hiii, first off your writing fucking slaps, i'm loving it so much! second, can i request a sort of continuation to the Strawberry Shortcake Stone thing? except maybe Stone thinks he's gonna be calling the shots, but reader takes the lead and turns him to mush in their hands :3c (i'm so gay for that man it's unreal, help)
[anon-forgive me anon-sobbing] its been a minute since this request, but i haven't forgotten about it-promise... anyway, i added as much damn smut as i could for all our sakes i fear- p.p.s. we're all gay for stone *defeated* || ⤷ pt.1 here!
♡ Strawberry Shortcake Pt.2 || Stone
┊pairing : harry stone x gn!reader ┊content warning : nsfw/smut, mentions of drugs/smoking, swearing, lap sitting, riding, sub!stone (?), kissing, soft dom!reader (?), grinding, your guess is as good as mine ┊word count : 2.6 k !
Fuck, maybe he really shouldn’t have smoked…
Stone would’ve chuckled dryly at the thought— his throat already hoarse and raw from the smoke—if his mind wasn’t already stuffed to the brim with fantasies of your naked body. The images flashing through his mind like some sort of demanding epiphany.
Those hips, your ass… he wanted it so badly; his gloved fingers itching on the armrests of the chair, twitching as if he could already feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, riding him insistently.
The cloud surrounding his head—both inside and out—was becoming hotter and hotter. Stuffy with need. So much so that he was painfully aware that he was panting softly beneath his balaclava. The heat crawling up his neck and probably flushing his skin below.
Stone sat up with a soft grunt. The need pooling between his thighs making him shift in a futile attempt to try and relieve some of the pressure there.
“Christ,” he mumbled to himself before lifting his balaclava up over his mouth again.
The cool air of the motel room was a momentary shock to his warm skin, quickly chased away by the fact that he was now guiding the blunt back up to his lips. Those usually knowing eyes of his now dilated and blown out with uncut lust.
When was the last time he had been so riled up?
So…
He sighed, taking a drag.
…in need of a fuck.
“You know…” he started, loud enough to finally catch your attention; even a little. Your head tilting an increment or less to show that you were listening… barely.
Stone breathed out the plume of smoke—long and smooth—watching as the opaque vapors lulled towards you purposefully. “It’s ‘bout time you considered taking a break, yeah?”
You glanced up just in time to see him grin. A rare glimpse of his true smile, his lips pulled back with his usual cocky attitude... but...
Stone snickered, trying to mask how utterly whipped he was.
His heartbeat thrummed through his veins like white hot wires. The weed was making his vision vibrate, the motel room buzzing around his head. The heat was already spreading euphorically through his limbs, and he was trying desperately to focus on acting like his usual self instead of a man on fire.
He watched as your brows knitted together, probably picking up on something... off about his current state.
The way his chest rose and fell quickly beneath his jacket, the feverish pulse in his throat, and the way his eyes relaxed... staring at you like you were holy water to a desperate sinner.
"Come on love," he purred, patting his lap invitingly, "take a break, yeah?"
As convincing as he could muster (and trying not to sound too desperate in his attempt) Stone could still see the doubt on your face.
Was this some weird trick of his? No, he had to be joking. Some sort of test to see your reaction, just to chuckle at you in a split second when you considered it...
He knew those thoughts, could practically read them all over your face like that book in your hand, but he couldn't have been more serious in his life.
"We have a job to do," you muttered, shaking your head in dismissal. Not willing to play into his hands this time or risk falling into one of his 'shenanigans'.
So when you turned your attention back off to the side, eyes on the pages in front of you, still watching the cafe for the target to appear... Stone sighed. The disappointment hitting harder than he cared to ever admit.
"Shame," he mumbled, slumping back into the armchair, head still swimming lovingly around him. "Real shame."
He let his eyes close then, trying to stumble back into 'virtuous' thoughts like... fuck, what should he think about?
He mumbled again, shifting in his seat to try and get more comfortable. His thoughts so alive that he didn't even register the soft approach of footsteps on carpeted floor.
He smoked to take a break from the mission, he shouldn't think about that... hell, if the two of you missed the target what's a little 'oopsie' anyway? Nothing he couldn't talk himself out of anyway...
Nah, no mission shit. Instead, next time he smoked he'd try to find something good- not something that melted on his tongue like fucking cotton candy and- ...shit! He had to try and coax you over again-
Before another fumbling thought could form, Stone's eyes sprang wide open. Whole body jolting with abrupt surprise as you sat in his lap, straddling him.
