amp up the bullying in an embarrassed retaliation. It’s not as if she doesn’t love the way he plays with her, but it is undeniable that seeing her demon becoming sappy and fuzzy around the edges makes her heart all mushy just the same.

It makes her think back to a different time—when she pretended to hate the way he made her feel, and Harry relished in the grumpy outbursts he elicited. It’s why when he asks her, “Is there anything you want to do today?” that Y/N thinks—yes, yes there is.

“Can we— I was wondering…” It’s not scary to ask but…

A smile tugs at the corner of the demon’s lips, “Mhm…”

Only through fear of embarrassment does she stutter, “Would you like to… I don’t know— I was just kind of thinking it might be nice to go and see the cottage.”

Harry tilts his head for a moment, like a patiently awaiting dog that’s heard their owner ask them if they want a treat. And once it registers, he doesn’t react the way Y/N expects. He frowns, trips over his own words like he’s sure he’s misheard her. “Are you— Really?”

“What? Is that bad?”

“It’s just�� well, no. I’d have thought that place would haunt your nightmares or something.”

Oh. That’s… that’s unexpectedly thoughtful and overwhelmingly distressing all at once. “You really think that?” Did he? Was it a regular worry of his? Does he look back upon a moment in time that Y/N cherishes but see it through glasses tinted with the overcast of a grey sky.

“I don’t know… maybe.”

Y/N’s eyebrows dip slightly—sadly, “Oh, Harry—”

He cuts her off before those pitiful eyes pierce through the skin over his chest, “—Okay, Bambi.”

But she’s determined now—to make new memories and relive old ones. “I love that little cottage. Can we go back? Only if you want to.”

“Of course, I want to. I want what you want.”

The saccharine timbre of his voice soaks into the flesh of her cheeks—warm and buzzing—and it’s hard not to bite her lip as she starts to get excited. “So we can go?”

Harry smooths a palm over the top of her head, mussing the hair there just so he can watch her fix it, mumbling out a soft, “Yeah, we can go, sweetheart.”

It’s like nothing has changed.

Y/N and Harry appear at the doorstep and it’s as if the cottage has been sealed inside a bubble—unaffected by the hands of time. She supposes it is entirely possible that time does move differently here; it is glistening with magic after all.

She can see the ghost of herself storming off, tripping over a rogue root and being cushioned by the wrap of Harry’s body. She can see the side of the cottage peeking out, its pathway yearning for footfalls, the lake rippling underneath the canopy of the magical willow tree and the memory of their first kiss emanates a glow. A sense of calm washes over her—her home away from home—a part of herself connected to this place in the same way she is to Harry.

As soon as her counterpart opens the door, Y/N is barging her way inside, desperate to see that everything on the interior is just the same as the exterior. It’s like falling headfirst into a memory, and once she’s given a head start, her feet carry her away in a rushed and giddy sprint. Harry doesn’t use any magic, he follows her slowly, lets her run whilst he calmly walks, and still makes it to the bedroom only a few seconds after she’s arrived.

He watches with an amused smile as Y/N jumps onto the bed, Harry’s bed—the one he’d slept in when they’d stayed here all that time ago. Watches as she inhales less than subtly and nuzzles her face into the sheets when she happily finds that they still smell of him. He watches but not for long because his automatic reaction is to gravitate towards her, climb up onto the end of the bed and flatten his body out on top of hers.

She lets out a girlish grunt from the weight, squawking in a pitchy cacophony, “Urgh! Heavy.”

A mere grumble is all she is returned with—full of fake disdain as he lets his limbs relax—“Don’t hurt my feelings.”

“No, no, ‘m not. Heavy and strong. Big and strong.”

They can feel each other’s ribs expanding with each breath; Y/N’s lagging some with the weight but not enough to warrant disrupting the sudden peace.

“Good.”

A silence falls upon them, only occasionally interrupted by inane thoughts spoken aloud. Y/N thinks she can somehow push herself further into the mattress when she sighs out, “Love this bed.”

And Harry, sleepy but not quite as much as her—demonstrated so brazenly as he quirks a smile into Y/N’s hair. “Yeah? Love the way I fucked you in it.”

There’s something so dry and cut-throat about the way drowsiness makes her sound, “You didn’t even stick it in.”

Admonished, Harry snorts, “Stick it in? Where is your decorum, Bambi? We should change that, hm?”

“Later,” she sighs, indeed melting further into the bed with a dreamy noise.

Harry kisses her cheek, shifting his weight off of her so that he can tug her body into his side instead. “Y’tired?”

“A little. I wanted to do something though.”

“What’s that?”

“S’ a surprise,” words slurring—tangling together in the haze of her dwindling consciousness.

They sleep for a while—thirty minutes, an hour, maybe—Y/N loses track of the time in this place but it’s never been less of a problem. Everything is the way it is meant to be when they’re here. And when the pair uncurl from around one another Y/N mewls in delight as the memory of their destination washes over her once more. It fuels her with bubbling energy, body twitching to burn it off but Harry doesn’t release her waist the way she hopes for—his sleepy brain unguarded in its blatant likeness to someone’s old, grumpy cat that hisses in distaste if ever awoken.

Y/N tries to slip out from beneath his ironclad grasp but she’s met with a grumble, low like the distant hum of an engine. “Let me out.” It’s a meek request—not the most persuasive she’s ever sounded in her life—almost as if… perhaps… she doesn’t really want to leave the warmth of Harry’s body and the smell of his soft clothes.

“Stop talking.”

“Come to the kitchen with me.” Her voice whispers like they’re not the only two people to be existing for miles upon miles.

And that’s how she lures him into baking an attempt at coquettishly shaped cookies—hearts (that Harry is less than impressed with, “Not even your heart is shaped like that, Bambi.”) and bows, flowers and bunnies—with a palette of pinks to smother their tops in. Y/N is so delighted in her mischief, watching Harry like a hawk to gauge his miffed reactions, although deep down, both of them are aware of a level of playful annoyance. Their penchant for getting on each other’s nerves only fuels the gears of their affections for one another.

“I could just… y’know, give you some cookies—we don’t need to go through the whole process.”

