#write a book blurb

[cygnetbrown]

Planning Your Nonfiction Book's Content and Structure

During the past several weeks we have discussed why you should and should not write a nonfiction book, what type of nonfiction book you could write, and understanding some of the current trends in book creation. If you’re ready to start writing your nonfiction book, don’t wait until the New Year to begin writing. Yes, we’re in a busy time of year, but if you take a few minutes every day this…

[jarofstyles]

Worshiped

Who doesn’t love a simp-y Harry? I’ve been in a kick lately of writing him but this is next level. He loves his girl and does not play about her!

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WC- 4k

Warnings- smut, soft dom!H but some switch vibes, praise kink, spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight pain kink on his end, oral, etc

With her standing there in the dress he had bought her, he found himself thoroughly distracted by the way the fabric hugged her body. A body he had no idea how whoever was the creator of life itself managed to sculpt, because just being able to see it was a gift from the gods. His hands traced her silhouette, starting from her shoulders and slowly moving down her arms, then around to her waist.

"Fuck me, Angel…." His lips muttered softly, more to himself than to her. "You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?" Thumbs gently traced the waistline of the dress, admiration clear in his voice. It would be hard for her to forget with how often he tried to remind her, but he still did wonder if she ever truly got it. If she could fathom how insanely other worldly she was.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, golden hue over the room, highlighting her in a different way than the rest of the night had. The candlelight in the restaurant had been incredible to see her in, but this was special.. Any difference if lighting had him appreciating her in a different way, but something about the glow of their bedroom, the most intimate place of the house had him feeling it tenfold. 

Harry lingered behind her, unashamed as he allowed his ring clad hands to slowly explore the dips of her body. Y/N was a masterpiece he couldn't get enough of, as if someone had dipped their paintbrush into the depths of his foggy brain and brought his ideal to life. Nimble fingers traced the delicate lace detailing on the bodice of the lavender dress, feeling the soft fabric breathe heat against her skin. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her neck, grinning to himself as he felt her shiver at the touch.

"I need this off you, please." Returning to her shoulders, he made work of slowly pushing the delicate straps down her arms. As the fabric fell away, exposing her bare décolletage, he let out a soft puff of a breath against her hair. “You are… Unreal.” His words were quiet, but he knew she could hear them over the sound of the fabric being dragged down her form. In his mind, it was in the top five sounds he could hear from her, right underneath the breathy moan of his name and slightly above the little gasp she made when he smacked her ass. 

 Y/N simply stood there, letting him remove the dress completely until she was standing before him stripped bare. The dress fell from her body and onto the floor with a soft whisper, allowing Harry a moment to truly appreciate the view before him. Her body was like a damn map that he had become all too familiar with but wanted to study every day so he never had the opportunity to forget. The dip in her lower back that he loved to kiss. The waist that his hands loved to grasp. The pretty ass that he had smacked more times than he could count. Her long legs and those thighs that had his mouth watering, he had a hard time keeping it together. Her stomach, soft and sensitive every time he kissed it. Her breasts were made for his palms and nipples perfect to pinch. He loved her body. He loved her body. every single part of her called to the base level of his attraction. He couldn't help himself.

Harry had always been a man who appreciated a woman's body, but the higher power had truly outdone herself with Y/N's.

It was hard to not love her body. Especially when it fit every part of him like a puzzle piece. He loved how it was soft where he was hard- How it was round where he was angular. He had a hard time getting over the dip in her waist and how his large hands could span it. God, did he adore her thighs and how they felt wrapped around his waist. Sometimes his favorite was the curve of her ass and how it fit up against him when he bottomed out inside of her- but he was careful to choose favorites when he had so many. She was made out of a fantasy he hadn’t been creative enough to conjure up himself, only able to fathom it in front of his own eyes.

She let out a small hum, shivering slightly as his eyes worshipped her body. Y/N knew he loved looking at her naked. He was almost like an artist, taking his time to study every little thing. She trusted him implicitly with her body, so when she felt him press against her back, she automatically leaned back into him, letting her body mold against his like it always did. Her bottom pushed back against his crotch, making him grunt softly. Her head fell back against his chest, baring her neck to him. 

"Fucking beautiful." The man murmured against her skin, his voice husky as it remained quiet. His hand palmed her breast, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her soft flesh as possible. It was selfish of him to want to be all over her, but it’s all he wanted. Really, it felt like a need to have his hands touching every inch of her even if it wasn’t fully possible. Kneading the soft mound of her breast, his thumb brushed over her hardening nipple with a soft coo. Feeling her react was a privilege he didn’t take lightly. His other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her flush against him. Nuzzling himself into the crook of her neck, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her sensitive skin.

 "God, you're gorgeous. Can’t get over it.” He whispered against her, his touch soft and slow. His fingers gently pinched her nipple, making her arch back against him with a soft whining sound leaving her swollen lips. "Look at you. My gorgeous girl…" The man murmured, taking her in. "You're a damn goddess. Every inch of you is made to be worshipped. N’I’m your main follower." His lips found the particular spot she liked underneath her ear, letting his tongue brush it before sucking softly on the skin. "Y’know I'm obsessed with you, yeah baby? Like dangerously obsessed?"

Y/N could feel his obsession in every touch, in every whispered word. She loved how he worshipped her and how he always made her feel cherished. Most of all, she loved how he talked to her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. She loved his hands on her nearly all the time, like he couldn’t help but touch her- and how he always made her feel protected, honored. Even when he was filthy, in the depths of their passion, Harry had no issue with making her feel worshiped. She turned her head to the side, allowing him better access to her neck as she whispered back "You are. I love it."

It was the truth. Y/N had wondered if someday, someone would be able to match the amount of passion she knew she could bring into a relationship. It was hard to imagine someone feeling so intensely in the way that she did, but she had met her match when Harry had waltzed into her life.

"You love it?" he murmured against her skin, a coo of pleasure in his voice. He nipped at her spot to make her squirm a little in his arms, soothing the small sting with his tongue. "You love how fucking obsessed I am with you, my perfect girl?" His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splaying out possessively. "You love how I can't keep my hands off you? How m’always touching you, kissing you, fucking you until I break? Because that’s what y’do to me. Ruined and saved me all at the same time.” He was waxing on and he knew it, but it was only her right to know how twisted up she managed to get him. “All I can think about is how much I love you,I spend my days dreaming about you. S’that make you happy?"

"Yes." The word came out breathy and needy as he continued to run his hands south. "I love how you can't keep your hands off me. I love how you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every single day." She met his eyes in the mirror as she continued in the whisper, despite there being no need to keep the volume low. The intimacy of it all had it cocooning them in their own personal bubble.. "I love how you speak to me like I'm your own personal heaven."

"Oh, but darling… You are." Harry groaned, his hand sliding between her legs to get a taste of it. "My own personal fucking heaven. If I’ve died n’this is where I end up, I don’t want anyone t’bring me back. I want to live here." The words were murmured against her neck, his fingers finding her wet and ready for him between her sacred thighs. "So sweet and so fuckin’ mine," he praised, his touch gentle and calculated as he pet her, making her gasp. "You're my everything, Y/N. My love, my life, my whole fucking world." His other hand came up to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger again to get her to let out one of those pretty noises again. 

"My beautiful girl," He crooned, his damp fingers slipping through her slick folds, parting her gently. "My precious, precious love…" His fingers found her sensitive bud, circling it slowly and feeling her pulse against his fingertips. Having the key to his pleasure in the palm of his hand was a gift he wasn’t going to waste. "What am I going to do with you, hm? How should I spend my night ensuring you know just how much you make me feel?”

His fingers continued their maddeningly slow circles around her clit, teasing her mercilessly. "Tell me," he spoke, his voice a low rumble against her ear, "Do you want me to fuck this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name? Or should I worship it with my mouth until you're dripping down my chin, begging for my cock?" His other hand tweaked her nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. "How should I show my goddess that she's worshipped?"

"Both," Y/N gasped breathlessly, her body arching into his touch. "Fuck, please..." Her eyes fluttered closed briefly before catching his gaze in the mirror again. "I want... I want your mouth first. Make a mess on your face. I want to watch you worship me." Her hips rolled forward, pressing against his fingers that were still teasing her clit. "Then... God, then fuck me into the mattress." She was already panting, her body completely pliant against his. Even if he held the physical power, he would bend at the knee for her. His girl was the one in charge. 

"Knew you'd be a greedy little thing today. S’a good thing I love fulfilling all your desires." He loved how she wasn't shy about telling him what she wanted.  She knew exactly what she liked and how to ask for it, and it made his job of giving it to her a million times easier. "On the bed, then. I’ve missed that cunt. Show it off for me." He removed his hands from her body, albeit a challenge, giving her a gentle pat on the bottom to urge her forward.

Y/N's legs shook slightly as she moved towards the bed, feeling the familiar adrenaline light her up. It was hard not to feel on the good side of the edge knowing she had a man who never, ever failed on delivering what he promised. Once she was standing next to the bed, she slowly climbed on her knees, gripping the duvet with both hands. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes burning with need. "Like this?" She asked hoarsely, spreading her legs wider to expose her glistening cunt to him.

Harry's gaze was riveted to the sight before him. his love, on her knees, bare and open for him. The sight was exquisite. he couldn’t believe how perfect she was. “Yeah, I love you like that. Fucking stunning.” He murmured as he slowly crept closer to her, crawling onto the bed. His large hands gripped her ample ass, his thumbs spreading her wide for his own inspection. “S’My favorite view.”

Harry couldn’t deny that it filled him with a sense of pride to see evidence of her arousal like this. He pushed his fingers through her messy slit, spreading her juices around. The sound of wet, squelching noises filled the room as he touched her, making her whimper softly. "God woman, you're so fucking wet." He muttered, dragging his fingers back and forth through her dripping cunt. It would almost sound like he was pissed but he was anything but. He was aroused, more than ever.

"Look at me." He commanded, his voice deep and authoritative as he continued to spread her juices around her slick cunt. She immediately turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder, her eyes glassy with need. Without breaking eye contact, Harry leaned down and spat directly onto her cunt, the warm liquid mingling with her own arousal. "So fucking filthy," he growled, using his fingers to massage the saliva into her folds. "Just like my girl should be."

Y/N felt slightly lightheaded at the view, the feeling, all of it. As filthy as he claimed for her to be, he was her perfect match. He knew how to make her crazy because he was just as insane. He brought his spit covered fingers up to her mouth, pressing them against her lips. "Taste yourself." Harry ordered. "Taste how fucking wet you get for me. How your cunt cries for me." He held his fingers there, not moving, waiting for her to open up and take them inside. "Go on, baby. Show me how you clean my fingers."

She parted her lips obediently, taking the digits into her mouth. Humming softly, the taste of her arousal sending a fresh wave of heat through her core. It was very dirty, something she wouldn’t have ever thought of liking before, but Harry had managed to open her up to all sorts of things she never thought she would like. Being spit on and cleaning off her taste off his fingers was one of them. As she sucked his fingers clean, she maintained eye contact, her gaze smoldering with lust and obedience because she knew what it did to him. Playing with fire? Perhaps. But Harry would give her what she wanted. After a long moment, she released his fingers with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his digits for a brief second before breaking. 

"Fuck, I love you." It was a strange time to declare it but seeing her do that stuff had him feeling every sort of insane that he ever could. He couldn’t get enough of how she tasted, how she looked on her knees, how she whimpered and begged when he touched her. Slipping his wet fingers back into her cunt, he let out as he moved where he wanted to be- with his mouth right on her. as he buried his face between her thighs, his long fingers curling up to hit that spot inside her that drove her wild and had her humping back to chase the feeling. "My filthy, perfect girl," he mumbled against her flesh, his hot breath making her shudder. "Spread wider f’me, baby. Let me in." He demanded, pushing her thighs further apart to give himself better access.

Finding her clit with his lips, Harry latched onto the sensitive bud and sucked hard, letting his tongue flick over it. Her taste coated on his tongue and he groaned in pleasure, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through her. His arm wrapped around her hips, pulling her cunt closer to his eager mouth as he devoured her like a starving man presented with a feast- his favorite meal. "Fuck, you taste divine." he murmured before sucking her clit back into his mouth eagerly. Harry had tasted plenty of people before and as cliche as it most definitely sounded, Y/N was by far the best he ever had. He could spend days here and not get tired, wear her on his skin if it was appropriate.

"Oh my fucking God," she whimpered, her hips bucking forward as she pressed against his face. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she reached behind to grab him, holding him exactly where she wanted him. "Right there, baby... just like that..." Her voice was breathy and urgent, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue against her sensitive nerves. She could feel every suck, every flick sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body. It was so hot having a man who wanted to make her feel good, but knowing he got off on it too? Hearing his groans and moans and feeling them vibrate against her? That was a whole other level.

"Harry..." She gasped, spreading her legs wider for him, because fuck, what wouldn’t she do for him in this position? " Holy shit." Her back arched slightly as he continued to suck her clit like it was his favorite candy. "Baby, wait..." She tugged lightly on his hair, her thighs tensing around his face. "You're- You're too good at this..." The whimper was lost as his fingers slid back inside her hole, curving up to hit that sweet spot again. "Oh my God." Her inner muscles clenched around his digits. 

Y/N was getting close, he could feel it in the way her legs trembled and her cunt clenched around his fingers. But suddenly, she pulled him away, panting heavily. "Wait, wait.” she gasped, turning around to face him. "I need your cock, Harry. I need you inside me right now." Her eyes were wild with desire, her chest heaving with every breath. "Please, baby. Fuck me." 

He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to finish on his face this time around, but he wasn’t ever going to say no to being inside of her. 

"With pleasure." He growled, quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. Like she was weightless, there was no hesitation in grabbing her hips and flipped her onto her back, settling between her spread thighs. 

The days at the gym spent specifically to be able to toss her around were proving to be very successful, and Y/N made a mental note to test some of that out later.

"You want my cock, baby?" He asked, teasing her entrance with the head of his dick. "You want me to fill you up?" He leaned down to kiss her deeply, silencing the moaned response she gave. He knew what she wanted- that was his job.

With a deep groan against her mouth, his hips pushed forward, sliding his thick dick deep into her. He panted into her mouth as her walls stretched to accommodate him, wrapping around his shaft like a vice. "There we go. S’perfect. M’home." he mumbled against her lips, beginning to move his hips in a steady rhythm. It may be very cliche, cheesy to say, but nothing made him feel as at home as being close to her did. Nothing. He pulled back until just the tip remained inside, then pushed heavily back in, skin colliding with a solid thud.

"Ahh- fuck. Harry…" She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he filled her completely. Her nails dug into his toned back, sure to make the marks he loved as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He set a slow, sensual pace, angling his hips to bury himself as deep as possible with each thrust. Harry wanted to feel every inch of her gripping his cock, each deliberate movement dragged his shaft along her inner ridges, have her feel it just as much. They were made for each other just based on how she took him and he wanted to remind her each and every time. "Feel that, baby?" He purred, his breath hot against her ear. "Feel how deep m’getting? Claiming every fucking inch of this perfect cunt."

He made love to her slowly, his touch everywhere as he adored her body. His thick hands roamed over her, his calloused fingers tracing her soft skin. "My beautiful girl," he murmured, kissing down her neck as he continued to fill her completely as she clung to him. "My precious, precious love..." His touch was soft and gentle the best he could, his movements slow and deep, taking his damn time with her. Every single time he got to be with her in this way was one he cherished, but it was hard to pound into her when he felt overcome with how much he loved the woman. "My treasure..." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "My heaven...S’what you are.” 

There had been no exaggeration on his end. Being inside of her, being close to her was what he considered perfection. Getting to have the woman he would have only ever dreamt about in his physical hands, feeling the heat of her skin on his palms and the pleasure of her wrapped around him like a lock to a key, it was unreal to him at times. Waking up to her face or her voice, getting to be the one she loved was everything he could have asked for. 

 "You're my everything," he breathed, his pace unhurried yet intense. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to hit that spot deep inside her that made her eyes roll back. All he wanted was for his sweet angel to feel good. His thumb brushed gentle circles over her clit in time with his movements, his touch light. "I worship you." The man confessed, voice hitching as she squeezed around him. "Your body... your heart... your fucking soul." He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep, loving kiss, swallowing her whimpers and moans.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured against her lips. His eyes met hers, burning with an intense, adoring gaze. The longer he was with her, the more the fire was stoked. He was engulfed in the flames of her but he never felt it burn. Only the most comfortable warmth someone could ever imagine. 

"I was a lost, broken man before I met you. But you... you put me back together. You made me whole again." His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust meant to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. They were both too close and he knew it, but this wasn’t the end of their night. It was only the beginning. Burying himself deep inside her, his hips grinding against hers as he felt the nails dig into his back and her mouth open to whimper his name, he let out a breathless laugh as she lost herself on his cock. "Yeah- that’s what I want, baby. Let go on me. Give me everything, and M’gonna give it right back.” It was what he was meant to do. Harry didn’t know before Y/N, but he sure as hell knew now. “You're my redemption, my salvation, my fucking everything. M’gonna spend my whole life showing it"

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel

Harry and Y/N are best friends— except they have feelings for each other (4k words)

warnings : smut 18+, fluff, kissing, grinding, jealous h

read part 2 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Harry really liked—no, loved—Y/N, but he would never admit it to her. She was his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine a day without her. She was like sunshine in his life, someone he could always rely on.

“Harry, my feet hurt,” Y/N whined beside him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from one too many drinks. They were walking back from a party thrown by one of Harry’s friends, Alex. It was his birthday, and even though Harry and Y/N hadn’t planned to attend, today had been their last exam of the semester. That called for celebratory drinks after all the hard work they’d put in. Sleepless, stressful nights spent preparing for exams, completing assignments, and submitting papers—it had all been overwhelming, and tonight felt like the ideal way to finally blow off some steam.

“Didn’t I warn you about those heels?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow. He knew those heels always gave her trouble and told her to wear something more comfortable, but Y/N, being Y/N, never listened.

