Quickie (Ron Weasley x Reader SMUT)
Warnings: Thigh riding, degradation and verbal humiliation. Daddy kink. Derogatory terms towards the reader. No plot blurb? Poly!Ron/Reader/Hermione
Summary: You’re late for a party but you need Ron more.
A/N: I’m working on at least four different fics that are nowhere near completion but @anchoeritic reblogged a gif of Rupert Grint and I felt inspired.
“Go on, you fucking slut. You’ve been all over me today, like you don’t have any self respect. Do you want everyone to know you can’t think straight if I don’t fuck you at least once a day?” Ron jeers and you rut against him harder. Admittedly, you always enjoyed when he was particularly vicious to you.
“Love- I love you, Daddy!” You whimper into his neck and he scoffs at the sentiment. Wrapping a thick hand in your hair and pulling your head backwards. He then tenses the muscles in his thighs, using his free hand to bring your clit flush against his leg. The drag was delicious, pleasure rushing over you in a wave.
“Love me? I’m sure you do. I’m the only one who can keep up with this needy pussy. Constantly having to take time out of my day to get you off is exhausting. We’re late for the party because of you.” He replies surly, picking up the pace. Your hands bolting up from his waist, onto his shoulders to better steady yourself.
“ ‘M sorry, Daddy! Feels so good!” You keen, gasping in air.
“I know you are. I’m gonna have to change trousers after this. Can’t leave out in these now that you’ve ruined them by rubbing your stupid cunt all off ‘em. I’m soaked.” He’s halfway through littering the left side of your throat with red marks.
“Hermione went on ahead because you were taking so long getting ready. So you’re gonna be the one to explain the reason why we’re two hours late is because you wanted Daddy to make you feel good.”
You can barely focus on his facial expressions through your watery eyes.
“What do you think your punishment will be when she gets her hands on you? Hm, baby? Think she’ll fuck you til you won’t wanna come again for weeks?” He asks looking up your tear stained face.
The mention of your collective girlfriend, Hermione, arouses you further. There’d certainly be punishment in store for you but threats of it only fueled you. “Want her to.” You mumble, rutting wildly.
“What was that, slut?” He questions and you’re nearing your climax.
“Want- Want her to fuck me!” Words tumbling out and he laughs because ‘Mione’s punishments weren’t for the faint of heart. She’d bring you to the edge and have you dangle there for what feels like eternity.
“You must really be gone, doll. We both know you’d be sobbing for her to forgive you in less than an hour. And unlike me, she won’t let you get what you want so easily.” Fuzzily you agree with him but you’re unable to think about it for long.
“Daddy! Can I?” You whine jutting against him, warmth in your tummy building up.
“Can you what?” He asks patronizingly. “I’m not that easy, Y/N. You’re gonna have to ask properly.” Both hands travel to your hips to increase the speed you’re going and you let out a shrill scream.
“I- Can I?” Is all you manage to moan out but he’s not letting up.
“Pathetic fucking whore. Did you forget how to talk? I’m being nice enough to lend you my thigh to rut on like a bitch in heat and you can’t even string a simple sentence together?” He spits and you’re crying harder.
It takes a few more failed attempts to get the words in the right order before you finally manage to say “Daddy! Can I come on your thigh, please? Please? I can’t hold it.”
You’re hunched over him again. Basically dead weight while he continues to rock you along his leg.
“Was that so hard, love? Go on then.” He says exasperated and the pace he sets into is unforgiving. You’re struck with a white flash and all you can do is sob into his neck. A jumble of “thank you daddy”s escapes your mouth but you unable to process his response, your senses muddied.
As the ringing in your ears fades and the feeling in your limbs returns, you notice Ron’s peppering your face with kisses.
Clinging to him tighter, you feel like you got hit by a truck. He did a number on you and he knows it because he’s laughing.
“ ‘S not funny, Ron.” You murmur against him.
“It is! You whined that all you needed was a quickie and then we could leave but by the looks of it, you’re not going anywhere, love.” And he’s right, as usual.
“ ‘Mione’s gonna be pissed. She’s probably worried sick.” You think outwardly as Ron rests you on the bed of the flat you three got together. The plush pillows lulling you.
“S’alright, I’ll send an owl to let her know the most you’ll be able to do tonight is eat takeout.” He jests and you mumble a feeble “Okie” before closing your eyes to rest.