Y/N thinks he’s just grumpy for the sake of it—grumpy and old. Like a cat. “That defeats the whole point, Harry. It’s fun! Aren’t you having fun with me?” She widens her eyes, purposefully big to tug on those demonic heartstrings of his.

He only frowns, nose crinkling ever so slightly to indicate he sees right through her. But whether he does or not never makes much of a difference. “Yeah, no. Of course. Of course, I’m having fun,” he raps his knuckles on the table impatiently, “I love…” drumming out an annoying rhythm, “...spending my finite time on this planet waiting for tiny, wee biscuits to bake that’ll take me five seconds to inhale.”

He thinks it’s funny because he’s immortal. Y/N doesn’t laugh. “You’re such an old fart, oh my god.”

Harry hums, unperturbed by the slight mockery she makes of him as he slinks his arms around her middle and mumbles into her neck, “A certain little human lady is teaching me bad habits.”

“What does Mr. Impatient want to do whilst we wait?”

“I can think of something…” fingers teasing at the bottom of her soft cotton t-shirt, slender digits dancing along the line of skin he discovers.

“Of course you can,” she rolls her eyes to herself, trying to dampen the smile that dictates the shape of her mouth. “That’s for later, Harry.”

“Huh?” She’s inclined to believe that he’s drunk on her already—from a brush against her midriff. His warm body presses against her back and Y/N is nearly convinced to lean into his embrace and encourage his hands to explore across her front.

“You can’t seduce me.”

“Think that’s what I’m doing right now.”

“I won’t let these cookies burn because of you.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere—you can keep an eye on them the whole time… I don’t need to take your clothes off to make you cum.”

He nearly gets her. So very nearly. Made obvious by the lag in her reply and the catch of her breath that only someone like Harry could possibly hear. But Y/N wins for now, painfully stubborn as she pushes her head back to lean on his shoulder whilst simultaneously denying him. “No, you can wait.”

Harry makes sure she pays for her questionable prioritisation.

“You made me wait. Now it’s your turn, isn’t it?” His lips curve upwards into a satisfied grin as he undresses her—after a gently firm shove to push her to the bed—cruel to do as such whilst he promises not to touch her. “Oh? What’s this? Got all dressed up for me, did you?”

“No,” she grumbles. “S’for my other boyfriend.” The white lace shudders against her ribs as Y/N exhales shortly; the air punched from her lungs as Harry traces the pads of his fingertips along each bump. She resists squirming.

“Mm, that is such a shame. He won’t get to see it,” Harry juts his bottom lip out in a condescending pout. “But seeing as I’m here to admire… let’s make a few changes, shall we?” Y/N has no time to agree or disagree—to even ponder upon the question for a moment before the colour of her skimpy lingerie transforms before her eyes.

Angelic white swirls into midnight black, blossoming from the centre of her chest and swirling outwards to swallow all traces of innocence. Y/N lets out an astonished gasp—never quite expectant of Harry’s free use of magic. It seems her innately human vessel will never grasp the ease in which he procures objects, feelings—moods and senses alike.

“I liked the white,” she huffs, unable to appropriately convey her frustrations when she knows, really, that nothing Harry does is irreversible. Everything is impermanent when you can wield magic. Well… nearly everything.

“Something darker… is a little more fitting, don’t you think?”

Y/N didn’t assume that this Valentine’s would necessarily end in a passionate romp between her and Harry—she knows that the holiday is sort of an excuse for partners to have sex but… they’ve never needed one before. However, had it been playing on her mind, she’s not sure she would’ve had edging on the cards for this romantic date.

No one is to blame but Y/N for being so careless in her thought process—because it’s Harry. And Harry is cruel—cruel yet sentimental in the strangest of ways.

“You remember what happened in this bed, don’t you, Bambi?”

Yes. Yes, she remembers all too well. How could a person ever possibly forget such a night? He tortured her. It was blissful delirium.

She’d tried to beg, she really had, hoping that maybe a surrender may win him over but—no matter how much his sharp edges have become smooth curves—he is still a demon, and the prospect of squeezing tears from the corners of her eyes was too much to surpass.

That was nearly an hour ago, and Y/N is at her breaking point.

“Listen. Listen to me. Hands—” he shoves them roughly above her head, “—up.” Y/N doesn’t want to listen to him. Harry has been all lewd strokes and overexaggerated groans for at least fifteen minutes… his fingers coated in the remnants of her arousal—and her resolve is weak. She wants to touch him; caress the ruddy head that beads with precum, that slicks down his shaft and makes him shine. Her mouth waters for it and her arms struggle to stretch out. “Yeah—yeah, keep trying, keep trying baby. You’re so fucking crazy for it. Such a desperate little thing, hm?”

Frustration bubbles in her throat, sliced in half by a whimper—pathetic and needy. “Not again, don’t do this again, Harry.” Her cunt pulsates, the gusset of her newly dyed panties soaked through. He hasn’t even ghosted a breath over her warmth. She throbs with the memory of the first time he’d done this—made her cum with a few thuds and glides against her clit. He would be evil to do that again.

Harry twists his wrist on every stroke, humming out a feigned agreement, “Okay, alright. What should I do instead?” Y/N knows it matters little what she says, but she doesn’t even part her lips before he continues squeezing himself to the sound of his own voice.

“You want me to touch that pretty pussy, do you?” Y/N nods anyway—despite everything. Harry pouts, “Oh, why’s that? S’all achy?”

“Please, Harry,” her words topple out in a sigh. She doesn’t want to whine, she wants to hold out and appear completely unaffected by everything that he does but— “Please?”

“My girl’s all helpless f’me. Helpless and wet, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” she’s reduced to a whisper as Harry leans down, crowding her space with his broad body. The promise of his silky skin hangs above her, imprisoned in the palm of his hand. Her eyes trail down his front unashamedly, silently wanting.

He smothers her lips with his own and they taste like sugar. Sugary sweet from the cookies he’d moaned lavishly over; only half a performance, the other half satisfied to have waited for them to bake after all.

But now, Harry doesn’t think of confectionery—not in any sort of edible form anyway. Or in the traditional sense, at least. Right now, Harry licks all the flavour from Y/N’s mouth. He’s messy and he’s unhurried, sliding a palm up to curl around her patiently awaiting hands—locked up in her own embrace above her head. Their digits entwine with one another and all lingering thoughts, had there been any to begin with, just drift away.