“Yeah, but they make me look sexy, and I wanted to be tall enough to at least reach your neck,” she replied absentmindedly.

“Well, guess that means I’m carrying you the rest of the way,” Harry said, and before she could protest, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders.

“Harry, my dress is too short! I’m going to flash everyone,” Y/N laughed, though there was no real concern in her voice.

Harry chuckled, placing his hand carefully to keep her covered. Besides, the streets were almost empty at 2 a.m., and there was hardly anyone around to notice.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N met Harry on the first day of college. She was nervous and eager to make friends. Hurrying to her seat, she noticed Harry sitting next to her. The first thing she saw was his mop of curly hair, and she thought he was incredibly cute. He looked so innocent and nerdy in his black-rimmed glasses. He was just too adorable.

He wore a white T-shirt that highlighted his bulging biceps, with tattoos peeking through. Suddenly, Y/N found herself wanting to see every tattoo that adorned his beautiful body. She was so curious and lost in her thoughts about him that she didn’t realize Harry was, in fact, looking at her.

Harry thought he was dreaming as he looked at Y/N. She seemed like an angel, a beautiful one at that. She wore a cute white hoodie adorned with pink bows, and her curly hair framed her lovely face perfectly. What captivated him the most were her eyes; they were alluring, radiant, and a luminous shade of dark brown. Next were her luscious pink lips, so full and plump that he suddenly wanted to kiss them and taste them. He wondered if they tasted like berries or cherries, secretly hoping they tasted like cherries, his favorite fruit.

“Do you have an extra pen?” Y/N asked in a hushed voice. “I forgot to bring my pouch,” she added with a little pout.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Harry replied, fixing his glasses, clearing his throat, and answering in a hoarse voice. He couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Later that day, they sat together at lunch, talking as if hours had passed. Y/N was so grateful to have found someone as kind as Harry, who listened to every word she said with such intent. They chatted about random topics, like their favorite TV shows and ice cream flavors. When Harry revealed that his favorite flavor was mint chocolate chip, Y/N made a weird face.

“Shut up—no, don’t you dare say it!” Harry exclaimed, amused.

“But it tastes like toothpaste!” Y/N whined playfully.

“No, it does not!” Harry shot back. Y/N made a mental note to convince Harry to try every other flavor until he grew to hate mint chocolate chip.

They soon became inseparable—best friends. Harry didn’t realize just how much he had started to like Y/N until it was almost too late. He thought frequently about confessing his true feelings, but there never seemed to be the right moment. He cherished the friendship they had, and the thought of losing her terrified him to his core. So he kept those feelings hidden, bottled up, and accepted her as his best friend.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry set Y/N down on the couch when they reached her apartment. He kneeled down to take off her heels. “Ouch, slowly please,” YN whined.

“I am never letting you wear these stupid shoes again. Your feet are all red and swollen,” Harry countered, looking genuinely concerned. He hated seeing Y/N in pain. He wanted to protect her from everything and keep her safe in his cocoon—just him and Y/N.

He then carefully carried a sleepy Y/N to her bedroom and started looking for a comfortable shirt for her to wear. After finding a suitable shirt, he went to the bathroom to grab her makeup wipes and returned to find half-asleep Y/N lying on the bed. “Sweetheart, this will only take two minutes, I promise.” He began wiping her face gently.

After getting Y/N all ready for bed, Harry changed his own clothes. Y/N had “borrowed” too many of his shirts, but honestly, he never minded it. In fact, he secretly liked when Y/N wore his clothes. She looked breathtaking in his oversized shirt paired with her tiny shorts, which made Harry lose his mind.

“Come to bed and cuddle me; I need to sleep,” Y/N grumbled, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Coming, sweetheart, just two minutes,” Harry replied with a smile. He knew how grumpy Y/N got when she was sleepy. He quickly climbed into bed, set his glasses on the side table, and pulled her to his side. Cuddled next to him, Harry didn’t mind being the big spoon. He loved having Y/N molded to his side—the sweet scent of her hair, which smelled like strawberries on a sunny day, and the soft skin that felt like vanilla sundae. He adored every inch of her. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Everything around him was rainbows and sunshine; she made everything look like it was through rose-tinted glasses.

But Harry also loved being the little spoon. There were days when he just wanted to be held, and honestly, Y/N loved having him like that—clingy, needy, like a cute little puppy.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

One day, Harry arrived at Y/N’s apartment looking extremely worn out. Y/N was lying on the bed, comfortably engrossed in her favorite novel. She grew concerned upon seeing Harry. 

“I am so exhausted, and my head hurts,” Harry exclaimed, throwing his bag on the floor. “I had to sit in Professor Martin’s class for two hours, plus I had a psychology presentation today,” he stated tiredly while rubbing his drowsy eyes behind his frames. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry you had such a long day, baby. Come on, lie down, and I’ll massage your head,” Y/N replied, removing the blanket from her lap. Harry immediately climbed onto the bed and dropped his head in Y/N’s lap. She carefully removed his glasses and placed them on the side table before starting to massage his head.

She threaded her fingers in his curls, scratching his head lightly, rubbing, and applying just the right amount of pressure. Harry let out a soft moan as he could already feel the tension melting away, his body instinctively relaxing further into her lap.

 “Feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against her legs. 

As her skilled fingers glided over his scalp, working their magic and easing the stress that had built up after a long week. 

Y/N smiled, enjoying the way he melted under her touch. She varied her movements, alternating between gentle rubs and firmer pressure, focusing on the areas where he seemed to carry the most stress. Her fingers danced through his hair, and she leaned forward slightly to whisper, “You deserve this. Just relax.”

After what seemed like hours of massaging, Y/N realized Harry had fallen soundly asleep on her lap. His face looked peaceful, with his eyes closed and soft snores slipping through his pretty pouty lips. He looked so adorable, and Y/N couldn’t help but wish she could freeze time to savor this moment longer.

Knowing Harry would probably complain about his back in the morning, she gently shifted him, lifting his head from her lap and placing it on a pillow. His brows furrowed slightly, so she soothingly rubbed his forehead, trying to smooth away any lingering tension. Half asleep, Harry instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and nuzzling his face against her boobs. His personal pillow: He always has the best sleep whenever she holds him. Y/N smiled down at him. His curls tickled her jaw, and she couldn't resist leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his head.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead,” Y/N whispered, smiling at Harry, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was never the jealous type—at least, not until Y/N came into his life. but right now he cant help but a bitter sensation rises up his throat when he sees yn with Jacob. A total douchebag who flirts with every girl in the college, Standing next to Y/N, too closely according to harry. Harry had come to find Y/N so they could grab tacos at their favorite spot, but instead, he’s witnessing this. Does Y/N like him? Does she have a crush on him that he doesn’t know about? What if Y/N is interested in him and wants to end her friendship with Harry? Will she forget about him? All these questions overwhelm Harry’s mind at the sight. No, no—Y/N was only his. His best friend, his angel, his sweetheart. She would never do something like this. His chest suddenly started burning at such thoughts. 

Jacob says something which makes Y/N burst into laughter. His chest tightens at the sight. He wants to be the only person to make yn laugh like that. He curses inwardly that jacob gets to experience the sweet melody of her laughter, her laugh that can instantly brighten up the room with warmth and sunshine. He thinks to himself, Does Jacob know her eyes crinkle whenever she laughs? or how the mole under her right eye disappears when she laughs because of the fullness of her cheeks? 

“Oi, whatchu looking at?” Y/N snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s face. He hadn’t realized she had come over and was talking to him. “You look like you could kill someone,” she teased, giggling as she spoke to him. 

“Was that Jacob talking to you?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual even though he was fuming inside. “Yeah, he wanted my chemistry notes because apparently he spilled coffee on his,” Y/N replied, wrapping her arm around Harry's as they walked together. 

“Did you give them to him?” Harry asked, mentally cursing Jacob and hoping she hadn’t. 

“No, obviously I know he just wanted an excuse to hit on me. I’m not dumb,” Y/N exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, you know I don’t like sharing my notes with anyone except for you, because you know how to take care of them.” She chided and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. His face instantly heated. 

“Good,” Harry whispered quietly, fixing his glasses, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to hide the blush of his cheek and unable to suppress a smile at the thought of Y/N rejecting that jerk. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry loves when Y/N gets touchy like this with him. When randomly she hugs him, kisses him on his cheek, forehead, or settles on his lap while watching a movie. Her spontaneous kisses leave a soft tingle on his skin, and he can’t help but smile every time she curls up in his lap. It’s in these moments he feels closest to her, as if every touch and every kiss is a silent confession of how much she means to him. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her in a little tighter, enjoying the way she fits perfectly against him. The movie on the screen fades into the background; all he can focus on is the warmth of her body and the way she makes him feel—like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. It all feels so natural. And they never have those awkward moments because they both love these touches. Whenever yn touches him, he feels electricity buzzing through him, in a good way. His skin feels like jello and his heart is thumping loudly, His brain is all muddled with goo and sparkles. 

He wants to treasure those moments forever and constantly wishes for more and more. 

It was one of those rare evenings for Harry and Y/N, Where the world seemed to quiet down just for them. They had just finished with their midterms and needed this for the longest time. Dim yellow lights, a bottle of red wine sitting on the table, a soft record player playing in the background. Legs tangled under the blanket as Harry and Y/N sat closer to each other, just enjoying each other’s presence. The warmth of Yn’s body pressed against him felt like home.

Harry’s fingers absentmindedly played with a strand of Y/N’s hair, twirling it between his fingertips. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail — the curve of her lips, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Harry whispered, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile and cheeks already flushed because of wine, changed into a deeper shade of red at his words. “You always say that.” Slurred her words lightly. 

“Because it’s true,” he murmured, leaning in closer, their faces just inches apart. His fingers gently tugging at her bottom lip, eyes flickering to her mouth. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that.” 

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions. Y/N felt her heart race as Harry’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with something deeper than just affection.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Y/N tilted her head, her lips brushing against Harry’s in the softest kiss, testing the waters. It was brief- just a featherlight kiss- but enough to send a shockwave through him. Harry let out a quiet sigh, his hand moving to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, slow and tender. As he leaned in closer, Y/N gently pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, making it easier for them to get lost in each other. Suddenly, he realized what he had done.

Harry pulled back immediately, his eyes wide with surprise at his own action.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, his voice panicked. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing, but there was no trace of anger or discomfort on her face. Instead, she smiled softly, a warmth blooming in her chest at his sudden vulnerability. “No, Harry… It’s okay.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean—”

“Harry,” Y/N interrupted gently, her voice barely a whisper as she moved closer, her hand resting on his cheek. “It’s okay, I want this, I promise.”

Harry couldn’t quite grasp what was happening—it all felt too surreal, like something straight out of his dreams. Yet, here it was, playing out in real time. In the blink of an eye, Y/N tossed the blanket aside and straddled his lap. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as she pressed closer to him, wanting to be as near as possible. Her fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt, before cradling his face. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a deep kiss.

Harry was still trying to make sense of it all, but instinctively, his hands found their place—one tangling in her hair, the other resting gently on her neck.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions that had been simmering under the surface for so long. His lips were soft, and she could taste the faint hint of wine on them. Their lips molded perfectly, like it was meant to be. Time seemed to blur. It must have been five minutes, or five hours; neither of them knew. It was a heated blend of tongue, teeth, and lips. 

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it. Harry pulled back, catching his breath, resting his forehead against hers. His heart pounded, blood rushing south; he was so hard, making him ache beneath her. 

“Can I take off your top, baby?” He whispered, his breath warm against her jaw as he kissed and nipped at it.

“Yes, yes, please,” she murmured, and that was all the permission Harry needed. He swiftly pulled off her shirt—his shirt—and eagerly ran his hands over her smooth, soft skin. 

“So soft, your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his hands working behind her, unclasping her bra. 

Her tits were a piece of art—Round, so full and perfectly perky. His large hands cup them, gently rolling the nipple between his fingers. 

Now she sat only straddling him in her thin, barely there sleeping shorts; she could feel his hard cock beneath her, thick and throbbing, nudging her entrance. Her dampness was seeping through both of their shorts. A delicious remainder, how much she wanted him. He could feel her cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him. 

 Harry had to shut his eyes and  take  a few steady breaths as his chest rose and fell with anticipation. Slowly, he leaned forward, prepping light kisses along the curve of her breast. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back, giving him more access to her boobs. He latched onto her nipple, sucking lightly, while his free hand teased her other breast, tugging and rolling the sensitive nub. Y/N hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, writhing on his cock couldn’t help but start grinding, writhing on his lap.  

"Feels good," she murmured, eyes closed as  she gently took his glasses from his head and placed them on the couch next to them, her fingers threaded through his messy curls. His cock twitched beneath her, nudging her clit, and she could feel her body growing even wetter, soaking through the fabric that separated them. Harry kept switching between her breasts, his mouth worshipping each one as he sucked harder, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.

Making her more drenched 

“Just like that, ride me Y/N” Harry growled, his voice low and demanding. His hands slid from her breast to her waist, guiding her movements. Making her move forward and backward, her clothed, dripping core dragged across his cock, making them both shiver with need. His tattoos peeked through as he finally tugged his shirt off, revealing his inked chest - abs flexing under the butterfly, the black ink stark against his flushed, heated skin.

Y/N's fingers trailed down, dragging her nails across his chest, loving the way his tattoos twisted beneath her touch. She leaned down, biting his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Harry groaned, loving the possessiveness of it—her mark on him. He was hers. 

“You’re doing so good, Angel” he murmured, nipping her ear. Harry was a complete mess beneath her. His eyes glossy, pupils blown away with lust, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips slick and swollen from their kisses. He looks so sexy, Y/N leaned forward, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, swallowing each other’s  moans while increasing her pace. 

He could not believe Y/N was on top of him, grinding against his cock, her sweet little moans filling the air. He was sure he’d reached heaven. He glanced down between them, seeing the wet patch her arousal had left on his shorts, mixed with his own pre cum. 

As Y/N ground herself against him, her clit dragged over the thick length of his cock, and each upward motion had his tip grazing her entrance. The feeling made them both shiver. Her blunt nails dug into his shoulders as her eyes squeezed shut in bliss, her lip caught between her teeth, trying to hold back a whimper. 

Harry slid his hand down, rubbing her clit with his thumb in slow, tight circles, giving her that extra bit of pleasure she craved. “I want you to feel good, baby,” he whispered, his fingers working faster, determined to push her over the edge. His angel deserved to feel good. 

Y/N threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensation. “I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered meekly, her voice shaking. Harry quickened his pace, his fingers pressing into her clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and desperate.

Y/N cries out as her orgasm rips through her, the coil in her belly finally exploding, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. She felt like she was floating—fireworks and butterflies all at once. 

She has never cum so hard in her life. Her fingers never did the job, and vibrators were too boring for her. 

Below her, she feels Harry twitching. He buries  his face in her neck, biting down a patch of her skin to stifle his own moan as he reached the brink. Both arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes shut, loud and desperate whimpers falling from his lips. 

“That’s it, honey,” Y/N cooed, her voice soft and soothing, threading her fingers through his damp curls as she continued to ride him. She could feel him shaking beneath her as his orgasm finally hit, releasing with a loud groan as his body went rigid. His vision blurred, ears ringing, as the bliss overwhelmed him completely. He felt like he was in paradise, his body melting into hers.

For a moment, they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, hearts beating in sync, both of them coming down from their highs. Still trying to make sense of what just happened. Harry let out a breathy laugh, looking for his glasses and placing them again on his face. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, still catching his breath.

Y/N smiled down at him, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, loving how warm he felt under her touch. “And you’re a mess,” she teased softly, laughing with him. Harry grinned, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, but I’m your mess," he murmured, kissing her softly, the intimacy between them palpable.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, exchanging gentle kisses. “I want this with you, Y/N” Harry whispered, “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something for you. That I don’t feel this whenever I’m around you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

Harry pressed on, the confession spilling out of him like a flood. “I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to ruin us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. The most important person in my life, and I was terrified of messing that up. But tonight... it just felt right. It always felt right with you.” 

The air hung heavy between them, the weight of his confession pulling her down, making her chest tighten. Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had always felt something too—always pushed it aside, too afraid of what it would mean for them and for their friendship. But now that it was out there, she couldn’t run from it anymore.

Harry’s eyes softened behind his glasses,  his heart racing a mile a minute. He had finally said it—the words he never thought he’d be able to voice, yet they spilled out of him because he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He had to tell Y/N everything. 

But he still didn’t know if she felt the same, if she liked—no, loved—him back. And though the thought of her rejecting him terrified him, he was ready for it. His heart would shatter into a million pieces, but he would respect her decision, even if it meant she wanted him out of her life completely. It would hurt—of course, it would—but the idea of staying by her side and making her uncomfortable hurt even more.

He braced himself for her response, never expecting what she would say next.

 “I love you, Harry. I think I’ve loved you for a long time... but I was too much of a coward to confess it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. “All this time, I didn’t want to lose you, so I just... ignored it. But tonight? It meant everything. I want this with you too.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear. 

“I always thought you had a thing for Emma from our sociology class,” Y/N added with a teary giggle, realizing how silly it sounded now.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Emma? He had never thought of her as more than a classmate. His friends had mentioned once or twice that Emma might have a crush on him, but he’d never taken it seriously. His focus had always been on Y/N.

Before he could explain, Y/N cut him off. “But now I get it—you don’t like her. It was probably just my insecurities talking,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Baby, Y/N, look at me,” Harry gently commanded. “I had no idea you were worrying about all of this. Emma? I’ve probably spoken to her five times at most, and I don’t like her that way at all. You have nothing to be insecure about.” He cupped her jaw tenderly, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, my angel. The only girl I love and care about.”

Harry's thumb continued to stroke Y/N's cheek gently, his eyes soft and unwavering as he held her gaze. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I’ve never even thought about anyone else the way I think about you. It’s always been you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, the insecurity that had weighed her down for so long now starting to lift. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry wasn’t finished. His other hand slid down to cradle her waist, pulling her more closer if that was possible. They were basically molded together. 

