good for daddy {h.s} • #wattys2017

a certain desire

word count: 1900 

arlo (alex turner) at the top <3

'arlo, i told you to leave my house forty minutes ago, why are you still here?' i'm mock-unimpressed, but really, i'm quite amused.

'you know i don't listen to you, duck,' arlo counters, folding a piece of paper as he sits at my dining table. i look at him, puzzled.

'wow, okay, didn't know that but cool,' i furrow my eyebrows, opening the pantry doors. i went to bed an hour before, but i couldn't sleep. arlo came in after 20 minutes to show me the drawing of a banana-phone and i told him to leave because i was sick of his shit.

looks like he really doesn't listen to me.

i smooth out my skirt and pull out the cornflakes with disgust, considering pouring myself a bowl for a split second, before swallowing back vomit and placing them back in the cupboard. i hate, hate, hate cornflakes. they're disgusting.

'wha'd you do tha' for? i love me some cornflakes,' arlo frowns, still concentrating on his paper folding.

'alright, you can really leave now, get out.'

he chuckles and holds up his paper creation. it looks like he tried to make a crane, but it's collapsed into itself and now it resembles a crane that was hit by a car.

'oh, um-very good, arlo,' i cringe, turning back to the practically empty pantry.

i sigh, closing the doors in defeat. looks like i'll be going another day without food.

'what's wrong, love?' arlo asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

'there's nothing to eat,' i sigh once more, slumping into the seat next to him. i rest my chin on my hand and stare at the wall across from us, my mind once more eclipsed by the image of harry. i miss him more than anything.

'we can go get summat (a/n: 'something' but in a northern english accent lmao), if you'd like?' arlo questions, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

i turn to him, glancing at his hand on my arm, and pounce on his seated frame. my lips collide with arlo's, and my mind is telling me this is wrong, so very wrong, but i don't listen. instead, i grind my hips into arlo's tight jeans, moaning into his mouth and gripping his leather jacket's collar for balance.

at first, he's unresponsive, but with an extra swivel of my crotch against his, arlo's tongue delves into my mouth, his hands sliding up my skirt to rest on my hips. i whimper at the contact, his rough hands painting wonders on my skin. he pushes my skirt higher, above my hips, and pulls away from the kiss to admire our coupling, brushing his fingertips over my clothed heat. i gasp and moan at the sensation, whimpering when he pulls away.

'oh fuck, what are you doing to me,' he groans, looking me in the eye. i nearly lose control right then and there; his stare is more intense than anything i've ever seen.

his hand comes to the back of my neck, then slides down my body, as he smirks with his lip between his teeth. he's growing harder beneath me by the second, and it's only increasing the pleasure. my head falls onto his shoulder, hands reaching up his shirt and fingertips travelling along his skin.

"you've no idea how long i've wanted you, duck,' arlo moans, his hands guiding my hips as he grinds up into me, creating stronger friction and forcing a moan out of my throat.

'just shut up and let me ride you, for god's sake,' i whimper, as arlo chuckles and pulls my hair back from my face, his mouth covering mine in a frenzied rush, as if he can't kiss me fast enough.