Y/N barely registers the rip between her thighs as Harry tears at the seams of her underwear without even a hitch of his motions. Her gasp is delayed—only permitted when the demon pulls back an inch to allow her a short inhale—and then all she can do is whine into his mouth as the familiar teasing pressure buds at her entrance.

It’s unlike Harry not to draw out every drag and watch the sensitivity wash over Y/N’s face. It’s unlike him but Y/N can’t say she dislikes the snap of his hips against hers and the force in which his body nudges her up the bed. Sounds are forced from her lungs like angry fists to a punching bag, eyes wide open and tied to the magnetism of Harry’s own—a mirror image of two mouths dropped open in dumb pleasure.

“Cum around me,” he pants through short shuffles to frame his forearms on either side of her head as he cups the top of her scalp in an overwhelming desire to carry the weight of her. “Cum around me, baby. Let me feel you.”

And it’s hardly a chore. Not when her insides were already tightening, teetering on the edge as if waiting for those words of permission, his blessing, his yearning. Eyes roll back and knees jerk, souls reach out to wisp and curl around one another if just for a second, as Y/N pulls Harry along with her and over the edge.

They’re a harmony of ecstasy, a single soul comprised of two vessels—as their blood rushes through their veins and thrums underneath the surface of their warm skin. Harry settles on top of her, nestled snugly inside like there could never possibly be another option. They won’t be finished for the evening; that goes without saying.

He fusses over individual strands of her hair, smoothing them down and silently ridiculing the sweat that misplaced them. Y/N breaths quietly beneath him, eyelids fluttering closed in an unmistakable image of a happy fatigue. She speaks in sleepy murmurs, lips heavy to move but she tries her best. “You know you don’t have to celebrate human holidays just for me, right?”

Harry’s hum vibrates through her chest, “I know… but I heard a rumour that they’re not so bad,” he dips down to her ear, making her squeal and tilt her head to try and hide in her neck, “if it means seeing you so happy.”

”You’re such a romantic,” it’s meant to be teasing but as she forces her eyes open, they practically cast out holographic hearts. Y/N won’t admit it but, she’s always wished to redefine Valentine’s day—to spend it with someone who actually matters, who won’t make her resent each year that it comes around, to celebrate each other with tried and true simplicity.

She thinks they’d meet in another life—without all the magic—her and Harry. It’s a feeling so strong when she looks into his eyes, a feeling that makes it feel possible to will things into existence just by dreaming about them hard enough.

And Harry always seems to understand, as if he might be doing the same, as he dips down to whisper into her parted lips, “I spent a long time yearning for a companion like you, my little love. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#harry styles #vanilla lime #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #writing #demonrry #demon!harry

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spitinsideme · 1 month

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GOD DAMN WHY DID YOU PUT DEMON POMNI IN THAT OUTFIT MOVE OVER RAGATHA GOD SAID ITS MY TURN WITH THE DEMON

thirsting for demon POMNI ?? yoire so real for that to be fair that shirt is hot love shpukdrrs and long gloves ... i feel like demon pomni desrrves to show off her nife looking back so she gets a new shirt (made with love by nun ragaytha for totally not unholy reasons)

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whatrobotsneed · 6 months

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From a monster with “I”

Shitoo

You can trust Hana to redraw vocaloid mvs with wh demons every time a song even remotely reminds me of them

#witchs heart #lime witchs heart #shitoo after making like 5 songs i associate with wh demons #whnoc #i keep noticing things weong with this dont look for more than 3 seconds

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fattylime · 8 months

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this piece is taking me ages to finish but here's some little details i'm proud of :') the little added bits of texture i do usually gets blurred bc of quality issues but i enjoy adding them anyways

#i haven't posted a personal piece that was fully rendered in agesss #the fixation demons got me #it's part 1 of a series i may never finish who knows #u can tell who it is whoops he's my favorite currently #kinda #i love all of them #lime made art #illustration #digital art #procreate #digital illustration

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xuzuitengenx · 11 months

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Sub!Giyuu Tomioka x Top!Male Reader NSFW Oneshot (Wattpad)

Title: "Pleasure"

Genre—NSFW

AU—Modern AU

Warning(s): EXPLICIT WORDS, OOC, Thigh Riding, Praising

Y/N was sitting in his office desk doing work. Y/N's husband, Giyuu was on Y/N's thigh, slowly grinding on Y/N's thigh as soft whimpers and gasps left his mouth.

Y/N had one of his hands on Giyuu's waist, helping him ride his thigh to pleasure him more. Feeling Giyuu's erected cock rubbing against him.

Giyuu gripped on his husband's dress shirt, wrinkling it as his quiet lewd noises became more louder.

"You're doing so good, baby~" Y/N whispered in his ear, earning a soft moan from the blue-hair man.

Giyuu wasn't really a vocal one in bed but his lewd sounds was still hot and a turn on.

Looking away from his work, Y/N saw Giyuu's face was flushed red as his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly opened while letting out pants and whimpers.

Y/N smirked at this lewd sight as he kissed and nibbled on Giyuu's ear.

"H-hah~ Y/N~" He let out softly, his grinding picking up to relieve his aching cock. His whimpers turning into moans.

"You are so hot~" Y/N says, moving the hair that was sticking on Giyuu's forehead, getting a better view on his face.

"A-ah~ I-I'm gonna~" Giyuu moans, making his pace going faster as his moans became more frequent.

"Go ahead, love. Cum." Y/N allowed softly. Giyuu let out a quick but loud moan before trembling on Y/N as a wet patch was forming on his pants.

Resting his head against Y/N's shoulder, taking a quick break. Y/N kisses his head, saying things like "You did so good" and "you did a great job".

Giyuu loved the small praises he received from Y/N, it makes him happy that he could even get this much praises from someone even not during sex.

"C'mon, let's go clean up, love." Y/N says as he gripped both of Giyuu's trembling thicc thighs to pick him up swiftly as he got up from his chair to go to the bathroom.

"I love you!"

"I love you too, Y/N.."