“I love the way you say my name; I love how you play with my rings whenever you get nervous; I love the way you get excited over little things; I love the way you get grumpy whenever you are hungry; I love the way you look at me when you think I am not paying attention. And I love you; don’t ever want you to doubt that, okay?” 

Y/N felt warmth flood her chest as his words washed over her. She’d spent so long overthinking everything, never realizing that Harry had been feeling the same all along.

She blinked back the last of her tears, smiling up at him. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of emotion.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there. “Because you care so much,” he murmured against her skin. “And that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. the tension in her body melting away.

Harry resting his chin on the top of her head. “But now, no more hiding, yeah? No more overthinking or doubting. It’s just us now. I’m yours, and I’ve always been.”

Y/N tilted her head back to look at him, her smile widening as her fingers laced through his. “Just us,” she repeated softly.

Harry’s heart swelled as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice a gentle promise.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, they say, but does it really have to be the end if it turns into one of the deepest connections you've made in a while?? Paring: Long Hair Harry x (Fem)Reader Tags: Always Open @sassamanda77

Word Count: 16K

A/N: I've been working on this story on and off for weeks. Didn't like it at first, but I was really craving an LHH fic where he's just really emotional and in his feelings. So there will be lots of angst.

Warnings: Strong Angst/Smut: mentions of Zayn leaving, and the band's hiatus. Implications of fooling around under the influence of alcohol, Size Kink, Talks Of Oral Sex (M/F receiving), Fingering, (M/F) Masturbation, Slight Spit Play (Just barely), Edging, While I don't condone unsafe sex, there is Unprotected Sex, Pull Out Method...on a lighter note there is lots of fluff, Soft Harryx100, Very Emotional.

(If I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!)

What was the last thing you remembered? Before the dizzying haze sent the world spinning, a tunnel vision of shadows speeding past you. Maybe there was walking, a stumble, a hand gripping yours, maybe the distant face of a stranger.

What was his name? 

And then there were lights? There were so many lights; was the bar really that bright? There was that last shot when the burn of the alcohol was no longer apparent, the sugary finish the only thing washing over your tongue. Kelsey said to take another, so you did; the scene was already blurring around you, and then she said one more, so you did it without hesitation. 

After that, there was the bathroom, except Kelsey wouldn’t leave Bryan’s side, so you had to go alone. Yes, this is where the world started fading because you remember using the bathroom and seeing yourself reflected in the dim lighting of the mirror, but what happened next? 

“Fuuuuuuck—” is all you can say, squeezing your eyes shut, face planted in the pillow. 

When was the last time you felt this hungover, your ears ringing, the roar of a headache this intense, so painful that it hurt to even move your head? A pang so deep in your temples that there’s pain with every thud of your racing heart, feeling the throbbing pulse with every beat pounding through your skull--a steady reminder of the many drinks you felt the need to indulge in, now churning in the pit of your stomach. 

And then there was the ache in your jaw as you gritted your teeth together, willing yourself not to throw up because you didn’t know if you could even move another muscle. Had you fallen? Was that it? Fallen and hit your head…

“That bad, huh?” a deep voice sounds in your ear. 

At first, you don’t think anything of it; maybe it was a figment of your imagination, the demon on your shoulder from last night whispering in your ear, materializing through the pulsing headache ripping through your brain. 

But there it was again, and this time there was a dip in the bed next to you, “I’ll get water?” it says, and maybe you’re still dreaming because every time you move your head, the world still seems to spin, any movement too fast, and there’s that wave of nausea again and that voice—that smooth voice, and is that an accent? 

You know you need to lift your face from the pillow, but you’re unsure if you have the strength or the will to stir this feeling any further. That voice is familiar, though, and when the blanket rustles, the feeling of the moving sheet awakens your naked body and alerts you. Wait naked? You think, whipping your head toward the movement on the bed, and when you spot the man sitting next to you, your whole body reacts, a sudden jolt jumping through you, and then you’re falling off the edge of the bed, the sheets coming with you as your body hits the ground with a hard thud, agony already taking way. 

“Oh my god—oh my god—!” you yell, clutching at your chest, your heart slamming against your ribs, every breath coming at a rapid pace. If you thought your head was pounding before, this was a new torture. 

“I didn’t mean to give you a fright,” He says, and you watch his tall figure crouch next to you, grasping the sheets tight around you as you study his features. It’s like each aspect of his face pulls at your mind like a distant memory. 

He hands you the bottle of water and comes down to his butt, a small smile playing at his lips, and the longer you stare, the more you think you remember; at least you know you came here willingly, hence your naked body under these sheets, but was there sex? 

He’s quiet, only a smile, and when you bring the bottle to your mouth, he laughs, “You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

And when he laughs again, you watch his dimples dip into his handsome face, and you think to yourself…if you’re going to have a one-night stand, this is definitely someone you would want to go home with…or to a hotel? Because when you force your eyes away from his face, you peer around, eyes moving around the luxury suite.

“Did we have sex?” you ask, eyes shifting back to him, and he licks his lips, drawing his knees to his chest, a casual demeanor taking way.

His face morphs from playful to serious in a matter of seconds, which makes your heart drop, and even though it was more plausible than not, you kind of hope you didn’t because you can’t remember a single detail of being in this hotel room, and as you clinch your jaw the ache travels to your temples, bringing tears to your eyes because this has to be the worst headache of your life—and fuck this guy is so hot.

What do they say? You can’t experience beauty without pain? Then you’re cursing to yourself, thinking the one time you score a decent one-night stand, you would, of course, be too miserable to enjoy it. 

“There wasn’t sex in the traditional sense, I guess…” He tells you, cutting through your thoughts.

“Mmmm…” you mumble, eyes sweeping over his face. Then you find yourself smiling because he looks so earnest, and his answer has you searching the tiny treads of memory you can’t seem to conjure no matter how hard you try.

There’s a faint grin tugging at the edge of his mouth, and you can tell he remembers everything, but something tells you that you’ll have to dig for the details. 

“Would you mind…maybe elaborating a little?” you push, watching the smile spread on his face. He reaches forward then, stretching past you to the nightstand, the scent of his faded cologne filling your nose, beckoning you as your eyes fall to the inked skin along his ribs, and then it’s like they’re all coming into view, a sleeve running up and down his arm—fuck.

He sits back on his heels, “Here, I tried giving you these last night, but you passed out pretty quickly after…”

“After…?” You try again and look down at his open palm, the ibuprofen resting in the center of his large hand. You grab the pills and toss them back, guzzling the rest of your bottle of water as if your life depended on it.

He laughs again, his deep rasp breaking through, “So if I can remember correctly…” He starts with a grin, his British drawl making your heart skip a beat. 

“You said, Gerry…I want you in that bed. Then you led us to the room.” He bursts into laughter then and says, “My name is Harry, by the way.”

You immediately feel the heat creeping up your neck, your face burning with shame--shame for your bold behavior, which few have ever seen. “My apologies, but please continue,” you say.

“Don’t worry, Darling, it was quite humbling. Very few get my name wrong…”

You shake your head, thinking you would probably believe anything he told you if he said it with that smile. The same smile that probably got you to this hotel room, but now you’re having second thoughts about who was calling the shots, thinking maybe you’re the one that spurred last night on—you in one of your rare moods, a toss-up of what kind of drunk you’d be, but at least you weren’t bent over a toilet crying over your Ex, so that was a win already.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry asks, as your eyes travel down his torso, eyeing the tattoos; not a single one is familiar, except maybe the butterfly—Like perhaps you saw it in a dream, and why is he wearing boxers, and you’re completely naked?

“I would love a shower…” You breathe, watching as he springs to his feet, a little too fast for your current state, and he smiles when he catches the dizzying look on your face.

“Man, you’re in rough shape…” He laughs, reaching out a hand, and you clutch the sheet to your body, embarrassed by your lack of clothes, suddenly feeling more modest than you’d hope in this kind of situation—But there’s nothing a hot shower can’t fix, right?

Here is the thing about Harry: He brought you back on a whim. He had no intention of bringing a girl back to his hotel room; in fact, it was never in the cards to even go out. He was here in Vegas with the band, probably even the last time they would play here since there was already talk about their impending hiatus. 

Harry was minding his own business, passing you in the hallway on your way out of the bathroom, and when you locked eyes, he watched the smile grow on your face. He thought…fuck…another fan… but when you stopped him in his tracks, there wasn’t a glimmer of recognition. 

You planted your hands on his chest, gazing up at him--a bold move on your part—which immediately piqued his interest. Harry was just drunk enough to play into it. Maybe see it through and play along to see what your next move might be. When you pushed him against the wall in the shadowy light of the hallway, he nustled his face into your neck, trying to shield his face from all the random people shuffling in and out of the bathrooms.

And this is where maybe he did spur you on just a little…

The second he drew a breath, breathing in your scent, he felt himself giving in. The warm flesh of your neck was so close to his mouth that he couldn’t help but push a soft kiss—press his lips into your skin and listen for the gasp he knew would fill his ear, your hot breath fanning over his neck, sending a shiver down his spine, and what else could he do?

He felt your hands roaming his body, clutching at his shirt, pulling with such want that one of the buttons on his shirt popped open, making him pull away in laughter, excitement surging through him that felt foreign because when was the last time he just got to let loose like the? Tensions had been so high lately that nothing in him wanted to be here in Vegas, but now he could at least have a little fun, and why not?

Harry hated Vegas; it almost felt worse than New York, a dense population, always a sea of faces, a place he could rarely go unnoticed, and here he was letting some stranger fondle him, and when you asked him what his name was, he laughed again, pulling away with curiosity, he wanted to see your face, he wanted to know if you were playing into some kind of bit, but then you noticed the tattoo at the center of his chest, and the look in your eyes told him otherwise. 

You didn’t know who the fuck he was, and this made him even more curious—Yeah, you were drunk, but so was he, and would this be a bad thing? He hadn’t had sex in a while, on a sort of cleanse he held himself to for the last six months, and maybe you guys didn’t have to have sex; there were other things. 

But as your hand moved the thin silk of his shirt aside to get a better view, you forced your hand to his chest, pinning him against the wall, his body unmoving as your finger began to trace the outline of one of the butterfly wings. Harry watched as your finger slid down the center of his abdomen, his muscles tightening, forming a straight line to the top of his belly button, sending a rush to his dick.

When you bit down on your lower lip, Harry nearly lost his mind; even then, he wanted to hear your thoughts, wanted you to say them out loud. 

There you were, standing before him with very few words, and then you called him Gerry, which somehow sealed the deal for him. He knew nothing about you, whether you came there alone, what your name was. He figured he could ask you in the car, but as you guys pushed your way through the bar, Harry made a point to be your guiding light, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you guys past the flashing lights of the cameras, cursing to himself the moment you guys stepped foot outside the bar—what was supposed to be fun and low-key turned into him moving through a crowd of people, and while Harry didn’t regret his choice, he knew that you would bare the sting of this later.

Do you want to shower first? You ask, taking hold of Harry’s outstretched hand. Your eyes are trained on his face, watching a smirk spread on those heart-shaped lips you knew you were lucky enough to kiss last night…because there must have been kissing, right? You just wished you could remember.

“You want to take separate showers?” He grins, pulling you up from the ground, and just as you stand to your feet, the sheet is ripped from your body, but your reaction is too slow, and when you look down at your feet, Harry’s foot is at the edge of the material.

“Shit, I’m sorry…” He blurts, adverting his eyes while you stand there clutching at your breast, trying to cover yourself in any way that you can. “I have already seen you naked…if that means anything…”

You laugh then, your face burning, “Yeah…but it would be different if I actually remembered…” 

“So you really don’t remember a thing?” He questions, covering his eyes.

This makes you smile as a bashful look takes Harry’s features--the kindness to cover his eyes is enduring as he crouches back down to feel around for the sheet on the ground blindly, patting his hand across the floor. He grasps the material and holds it out to you, not daring to peek.

“Thanks…” you say, your smile stretching wider, and you can’t help but laugh as you pull the sheet around your body. 

You like Harry’s easy energy; nothing about how he’s presented himself has made you uneasy in the slightest, and when you give him the clear to look, his eyes don’t even wander. They move straight to your face, making your heart pick up a beat.

You can shower first,” he offers, and as soon as he says the words, you feel this draw, this urge, this want to be close. 

A want to explore what it is about this guy that’s conjuring this strange sense of wanting to give your all. Was that what it was last night? A sense of safety? You could have done anything…he could have done anything, but something tells you he didn’t take advantage of the situation.

“We could shower together…if you’d like…?” You ask almost as if it were a question, letting it hang in the silence between you. Harry ponders your words, weighty in the way his brows knit together, his eyes surveying your face, his gaze on the verge of making you backtrack. 

And then he smiles, and you see that glint in his eye, the look that probably lured you in, and he says:

“A mutual shower, no sex?” 

He holds out his hand with a mischievous smirk, turning up the corner of his mouth, and when you grasp his hand, his grip is firm, his green eyes holding you in place, and you wish you remembered what these hands felt like on your body. Did he play into your assertive mood, or was he more gentlemanly? Did this kindness show through the whole time?

You return the smirk, feeling your guard waiver, “Deal--” Then he tugs you toward the bathroom, the sheet falling around your body like a gown, and you wonder if this is what it felt like to be swept off your feet—that giddy feeling of new wonderment filling the air around you both, and when Harry laughs it makes your stomach flutter, like a crush you’ve held secret for years and now you’re finally playing out that fantasy. 

Because later, when this was all said and done, this is the part you’ll look back on and wonder why you did it, why it was so easy because this…him…that feeling blooming deep in your belly would become as familiar as looking in the mirror, and although his face felt distant right now you knew it, somewhere deep within. 

…

Harry couldn’t believe it worked, getting you here in the shower with him. 

He could tell you were nervous. 

The way you kept making small jokes to mask your apprehension, your eyes barely meeting his. When you wrapped the sheet around your body tighter and wiggled yourself up onto the counter, he could see you trying to play it cool, and maybe you would have fooled anyone else, but there was something jerky in your movement, stiff, still guarded, everything understandable, but there was just this tiny piece of him that wanted that girl back from last night.

It didn’t have to be sexual. Although that part was pretty amazing, Harry admired your boldness the most. Yes, he knew that alcohol had a lot to contribute to that, but it came from somewhere, right? He wanted to get this part over, you know, get past all the weird stuff because whether or not he wanted to admit it to himself, you guys were complete strangers. 

So he stood there, patient, his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall as the silence stretched, both of you waiting for the water to warm up, “Are you from Vegas?” he asked. 

He watched you draw in a deep breath, your posture straightening. “I’m from Colorado…you?” and when he gave a faint chuckle, he watched the realization dawn on your face as you let out a nervous laugh.

“England…” Harry laughed, running his hand under the water. It was the perfect temperature, but he knew you weren’t ready. 

“Still kind of cold.” He lied. 

You shrug, “What are you doing in Vegas?” He asked next. 

“I’m supposed to be here with my friend Kelsey. I was actually hanging out with her and her boyfriend last night…damn…I hope she’s not freaking out right now. I can’t remember if I called her.”

“You did--” Harry confirms, followed by a laugh.

Harry catches your eye for a brief second right before they dart to the ground, your cheeks flushing, and he’s still trying to wrap his brain around you and the person you were last night, feeling himself getting sucked in all over again, but differently something more approachable, less fleeting. 

“I don’t do this a lot,” you finally tell him--a pang of guilt is eating away at Harry, and his mind is trying to piece together why you felt like you had to explain yourself. Was he making you feel weird, he wondered? 

When Harry heard this bit, a sense of relief washed over him; this he could work with, this he knew, “Yeah?” He questions.

“Actually… I’ve never had a one-night stand…I ummm….” He watches you swallow the rest of your words, your eyes searching his face. As you gaze at him, he observes the fear creeping into your features, witnessing it take over.

And when he sees this, he’s quick to speak up, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do…and last night I didn’t do anything that you didn’t ask of me…I only did what you wanted…I swear.”

When your eyes sweep over his face, he feels this need for you to believe him because it’s true, and when you breathe the word “Okay…” You nod, then your face relaxes, and you hop down from the counter and move toward the shower, leaning past him to check the temperature of the water. 

When your arm grazes over the soft skin of his stomach, he sucks in a breath, his nerves getting the best of him now, and when you turn your head, your eyes move over his belly, and he stills himself, afraid to move, “Did those hurt?” You ask, and he watches your eyes trail along the band of his boxers.

“They did…” He says, “But it was more of me wanting to cover up another tattoo there, and then these just happened…”

You nod your head again, and he feels himself involuntarily sucking in his stomach, suddenly self-conscious, your neutral gaze unreadable. 

Then your eyes flick to his, smoothing your lips together, “I think it’s ready…” you tell him. 

“Yeah?” He asks, wanting to make sure this is something you want. 

“You’ve already seen me naked…” you laugh, then out of his own bewilderment, that damn sheet drops to your feet, and you step into the hot shower, eyes on his the whole time.

Okay…so he could definitely work with this, and even though he was fighting back his boner, the half-mass that threatened to give him away. He knew he couldn’t help it, and as Harry pulled down his boxers and stepped in behind you, he turned away, not wanting to weird you out. 

…

“Do you want some of the water?” You ask, your eyes closed, the hot water hitting the top of your head like heavy rain. The humidity of the shower fills your lungs as you reach and smooth your hair back, and its soothing warmth is all-consuming.

You know that you’re on full display, but you’re having one of those “fake it til you make it” kind of moments, and you figured if he didn’t like what he saw last night, maybe he would have asked you to leave. I mean, he was the one offering the shared shower in the first place. 

You thought the longer you kept your eyes closed, the longer you could keep them from roaming. You knew you were hogging the hot water, but something about the heat washing over your scalp felt like a christening of new life, the ibuprofen starting to kick in. You stood there finally at peace, massaging your scalp as a long sigh slipped past your parted lips, causing Harry to clear his throat. 

When your eyes flutter open, you blink away the water, the moisture from your eyes blurring your vision. Then, you step away from the downpour, taking care not to look anywhere but at Harry’s face, his focus trained on your eyes, never drifting any lower.