Book—and mission—completely forgotten by the windowsill.
You made yourself comfortable, knees bent and tucked around his legs, lowering yourself gently on his lap. Relaxing and glancing down at him as if waiting for him to say something snarky.
Stone's heartbeat immediately jumped into his throat. "Well... finally decided to have some fun huh?" He grinned, voice clearer without the balaclava covering his mouth, that mustache of his more apparent.
The blunt tumbled out of his hands in favor of grabbing your hips and pulling you forward, flush with his straining erection. "Ohh fuck," he groaned, fingertips tangling insistently into the fabric of your pants. Trying still to pull you closer, to make those delicious hips of yours move against his. To offer him even a shred of relief. A needy response that made you gasp in surprise above him.
"I'm gonna make sure you feel good love..." he began, eyes lingering on your chest and waist. You looked sexy sitting on his lap. His hands slid up and behind your back, practically ripping the gloves off his hands so that he could actually feel you. The things tossed to the side and long forgotten.
Stone's lips immediately skimmed over your collarbones, his warm sugar-laced breath daring to nip right to the point. "I'll fuck you right," he promised. His hands wandering down to the curve of your ass and gripping, the other racing up your shirt to follow the line of your spine eagerly. His calloused fingertips rough and knowing along your skin.
The weed and smoke in his veins both sang and screamed with divine ecstasy, the promise of pleasure lingering on the tip of his tongue... Before you braced both of your hands on his chest and pushed him back.
The moment Stone felt his back sink into the cushion of the chair, he was stunned, glancing up at your expression to try and decipher what he had done wrong-possibly gone too fast, too intense... fuck he couldn't help it.
You peered down at his half-masked face. The usually snarky man looking more like a kicked puppy at the moment. All reddened eyes and flushed pale skin, hands slowing down their path of greed and coming back to settle on your hips. Stubbornly unable to let go, even now. Especially now that you were finally here.
You leaned down some, close enough to his face that you could hear the soft sound of his panting. Those teasing hands of yours keeping a firm weight on his chest to stop him from moving so much.
And just when Stone figured you were about to bring him to an abrupt halt-
"I thought you wanted to take a break?" you suggested simply— leaving him to ponder what the hell you meant—before you began to roll your hips against his. "Just relax."
A grunt slipped freely from his lips then. Those blue eyes of his softly rolling to a close, gripping at your hips again, not daring to guide you but holding on; silently begging that you "Don't stop," he groaned under his breath, the thought tumbling carelessly out of his mouth before he could censor it.
He wasn't a man who begged. He teased, he played things off, he joked or challenged to get what he wanted... but that look in your eye. There was a flicker of heat and tenderness that appeared on your face that told him begging—telling you what he needed— was exactly what you wanted to hear.
His pride be damned.
Your hands smoothed over his chest and jacket, roaming over his shoulders as you ground your ass down against him. Gasping in time with his breathy pants. Below you, Stone's dick throbbed painfully, already hard as steel. Even with you above him, his hips still twitched up instinctively, rubbing directly against you through the fabric.
"Come on love," he groaned, softly shaking his head. The movement mixed with the smoke, made the world spin around him blissfully.
Stone shut his eyes again and let his head loll back against the cushioned armchair, hands holding on dearly to your hips.
He was a sight. His semi-masked face twisted in absolute pleasure. Mouth parted and panting, now uncaring of the grunts and heady groans that spilled from his lips. Stubbled jaw on display and heartbeat in his throat, flushed with a heat that crawled up his neck and beaded at his temple. A man utterly consumed by lust.
The motel room filled with the sounds of your shared breathing, the air tinged with the scent of melted cotton candy and smoke. The heat slowly becoming unbearable for both of you.
You lifted your hips up, climbing away from his lap.
The movement made Stone open his eyes again, head falling forward lazily to watch your thumbs hook into the waistband of your pants. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sight, watching intensely as you bent forward, peeling the fabric down inch by inch to expose the supple swells of your thighs.
"Fuckkk baby," Stone's breath caught in his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed; practically drooling over himself. His hazy eyes unable to tear themselves away. His cock throbbed in response, already leaking precum into his boxers and eager for what came next.
Just as you were kicking off the rest of your pants, Stone reached down for his belt. Fingers hardly touching the warm clasp of his zipper before your hands shot out to replace his.
"Stone, I said relax, let me do it," you added, already unbuttoning his cargos.