#dom male reader #male reader #mature #seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #demon slayer x male reader #demon slayer #giyuu x male reader #giyu tomioka #tomioka giyu x reader #giyuu tomioka #lime #wattpad #smut

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fallofthecelestial · 7 months

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#cookie run #cookie run icons #cookie run ovenbreak #crob #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #cookie run kingdom icons #demon's matching icons #game icons #lime cookie #hydrangea cookie #dr wasabi cookie #okchun cookie #aloe cookie #kiwi cookie #licorice cookie #dark enchantress cookie #herb cookie #pastel aesthetic

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xxcatzladyxx · 9 months

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Kyojuro Rengoku x Reader | Lime/ Lemon (idk 😅) +18

Hello everyone! ^^

Here is the announced oneshot with Kyojuro! I'm still not sure whether to call it a Lemon or a Lime. And please bear with me! Lemon or Limes are not among my strengths. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is late at night. The flame pillar, Kyojuro, is returning from a mission and is on his way to the Rengoku estate. He is happy like a little child to finally see you again after a long time. He enters the mansion quietly like a cat, knowing that his father, his younger brother and you will be asleep long ago. As quietly as possible, he pushes open the door to his bedroom and looks around for you. As expected, you are already in bed and in a deep sleep. You lie sideways in bed, hugging a pillow. Kyojuro laughs softly at the sight of you and changes his clothes. Carefully, he lifts the covers and lowers himself onto the bed. He turns to you, pulls you into a tight and warm hug, and blows a kiss on your hair.

"(y/n)!"

"..."

"(y/n)!"

"Hm..?"

"(y/n), I didn't want to wake you up. I just wanted to tell you that I'm back."

"Mhm."

"I love you too, my wife!"

Yes, you have read correctly. You are married to the flame pillar. For a few months now. And he knows that you can be a bit grumpy when you're roused from your slumber. So he doesn't take it too badly that you're rather semi looking forward to his return at the moment.

That doesn't bother him in the least. He knows that you love him above everything else. And he loves you as well. Kyojuro pulls you even closer to him and cuddles up to you. His warmth lets you fall back into your beloved sleep. But instead of going to sleep too, he starts to cover your neck with kisses. The young man has other plans for this night. And sleep is not included. He is now nibbling on your neck and kissing you right behind your ear. You let out a barely audible moan. A grin creeps onto Kyojuro's face. That's a good sign, isn't it? He kisses his way down your neck to your shoulders.

"Hm, Kyojuro, it's good to have you back...Now lie down and sleep."

He looks at you, puzzled. He didn't expect this reaction. But he will not throw his plan overboard. Giving up is out of the question. He does not let himself be dissuaded. He kisses your neck even more passionately and this time his hands go down your sides and further over your legs. Slowly it dawns on you in your half-sleep what your husband is after. Through his caresses and kisses you are already a little excited. However, you would never want to admit that in your life. Therefore you do not repel him and let him do it for the time being. When Kyojuro comes back from a mission, he is always so keen on you. In all likelihood, he just wants to relax. And nothing relaxes him as much as sex with you, his beloved wife.

You turn around in the embrace. You breathe in Kyojuro's scent and snuggle into the crook of his neck. Your gaze wanders to his chest. To his muscular chest. His yukata stands open a bit, letting much of his upper body show. For you probably a little too much. Your cheeks turn slightly red. As if by itself, your hand goes to his chest and gently strokes it. Gently over his well healed scars, which you trace one by one with so much love. You are watched closely with a big smile.

"Well, do you like what you see?"

Shy as a deer in the headlights, you look up at him and want to pull your hand away from him. He, however, keeps it with him. With his other hand, he takes your chin and holds it up. He comes closer to you millimeter by millimeter. He lightly brushes your lips with his and grins at you overjoyed. With a loving look he closes his eyes and kisses you tenderly on the mouth. You literally flow away and give yourself completely to the kiss. Without your noticing, your yukata is opened and brushed off your shoulders. You are pushed onto the bed, Kyojuro above you.

"You are beautiful!"

He gives you one last kiss and spreads light kisses from your mouth to your breasts. When you finally notice that your upper body is exposed, you want to hide. A laugh rings out.

"Who do you want to hide from, my beauty? I have seen your beautiful body so many times."

He whispers in your ear, which makes you wince. Again he laughs. Your reaction is just too cute. He turns his attention back to your breasts. He caresses them gently and squeezes them a tiny bit every now and then, which makes you groan. He looks up at you. He loves your moans. It could be even louder for his taste. Not taking his eyes off you, he lets his tongue glide over your breasts. You bite your lower lip.

To distract yourself, you strip Kyojuro of his yukata. You look at his aroused manhood and bite your lip harder. How no one man just be so sexy. To drive you out of your mind like that.

"I want you, (y/n)!"

You get even redder, if it's even possible. And how more erotic pronouncing your name. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine. You let out a random moan. Even your yukata makes the bend, leaving you completely naked under your husband. His hands run over your legs. From the outsides to the insides. Piece by piece further upwards. They are spread and reveal your femininity to him. Very carefully, he runs a finger over them. You wince. It feels far too good. You are so distracted by the caresses that you don't notice how Kyojuro gets between your legs and his tongue starts licking you. Your moans motivate him to continue. And he really stops only when you reach your orgasm and your love juice covers his mouth.

"Yummy!", with these words he sits up again.

You punish him with a nasty look. He pays no attention and bends over you again. His pelvis presses against yours and his manhood touches you clearly down below. This time he also has to groan. And louder than you! He rubs himself against you again and again and moans loudly. You hit him on the arm to reduce his volume. However, the column of flame doesn't mind. He hardly feels it and continues with his actions.

After a while he wants to penetrate you. When he is completely inside you, he has to groan quite loudly. You bit your hand so that you are at least quiet. After all, you're not alone in the mansion. And speak of the devil. Just as the two of you are about to get into it with each other, the door is ripped off its hinges and the head of the Rengokus, Kyojuro's father, stands in the doorway looking at you with a not-so-friendly look. His beloved sake in his hand. You blush like a tomato and would like to disappear into thin air. His father, of all people.

"Be quiet if you're going to fuck each other. I have a headache!"