This made you smile, knowing damn well his eyes had plenty of time to survey your body, and a piece of you wanted him to. 

There was something about him that made you want him. You wanted him to watch you, maybe make the first move so that you wouldn’t overthink it, and here you guys were, in the midst of a hot shower, your bodies only inches away as you both played polite, and the thought alone was driving you crazy. 

That’s when you grab hold of his arms, trying to maneuver around him in the tight space, guide him toward the shower head, watching as the water cascades over his dry hair, and when you let go, your gaze falls to his shoulder, the trickle of water floods down his chest as Harry closes his eyes, and he lets his head fall back, an audible sigh escaping as you watch his lips part, his tongue coming out to lap tiny droplets of water—and fuck you are so turned on, a dull throb pulling between your legs already.

“This feels so good…” he mutters, caught up in the tranquil lull of the water. 

Would it be so bad to take a peek? See what Harry would have been working with? Because if you’re honest, your eyes may or may not have flitted over his mounding bulge stretching out the front of his boxers earlier, so why not confirm and put your curiosity to rest?

But here you are with every opportunity—do you do it? His eyes had to have roamed, and as your eyes scan down his body, you watch the toned muscles along his torso tighten and relax as he moves his arms above, running his fingers through his long hair, and there’s those damn…what are they…leaves? 

And as you eye them, you can’t imagine what he could have possibly covered up; it doesn’t even look like anything was there…and oh fuck, you think as his thick dick comes into view, the weight of it hanging heavy and hard between his legs and shit. There was no way that was inside you last night because as you sucked in a deep breath, reeling over his size, Harry asked, “Can you pass me the soap,” and for the second time that day, you jumped, slamming your hand over your mouth to muffle the yelp of surprise rising. 

When you peel your eyes away from his dick, your eyes meet his, and of course, he’s smiling because your dumbass couldn’t stop gawking.

Now you’re blushing, and when you pivot on your feet, you slightly slip, causing Harry to grasp hold of you--your wet hand slides down the wall and comes to a halt as you push the weight of your body into the palm of your hand and holy fuck, Harry’s hands are on your naked body, and as you right yourself, his hard dick pushes against your ass, and you’re trying everything in your power not to provoke it any further—push into him, nudge the idea into his head.

“You okay, Darling—” Harry questions, and you don’t even have to turn around to know that he’s smiling; you can hear it in the pitch of his voice, the amused tone of someone who just caught you red-handed, but how could you not look, and why are you making this so awkward? There’s no reason to freak out, but like the weirdo you know you can be, you’re doubling down, pushing out the first words that come to mind.

“We didn’t have sex--” you force, over-dramatic, of course, and then you’re repeating it. “We didn’t have sex…we for sure--did not--have sex.”

He laughs, “I know silly…I told you that already…”

“Yeah, I know--” you tell him, your tone getting pushy, the embarrassment of it all catching up to you.

“Okay…” He says, “Is everything okay?”

“I just accidentally looked at your dick…” you blurt, almost as if you’re waiting to be reprimanded. Harry drags his hand from your waist as his hand finds purchase on the wall next to yours. He releases you then, his breathy laugh filling your ear, and he pulls away, tsking his tongue several times in a row, making you smile.

“Why would you taking a peek at my dick be more confirmation than me saying? He pokes.

You shake your head, pushing yourself upright, “You just want me to say it?” 

This warrants another laugh, the laugh echoing through the shower, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about…I swear?”

Then your head whips in his direction, catching his cocky grin right before it disappears, “You know why…”

“Come on, Darling, humor me just a little?” he pleads, and now you look again, your eyes sweeping to his hard dick, your gaze making his cock bounce, and you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to suppress your smile.

“I’m just a shy girl…” you joke.

“You weren’t shy last night…” he tells you, with that sexy smile again, and you laugh, your nerves getting the best of you as you try and play it cool.

“It doesn’t count…I don’t remember…” you say.

“Well…I’m just a shy boy… I’m not sure I can repeat your demands out loud…”

You gasp, pushing a hand into his chest, “My demands?” you ask, and Harry grabs hold of your wrist, holding your hand in place.

“Yes, Darling, you were very demanding last night…”

“Stop…I might go run and hide.” You threaten him, feeling shy, but there’s something calming about his energy. You like his playfulness and find yourself wanting to play into it. 

“Like go hide back under the blankets?” He offers, poking you in the belly, and then your eyes drop to his finger moving away, your boobs coming into view, a reminder that your casually standing here naked with a dude you just met, and it’s starting to shock you how easy this feels.

“If I get back in that bed… I’m going back to sleep…” You tell Harry, firm, no room for negotiations.

“Can there be cuddling?” Harry suggests, taking a step toward you as you ponder his offer.

You laugh, a nervous flutter growing in your stomach, “So you want me to stay?” You whisper, your back hitting the wall. You were so focused on Harry’s gaze that you didn’t even notice the steps he had taken toward you, caught up in the idea of sharing a bed again.

 Now, there was proof that your body acted on its own accord around this man, that you could be inching backward and have no conscious thought of it until you were staring up at him, watching him plant a hand next to your head, walling you in.

And now you’re holding your breath, contemplating his next move, his inquisitive gaze sweeping over your face—what is he thinking? 

Then Harry reaches forward and tucks a wet strand of hair behind your ear. Moments later, his finger drags along your jawline as you exhale that weighted breath—His close proximity dizzyingly affecting you as you fold your hands behind your back and flatten against the hard-tiled surface—Your mind is desperate to find something real, something to root you in place. 

It’s like suddenly you’ve been here a million times with this guy, this stranger that’s growing strangely familiar by the second, and as you glimpse the smile spreading on his beautiful face, your eyes drop to his mouth just as his tongue comes out to smooth over his bottom lip, and he rubs them together, drawing you in even further.

And as if there were an invisible string tugging at your core, you push your hips from the wall, an urge pulling between your legs as his thumb traces a faint line across your lips, and he presses his body to yours, your lips parting the second his thumb moves away. 

“Would you like to stay longer?” He whispers, his tone like honey dripping down your spine, and there you go again, arching your hips into his. Then his hand comes up to your waist, softly gripping the skin at your side, driving your hips back until your hands are flat against the wall again, Harry’s hard dick pushing against your thigh, and your willing yourself to stay perfectly still. You stand there compliant, relishing the feeling of his hand moving to your hip. 

Your throat is tight with every word you want to say, and as you nod, you swallow down hard, trying to force the lump down, “Yes…” you push, your voice barely above a whisper, and he’s smiling again, his lips corking into a playful grin, and you’re dying for him to kiss you because he could kiss you right now.

Those lips could be pressed to yours in a matter of seconds because his face is so close, so close that you, yourself, could close the gap, but you’re too scared, and when you watch his gaze flick to your lips, again, you rub them together, preparing for that kiss, because he’s definitely going to kiss you, his head is moving, he’s closing the gap, and as your eyes flit closed, you hold your breath waiting, waiting…and then his lips, press into your cheek, delicately lingering until his raspy laugh fills the crook of your neck as Harry moves his mouth to the shell of your ear, “Maybe later…” 

Then you grab hold of his hips, pulling them into yours, your arms wrapping around his neck, and then you’re hugging him, and you don’t know why you’re doing it. Still, it’s like this primal urge of wanting to be close to him, to feel his body next to yours, this safety that seems to emanate from every fiber of his being. You want him close, to feel that closeness with Harry, because you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe, this open vulnerability. 

It’s like it’s overtaking you, and when Harry’s arms wrap around your body, his grip tightens, and he returns the gesture—Everything about it feels real.

It’s like this surreal calm takes over your body, and suddenly you’re crying, a few tears drifting because this feels so good, this hug, and you think you wouldn’t need anything else, that this is perfect, and he’s not letting go. Then he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, his body trembling in yours, his weight slightly shifting. That’s when you realize he’s crying, huffing a hot sob into your neck, and you hold him--You hold him tight because maybe he might just need this more than you. 

…

Harry didn’t think he would cry, but there he was, crying into the neck of a total stranger, not even second-guessing himself because once he heard your soft sniffle brush past his ear, he knew he was a goner. 

Harry felt his edges crack them crumble into a sob like the weight of days, months, the years were coming down on him--All the days that had vanished slipping past him, and while Harry had the world at his fingertips, there had been a hollow opening up, one big question mark, marking his life with no plan for his future because 

Harry knew that things with the band couldn’t last forever, that the shelf life of a boy band was short. It wasn’t just the band; they were all getting tired, especially Zayn, who was already on his way out the door. Harry could feel it, see it there in his features, Zayn 

withering away right before their eyes.

Another collective weight, the foundation of their legacy, splitting beneath their feet.

So when you stumbled into his world, he wasn’t necessarily looking for you, but here you were, wrapped in his arms, both of you tucked beneath the blankets as Harry listened to your slow breaths, your body growing heavy as you drifted off to sleep, feeling a world of safety crashing into him.

At first, he told himself he would wait until you fell asleep and then sneak out of the bedroom, hang out in the living space, watch a movie, or write in his journal. But the second he opened his eyes, you were still in his arms, your face inches away from his. He watched as you stirred awake, your eyes lazily flitting open, a slow smile waking on your face. 

“So it wasn’t a dream…” you whispered, making his heart flutter, and without thought, his lips moved to your forehead, and Pressed a soft kiss to your skin. 

As the kiss lingered, he breathed you in, thinking how was it that you both used the same soap, but somehow you smelled more inviting, the soap taking on a whole new aroma, one he wanted to savor, and when he pulled away, you brought your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb back and forth. Then, your hand drifted to the nape of his neck. 

And as you drew in a breath, you pulled his face to your mouth, your lips moving to his temple, and ever so gently, he felt your lips meld to the tiny hairs along his hairline, whispering the words, “I’m so hungry…” and when you laugh, a puff of warm air ghosts over his ear, sending a slow hum down his spine. 

This is the feeling he had been longing for. That feeling of ease, of comfort. 

It had been months since he had three consecutive days off in a row; it had been even longer since he had felt this building notion, this anticipation of feelings—the beginning of a crush—those silly flutters in the depth of your belly every time you look at them, and you were merely a stranger. There could be nothing else from here. He didn’t even know if you knew who he was. 

“Let’s order room service…” he whispered, trying to keep his voice even as he bit back tears. Your eyes wandered over his face. He wondered if he had asked what you were thinking if you would tell him, and then he did, his heart starting to pick up.

“What are you thinking?” he forces the words tight in his throat. 

And to his surprise, you don’t even hesitate, “That for some reason you look familiar, but I swear I can’t figure out why…like maybe it’s just my brain recalling your face from last night…”

Then Harry is holding his breath, watching, waiting for you to figure it out, and when you say, “I don’t think I could forget a face like this—” he lets out a quiet breath, pressing your hand into his cheek.

Just then, a rapid tap drums from the other room, and Harry lifts his head, his eyes flicking to the open door of the ensuite. “I think someone’s knocking,” he hears you say through the onset of panic. 

His heart races, and he tries to remember if they had anything planned as a band, but today and tomorrow were free days. Why the hell would anyone be bothering him? 

The knocking stops, but then the sound of clicking fills the silence of the room, and just as Harry is piecing together what’s happening, the hotel door opens; a soft glow from the hotel hallway bleeds into the main room, and Harry springs to his feet as a man calls out his name. 

“Shit—be right back…” he told you, fidgeting with his boxers, now sitting low on his hips, “It’s just Paul… probably checking in—” 

And when Harry catches the worry streaking your features, he bends down and kisses you on the cheek, “Don’t worry, love, it’s just a friend…” Then he watches your brows knit together, mulling over this bit as Paul calls Harry’s name again, his voice drawing closer to the bedroom.

…

Lights began to beam through the dark doorway as you watched Harry step out, closing the door behind him just as you caught sight of a man leaning down to click on a lamp next to the sofa just beyond the door. 

You lay there for a beat, wondering if you should feel fear, but the feeling never stirs, then your thinking why did Harry need all this space, and what does he do for a living to afford such a luxury hotel room.

As soon as Harry closed the door, the room was swallowed in darkness, and you bound off the bed to search for the curtains, opening a small section until you realized that the sun was setting, the twilight of the evening just settling over the bright lights of Vegas and holy shit, what a view. 

You had to have money to get this kind of view, so you opened the curtains wide, sinking into the comfy chair next to the window, crossing your legs underneath you, mesmerized by the hustle and bustle far below, the room so high that you could barely see the people moving around, or maybe your eyesight was shit, either way, it was the perfect view.

Bored, you turned on lights, trying to breathe life into the room. 

When Harry took longer than you expected, you shut yourself in the bathroom, taking this moment to spruce up. As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, your eyes darted to the oversized t-shirt Harry let you borrow.

Your eyes scanned over the faces, filling five boxes, the last box spelling out “1D,” and you laughed, thinking, what the hell is this? The faces of these little boys stretched across the shirt, blue, pink, and purple, repeating the pattern, and at the very bottom of the shirt, it read, ‘Up All Night Tour 2012,” which was two years ago. Harry seemed too old to be repping this; how old was Harry anyway?

The more you look at the shirt, the more you want to make jokes, like, of course, it says ‘Up All Night’ They looked just on the cusp of no longer having a set bedtime, and with any boy band, you find yourself surveying their attractiveness, your eyes only lingering on the dark-haired boy with the earrings who probably grew up to be really hot, with those dark eyes and dark lashes—the others weren’t your vibe, but then you felt weird thinking that, like how old were they anyway.

Then it dawned on you that they were the reason you were here, that Kelsey arranged this whole trip to Vegas around this concert, the only way she wanted to bring in her 21st birthday, at the iHeart Music Festival.

That’s when you made a mental note to ask him about this band, see if it was worth it, see if your friend was crazy for dragging you guys here because you could barely afford it as it was, and when she brought her stupid boyfriend, it ruined the whole trip…maybe hooking up with Harry will be the only highlight of the trip after all.

Eventually, you returned to bed after searching for your phone. You found it under the bed, but it was dead. Now you had to wait for Harry and Jeez. What was taking so long?

When the door finally opens, Harry is running a hand down his belly, a sweet grin, peeking at the corner of his mouth, “I’m starving…” He drawls his British accent heavier when the words are lazy.

“I think food is the last step to curing this hangover.” You tell him, sitting up on the bed.

“Sorry that took so long…we were going over plans for the next couple of days.”

“Gotcha…” you nod, “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s whatever…” He pushes, shrugging his shoulders as he puffs out a breath of frustration.

“I think for like the first time in a while, I just need a vacation…” He continues.

“Vacations are nice…” you agree.

“Do you get to at least enjoy Vegas while you’re here? Did your friend want to go out? I could always ditch. I don’t want to impede on any of your plans—”

He laughs, “I’m technically not old enough to hit the town just yet. It wouldn’t be a good look…”

“Wait, what? Weren’t you out last night?” 

“Well yes…but that was 18 plus…”

“Are you telling me you’re 18?” you blurt, surprised because you thought you guys were at least the same age.

“Darling, I’m 20… don’t worry… you’re not robbing any cradles trust me…” and you watch as a faint blush creeps into his cheeks, and when he runs a hand through his long hair, he scrunches his nose, making you laugh because shit, this dude is hot, like probably the hottest guy you’ve ever scored as far as hook up’s go. 

“What?” He asks, eyes searching your face. You push yourself off the bed, coming to stand in front of him, feeling a sudden urge of confidence, and when you bring your hands up to cup his face, you ask:

“May I kiss you?” and he lets out a nervous laugh, grabs your face in his hands, and matches your stance.

“May I kiss you…” he jokes, and you drop your hands, wanting him to take the lead.

“Yes…” and just as he’s leaning in, you say, “But let the record show…I did ask you first.”

His breathy laugh fans over your lips as he presses his mouth to yours. Your smile slowly fades as your lips begin to move together. When Harry deepens the kiss, you release a chaste breath. Your lips part, and you swipe the tip of your tongue over his top lip. Then Harry groans, and the vibration hums across your lips.

Your hands come up to his waist, gliding up his torso until they wrap around his neck, your hands threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. You couldn’t believe you were kissing him. It was like everything that you had imagined in the shower, except his touch was a lot more gentle, his pace slow, meaningful in the way his thumb caressed your cheek back and forth, kissing you the way you’ve always dreamed of being kissed, like cue the night sky and all the stars above you and this would be absolutely perfect, but fuck the stars if you had this mouth kissing yours.

Because what were the stars if you had his hand gripping the back of your neck, holding you in place, anchoring you there, because suddenly it feels like you’re floating, this kiss dizzying you, a heady sense of giddiness coursing through your entire body and all you can think is this…this is what I want right now.

And you’re acting on it, greedy for it, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and you want this, you want this right now, and Harry seems to be picking up your cues, and as your breath picks up, so does the kiss, and it’s breath after breath, this urge growing, and as you begin to move the kiss, taking a slow step back, Harry breaks away.

“Mmmm…” He breathes, swiping a thumb over his bottom lip, a grin spreading across his mouth, and there’s that urge again, and you take a step forward, your mouths crashing together.

Then you’re picking up on that same rhythm, and then you’re pulling him toward the bed, you’re mouths move with hunger--desperation in each step that you take backward, Harry moving with you until the backs of your legs bump the bed, and your pulling at his waist, needy for him to crawl into this bed with you, and then he laughs, halting your hands, and you open your eyes just as he’s pulling away from the kiss, his eyes trained on you.

“What?” You ask, “Is this not okay?” 

His hands smooth down your forearms and grasp your hands, “If this is what you want…I hate to say it…but I really need food…” He suggests, dropping one of your hands to pat his hungry belly.

“Food?” you repeat, almost dazed because you literally almost had him in this bed.

“Yes, love, I need fuel to take you on again…” he rasps out with a laugh.

“Again…?” you ask, licking your lips, the taste of his mouth still on yours keeping you in the moment.