God, if he could marry you on the spot, now would be the time. But all words left his mouth, tongue stuffed with cotton and unable to say much, simply acting as a witness to what you were doing to him.
His breathing slowed, watching with rapt attention as you hooked your fingers into his waistband, peeling his boxers and pants down together over his thighs. Just low enough for his hard cock to spring free.
Stone hid nothing, never would. The tip of his cock was flushed and already smeared with glistening precum, eager and bobbing slightly upwards. Almost seven inches and trimmed, a bit.
He already knew not to move too much, not with you insisting you take care of him. It was enough to make a grown man weep.
He only spread his legs wider as you leaned forward, crawling back onto his lap and settling.
"Fuck," he mumbled, hands already finding your lifted hips again, digging softly into the bare flesh and squeezing greedily. Giving your hips a teasing shake, pressing a hand against your lower back to bring you forward. Close enough that your chests pressed together. "Sorry, love," he added, head vibrating with THC and anticipation. His cock throbbing as you gripped him gently, coaxing it forward until the blunt tip of it kissed your entrance.
Stone held on, thighs shaking acutely below you as he watched. Blue eyes cast downwards at the sight of your spread legs, so close to what he needed: to be balls deep inside.
He fought the instinctual urge to thrust up, keeping stock still as you finally, finally began to sink yourself down on him.
The soft gasp that left your lips matched his own strung-out grunt. The sound working out of his throat at the tight clasp of your body.
"Aw fuckkk, that's it," he sighed, panting and tense below you. His heart beat thrumming through his chest, down his spine, and making heat flood his painfully hard erection.
"Stone," you gasped, wiggling your hips at the initial stretch in a way that had him jolting, clinging to your shirt and hip.
"It's alright, love," he assured, groaning as you worked your hips up and down his sensitive tip. Taking inch after inch slowly until you were dripping down his shaft. The wet sounds filling the room with more than just the lingering smell of cotton candy. "Just take it, like that."
Soon, Stone could only pant and groan. Your body eagerly sinking all the way down to his balls.
"Fuck, shit," he could only swear under his breath as you rode him. All traces of the cocky brit washed away and melting his brain into complete mush. Only focused on the way you felt, your weight bouncing up and down on his cock rhythmically, unguided by him and taking what you wanted.
It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. The fucking sexiest feeling he's ever felt. You squeezing down on him, unintentionally milking his cock and adding to the overflowing euphoria that he was already drowning in.
The searing heat around his cock was exquisite, a tight silken vice that had him seeing stars. Watching with broken pants as you bounced above him, hips grinding a sinful pattern as you took him over and over again. Sweat built at his temples, hot and feverish under his balaclava and making his hair stick to his forehead.
The sound of skin on skin filled his rushing ears, you haughty moans and whimpers bringing him to an embarrassingly fast climax.
"Shitttt," he groaned, head lolling back against the cushion of the love seat as his body tensed. The telltale tingle of pleasure building to a crux at the base of his spine, making his balls tighten.
Stone physically held on, hands drifting up and down your body ravenously. Squeezing and kneading your hips, your thighs, gripping like he was afraid to let go. Afraid to not feel you. Like you might melt away under his heated fingertips.
"Fuck- I can't- I'm gonna cum-!" He warned through gritted teeth.
You watched as Stone's face contorted, screwed up blissfully. His eyes shot open, fingers digging painfully into your bare thigh and hip, lifting you up in a split second and pulling out at the last second.
Stone didn't even have to stroke himself empty, his cock shooting ropes of cum onto his stomach, hips jerking up in time with each wave of orgasm that rolled over him. A long, drawn out curse rumbling like thunder from his lips. "Oh fuuuuckk!" he groaned, eyes rolling to an almost pained close. His toes curling in his boots as the pleasure shot through him like lightning.
He kept panting, entire body twitching and shuddering below you. A mess from head to toe, head swimming with insane pleasure and the buzz of weed, his body eventually slackening and relaxing like puddy.
His mind went completely blank, his body's attempt at savoring the feeling of his best orgasm in a while.
The last remnants of his orgasm drooled from his softening cock, dripping lazily onto his jacket. "Fuck... you're too good at that," Stone mumbled weakly, trying to laugh and only huffing exasperatedly.
He held you close still, hands stroking over your hips and running up your bare thighs, idly wondering how he could thank you and return the favor. His long forgotten blunt already snuffed out and burning a hole into the motel carpet.