As quickly as he came, he is gone again. You hide your face, heated with shame, behind your hands. Oh no, how embarrassing! Kyojuro just laughs at the situation again. You scowl at him behind your eyes. Can this man be serious for once? Embarrassed, you continue with the sex. Until-

"(y/n)-chan?? Are you all right?" you hear a boy's voice call out worriedly.

Your head darts to the door. Please, not another one to catch you. When the little boy realizes what's actually going on here, he stands transfixed at the door, not moving a single muscle. He is disturbed for the rest of his life, you think to yourself.

"Haha, no, no, all is well, my dear! Go back to bed and go back to sleep. Good night, sweetie."

Laughing nervously, you scratch behind your head, hoping to calm the youngest Rengoku. Still perplexed, he goes back to his room. Your nerves are getting the better of you. What was going on today? Does anyone else want to see what you two are doing here?

Starting a third attempt, Kyojuro finally wants to move inside you. He manages it, too, but it remains with the first one for the time being. Suddenly, the window is torn open. A certain former shinobi is sitting on the windowsill. A certain grin graces his lips. A grin, which you would like to slap out of his face.

"Tengen!!! What the hell?" you call out in anger and search for an object to throw at the sound pillar. But in vain.

He laughs out loud.

"I didn't want to disturb you. Have a nice evening with the two lovebirds!", he is ready to jump out of the window, but without giving you a dirty grin and winking at you insinuatingly, he doesn't leave the location.

You drop onto the bed, exhausted. Today is really the worm in it. And Tengen his wink looked to you like he would have loved to join in. The guy is married three times. What's wrong with him? He should please his three wives and not stalk you, the pervert!

You push Kyojuro away from you. You've had enough for this night. Who else would show up if you kept going. Even though you didn't feel like it anymore. For today you give up. Well, for now anyway.

"I need some real relaxation now. Come on, let's go to an onsen."

You get dressed again. Feeling the ambiguous look in your back. You shake your head. He really doesn't let himself be swayed, does he? For him, being caught by his father and brother first probably wasn't bad either. No, even his best friend burst into the room. Why the hell did you marry him?

"Forget it, dear. No more sex for today."

~*~

The hot water of the onsen relaxes your stressed muscles in seconds and makes you forget all the hustle and bustle of just now. You're still a little aroused. And the sexy look Kyojuro gives you doesn't make it any better. One of these looks is enough to make you weak again. You fall into his arms. You actually only want to cuddle. Where the emphasis is on actually. His muscular body brings you back to lewd thoughts. And then he kisses your neck again. This guy!

He pulls you very close to him, that not even a leaf fits between you. His excitement can be felt again.

"I want you, Kyojuro!"

"Haha, I thought that was it for you today."

,,Hm, yes, actually it is, but I can't resist you."

With a throaty laugh, he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his hips and once again he penetrates you. This time you are not interrupted once, even though the two of you are anything but quiet. It does pay off that this onsen belongs to an older couple. Although the worry that you'll be caught again doesn't leave you completely. With a loud moan on both sides, you come to orgasm at the same time.

After you finally recover, you leave the onsen and return home.

"I hope no one overheard what we were doing there! You were pretty loud, my dear!"

"I wasn't the only one!"

"Baka!"

With this word you punch him in the arm. He just laughs at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and the Lemon or Lime or whatever wasn't too terrible. 😅 Again, a spoiler: The next oneshot will be a Lemon with Tengen. This time it really is a Lemon. I'm 100% sure of that. I'll take any and all requests.

See you next time!

Your Wolfi ❤️

#demon slayer #reader #kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #lemon #lime #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #flame pillar #x reader

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i-cloudyink-i · 6 months

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LEMONTOBER DAY 29: LEMON DEMON / LIME ANGEL DEVIL

Thanks for my totally rad friend who gave me the idea to draw Lime Devil instead of Lime Angel lawl

#lemon demon #lemontober #lemontober 2023 #art #lime devil

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ace-entity · 1 year

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B-Sides monster 😳

#fnf #fnf b sides #fnf b side #friday night funkin b sides #friday night funkin b side #monster #lemon demon #fnf lemon demon #fnf monster #friday night funkin lemon demon #friday night funkin monster #lime demon #B side monster #B side lemon demon #digital art

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jplupineislost · 1 month

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[Mar 19, 2024] My buddy shared a t-shirt on discord and I had a mighty need to slap it onto my sona because I can

vvv Real shirt under the cut vvv

#oc #sona #demon #shape-shifter #monster #exophilia #monster kink #monster lover #monster fucker #flat color #half body #lime #jplupine art

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jellqybird · 19 days

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Lemon demon songs that need more attention ! Pt 2

Wanted to add some more songs based off these suggestions from the reblogs :) thank you btw!

geeks in love

2. party on the moon

3. pepper and salt

4. toy food

5. new way out

6. atomic copper claw

7. telekinesis

youtube

8. wrong

9. behold the future (one of my favorite LD songs thank you for reminding me of it again)

10. fly straight or drop the oar and wreck

11. there's a robot in my head

12. your evil shadow has a cup of tea

youtube

13. creepy

youtube

14 . everyday french

youtube

Thank you for suggesting !! these are a lot more underrated honestly, do suggest listening. Thanks to @posessedmp3player and @floodfun26 for suggesting more songs !

#lemon demon #view monster #hip to the javabean #live from the haunted candle shop #clown circus #damn skippy #underrated songs #actually underrated this time #i've heard geeks in love before it's rlly good actually #suggestions #neil cicierega #adhd music continued #lime angel #SoundCloud #Youtube

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cherryjuiceblues · 8 months

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𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄… 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒

➯ A VANILLA LIME EXTRA. ✰ demon!harry sexual content. use of an aphrodisiac in a pre-established relationship. cum play. mentions of anal. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 4k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Harry normally considers himself to be quite an intelligent individual. He’s old, he’s wise, and not a human—which makes him infinitely smarter for reasons invalid.

But maybe he occasionally has lapses of judgement.

And maybe one of these occasional lapses of judgement include finding a tome of ancient magic—disguised as an ordinary novel from the 1800s sitting on the shelf of a recently deceased witch—and having his first thought be to test it out. Because he was old, and wise, and not a human so… what could go wrong?