“Yes… you’re a feisty one…” Harry tells you, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Mmhmmm….” is all you can say when you feel his lips press into your neck, revving you back up, and you squeeze his hand hard, gasping out a breath of desperation as you tug his hand toward the ache between your legs.

Harry releases a weighted breath as he pulls away, his eyes locking with yours. You pressed his hand to the fabric of your panties and unclenched your tight hold on his hand. When you bite your lower lip, you watch the contemplation crease between his brows. 

Then ever so slightly, he drags his fingers over the warm center of your underwear, your mouth rounding into an ‘O’ as the pressure of his touch deepens over your clit, and he begins to draw a small circle with his fingers, and you whimper a low, “Mmmm…” just as his hand draws away slowly, a small smile playing at his lips, and your hips move in the direction of his hand, not wanting the touch to end.

Then you’re on the tips of your toes, pressing your lips to his again, and this time his hands are on your hips, forcing them back until you’re seated on the bed, and he breaks away from the kiss, pushing his weight into his hands, planting your ass to the bed, “Food first. Then this…” He reiterates, this time a little more firmly, and all you can do is smile, him nodding his head until you’re following along.

“Fine—” you puff out, sexually frustrated, to say the least. You laugh as you fall back onto the bed, ready to pout about it, as you swing your legs back and forth over the side of the bed, suddenly feeling a fit rising, and you exhale a loud dramatic sigh bubbling up from within, and when your eyes sweep to Harry. He’s standing there with a huge grin, stretching from ear to ear, and you cover your face, embarrassed maybe, but more overwhelmed by what this dude was doing to you, your resolve crumbling with every passing hour.

“See…I told you…feisty…” He chuckles out, running a hand through his hair.

…

Harry knew he was in for it the second his fingers slid over the soft cotton of your underwear as he watched you unfurrow, your jaw going slack, mouth curving into the perfect shape. He knew exactly what those perfect lips felt like wrapped around his cock, and had you put up more of a fight; he would have given in, fallen mercilessly into the greed that was overtaking him.

And when you fell back onto the bed, his fingers twitched at his sides, a whole vision of him falling to his knees to pry those delicious thighs open. The only thing between his mouth and your pussy was the weightless material of your panties. All he would have to do was slide them to the side, bring his mouth to your warm center, and taste you. Drag his tongue up your slit till he was spreading you open, the salty-sweet slick of your pussy coating his tastebuds because you were already wet, the fabric damp under his touch—you needed him like he needed you—and now as you both sat there taking your last bites of food, the T.V. droning on in the background, he was smitten.

“Okay—that’s fair, but what’s like the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you? You asked Harry, a broad smile stretched across your face as both of you enjoyed each other’s company, and he couldn’t believe how much fun he was having just sitting there talking to you.

Harry had to think this question through; he knew what he wanted to say, but how could he tell you without giving his identity away or not spurr on more questions to lead you there because Harry had decided back in the bedroom what this would have to ultimately be—a hook up—that’s all it could be because once you figured out who he was, it would scare you away. 

How could something like this work when it’s so clear that you both lead two very different lives? 

“Ummm…I guess…one time I fell in front of a room full of people…I mean, like a massive fall, a ridiculously stupid fall, and not only did I fall in front of all these people, but my family and friends were there too….and I just laid there for a second, not wanting to get back up.”

You laughed and asked, “Was it like a presentation or something?” and Harry studied your face, readying himself for the lie.

“Yeah, back at Uni, it was pretty silly, really…I had a nasty bruise down my hip later, but that didn’t hurt half as much as my ego.” He laughed out, stuffing his last bite into his mouth.

He liked the way that last line made you laugh as you took a drink of your water, your eyes darting to his mouth, lingering, making his dick tingle, and he wished he could hear your thoughts out loud, and then you surprise him:

“What are you thinking?” 

Harry is thinking a lot of things, and he knows that if he tells you the truth, it will shift the mood, switch gears from light and easy to possibly where you guys had left off in the bedroom. 

He could feel the tension floating at the surface of every thought—feel it in the way your gaze lingered, the way your lips smoothed together every time he licked his lips or ran a hand through his hair. The way he felt himself flirting, witty with a purpose just to make you smile, laugh that cute laugh of yours—you taking any excuse to touch his arm, his hand, he liked you loose like this, a girlish playfulness that sent a flutter to his stomach, his dick anxious to please you.

But that was the problem. Harry didn’t know if he could do it. He had gone so long without sex already, and he wasn’t prepared. 

There wasn’t a single condom in the room, and yes, you guys could fool around like last night, but he knew he would want more. Ever since you touched his face in that shower, held him while tears streamed down his face, he wanted to bury himself deep inside you, make you feel the way you made him feel—warm, safe, secure in his touch, your bodies pressed together in a haven that only you two could build because couldn’t this last longer? 

Did it have to end at this? All of it was so confusing, these feelings circling inside him.

“What am I thinking?” He finds himself repeating, trying to stay in the moment.

“Yeah…” You answer, your tone soft and inviting.

“I’m thinking that I’m really glad you’re here…and that this has been the best time I’ve had in a really long time.” And when Harry says it. He knows it wasn’t what he planned on saying, but the words tumble out of his mouth with intention.

Harry wanted you to feel precisely what he was feeling right now, and that was fulfillment because even if you didn’t move any further than this, this would be just enough, you being here, the presence that you’re bringing to his life in this very moment—this joy—Harry hasn’t felt this kind of happiness in so long that all he wants to do is bask in it, savor every second.

…

There it was again. That soul-deep kindness that’s been chipping away at your guarded facade all day, casting away doubt from the moment you opened your eyes this morning. 

Who was this person, this man sitting next to you on this couch? 

Where had someone like him been when all the others failed before him--his presence alone was the biggest mindfuck you have had in a long time because what the fuck are you doing here? Where was this going? It was starting to feel like more than a hook up; the time you both were putting in said otherwise.

Technically, you guys had already hooked up, even if you didn’t remember, he did, so you both had already gotten what you wanted, so your staying longer was a choice on both of your parts, and here you knew nothing about him, but feeling a draw so intense that you can’t even put a finger on the feeling, it’s like your soul already knew him—already knows him—his eyes as familiar as looking in the mirror, but what was the catch? How was this going to end? Could this be more?

“Harry, should I go?” You ask him, needing to know where he stands in all of this; hear the words that he wants you to stay.

He’s in the middle of gulping down his water, and as soon as he hears the question, he chokes the water down with a cough, eyes darting to you, and you wait for his cough to settle.

Harry takes a beat, taking you in, his eyes sweeping over your face, “Do you want to leave?” he finally says, making your heart pick up a few paces.

“I just want to make sure I’m not overstaying my welcome…” you answer, studying his face.

He shakes his head. “Am I making you feel that way?” Harry scoots closer to you on the couch, your body shifting toward his, and places both hands on the tops of your thighs, bringing his eyes level with yours.

There’s a plea rising in his features, a worry furrowing his brow as his hair falls into his face, and you reach to sweep the tuff of hair behind his ear, “No—I just feel like—”

“I don’t know…” And you can’t even look at him, his gaze too much, that look sucking you in, making you weak for this man—you want to fulfill every silent want that he has, every want that’s filling the air because you can feel it, the breath heavy in your lungs. You want him just as much as he wants you because you’re aching with it, pleading from the depth of your belly for it—an unspoken want so desperate it hurts.

“I want you to stay…” he whispers, cupping your cheek in his hand. The warmth seeps into your skin, and you close your eyes, wanting to savor the feeling.

Then there are tears, and you don’t know why you’re crying, but when the pad of his thumb swipes over your cheek, you grab hold of his wrist, your eyes shuddering open. His face is blurry until the tears spill over, and he’s wiping them away, “I’m scared…” you choke, barely able to get the words out.

“I’m scared too…” He manages, as his face begins to break, then you spring forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and when he falls back into the pillows of the couch, you crawl into his lap as he draws you into his body, Harry holding you tighter than he’s had this whole time.

“I think I really like you…” He murmurs, pushing the words into your neck, and you feel your whole body heat with the thought; your feelings mutual, but all you can muster is a “Yeah?”

And as you relax into his lap, Harry’s grip loosens enough for him to rub a slow hand up and down your back, your body going slack, and your head nestles into his shoulder as the tears continue to fall, and you close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling of the rhythmic stroke of his hand.

It’s not until he scoots his hips forward on the cushion that you stir from your trance, his arms a fortress from whatever was plaguing you before, and you shift your hips until you’re realigned with his body, your hand absentmindedly twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. 

You listen as Harry draws in a slow breath through his nose, one of his hands traveling lower, moving over the curve of your hip, skimming under the back of your thigh, and he grabs your flesh, pulling you further into him, your center now pressed against the mound of his boxers as your legs spread just enough to make it known, your body waking, the path his hand took now alive with his touch. 

Without thinking, you press a delicate kiss to the skin of his neck, your lips slightly sticking to the damp aftermath of your hot breath, which came and went as your emotions slowed. Harry’s shoulder slick with your tears. When you lift your head, your hair is glued to the side of your face, and you brush it back, forcing it behind your ear. 

The blush of his lips is the first thing you see, more prominent in the trace of his tears now glistening on his flushed cheeks, and when your eyes meet his, a tear spills over, and your throat seizes with the sight. You have no idea why he’s crying, but somehow you feel the pain of it settling in your bones, the pain fitting to your flesh as if it was your pain to carry. 

Will a kiss make it better, make it all go away? 

Because the way he’s looking at you with those green eyes, so green, islands in a sea of pain, the whites of his eyes red, giving it all away. You reach for the hem of your shirt, bringing it up to his nose, and wipe it clean, making Harry laugh. It’s a start, and when he grabs hold of the shirt, he silently nudges his chin upward, a quick nod, signaling for you to take it off, and he helps you lift it over your head, your bare breasts coming into view, and you’re straightening your spine ready for him to take you in.

His head falls back against the cushion of the couch, his body slumping as the tears continue to come, like the sight of you is too much to bear, a pained look as he bites his lip, and everything in you wants to ask, just ask, that’s all, but it doesn’t feel like the right time, like whatever Harry feels he needs to release, let it go, so he can move on from it.

He scoots himself further down on the cushion, his ass nearly toward the edge, and you shift your weight into your knee, pushing into the sofa, your outstretched hand coming down next to his head. 

The sudden jolt of your arm falling into the pillow makes your boobs bounce up, only inches from Harry’s face, and the two of you lock eyes as you adjust yourself in his lap, a chill running down your spine when his warm breath fans over your skin, bringing awareness to your hard nipples—the unspoken need for him rising as the air grows thick around you, all your focus closing in on Harry.

His long legs become the perfect chair, enough space between you and the tenting bulge forming in his briefs, and he drags a hand down his torso, dipping into the band to readjust the growing boner that has your mouth watering because there’s no way that dick hasn’t already filled your mouth, that your jaw hasn’t stretched around it, tried to fit as much of him into your mouth as you could, was that it? 

Was that the pain in your jaw this morning? So stiff you could barely open it. 

Did he fuck into your mouth until he came, shot his warm load down your throat? Did you both go to sleep satisfied because now you’re thinking the only way you could leave this hotel satisfied is if that dick had been deep inside you, a memory for later when all else fails when you have to say goodbye because you’ll have to say goodbye, right?

The head of his long penis peeks out of the top of his boxers, and the material settles over his girth, and all you can do is stare, his fingers grazing up and down the fabric as he comes to full mass, the movements slow and steady like a sunset opening up to the night, taunting you, knowing that darkness brings all the things you hide in the light, and these are the things you want to give him, the things you want to share.

…

It’s an unspoken want, but this is what Harry needs, he thinks while he watches your body lengthen, your posture righting itself as you cup both of your breasts in your hands, your gaze moving from his dick to his face, your mouth smoothing together, stirring a hunger in him when you pinch the tips of your nipples with your fingertips, arousing yourself, and your rock hard nipples even further. 

And what a fucking sight to see, the pleasure it brings when you clamp down on the tips, just hard enough to release that soft gasp slipping past your parted lips, and he wants more. He wants to see it all, and when Harry reaches for your wrist, he pulls your hand between your thighs--he wants to see you touch yourself--he wants to see you plead for more than just your fingers. 

The gesture is silent; no words needed because your fingers are already moving, a palm pressed into his knee as he watches you steady yourself, the other hand moving over the center of your panties, a slow, gradual pace as your hips jut forward. 

He sees your need growing as you find your rhythm, your gaze focused on him, right where he wants it, making him even more turned on as he watches the slow circles, your legs widening when you press a foot to the ground, rising slightly, your body secure. 

That’s when you slip your hand into your underwear, the need more pressing, your breath picking up, and when you roll your hips into your touch, your head falls back as you unleash a gentle moan, your eyes flitting shut, ready to get lost in it.

Harry decides to join in on the fun, stroke his hard throbbing cock, while he takes you in--The idea of him being inside you was only a fantasy at this point, but maybe he could make it real.

Harry knew he couldn’t be as graceful as you. What started as slow and delicate for you was already sloppy and pressing for him. He couldn’t help the groan rippling from his throat as he cast it with a slowing stroke, forcing himself to stay in rhythm with you as your eyes fell to his, then his hand, and you both shared a smile, and he locked his knees together to give you more stability, your weight sinking into your hips as you slowed down.

“Tell me what we did last night?” you asked with a smile, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he forced his dick completely out of his boxers, his cock resting in his hand.

That’s when Harry felt the power shifting in his favor, “Take your panties off…I want to see…” He tells you, glimpsing the smile widening on your face as you come to standing, and when you swing your leg over his, he spots the wet center of your undies, and he has to let go of his dick, or else he might come. 

“Fuuuuck…” He breathes, “Those are mine now,” He forces as his gaze follows the motion of you stepping out of your underwear.

He loves the playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you swipe them from the ground and toss them on his chest. 

“Here…” he tells you, patting the space beside him.

You laugh then, Harry’s chest tightening in anticipation, but you comply, gracefully taking your seat next to him. What was bold before slips into a timid smile, your eyes darting to your hands clasped together in your lap, and this is what Harry was waiting for: the vulnerability you were giving so freely.

…

Was this it, you thought? Was this going to be the moment you’ve been waiting for? 

The undressing was easy. You had already done that part; this part was new, and the rest was still a mystery, every event from last night. 

Harry places a hand on your thigh, and you grab hold of it, nervous, too nervous to look at him, suddenly scared because suddenly sex with him was a real possibility, not just a passing thought that had flitted in and out of your mind all day. 

When he leans in and whispers, “You okay?” his rasp catches in the shell of your ear, and you nod, shooting him a quick glance, and he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, chills running down your arms.

“Lay back,” he asks, your eyes on his face as his eyes flick to the arm of the couch. You turn and look, pausing to take in the empty space beside you and you picture yourself lying there. 

When you turn back to Harry, he’s watching you, his eyes glancing over your face, and he sits back, lifting his hips to push down his boxers. When he leans forward to push them past his knees, he kisses your lips, soft and brief, and when he pulls away, you crawl toward the end of the couch, doing as you’re told, a giddy sense of pride swelling in your chest, that you guys have made it this far.

Once your head is resting against the armrest, you bring your knees up, pressing your feet flat to the cushion, your knees slamming together when you catch sight of Harry rising, his face serious, unreadable, sending a pulse between your legs, and my god, you want him so bad, you want him to shove that fucking dick so deep inside you that you’re yelling his name at the top of your lungs, so loud that your voice fills every vacant space in this room.

“This may come as a surprise,” he starts, his penis in his hand again as he stands before you, “But I don’t have any condoms…” and he laughs, your eyes trained solely on his hand, now gliding down his hard dick, his words barely registering. 

You tear your eyes from his moving hand just in time to catch the cocky smirk rising on his face, “Good thing we didn’t have sex last night. I’m not on birth control anymore…”

“Mmmmm…” he hums, watching you lick your lips, and you swallow hard, your mind in overdrive, already contemplating what you would say if he asked to fuck without one, and when your eyes sweep down his body, you think, fuck it, let’s risk it all! 

This thought makes you laugh, “Yeah…” you say, meeting his eye again, “So… that’s bad, right…?” you ask, your clit throbbing, and you bite down on your lower lip, praying he’ll make the decision for you both.

“I think…?” He answers with a curious smile, the words coming out more of a question, and you squeeze your thighs together, trying to find relief from the pressing thought of you guys fucking, raw, and nasty; no holding back because that’s what it would be if he stuck that warm, supple dick inside you…and your almost begging that those are his next words, the tension building between your legs, your gaze, and Jesus Christ, just say yes or fucking no you plead internally. 

Your legs fall open at the sight of him continuing to stroke himself, your fingers already rubbing slow circles, enough to satiate the ache, and then Harry smiles, that fucking smile, so cute, and so sweet, his dimples dipping, “Sit!” you force out through a wave of pleasure—a single word humming through your body enough to take you to the edge and you have to stop touching yourself or else you’ll come right then and there and it’s too soon. 

Harry doesn’t even question you. He drops into the cushions, one of the decorative pillows in his way, and he thrusts his hips forward, his dick still in his hand, and when he falls back into the couch, his hard cock stands tall, ready for you, and he scoots his hips back down the cushion, opening up space for you to climb on top. 

“So we’re doing this?” he asks, and he definitely thinks sex is about to happen. There’s not a single trace of question on his face as his hand glides down, hitting the base of his dick, and damn it, he wouldn’t even care if you shoved him inside you right now, and should you just do it, just fuck him now, and worry later because this is the first time in your life that you would, that you’ve ever wanted to. 

Without a word, you climb into his lap, leaving a space between you and his moving hand. When Harry drops his penis to reach for your face, it hits your inner thigh with a thud, heavy and hard, and maybe in another lifetime, you would ask him to smack that fucking hard dick across your lips, tap your cheeks, feel the thickness down your throat, and maybe he already has, you’ll never know, but there’s no time because you have to find relief. 

Harry’s kiss is sloppy, his mouth moving against yours with force, with hunger, his tongue coming out to wet your lips, and you follow up by shoving your tongue into his mouth, greedy to taste him. 

