hiiiiii so i accidentally read ur last post "stached" as "stretched" at first and now i cant stop thinking abt that.... would u ever consider writing some ridiculously nsfw rough stretching? maybe? pretty pls? 🤭🫣💗
Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader
CW: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamic, size kink, rough stretching, degradation/praise mix, mild overstimulation, consensual power play.
Synopsis: Y/N tries to ride Harry but struggles to take his size. He takes control, pushing her past her limits with rough, overwhelming pleasure, leaving her ruined, praised, and full.
It started with you on top, because Harry asked, and you always try.
“Go on, darling,” he murmured, voice syrupy smooth but thick with authority. “Show me how much you want it.”
The bedroom was dim, moonlight cutting across the sheets in a narrow beam. He sat against the headboard, arms relaxed at his sides, watching you like a meal he had all the time in the world to devour. You were already breathless, thighs trembling, the ache between your legs unbearable.
And his cock—God—he looked too big.
You hovered above him, your knees caging his hips. One of his large hands rubbed up and down your outer thigh in lazy, teasing strokes, while the other gripped the base of his cock, thick and pulsing and unreasonably hard.
“You’re not scared, are you?” he smirked tilting his head. “Thought you wanted to be my good girl.”
You did. You always did. But that didn’t make it easier.
You whimpered as you lined yourself up, holding his shoulders for balance. Just the head pressing against your entrance made your breath hitch.
“I can’t…” you whispered, hips jerking slightly away. “Harry, you’re too big.”
He gave a low chuckle, mocking but fond. “No such thing, love. You just have to relax. Take your time.”
But time wasn’t something Harry liked to waste, not when he was this worked up.
Suddenly, both of his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising promise. “You’ve teased me enough tonight. I let you sit on my lap in that little dress. Let you grind on me like a needy slut at dinner. Thought you could rile me up and then back out?”
Your mouth parted in a shaky breath.
“No,” you whispered, dazed.
“Then do it.” His voice dropped, tone commanding. “Get. On.”
He didn’t give you a chance to hesitate this time. His grip forced your hips down just an inch—just enough for the tip to slip past your entrance—and the stretch made you whimper, both hands clutching at his chest. It burned, in that way it always did. He was too wide, too thick. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you clenched without meaning to.
Harry groaned under you, head falling back with a tight jaw. “Fuck, you’re gripping already. Barely got the tip in, and you’re squeezing me like that?”
You moaned, half from pleasure, half from frustration. You tried to slide down farther on him, but your body resisted, muscles trembling. Your thighs started to burn from the effort. Every time you moved even a little lower, it felt like you were being split open.
He watched you struggle, his breathing getting heavier. His hands never left your hips, guiding, steady, controlling. “You want help, baby? Or you wanna prove you can take it?”
You whimpered, shaking your head. “I want to, I swear—I just can’t…”
He shushed you gently, a sudden contrast to his rough grip. “Don’t cry, angel. We’ll make it fit. You always take me, don’t you?”
You nodded, swallowing hard.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Then ride me.”
You tried again, lowering yourself more, inch by inch. Your walls stretched painfully around him, slick pooling between your legs. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. You weren’t even halfway down, and it already felt like too much.
He groaned, sweat beginning to sheen on his chest. “You’re fuckin’ made for me. Look at you, struggling on top of me like this— fuck..”
The way he said it, it made your insides twist with need.
“I can’t ride you, H—” you gasped, tears stinging your lashes. “I—my legs are shaking, I—”
“Because you’re lazy or because I’m too big?” he asked lowly, cocky and calm.
He laughed—genuinely laughed—and then he gripped your hips tighter. “That’s alright, bunny. I’ll do it for you.”
And then, without warning, he bucked his hips up.
Your body sank onto him all at once, and your thighs gave out completely, collapsing onto his chest. You were so full, too full. It felt like he reached everywhere. Like he had no business fitting inside you at all.
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you,” he cooed into your ear, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. “There you go, baby. You’re doing so well.”
You tried to lift your hips again, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate. Your pussy fluttered helplessly around him, stretched to its limit, overwhelmed. The burn, the fullness, the way he kept praising you through your struggle, it was all too much.
“I feel so full,” you whispered, voice wrecked.
“I know you do.” He kissed your temple, his other hand coming up to cradle your jaw. “Look at you. Stuffed full of cock and still trying to be brave. You’re my perfect girl, aren’t you?”
You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.
He shifted you in his arms, effortlessly strong, so your chest was flush with his and your thighs straddled his waist loosely. He was so deep like this, nestled inside your trembling cunt, and he didn’t move, just held you there, letting your walls adjust.
Then he started to thrust.
Slowly, at first, tiny rocks of his hips that made you whimper with each motion. The stretch was sharper now that he was moving. You moaned into his neck, nails raking down his back.
“You feel that?” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek.
“Yes,” you sobbed. “Feels so big—too big—”
“But you’re still taking it,” he said darkly. “You’re taking all of me.”
His pace picked up. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your broken cries. Your body bounced slightly with each thrust, but you couldn’t even lift yourself anymore. He was holding all your weight, driving up into you again and again, stretching you raw.
You keened, walls fluttering desperately.
“Fuck,” he growled, biting down lightly on your shoulder. “Gonna come just from being used like this, aren’t you? My desperate, messy girl.”
Your body spasmed in his arms, and you screamed as your orgasm tore through you, overwhelming, all-consuming, a full-body quake that left your limbs numb and your head fuzzy. You didn’t even realize you were crying until he kissed the tears off your cheeks.
“That’s it,” he whispered, still fucking you through it, though his thrusts were sloppier now, more desperate. “That’s my girl.”
Your walls clenched hard again, and he let out a strangled groan, burying his face in your neck.
And then he was coming, cock twitching deep inside you as he groaned your name, hot and low and broken. You felt the warmth of it fill you, his hips grinding into yours as he emptied every last drop.
He didn’t move for a while, just held you there, wrapped around him, still trembling.
Eventually, he stroked your back and kissed your jaw. “You okay, lovie?”
You nodded weakly. “Mhm. Sore.”
He smiled into your skin. “Did I break my girl?”
“Almost,” you whispered, smirking.
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