He sits at his desk, cluttered with years of collected trinkets, and grins to himself—mischievous and meddlesome—when he comes across a spell that reads:

An Aphrodisiac for the Ages — Fast Enacting Sex Enhancer

And he’s cocky about it, because well, Harry’s good at wielding magic; he’s never had any problems. So it doesn’t register as it should that he’s attempting ancient magic and that results won’t occur with just a wave of his hand. It won’t be as simple as looking at that wonky photo frame and fixing it with a gentle curve of his finger in the air, or—as Harry snorts to himself imagining it—picturing his dick hardening and then feeling it happen soon after.

He’s impatient though, and a man. His mind is running with all sorts of images of himself and Y/N performing debauched acts and the possibility of their emotions surpassing the already sure euphoria they both experience together. Which is why Harry is somewhat sceptical. Surely it can’t get any better? Surely he was already as satisfied as he could ever be.

So maybe he skips a few steps—in haste or in ignorance, Harry would never conclude—or maybe he pronounces a few syllables incorrectly or twirls his fingers the opposite directions in which the instructions desire.

But whatever he does, he does it wrong.

At first, when Harry feels his cock plumping up without any of his own assistance, he feels a little smug. That the spell has worked and that he’ll be able to stroll into his bedroom, all cocky, and pin Y/N down ready to blow her mind. And being completely hard is always a bit uncomfortable, even more so when the natural build-up is taken away, but when Harry overtakes the sensation he’s used to and the skin of his cock tightens just that bit further, his heart jumps in his chest.

It immediately hurts. Like I need this to stop now hurts. But there’s pleasure somewhere there, and it is undeniably more intense than he’s ever known before. But he can’t relish in it. Because his dick is throbbing, and his skin is heating up, and his rationality is fleeing faster than the speed of light because Harry is panicking.

He presses a palm to the outside of his sweatpants, hissing and pulling away when it doesn’t immediately relieve the pressure. But then he squeezes—because he has to do something—and precome blurts from the head, smearing all over the inside of his sweats because, as Harry finds comfort in the most, he hadn’t worn underwear.

It builds up so fast, Harry doesn’t even realise. And it’s intense, sure, but it doesn’t feel like any orgasm he’s had before—it’s so much but it’s also so weak because he’s hardly touched himself and his brain is very much addled—but it’s barrelling towards him and he only has to squeeze himself once, twice more, and then he’s coming in his sweatpants like he’s just discovered masturbation for the first time.

Whimpers tumble out of his mouth, surprised but undeniably desperate, as his cock stays painfully hard inside his sweats. His come soaks into the material humiliatingly but Harry can only watch with ravenous want as his insides coil.

“I hope you were thinking about me,” Y/N suddenly says from the doorway of Harry’s office, peering in and spotting his flushed face and large palm squeezing over his wet bulge.

Harry doesn’t jump. He never does. But he’s not sure he had heard her movements like he normally can. His ears aren’t exactly tuned in to the world around him.

“Bambi,” he breathes, rushing to tear his shirt over his head, “I’m so hot,” and then his hand returns to his dick, hips lifting into the touch. More sounds fall out of his mouth—mewls and whines and… not Harry. It has Y/N’s stomach fluttering.

He is usually so… so composed. So stoic. Features displaying apathy despite his heart pounding inside his chest. Which is why Y/N cycles through so many emotions in such a short period of time. Surprise, and then worry, and then excitement… and then power. Power to treat Harry the way he always treats her. To give him a taste of his own denying medicine.

Flashbacks cloud her mind of their time spent at the cottage. When he’d threatened to let her only watch as he stroked languid touches over where Y/N should’ve been. It had been an empty threat, of course—Harry had caved quicker than even she could’ve hoped for—but it was still cruel of him. And Y/N wanted to be cruel too.

She wanted to. But then the power she feels coalesces with such an intense need to take care of him. Murky and glaring at the same time. To soothe the anguished lines of his face, the sweat beading at his forehead, and the hardness still confined by fabric that has Harry practically writhing in his seat.

Harry doesn’t writhe. And it feels wrong. It feels unsafe, and unpredictable. Harry is always in control of every situation; Y/N can’t possibly stand there and not make him feel better. Their souls are connected after all, and her heart is racing with his pain.

“Come here,” Harry grunts, desk chair rolling back to encourage Y/N. She stops in front of him, eyes darting around his dishevelled state. “Touch me.”

Normally she’d never have to be told twice. But he looks almost… sick. “Are you sure you want me to—”

“Yes! I want you to, I need you to. I need you, Bambi,” Harry pants, and then he swallows. “Please. It— It hurts, baby.”

And she was in the palm of his hand. Even now. How could she not be? When miles of his flushing skin are coaxing her in, and the rapid rising of his chest is bordering on hyperventilation. Y/N couldn’t possibly play with him. Her eyes start to sting just staring at him. Another time she’d fantasise about playing his role but… not now.

“Y/N.” His eyes are black, voice deep. A contrast from his whining only a moment ago. “Please.”

It’s messy, the sight that greets Y/N as she kneels—surprising despite the obviously sodden grey. Poor Harry looks as though he’s holding his breath as she peels his sweatpants down. And she does have to peel, because they’re excessively wet. Wetter than is humanly possible. And she watches as his thick mushroom tip dribbles a near constant stream of precome, that she suspects could be an ongoing orgasm. One not strong enough to provide any pleasure—only fuel the harsh throbbing and the aggressive red shade of his cock. He smears all over his tummy and Y/N bites her bottom lip at the sight. The skin is so taut, rubbing against his abs as he quivers with shaky pants.

She inhales—gasps, really—battling the warmth that's spreading throughout her body with feelings of conflicted concern. “Are you— are you coming?”

Harry’s breath tremors as he shakes his head, “No. But I’m going t—” the mere feel of his hard abdomen is enough to push him further over the edge.

Y/N reaches forward, latching around him in a desperate attempt to quell something. He makes a noise she’s never heard before. It’s high and strangled. Followed by whimper clawing out of his mouth. She can’t help the noise of her own that escapes around him, eyes darting up to see Harry’s pinched brows and clenched eyes, slick lips hanging open.