When your tongues clash, Harry pushes a groan into your mouth. The tremble runs over your tongue, sparking a cooling chill down your spine that sends a quiver to your clit, “God dammit!” you yell into the air with a laugh, and your head falls back, your eyes fluttering shut as Harry, presses a wet kiss to your neck. 

“I want it…I want you,” Harry pleas, his woody voice filling your neck, and you’ll do it, you really will, but that little voice in the back of your head is telling you that you’ll regret it.��

“I just want to feel you for a second,” he gravels, forcing you back in his lap, creating enough distance for you to take hold of his dick, now hot in your hand, and it’s so fucking tempting, the thrill filling your chest, the thought swirling something deep in your gut, and your fucking pussy beats with it.

Your mouth is already watering, and you work a glob of spit against the roof of your mouth, thick, and you spit down onto his cock, Harry laughing out a breathy, “Shit, baby—” as you both watch it drip over his pulsing head, the saliva working down his sensitive cock. 

You spit again for good measure, working it down his dick. When you bring your hand back up to the head of his penis, Harry sucks in a sharp breath, stopping your hand the second you smooth over the tip; a smile stretches across both of your faces, a knowing stare—your whole world as you know it, right now, in this very second is getting lost in those green eyes peering back at you, and you’re captivated, his eyes moving to your lips and you draw yourself forward in his lap.

With his dick in your hand, you lift your hips, pressing a hand into his knee, finding stability as you press the head of his penis between the lips of your pussy, your wetness dragging down his shaft until you hit the base of his cock, a moan leaving your mouth as you push against his dick with more pressure, your hand starting to work the tip.

“You’re teasing me…” he breathes, letting his head fall into the pillow, and he closes his eyes, his lips parting, a slight twitching in his hips, and he hooks both arms over the back of the couch, letting you take control. 

His dick is warm against your pussy, your slickness marking a glossy streak down his thick dick, and you follow the wet path back up to the tip, rolling your hips once you reach the top, giving the head of his cock a little more attention, and when you press him into your cunt, needing more pressure, his tip dips past your entrance, a quick stretch as his dick snags on your opening. You both groan out in unison, Harry’s head whipping up to meet your eyes, a throaty laugh filling his chest, and his dick pulses against your clit.

Your strokes get more aggressive, up and down, stroking down with your hand in tandem with your movements, his dick getting more and more wet and sloppy as you tease your entrance again. Then, Harry grabs hold of your thighs, his fingers digging into flesh as he bucks his hips up, and you yell out a pained “Ahhh…fuck…” as your hand wraps around his dick, pulling it away, and your body shudders, the overwhelming sensation edging you.

Harry drags your hips forward as you move through the wave. Your head falls to his shoulder as warmth rises from his body, your hot breath filling the space between you, and you close the gap by pressing a kiss to his inked skin. “We can if you want to…” This time, his words hang between your stare as you bring your face up to his. 

“Harry…”

“I know…” He coos, his soft lips hitting the lobe of your ear, and his breath splays over your neck, sending a hum down your spine, between your legs, and he grips you tighter. 

His arms wrap around the small of your waist, bringing you flush to him, his hard dick pushed to his belly, now tall between you.

He’s so fucking ready for you, but you like the way he begs.

The heat of him pressed between your thighs is making you crazy, your clit swelling for it, and you want it so bad. “Just for a second,” he begs, his voice straining as you begin to move against him, each movement short and precise. 

You circle your arms around his neck, feeling the tension build, the urge for him growing deeper, tugging at you from within, every spot you know he could hit, whispering from inside you, begging, pleading. You press your forehead to his, each breath growing shorter and faster as you work against him, trying to fulfill that pressing need for him as he stares back at you, waiting for you to say anything.

“Just for a second…?” you force out, your fucking pussy aching, the friction on the verge of pain and pleasure as he pulls you down harder, forcing your clit against him, and you can barely move your hips, Harry strangling your movements, making you desperate for relief.

“Just for a second…” he whispers with more control, and he lifts his chin to push a kiss to your mouth while your hips are fighting for more.

“Just—a second…” you say into his mouth, already pushing a knee into the couch, and lift your hips, breaking Harry’s hold. 

He grabs hold of his dick, both of you gazing down as he guides his dick to your opening, and you spread yourself, making it easier, your hand shaking as adrenaline surges between you both. 

Harry nudges the tip in, your pussy opening for him as you grab hold of his neck, and you slowly sink with a loud, “Mmmmm….” pushing past his ear, filling the space, but all you hear is, “Oh, fuck, baby… that’s so good…” as your walls stretch around him, the pain sharp, and foreign, but as his dick pushes past the spots that need him, that were calling out for more, there’s pleasure—pure fucking pleasure.

And just as you hit the hilt of his dick, your breath hitches, the entire expanse of him now inside you, and you tense up as your mouth moves against his. Harry slows you both down, and you gasp into his mouth as soon as your hips ease to a standstill. 

The sudden pause magnifies the intensity of the stretch--his length stretching past anything you’ve ever felt before, his girth widening you beyond any measures you’ve ever experienced because they were nearly warm-ups, lead-ups to this very moment because it is so fucking good, so good, and then your hips are moving, Harry scraping out a sharp groan into your mouth as you continue to kiss.

Each time you lift and lower back down, the walls clenching around his dick loosen. 

His dick is wet with your juices, nice and slick, the fit better with every movement, and it sends a flutter of excitement to the pit of your stomach, “So good—” you breathe out, “That dick is so good…,” and Harry laughs, grabbing hold of your face, not wanting to break the kiss.

He’s more romantic than you pictured.

He’s gentle and lets you move at your own pace. When you swivel your hips on the way back down, he nips your lower lip, bringing you with him as he falls back into the cushions. “Play nice…” he laughs as you guys hit the pillows with a soft thud. 

“I don’t want to play nice…” you tell him, taking his bottom lip into your mouth, and you gently tug, grabbing hold of the back of the couch. 

That’s when you slam down on his dick hard, releasing his lip. His eyes roll back as his body relaxes into the couch, his hands twitching on your hips, then sinking into your skin to grab hold of you, and he lifts his hips, drawing you forward, then back. The first time it’s slow, but he does it again with more force, and you cry out a moan, his cock deep in the pit of your stomach, and you squeeze the firm surface under your palms to ground you.

“Tell me how good it is…” he pushes out, between a moan, “More—” you shout, and he juts you up with a raise of his hips, and you yell out his name, letting your head fall back as the force runs through you.

Your entire body heats with the growing pressure, and when you look back at him, he’s securing his hands on your waist, bucking into you again, and as soon as you hit the base of his dick, he does it again, and again, until your bouncing up and down, losing your grip on the couch—losing control, each thrust up a welcoming embrace, tipping you closer to your threshold, and it’s hot, and heavy, your hands slipping on his chest as you try to steady yourself.

“Oh my god—”

“You’re going to—” you choke out. 

“Say it!” he says as you fall into his chest, your resolve etching away, and his grip tightens; Harry gaining more control, his pace consistent, his strokes shortening, deeper, as he holds you in place.

Your gaze is trained on his chest, your hand smoothing over the butterfly--transformative that’s what this will be because you’ve never gotten this close, this fast, without the extra work of your hand, and it’s a completely different feeling, a feeling you have to let go and let happen, every breath in and out, pulls deep in your belly.

“Come—I think—” you blurt, your mind becoming a jumbled mess, every sense entirely overwhelmed, and when he smiles at you, the knot building tightens, and you feel your walls beginning to clamp around his dick, like a fist, as Harry slows his thrusts.

“I’m going to come—I’m coming—I’m coming,” you stretch out with a long moan. 

And It’s that quick, the feeling sneaking up, and just as you’re coming undone, he yanks his dick from inside you with enough force that you collapse onto his chest, leaving you hollow, a sliver of emptying space closing as your walls continue to pulse, and you rub your pussy against his lower abdomen, riding out your orgasm, with that last bit of friction. 

…

Harry hadn’t intended sex, but here you guys were in the aftermath, his hand wrapped around the head of his dick, cum spilling out into his hand as you rode out your orgasm, his body the object of your desire, and he fucking loved it. He wanted this feeling with you for as long as you allowed him. 

“That was—” you huffed out, trying to catch your breath as every harsh puff pushed into Harry’s neck, and he was taken—the start of obsession creeping in because that was--amazing.

“Amazing—” he laughed between a quick inhale, finishing your sentence.

He felt your lips press into his skin, chills running through his whole body, every touch electric, heightened by the energy you guys shared, a connection he hadn’t felt in so long that he forgot what it felt like to actually let go—to get so caught up in the moment that nothing else mattered—and yes, using the risky “pull out method” isn’t the best decision but maybe you guys could cross that bridge later. He didn’t want to think about it; he wasn’t ready for the reality that it would bring, the reality that you would be leaving. 

“Stay another night…I promise I’ll make it worth your while…” he told you. 

That’s when you laughed, a breathy sigh leaving your mouth. Content, your gaze was starry-eyed, beaming up at him. Your body was totally relaxed against his. “As long as there are pancakes…” 

Harry couldn’t decipher his feelings, what this was turning into for him, the way he was catching feelings.

When was the last time he had stayed up all night just talking about anything and everything with someone? He wanted to run his fingers through your brain like you ran your fingers through his hair, everything light, a delicate touch, a mindless gesture, comfortable and charismatic, your walls completely down.

What made you tick? Was it something he could figure out in one night, or would he spend months dwelling on the what-ifs because he felt hopeless for you, desperate for the idea of trying to make this work?

All night had been a fever dream, a kiss, a stare, a laugh; you filled every inch of this space—of his being. When he was inside you because, yes, he was inside you again, you took it slow, no rush, your bodies melding together in a slow rhythm, your mouths moving easy, light, a carefree laugh, a hand intertwined, a giddy clinginess that neither one of you could shake, and when the morning sun sliced through the edges of the curtains Harry was the first to wake.

He lay there as still as he could, not daring to stir you as his gaze lingered on your face, memorizing the details, your head resting on his chest. Your breaths were slow and rhythmic, in and out of your nose, a faint warmth beating down on his skin, almost humming him back to sleep. 

He knew this would be all the time that he had left with you, so Harry savored the seconds, meditating on the thoughts that circled his mind—dwelling on the questions that tugged and ground deep in his gut, the longing to be something else, knowing Harry could never lead a normal life, that love could never be this simple because, after all, you didn’t even know who Harry was, what he did for a living—how in hindsight you were still strangers.

How he was barely his own person anymore, and how could he ask you to share when this was all he could give? Hell, you’ve had him more than anyone else lately, more time than he’s had by himself.

Harry knew that when you woke, there would be no pancakes because he had a gnawing feeling that you wouldn’t want to stick around, that maybe you were the type that just ripped the bandaid off, and he was right.

As soon as you opened your eyes, goodbye had stolen the night and cast light to the inevitable—the end—and as your eyes lingered on his face, your lazy gaze taking him in, still half asleep, the corner of your mouth dropped just enough for Harry to peep the frown you were fighting, the still sadness in your eyes, that didn’t want to leave his.

Then your eyes dropped to his chest, your arm still draped over his torso. You lifted your head and pressed the softest, most delicate kiss into his flesh, your lips pushing into his skin, lingering, and when your mouth moved away, he watched you press your cheek into the warm spot you left behind, closing your eyes to savor the fleeting moment.

Because that’s what this all was, one fleeting moment after the other, and when you rest your chin on his chest, eyes meeting his, the knot burning his throat tightens.

All of his words are lost. Harry biting them back, pressing down on his lip that he’s trying to keep from quivering because you’ve just become the longest goodbye he’s ever had to make, and the grief of it is already taking him.

“I don’t think I’ll have time for pancakes,” you tell him, only furthering the pain building in his chest.

His heart sinks as the words leave your mouth, and you don’t even look at him, your voice still thick with sleep, and you clear your throat, Harry watching the effort it takes to swallow, and he knows you feel it too, the weight of the goodbye.

One more time…

He just needs you one last time. 

…

When Harry gently nudges you onto your back, you know what he wants, and so do you; your body moving with his movements as your eyes fill with tears. When Harry hums out a small sob, hovering over you, his face falls to your neck, and you reach between your bodies, feeling for the hard mass resting against your thigh.

You know what this is; you know this is goodbye.

What you didn’t tell Harry was that you knew, that you had figured it out, who he was—after you showered and slipped back into his t-shirt. 

The two of you stood in front of the mirror brushing your teeth, all laughs, flirty gestures. You stood there thinking this has never been so easy. You felt something wild stirring, the thought creeping into your head with the glimpse of his smile, and you thought maybe love, like maybe you could fall in love with a guy like him, like you could make it work. 

When Harry turned away to reset the bathroom, you stood there brushing your teeth, and you honed in on your reflection, thinking you hadn’t looked this happy in so long, so long that it overwhelmed you, and you stood there, your heart already longing. 

Already mourning this girl you got to be with him, trying to hold it together, trying to hold onto all your pieces because you wanted to give them all away, tell him how you felt, and maybe he would say the same. 

There wouldn’t have to be an ending, at least not now. 

That smile, that kindness could be yours, those lips, those hands could have you any time he wanted.

You were so caught up in this idea, and as your eyes lazily flit over yourself in the mirror. You half-heartedly glanced over the five faces reflected back at you, your eyes taking them in again, remembering you were going to ask Harry about the shirt. 

As you silently studied their faces. You found yourself focusing in on the boy with the playful smile, the boyish grin stretched across his face, familiar, his dimples giving him away and how had you not noticed before?

Then terror took way. 

It was like lightning striking your body, the realization like an earthquake ripping down your spine as your mind fought to keep up. The feeling was almost dizzying as your eyes flicked to Harry, now standing next to you, your toothbrush stopped mid-brush. 

You knew you couldn’t react.

That’s when you had to make the decision, and you knew in that split second that if you said a word, it would change everything. A sacrifice because this is what you wanted, this guy standing before you, just like this, how you’ve had him all night. 

So you bury it deep, a tunnel of grief already splitting inside you because it’s in those flashing moments you know he could never be yours, so you let him go and force the idea from your brain, letting him be exactly who he was, and will be until the time comes to say goodbye, because what he’s given has been so much bigger--bigger than all the fleeting moments--and even if it hurts, and it will hurt later, maybe it’s a gift you thought, and you ran with it.

So now, as he pushed inside you, the pain is sharp, and your body tenses, and you gasp in a breath and let it take way because there was already pain the moment you opened your eyes, the longing that never left your body. 

And as your mouths move together, the tears begin to fall from his closed eyes, your heart aching with it, and you close your eyes, getting lost in it, falling until there’s nothing else but this. 

It’s pain and pleasure all over again, and when he groans, you spread yourself wider, giving yourself completely as tears spill down the sides of your face, goodbye at the edge of each breath that pulls in and out of your mouths. 

Then it’s a whimper, a moan, a ragged hand dragging down his back as his strokes deepen, your nails digging as he rasps out a grunt of satisfaction.

Deeper and deeper, he pushes like he’s trying to merge your bodies together as one. The weight of him forcing against you until you don’t know where your skin begins and his ends--each stroke persistent and measured, like Harry is savoring the feel of you, memorizing it for later, your name falling off his tongue as if he’ll forget and maybe he will, but you don’t want to think of it.

And it’s right there. 

The look in his eyes, the words he’s holding back, but you’re close, and so is he, and the tears haven’t left, and you nod your head, Harry following suit—a shared sense of recognition. 

Harry lets you go first, and seconds later, he’s pulling out, and like every time before, leaving an empty void, but the satisfaction is in the pleasure you’re bringing him. 

Something tells you that very few get him like this, and this notion, this waking realization, is what you’ll walk away with. 

When your back is pressed against the door frame, readying yourself to leave, his arm perched above your head, and it’s all smiles, him putting your number in his phone. 

Maybe he’ll call, or maybe he won’t; it doesn’t matter because what he gave you was the gift of a lifetime—the gift that will keep giving every time you glimpse a picture of him in a magazine or a song comes on the radio years from now, you’ll know it, you’ll know the moments he sings of, the tiny details hidden in his words.

He sends you off with a parting kiss, your mouth moving until he pulls away, and you wrap your arms around his neck, your bodies coming together in one last deep embrace, and you both get lost in it, not sure who will pull away first.

That’s when a voice sounds behind you, Harry’s face lifting to see who it is. When he loosens his grip, you turn your head to see the dark-eyed boy with the pierced ears, and you look at Harry and push away, forcing yourself to leave.

The dark-eyed guy moves aside and gives you space. You move past him, walking a few paces down the hall, the elevator in view. You stop then, looking down at the shirt, pulling it away from your body to glimpse the faces, and when you turn back around, Harry is leaning against the door frame, hands pinned behind his back. 

That boyish grin is in full swing, “You finally figured it out, huh?” he laughs. You turn away and shake your head, a smile never leaving your face, and as the elevator door opens, you walk in and push the button for the lobby. Harry is still watching, and when the doors begin to close, you lean forward to stop them and yell:

“I figured it out last night—”

He brings his hands to his face, fainting embarrassed, and maybe he is. You can’t tell from this far away, but his smile never falters, and you take that as a good sign, “When?” he shouts back.

You step back into the elevator and shrug your shoulders, a cunning smile taking over as you shake your head. Harry pushes away from the doorway and starts walking toward you. The doors begin to close, and that’s when Harry starts to run. His tall figure becomes a sliver as the doors seal shut, Harry disappears, and you look down at your feet and wonder what the hell you just got yourself into.

A/N: This baby was long, but I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think of it here<-

Masterlist<-

[duckprintspress]

Given how common it is for book posts that say "just give me the book blurb! stop with all the other things!" to get tens of thousands of notes, I feel the need to say, as a tiny micro-publisher: if only sharing the book blurb sold books, trust me, we wouldn't be wasting our time with all the other shenanigans.

But just sharing the blurb doesn't work. Most people scroll right by.

And so we try every single method we can think of, including sharing the blurb among them, to try to get whatever eyes we can on the book.

Of course the description of the story is the best way to sell the book and get people interested, but it only works if y'all actually read it. And getting most people to the point where they'll read anything that isn't already immediately and actively part of their existing interests is fucking hard, so we use splashy graphics and short hand to try to hook people, and then hope that when they read the blurb, that hook will go from "oh, that's worth a glance" to "oh, that's worth a buy."

Also: just because the exact post you saw promoting a book didn't include the blurb doesn't mean other posts about the book don't!

Sorry. I just have seen so much of that recently (and not just because of that poll about "what convinces you to buy," I actually found that whole poll extremely interesting and informative) that I'm kinda losing patience with it.

Just posting the blurb doesn't work.

Signed, someone who sells books for a living, or at least tries to.

[honeyblackberries]

feeling absolutely deliriously horny for true form sukuna (18+)

true form sukuna who barely waits for the cum to stop spilling out of his bottom cock before he jerks out and moves to fill you with the top one.

large hands grab your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces your gaze on where the two of you connect. his bottom cock glistens with your wetness but what catches your attention is the way he’s placed his top cock at your entrance. 

“wait–” you’re sore. taking his size again so soon would be too much. 

sukuna only grunts in response, annoyed by your pleas. he won't let any of his seed go to waste. you should be grateful he allows you such an honour, brat. but your body doesn’t make it easy for him, his thick head is barely able to fit inside. another sound of irritation slips from him and you can tell this is where his patience ends. 

it’s filthy the way he spits with his stomach mouth, saliva dripping down his tip and onto your pussy. his other set of hands massaging it in to loosen you up.

"kuna–"

"if you can still talk then i'm not finished fucking you."

[cloveroctobers]

UPSIDE DOWN — [October Randoms!] 🧡

A/N: just a few little blurbs basically inspired by this TikTok trend. S/o to Jacob Scipio & Madelaine Petsch’s video being the first I’ve seen! Thought it be would cute to write something real quick surrounding a few characters I’m loving rn ����

WARNINGS: if you don’t know me by now, language! + suggestive themes, & wlw!

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ARMANDO:

You’d bug him about doing it but he wouldn’t budge. He just didn’t see the point until you started to challenge his strength. Once you did that, that undermining shit that’s when you pushed a nerve. He’ll plot against you, and catch you off guard, maybe when you’re in the bathroom doing a night or morning routine.

He’ll sneak right up behind you, crouching before he pops up, making you gasp and flail around as he flips you upside down in your PJ’s. He’ll hold you there for a second, smirking down at you but you can’t see that since he’s pulling your ass up over his left shoulder, holding onto your ribcage and providing you with a nice stretch.

“Arman!” You yell, hands reaching out to the floor—just in case—with your lip balm now rolling against the tile floor, “okay we get it, you’re Hercules. Put me down now.”

“Talk to me nice from now on, okay mami?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You mutter, “who needs Pilates when I got you?”

He snorts as he spins you around the back of his neck, taking careful hold of your hips before setting you back down on your own feet. You hold onto his hand that’s resting on your right hip and with a huff you say, “now we need to do that again for the camera.”

Armando lightly pushes you back to the sink, “nope. I’m getting in bed to watch the game, sorry not sorry the world missed out on these guns…but at least you didn’t, huh?” He winks at you before kissing his bare muscles.

ANGEL:

You’re on the thicker side so when you showed these videos to your man one night when you’re lounging in bed, finding how cute and fun they were Angel says with a scoff, “I can do that shit. They ain’t special.”

With a sigh and a nod you say, “I’m sure you can. Most of the ones they always show at the top makes it seem like it’s for the petites though.”

Angel, who’s been lounging on his elbow, furrows his brows at your words from over your shoulder, “Whatchu mean by that?”

Then his phone is ringing off the hook and he has to meet the rest of his brothers in the middle of the night but a kiss to your lips and a promise that this, “conversation ain’t over,” is said to you before he leaves.

Honestly you forgot about that conversation as a week went by. When you show up to the club to drop something off for Angel that he left at home, he’s outside getting ready to head over to his bike until he spots your car.

He greets you with a scratchy kiss to your cheek, thanking you for the item he left behind this morning. Angel then tells you to get your camera out, much to your confusion.

“We’re gonna film that cutesy shit you were talking about last week before you get outta here. C’mon.” He waves you back to his bike, while you’re still frowning, “I don’t got all day, querida. Get your sexy ass over here.”

You get the extra tripod that’s in your backseat and set it up a nice distance from his bike. Of course Angel wanted a shot of the bike in the frame as he stood off to the side of it, hands clasped right in front of him as you back up towards him.

The countdown is heard and just in time, Angel’s tatted hands are right on your waist flipping you and walking around with you a bit with his middle finger raised towards the camera. You’re laughing just as he’s bringing you upright and you spin around to hold onto his chest, catching your breath.

“Let me know when we go, viral.” He smirks, hands slipping down to squeeze your backside and kisses your lips.

CANE:

“Oh, okay now I’m really not doin’ that shit,” Cane replies with a side eye, after you cut whatever game he was playing off.

Your hands are on your hips, “and why the hell not? Scared you’re gonna drop me on my head?”

Cane chuckles, “nah, I’m convinced somebody in your family already did.”

“Fuck you and your bug eyes.”

“word? So now I’m ugly?”

You shrug as you step out of the living room in the penthouse, annoyance was heavy in your tone, “you said it, not me.”

Cane rolled his eyes, tossing the controller onto the couch, “aight don’t tell me you’re about to have a funky ass attitude with me now all because I said I don’t want to do this dumbass challenge?”

You’re in the kitchen, continuing to fix yourself something to eat, “you think it’s dumb, fine. I’ll just find another man who can do the job properly anyway.”

“…what?” Cane turns his eyes into slits, “another who?” He pressed, pushing off the couch to meet you in the kitchen.

You bit back a smirk as you put your back to Cane with a sigh and pushed off the counter to open the fridge back up, “you heard me. Maybe you don’t want to do it because you can’t…I know you don’t like seeming weak in front of me and I accept that—

“Fuck all that.” Cane sucks his teeth, “get over here, you’re not about to play in my face tonight.”

You flirt, “I thought you liked it when i put it in your face?”

“Cute,” Cane licks his bottom lip before waving you over with one hand, “Now show me what I need to do.”

And he always learned fast, holding you up in the air with one arm and shoots a grin at the camera before talking his shit down at you, then hides his face behind your body again. In cane fashion, he shook his face against your ass before walking over to cut the camera, so he can show you just what no other man couldn’t do.

TERRY:

You’re out biking together and decided to take a break, surrounded by trees that were bigger than the man of your dreams. Thankfully Terry was down for a water break because the heat was still rising—even though it was October— y’all lived in the south and didn’t need either of you to pass out from the heat.

Terry was usually calm cool and collected but he liked to flex every now and then, plus he already agreed to doing the, “challenge,” he spun you to face him, sharp green eyes already set on you. Before your eyebrow could lift at what he was thinking in that strong willed brain of his, the count down was started and he bends while not taking his eyes off you.

At the last minute he spins you back by the hips before trailing his hands up your sides first, then yanks you upside down, lifting you above his shoulder instead of just at his torso, which meant work for you to keep your legs straight, then he starts to lower you by your waist and then up again as if you’re his own personal bench press. Letting him have his moment, grunts and all being heard as he stares at the camera straight-faced, you’re the one to tap out just before the video finishes.

Once you’re back on your feet, you meet Terry’s eyes with a roll of yours followed by a pant, “show off.”

“Now it’s my turn.” His lips twitch as you glanced behind yourself because…who was he talking to?

“I love you but I’m not about to break my arms for you.” You say, while Terry leans forward to kiss your forehead with a chuckle.

Then with a slap to your backside, which definitely stung, he nods his head towards your bikes and says calmly, “You’re gonna have to put those legs and arms to work still. I just saw a brown bear five miles back and some feces about a mile back so…i think break time is over.”

Snatching up your tripod with the swiftness, you lowered it and shoved it in your bag as you side eyed Terry who’s waiting for you on his bike, earphone already in one ear, “I hate your calmness so much at times and one of those times happens to be right now, if i wasn’t scared, I’d kick your ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you,” Terry says leaning over his bike, “I just gave you a little happiness and now here you are, threatening me.”

It was giving, “help the bear!” And you weren’t with it!

You nod your head vigorously, “Yeah that’s right because we could have done this at home!” You kick off and start peddling, “so now I’m gonna have to kick your ass on this bike and beat you home. So you better keep up, Richmond!”

“Yes ma’am, i will,” he says easily keeping pace and following behind you as you take the lead down the bumpy pathway, “you know i got your back, front, and all sides.”

Scoffing over your shoulder at Terry’s attempt to flirt with you right now, you work hard checking every angle just like you were trained to do and always watch your back, not because you had doubts that Terry couldn’t keep up with you, you always wanted to watch his back as well—especially if a damn grizzly bear had the potential to knock you both upside down.

…later when you both made it safely home and were lounging after a shared shower, Terry rolls his head to press against your temple after placing a few kisses against your skin, “you know there wasn’t a bear right?”

“Excuse me?” You feel your eye twitch.

“You never know though.” Terry states, “best to be prepared.”

Too exhausted you reply, “you know what…I’m not going on anymore survivor bullshit adventures with you!”

Terry pulls back to stare at you until you meet his eyes, “yes you are.”

“Want to bet?” You sit up a little while there’s that glint of amusement that appears in Terry’s green hues.

He gets right in your personal space, forehead brushing right against yours, “do you?”

You gulp.

STELLA:

Having your own following, you had your supporters control what you did today. It was a Saturday, you just left the cafe with them picking your choice of drink and pastry while doing some work at the cafe for about an hour almost two, which gave them enough time to decide what you were to do next. Smiling to yourself after seeing which challenge was selected, you texted your girlfriend to see if she was down at the station before ordering her a cold brew to go.

You weren’t a cold brew kinda person but Stella had the strongest of stomach’s, which made sense considering she was a whole ass firefighter and you knew your girlfriend would be thrilled to see you and coffee—not just depending on what kind of day it was at 51.

“There she is!” Stella’s all grins while the rest of her team are running drills.

You wave at Gallo, Mouch, and Carver who return the action with a pant and hold out the beverage to the dark haired woman, who had her lips out first before her hands. Laughing a little you meet her lips, pecking them multiple times until she deemed that as satisfactory before she takes the drink into her hands.

“And what the hell are you drinking?” Her nose crinkles.

This wasn’t unfamiliar, sometimes the both of you would budge and try the other’s just to hate it.

“Want to try?”

“Uh uh,” Stella winces, then sighs as she brings the drink to her lips and with a pop of her tongue she says, “my girl, always gonna get me right every time! You been busy today, huh?”

“Yeah had a meeting about the next direction i want to take my blog in after the last poll i posted and needed a little pick me up to get through the rest of this Saturday,” you inform, “you’re the pick me up.”

Stella teases as she points at herself, “Little ‘Ol me?”

“Yes you.” You joke back as you peer up at her.

“I’m flattered!”

“I know you are.”

Stella reached to cup your face, staring at you lovingly before her eyes go into slits, “what do you want?”

You laugh, “wooow! Can’t i just come say hi?”

“Sure but we’ve both been busy lately and usually don’t have the time to pop in and say hey so…what do they want?”

You push your lips out, looking away before looking back shyly at Stella who scoffs out a laugh. “Spit it out!”

“It won’t take long, but it’s a trend going on right now.”

“‘Course it is.” She nods.

You’re already pulling out your phone for her, she moves to stand behind you, still sipping on her drink before lowering her face towards your shoulder, burying her nose there for a second before you bring up one of the videos from your likes.

“So…you want me to do that?” Stella questions after getting the gist of it.

You nod, “you did always say you wanted to try new positions…”

“Whew! Stella, looks like you found somebody to match your freak?” Gallo calls out, making Stella raise her brows and whip to face the younger man.

Carver playfully shoves the dark haired man while Mouch looks confused on that terminology.

“Did I tell you to stop? Just for that, Blake! You’re all going to run it five more times.”

“Five?!” Carver calls out, “what the hell, gallo?”

Mouch slaps a gloved hand to his head in irritation.

Gallo appears sheepish at his team mates, mumbling sorries while you send a wink his way, making him quirk up a small smile at you, since you found it funny.

Stella pulls you further away from her truck, “did your supporters tell you, I couldn’t do it or somethin’?”

“I actually haven’t checked my DM’s but who gives a shit what they have to say? I just thought it would not only be cute but sexy to see you do it in your work attire.” You run a hand down Stella’s long torso.

She takes a big swish of cold brew before placing it on the floor near Squad three’s truck. Stella clasps her hands together, cracks them, and then rubs them together. “Let’s do this, babe! I gotcha, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” You place your drink by her’s on the ground, “I know my woman’s strength.”

Stella’s always been competitive, it’s one of the things you loved about her and one of the things she did to get your attention.

“Damn straight!” Stella runs her teeth over her bottom lip, “let’s show these douchebags what I’m made of.”

You laugh, “babe, there’s no one challenging you remember?”

“Not yet. We’re about to set the standard, let’s go before I get snatched away on call!”

You stand in front of her, staring at her over your shoulder hard and she can read your mind. She fans her hand for you to turn back around, “I’ve got no plans on letting you slip through my fingers, don’t doubt me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not—

It’s like you forgot that you turned the timer on and Stella’s listening while the rest of her team are being nosy and watching. You’re cut off, letting out a scream as she turns your feet up into the air, holding you there as your hands clasp your mouth, hiding your giggles before she switches you into the position where your legs are around her hips.

“Yeah!” She yells at the camera over your shoulder, holding onto you before you’re moving her face by the chin to meet your lips.

Mouch let’s out a wolf whistle with Gallo and Carver clap it up.

“Knew you had it in you, baby.” You breathe as Stella puts you down.

Stella grins, “my biggest cheerleader. You’re alright though?”

“Course!”

Gallo calls out, “I want to try next!”

“No!” Stella points at Gallo who deflates.

“Try what?” Hermann’s nasally tone is heard, followed by Ritter, Cruz, and Capp who came out behind him.

Doing what Gallo does, he tells them what you came here for and even grabs your phone to show what you two just did.

Hermann frowns, “I can do that!”

“Hundred bucks says Cindy won’t let you do it.” Stella points at the older man who scoffs at the woman.

Ritter adds, “wouldn’t it just be easier to continue on our subject right here?”

Cruz laughs, “way to make them sound like a science experiment!”

“I definitely did not mean it that way.” Ritter is apologetic while you just brush it off, knowing that the guy means no harm as you walk over trying to get your phone back from Gallo who’s showing the video to Capp now.

Capp says, “what’s so hard about that?!”

“Says the guy who got a boot stuck on his head.” Joe mutters to you.

“Exactly!” Hermann roars referring to Capp’s first response, “and Cindy would let me do that if I provided enough of those little videos you got inspired by!”

“Okay then shake my hand on it!” Stella orders already in disbelief, while Hermann huffs, slapping his hand right into Stella’s.

“Hey, I heard that.” Capp points at Joe, “and it was one time! What do you think? I’m going to drop her into the ground and they’ll get stuck?”

Your eyes go wide as Gallo hands back your phone, “um…I’m gonna go now. Plenty of work to get back to, just like you first responders!”

Quickly you turn and head back to Stella to peck her cheek before running off to pick up your drink.

“Look what you did, Capp. Scaring them off!” Mouch yells at the bald man who frowns.

Stella tries to call out to you but you just chuck up the deuces and turn around to kiss at your fingers multiple times, before throwing them towards the woman but made no motion of slowing down.

When Stella gets back to her office after a very long call, she texts you to let you know she won’t be back home until the morning so don’t wait up for her. With that she also sends a final text: you’re right, I am looking forward to something new…especially after today 🤸‍♂️🫦

It only takes you a minute to send a risqué photo right back, you in one of Stella’s favorite thong’s that made your backside look out of this world and you were doing exactly that, in a hand stand with you saying: like this? See you when you get home 😉💋

You knew just how to drive her crazy because before Stella can find the words to say, she’s placed on do not disturb—not for the rest of the night—you wouldn’t dare, not with the kind of job she does but just enough to make her sweat it out.

That Stella did as she bit down on her knuckle, burning the image of you in her mind before she locked her phone and turned it over face down on her desk. 

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[harryshousekey]

Target {H.S.}

This is on wattpad (harryshousekey,) but wanted to share a bit of the chapter that freaked my friends out.

THIS IS SMUT. - Harry x OFC // From Harry's POV

Whatever Harry era you want (it's BTA harry in the book)

Vienna is a small blonde with brown eyes :)

He was literally hired to kill her. If you happen to read this psychological warfare of a book i'm writing, leave me a comment over there and we might have to kiss.

Word Count: 5,349

--

Harry Styles

Her back hit the wall with a dull thud, but she didn't flinch. She stared at me like she could kill me with a look, and hell, maybe she could. Maybe that was why I couldn't stop.

Her pulse thudded under my grip. Fast. Furious.

"Let go," she said, breathless.

"You want that?" I asked, stepping closer. Our chests nearly touched now, heat crackling in the inches between us. "Really?" I move my thigh, almost accidentally. But it wasn't.

My leg now sitting flush against her core, she glares up to me. Hate and lust seep out of her face into my body, and I soak it up willingly.

She didn't answer. Her eyes dipped to my mouth for half a second - too quick for most people to catch. But I did. I always saw her.

I let her wrists go, slow. She didn't move.

"You're a psychopath," she whispered.

"And you're still here."

Something in her snapped then. She grabbed the hem of my shirt harshly and pulled it up just barely, like it was a dare. I eye her back like I had something to prove - maybe I did. That she couldn't fight me off, couldn't pretend she didn't want this as badly as I did.

Angry hands rip the shirt over my head, inked skin now exposed to the cold hair in the house. Her nails raked down my neck as she brought her hands back down, the shirt landing somewhere in the kitchen. My hands found her waist, then her thighs - gripping, lifting, pinning. Her legs wrapped around me like it was instinct. Like this wasn't our first time losing control.

"You hate me," I muttered against her neck, working to leave marks. I love leaving marks.

She bit her own lip hard enough to draw blood. "Exactly."