And he’s filling her mouth. Really filling her mouth. Ropes of come paint her tongue, and Harry shoots his hand out to grab hers in a vulnerable plea for contact—grounding—as his hips push up and his stomach tenses. His voice trails off, whines turning to desperate rumblings of inadvertent noise.

Y/N feels as though she’s entered an alternate universe—one of begging, and whining, and Harry’s submission. She swallows everything, which is a feat in itself considering that Harry has never had so much to release in his life. But when she keeps suckling (as she usually does until Harry pulls her off by her hair with a dopey smile and a taunting remark) he doesn’t flinch away in sensitivity—nor does he threaten something punishing if she doesn’t stop.

No, Harry does something even more unexpected. He starts crying. Tears, fat and fast, start falling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks in unprecedented streams. His chest heaves and his breaths shake but, contrastingly, his face relaxes. Almost cathartically. His eyelids remain shut and his brows flatten out but Y/N is still pulling off him with panic slicing through her chest.

“Harry, are you okay? I’m so—sorry, did I hurt you?” She cups his cheeks, thumbs fruitless in wiping his face. He’s still hard, and Y/N feels it undoubtedly when Harry tugs her into his lap, pressing into her stomach and soaking through her shirt. She doesn’t care.

Harry shakes his head, arms squeezing Y/N impossibly tight. “Sorry,” he whispers, throat dry. “I need to fuck you, Bambi. Need to or I think my dick will drop off.”

Y/N lets out a laugh, but Harry is deadly serious when he looks at her. He’s shiny with sweat and tears, but his eyes have cleared their inky swirls and green shines through. Still fairly tortured green but it sees her and it pleads.

“What the fuck did you do, Harry?” She strokes over his eyebrow.

“I don’t know… A spell— I don’t— Just need to—” he leans back in the squeaky chair, enough to hold her skirt up, grab at the crotch of her tights and rip. Y/N can’t even find it within herself to be angry. Not as his fingers curl inside of her underwear and tug desperately to reveal her pussy. Not as his knuckles are coated in her drenching arousal. Harry doesn’t even comment on it—he’s that far gone. “Jus’ need t’fuck you, need to fuck you.” So blind with throbbing pain that all he knows is how to guide his prick into Y/N’s dripping cunt—her body that reacts to his, provides for him—whatever he needs.

They both stutter as Harry more or less drives himself inside of her. It’s not slow, or gentle. He’s ravenous. “F-fuck—still fucking hurts, Bambi.” His head drops forward, meeting Y/N’s chest. She can feel her clit pulsing and she wants nothing more than for Harry to play with her and fuck her dumb. But it’s not what he needs. And she’d sacrifice more than just her pleasure to take care of him.

So she lifts herself up… and sinks back down. Slowly at first, and then faster—ignoring her screaming legs in favour of milking Harry’s still leaking cock. He might still be coming, neither of them know. All Harry knows is that his every nerve is being stimulated and he’s making a considerable mess.

He looks at Y/N with half-lidded eyes, orgasm most definitely still lingering, and lifts a heavy hand to pull her shirt over her head. If he could speak he’d be praising the ever loving fuck out of her. So good for me. My little human taking care of me, yeah? Making me come over and over. What would I do without you, baby? M’fist will never be good enough again. But all Harry can do is lean forward, desperately tug Y/N’s bra up, and spit over her breasts. It’s drool really, Harry’s sure he’s not in control of any part of his body enough to make the decision to spit on her. He’s not in his own mind.

But he certainly watches as it drips down her skin in a sinful trail and mixes with everything between their legs. It makes him come, he thinks. Or at least it makes his dick leak even more than it already is. And he swears he’s never loved Y/N as much as he does right now; he knows her thighs are burning and that she’s trying to ignore her own needs in favour of tending to his.

“Don’t be quiet, baby,” Harry exhales. He can barely keep his eyes open, and if he can’t see her then at least let him hear her.

“Just want to…make you…come,” she breathes, but her whimpers increase.

“You are, fuck—”

The inside of Y/N’s thighs are sticky and Harry’s come is slicking all over their skin; they’re peeling away from each other with each bounce Y/N gives. And the sounds are near grotesque. It’s without a doubt that the pair will be repulsed as soon as they’re finished… but right now? They’ve never experienced anything hotter.

“I need more, baby. Need more.” Harry’s voice is tight again, as though the slight respite he received after his orgasm has dissolved entirely. And now he’s back to where he was; profusely frantic.

“I’m trying,” Y/N whimpers, forehead falling to the top of Harry’s head. She couldn’t possibly maintain the speed in which she started. And what she’s doing now can only be more torturous for Harry. “I’m s-sorry.”

He lets out a string of sounds—an attempt to say something reassuring. “Shit—”

And then he’s standing, on wobbly legs, and stumbling into the nearest wall. Y/N meets it with a harsh thud and Harry mumbles some sort of apology. But neither of them really hear it. Because he starts to push his hips into her at a truly demonic pace. One that will really take it out of his poor, little human—but she’d never ask him to stop.

Harry’s fingers grip her waist, each thrust pushing her further up the wall, and his digits are surely bruising her delicate skin. But Y/N will find wonder in digging her fingers in those same spots to reignite the memory in a day’s time.

He pounds into her, skin slapping loud enough to make Y/N grateful for Harry’s closed windows. And for a moment, it feels worth it—fucking up dangerous, ancient magic—because Harry thinks the outcome could have been much worse. But when he comes again—and fears he may drop Y/N entirely from the force at which his bones rattle—and his dick still doesn’t soften, Harry decides that this is the worst thing he’s ever done in his life.

Y/N is all shaky moans above him, hands gripping to his shoulders for dear life as the pulsating in her cunt grows more and more unbearable. Her clit is screaming to be touched, but she won’t do it. If not for being suspended in the air, then for the sake of making Harry feel better.

But Harry still notices. His eyes are leaking again but he’s still attentive enough to know. Y/N pants, “Did that one feel good?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, “Still fucking hard. I don’t know what to do, Bambi.”

It’s the first time she’s ever heard him utter those words.

Y/N feels their arousal trickle down the inside of her legs. There’s so much, and she’s so swollen, and Harry is so hard. “Let me fuck you. I can do better, Harry.”

He shakes his head, “You’re so good, sweetheart,” pulling her further into his chest, her back sliding down the wall some. “This is my fault. Let me… let me—” Harry slides out of her, and a gush of come follows him. But he’s quick to fall to his knees and collect it all in the hollow of his tongue. He smears it around Y/N’s clit, big hands running up her thighs. His thumbs trail to the inside, smearing their wetness around, before he moves to palm over her backside. Her tights are sodden, and quickly becoming uncomfortable despite the pleasure coursing through Y/N’s body.

Harry tears them further in his haste to feel her skin and Y/N is left with the elastic hem around her waist and baggy nylon falling down her ankles—her panties still pulled to the side. But she feels so good and she shouldn’t be letting him do this. Her hands sink into his hair, tugging at the roots. Harry’s mouth opens in a groan around her clit, tongue dancing at her entrance. He doesn’t even entertain pulling away, hand migrating down to wrap around his soaking cock to fuck his fist in desperate pumps. Beads of come dribble over his thick knuckles.

“Does it feel good, Harry?” Y/N whines. “So warm, and wet. You look so pretty.” Harry nods his woozy head. “Sometimes I get jealous that you get to touch it all the time,” she lets her head hit the wall with a thump when Harry sucks with intent. He’s swallowing multitudes, arousal slicking down his throat and glistening on his face. Y/N wishes she were more coherent; to remember the way he looks right now. So dismantled, so flustered, and unable to hide any of what he’s feeling. Y/N’s not much of a dominant figure but… to see Harry this way is so beautiful.

Their eyes meet, and Y/N can’t help but be pushed to the brink of her orgasm by his red-rims and clumpy lashes—the tip of his perfect nose riding her through as his tongue draws waves inside of her. Harry’s coming all over his hand too, eyelids fluttering shut and face pushing further into Y/N’s cunt as he uses all his strength not to bite down on her in intense pleasure.

His cock finally softens a little. Not enough to deem comfortable but it sends relief through Harry’s heart—that he’s not doomed to an eternity with the most painful erection known to man.

Y/N falls into his lap, skirt concealing their intimacy, and nestles her pussy around his shaft. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Still need another. Can go slower though, I think.”

Y/N says nothing, only pushes her hands against Harry’s chest to get him to lie back against the floor. She unclasps her bra and holds up her skirt to see as she sinks back down and exhales slowly as he fills her up once more. She wishes she could say something sexy. Instead, she leans over him, hips grinding in tantalising circles and wraps a hand around his throat. It’s much less impressive than when Harry does it to her. His fingers actually curl round the entirety of her neck as opposed to the way Y/N’s sort of pathetically cling on.

“You using my own tactics against me, Bambi?” Harry smiles, all fucked out and blissful. His torso glistens with sweat.

“Shh,” Y/N tries, but she’s a little embarrassed. She doesn’t know what she’s doing—every word Harry has ever uttered to her races through her head. “Just—take it,” her skin flares with heat. It doesn’t sound right. And Harry is smiling at her. He’s supposed to be indisposed.

“Y-yeah?” He stretches his neck towards the ceiling, inviting Y/N to squeeze. “You fucking me, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Y/N lifts up and drops down once, feeling Harry twitch inside of her and prod her deepest spots. “I… I thought you were a big, scary demon,” she starts, clit rubbing against his pelvis deliciously, “but you’re just a s-silly little boy who can’t even cast spells properly.”

Harry’s chest quakes and his hips lift in surprise. Fuck. “My sweet girl knows how to talk, huh? Keep going.”

Her body is alight with heat and she’s not sure she can keep going. But she says, “You’ve made such a m-mess, Harry. All over me,” her body shines with sweat, and spit, and come. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Y/N’s other hand presses into his chest, slipping down to rest over the butterfly.

“No,” Harry breathes, palms encircling Y/N’s biceps suddenly and tugging them around her back. She falls forward, cheek smushing into his collarbone.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’re so hot, baby, but I need to go faster than that.” And then he’s lifting his hips up, again, and again, and again—forcing squeals out of Y/N and grunts out of his own mouth. His composure is back some, but it’s hardly necessary. Not as Y/N clenches around him, squeezing drop after drop out of his cock and hurtelling him closer to his orgasm. “Should fuck your pretty little bum, too. Make sure you really milk me proper,” he slurs against her forehead as she starts coming around him. Her clit feels tortured against his abdomen but it’s so good. And Harry’s only pounding into her a few more times before he’s painting her insides again. “Fuck, fuck, yes.”

Y/N’s mouldable as Harry pulls her off his still leaking cock and tugs her thighs around his head. She’s a constant stream of whines as he laps her up, dick finally softening against his thigh. He knows they need to clean up now—the arousal is gone, they’re both spent, and Harry’s hurting for a whole new reason. But he can’t help the languid licks of his tongue on her pussy, or the hums that rumble in his throat at the feel of his come dripping out of her and into his mouth. It’s aftercare for him.

But she’s slumping atop of him, and Harry has to pull away. He sits her in his lap and brushes kisses to her eyelids, whispering gentle praise about how good she was for him—how perfect and wonderful and just for him.

Y/N appears near asleep in his arms, but she opens her eyes to shoot an exhausted attempt at a menacing glare. Harry tries and fails to school his smile.

“If you ever touch that spell again I’m leaving you to take care of it yourself.” No matter that she feels weightless, no amount of pleasure is worth seeing Harry in that state again—crying and whimpering. Not unless it is completely and utterly caused by Y/N and he is in every way comfortable.

Harry slaps her bum. “Don’t say that. You’ll always take care of me, won’t you?”

Y/N grumbles into his shoulder as he stands up and heads for the bathroom. They’ve never needed to wash more, and she is sure that she’ll still be dripping come the next day. But with Harry it’s serenity, and leaden limbs, and gentle caresses… and they both fall asleep in the bath—Harry’s soft “I’ll always take care of you too,” getting lost in the swirling tendrils of steam as they rise and dance above their heads.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #vanilla lime #writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #demonrry #demon!harry #fanfiction

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