It wasn't love. It wasn't forgiveness. It was rage and lust tangled up in a heated fire that burned too hot to last. And I didn't care. Not tonight. Not when I finally had her like this - furious, wild, and mine.

My hands slip under her sweater, struggling to pull it off. My sweater. The smell of me soaked the sweater and I can't apologize for the grin that spreads over my face as she throws her head back in frustration as I still work at her neck. I pull back, biting harshly where my mouth was before. The sensation pulls a gasp out of her, and I take the opportunity to get a grip at the hem of her sweater.

Her arms link around my neck for support as she lets me strip her of the warm hoodie, only unlinking to let me pull it over her head. My hand falls back on her lower back, the other throwing the sweater somewhere in the room, careless and thoughtless.

I get back to her neck, her short nails digging into my neck near my spine. I grunt at the feeling, reminding myself to let Elira get her nails done too.

Turning us around, I manage to find the bedroom we'd been sharing. The bed is unmade, sheets pulled back. Perfect.

I drop us onto the bed at the same time, crawling to hover over her and work at getting the rest of her clothes off.

My jeans feel really tight right now. Not yet, Harry.

I find her arms, loosely thrown over my body, and grab them both. Finding her wrists, I gather them in one hand to hold over her head. As much as the pain of her scratching my back feels incredible, I can't fucking focus.

She fucking whines, struggling under my grip to no avail. "Let go," she commands, voice strong despite my mouth below her ear. I pick my head up to look her in the eye, her brown eyes completely glazed over already. Through it, I still see her. She's still fighting.

I laugh at her request, "No."

She huffs, trying once again to struggle out of my hold. I really need to take her to the gym, but the struggle is kind of cute.

I suck back below her ear for a minute while she keeps fighting, leaving a mark that'll probably be purple in the morning. I smile at my own work, mentally patting myself on the back.

Finally letting her arms go back around my neck, she grips harshly once more, left hand sliding up into the base of my scalp. I try my damndest to ignore the feeling, reaching under her to easily unclasp the pretty light purple bra she has on, smirking at her when I get it first try with my left hand.

"Fucking-" I pull her bra out from under her, but leave her covered. I can't just expose her with no warning. "God, you're so cocky." She huffs, too frustrated to hold a sentence.

I grin at her, leaning down to bite the mark I left before leaning into her ear to whisper. "I know, baby."

She pushes the side of her face into the mattress, face scrunched. I take that as my cue to pull her bra off, finally taking her in. Her skin is tan for a girl who's been living on the road, and her breasts relax into her, nipples perking up in the cold air.

I have no restraint at this point. All self-control flies out the imaginary window as I grunt and lean down to take her into my mouth. She lets an untamed moan out, arching up into the sensation. I use my right hand to push her back down by the hip, making her groan in frustration.

I leave my left hand on her chest, touching her where my mouth can't. She pushes up once more, met with restraint as I keep her down, pushing on her abdomen now. "Vi," I warn, voice low, vibrating her chest.

She grunts and rolls her head to the other side, hands pulling angrily at my hair. It actually really fucking hurts. "Just fucking-" she breathes, pulling harder at my scalp. "Such a prick."

I decide not to respond, just pull her hands out and pin her wrists again. I hover over her face, giving her a warning. "Don't move them."

"Fuck off," she spits harshly. I pull my hand down to grip at her jaw, squeezing her face. She looks at me with pure hate, a feeling I revel in.

I force her to look at me, grip tight. "I'm pretty fucking busy right now, so for once on this fucking trip, behave."

I yank my hand away, going back at her other nipple, using my right hand now to keep her stimulated. It almost pisses me off every time she lets a noise out, because I'm not one for foreplay. Rather not split her in half until I can exchange her for my freedom, though.

Gripping her hips harshly, my thumbs traveling cautiously under her waistband. I'm about to ask when she brings her own hands down. The ones I explicitly said not to move. I'd be mad, but she's pulling her own pants down, revealing-

Oh, fuck.

I didn't go with her underwear shopping. Didn't wanna deal with it. Should've sucked it up, because now she's got deep red lace on, the same color as the stupidly tight dress she tried on earlier.

Without another word, she gets her pants past her ass and puts her hands back where I'd just placed them. Behaving.

She might actually make me pass out. I pull harshly at her pants, pooling them around her ankles before she flails her feet around impatiently to get them off entirely.

I exhale through my nose, trying to keep my focus, but it's really fucking difficult with her spread out beneath me like this-panting, glaring, waiting. The lace is deep red, delicate, and so goddamn unnecessary. It just proves my point. She knew this would happen.

I hook my fingers under the waistband, slow, dragging my thumbs over her hip bones, but don't pull them down yet. Instead, I tighten my grip, pressing my thumbs deep into her skin until she hisses.

"Something wrong?" I murmur, pressing my mouth to her stomach, deliberately skipping over the places I know she wants me.

"Yeah," she snaps, trying to shove her hips up. I dig my thumbs in again, keeping her firmly against the mattress.

"Problem?"

Her head jerks up, dark eyes burning. "You're a fucking tease."

I grin against her skin, letting my teeth graze her hipbone. "You just figured that out?"

Her breath stutters-just for a second-but I don't miss it. Her hands, still obedient where I left them, curl into the sheets like she's debating whether to follow my rules or claw at me again.

I nudge my nose against the edge of the lace, moving lower, but at the last second, I move back up. I drag my mouth across her ribs instead, letting my teeth scrape deliberately slow as I kiss and bite my way up to her sternum.

She groans, actually groans, head dropping back in frustration. I love that sound.

I smirk against her skin. "Something you'd like to say?"

"Yeah," she snaps, twisting against my hold. "Get the fuck on with it."

I laugh, really laugh, because she's suffering. She hates this as much as she needs it, and that makes me never want to give it to her.

I push up on my elbows, hovering inches from her mouth, so close she could kiss me if she just swallowed her fucking pride.

"You beg, I'll consider it."

Her eyes snap to mine, and for a second, I think she might slap me.

Instead, she laughs-sharp, humorless.

"You think I'd beg you for anything?"

My grin doesn't falter. "You will."

Her nostrils flare, frustration rolling off her in waves, and then-fucking finally-she moves.

Her hand lashes out, curling in my hair, yanking me down so hard I nearly lose balance. My mouth crashes into hers, violent and demanding, her teeth knocking against mine, and fuck yes.

I let her take control-for a second.

Then I take it right back.

My hands snap up, grabbing her wrists, pinning them above her head again. Her legs kick at my sides, pissed as hell, but she still locks them around me, pulling me closer.

"You're so fucking annoying," she grits against my mouth.

I bite her bottom lip hard enough to make her gasp. "And you're still underneath me."

Her head slams back against the mattress, hands tugging, testing my grip, but she's stuck.

"Harry." My name is a warning, furious and desperate.

I press my knee between her legs, just barely enough pressure. Just enough to drive her insane.

Her whole body tenses.

She stops fighting. Stops breathing.

And then she whimpers.

My smirk returns as I lean down, lips brushing her ear.

"That's close enough to begging, don't you think?"

Her breath shudders against my cheek, but her voice is still sharp, still full of venom.

"I fucking hate you."

I grind my knee against her just to hear her whimper again.

"Then hate me," I murmur. "Just keep your legs open while you do it."

Her whole body reacts before she can stop it-hips twitching up, fingers curling into fists above her head, lips parting just barely like she wants to say something but refuses to give me the satisfaction. I watch every flicker of emotion on her face, every war she fights inside herself, and I let it all sink into me. The frustration. The restraint. The push and pull of someone who hates that they want this and wants it anyway.

I keep my mouth right next to her ear, lips brushing the flushed skin, keeping her caught between every word, every inch of contact I allow. My knee stays where it is, pressing-not hard, not soft, just enough to make her ache for more. It's deliberate, calculated.

Just like everything else I do.

Her breath shudders, and I swallow down the sound, committing it to memory because fuck me, that's addictive. She's so fucking stubborn, and I want to be the one to break her. Not fully. Not in the ways that would ruin her. But enough to make her forget herself, even if just for tonight.

Her legs are locked around me, holding me to her despite the anger rolling off her skin. The heat of it burns, and I want to feel every inch.

I push lower, just barely, enough that her nails scrape at my scalp in retaliation. My jaw clenches at the sting, but I don't stop her-I let her have it, let her pull me down, let her take something back even as she loses the war.

Her voice is a whisper of a growl when she finally speaks, like she has to force the words through clenched teeth. "Let me go."

I press my lips to her jaw, soft but mocking. "Make me."

Her fingers tighten, pulling so hard it forces a breath out of me. She doesn't want soft. Doesn't want sweet. She wants to rip this from me, to tear into me the way I tear into her.

So I let her.

I release her wrists and the second I do, her hands are everywhere. She shoves at my shoulders, pushes at my chest, rolling us until I land on my back and she's straddling me, thighs tightening around my waist. Her breathing is erratic, wild, and I barely get a glimpse of her face before her hand grabs my throat.

I let out a low, dark laugh, dragging my tongue over my bottom lip as I take her in. "That all you got?"

She glares down at me, fingers flexing like she's debating whether to actually squeeze. Her nails dig in, but she won't. She knows it. I know it.

I drag my hands up her thighs, gripping them hard enough to bruise, and she inhales sharply, her body betraying her all over again.

"You fucking hate me," I remind her, pushing up just enough that our bodies align exactly how I want them to.

Her throat moves beneath her own grip as she swallows. Her jaw clenches. And then-so quiet I almost don't hear it-

"I do."

She tilts her hips forward just barely, her exhale catching in her throat, and that's it. That's my final thread snapping.

I sit up fast, one arm curling around her waist, the other tangling into her hair and pulling. She gasps, fingers tightening on my throat, but it's not a fight anymore.

Not really.

Her chest brushes mine, heat searing through every inch of fabric between us, and her breath is so close it sends a shiver down my spine.

I drag my nose against her jaw, slow, deliberate, teasing. "Then show me."

She does.

Her mouth crashes into mine, teeth and heat and desperation. Her nails scrape over my scalp as she pulls harder, hips rolling, pressing down in a way that might actually kill me. I grip her hips, forcing her down, controlling the rhythm, making her feel every second of this.

Her body shakes, just slightly, and I don't know if it's rage or anticipation. Probably both.

I pull back, just enough to bite her bottom lip, just enough to make her feel it. Her breath hitches, and she's so fucking close to losing control completely, I can feel it.

So I drag it out.

I reach between us, fingers teasing the waistband of her still-on lace, sliding under the elastic but going no further. She whines. Actually fucking whines, a noise so involuntary, so frustrated that I have to grin against her mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart," I murmur, fingers teasing lower, but not enough. Never enough. "You sound like you're begging."

She growls, low and dangerous, and I have half a second to smirk before she does something reckless. She reaches between us, grabs my wrist, and shoves my hand down exactly where she wants it.

I freeze.

Then I laugh-low, thick, dark.

"That desperate, huh?"

She glares, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. "Shut the fuck up and touch me."

And fuck me, I need to.

She's still on top of me, breathing heavy, skin burning against mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders like she's waiting for me to push back, fight her, tell her no.

I don't.

I grab her throat instead, not to choke, just to feel the way her breath stutters when my palm wraps around it. My thumb presses into the hinge of her jaw, tilting her head back, forcing her to look at me, to see me.

Her lips are parted, swollen, her pupils blown so wide there's barely any color left, and fuck, I could stay here forever-watching her, feeling her try to fight off the way her body gives in to mine.

But I have other plans.

My hand slides from her throat to her jaw, grip firm but not hard, and I drag my thumb down the slope of her bottom lip, pressing in just barely. Her tongue flicks against the pad of it, and I feel her body tremble in frustration when I don't give her anything else.

"You want something?" I taunt, knowing exactly what she wants. I want to hear her say it.

Her expression twists in pure defiance, but she doesn't move away. If anything, she leans into my touch, into my control, like she hates herself for it.

"I want you to shut the fuck up," she mutters, voice hoarse from the way she's been breathing me in like she needs it to survive.

I chuckle darkly, dragging my hand down her body, slow and possessive, feeling every inch of her before gripping her hips. I flex my fingers into her, rolling her against me, just enough friction to make her curse under her breath.

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear as I whisper, "Not happening, sweetheart."

And then, before she can throw something back at me, I move.

I flip us fast, pressing her into the mattress, letting my weight pin her down just for a second, just to make her feel it-how easy it is for me to control this, how little power she actually has. Her chest rises and falls sharply, her thighs tightening around me, but she doesn't fight. She never really fights.

She just pretends she wants to.

I pull back, sitting up on my knees between her spread legs, dragging my gaze down her body. She's a fucking sight-half-naked, flushed, her hair a wild mess around her, and she's glaring at me like she'd rather put a bullet in my head than let me keep looking at her like this.

Too fucking bad.

I take my time.

I hook my fingers under the band of her red lace underwear, snapping it against her skin before slowly-painfully slowly-dragging it down her hips, over her thighs. She shudders, a full-body tremor she tries to suppress, but I catch it. I feel it.

I smirk, watching as the lace pools at her ankles, and she kicks those off too, like she's trying to get rid of evidence.

But I'm the one committing the crime. More of a downright sin, really.

I push her thighs apart, holding them there even when she tenses like she might try to close them on instinct. She doesn't. She wouldn't dare give me that much satisfaction.

Instead, she exhales through her nose, tilting her chin up like she's daring me to do something about it.

"Oh, I plan to," I murmur, eyes locked onto hers as I lower myself down.

She stops breathing.

I can tell by the way her stomach tightens, the way her hands fist into the sheets beside her head, the way her body goes perfectly still as I settle between her thighs.

And I don't rush.

I drag my hands over the inside of her thighs, squeezing the muscle there, spreading her wider, making her feel how exposed she is. She's still glaring at me, still holding onto that last sliver of control.

I intend to take it from her.

So I drop my head and press the softest, most delicate kiss right against the inside of her knee. Then another. Then another, working my way up, each one deliberate, slow torture.

By the time I reach the crease where her thigh meets her hip, she's quivering. Not much, just a slight shake, but enough that I know she feels this everywhere.

I hover, just barely breathing against her, my mouth so close but not touching.

Her hips twitch.

She hates me for it.

"You're fucking insufferable," she breathes, voice cracking at the edges.

I grin against her skin, inhaling her scent, feeling her body tense with anticipation.

"And you're fucking impatient," I counter, my breath brushing over her most sensitive spot, watching as her thighs threaten to clamp shut before I hold them apart with both hands.

"Be good," I murmur against her. "Or I'll take my time."

She lets out a shaky, wrecked exhale, and I don't give her a second longer to process.

I lick into her slow, wide and devastating, dragging my tongue from base to peak, savoring every fucking inch of her.

She chokes on a moan.

And I?

I fucking devour her.

She tastes like sin. Like she's never let herself be touched like this-never let someone have this kind of power over her. And maybe she hasn't. Maybe that's what drives me fucking feral about it, knowing that I get to be the one to break her down, to force her body to betray her when she wants to fight me off.

I can feel her thighs trembling under my grip, every muscle coiled tight like she's about to bolt. But she doesn't. She just fists the sheets, sucking in sharp breaths like she's trying not to make a sound.

I won't fucking allow that.

I pull back just enough to drag my teeth against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, nipping, sucking-marking her, because I know it'll piss her off. She hisses, fingers twitching in the sheets. I don't acknowledge it. I just slide my tongue against her again, slow, filthy, purposeful.

Her breath catches.

I feel her hips jerk, trying to chase the sensation, and that's what does it. That's what makes me groan into her, low and possessive, because she can pretend all she wants-her body knows the fucking truth.

"You're shaking," I murmur against her, kissing her slowly, tongue flicking out just enough to tease.

She makes a frustrated sound, shoving at my shoulder with one hand, but I catch her wrist midair, pinning it down beside her. My grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her who's in control here.

"You wanna pretend you don't want this?" I taunt, pressing another slow, deliberate kiss against her, feeling her twitch under my mouth. "Go ahead, lie to me."

She grits her teeth, her nails digging into the sheets now that I've taken away her chance to fight me off. But she doesn't push me away again. She doesn't move at all. Her breathing is ragged, coming in short, uneven gasps, and I know she's holding back, trying so fucking hard to stay quiet.

So I change tactics.

I flatten my tongue against her clit, dragging it up in a way that makes her whole body jolt. My grip on her wrist tightens when she gasps-loud, raw, unfiltered.

There it is.

I fucking grin against her, pleased, satisfied.

Her free hand slams over her mouth.

Not a fucking chance.

I reach up, grabbing her by the wrist, pulling it away from her lips. Her eyes flash, dark and wild, like she's ready to throw hands over it. But I don't give her the chance. I pin it beside her other wrist, forcing her to be open, exposed.

"Let me hear you," I demand, lazily dragging my tongue against her again.

She whimpers. Fucking whimpers.

I nearly groan at the sound, my cock throbbing against the confines of my jeans, but I don't let up. I dip lower, tasting her, sucking, licking, devouring her in slow, calculated strokes. I want to ruin her, make her lose whatever self-control she's clinging to.

She's close already. I can tell by the way her thighs are starting to shake, how her breath is coming in short, broken little gasps.

Still, she refuses to beg.

I'll change that.

I pull back slightly, flicking my tongue right where I know she needs me, circling, teasing, denying.

She whines, actually fucking whines, and I feel her try to rock against me. I tighten my grip on her wrists. "No," I say, voice gravelly, wrecked. I press my lips against her inner thigh, nipping, sucking, teasing. "You wanna cum?" My voice is a low, deliberate murmur. "Beg for it."

She shudders. "Fuck you."

Her whole body is tense, her jaw clenched, fighting so hard not to give me what I want. So I give her another slow, devastating lick, swirling my tongue just right before pulling away again. Her body convulses. I smirk, lips ghosting against her. "Say it, darling."

She hates that I use those names, nearly degrading at this point. I can see it in her eyes, the way they darken, furious and desperate all at once. But her voice shakes when she exhales, ragged and weak.

"Fuck you." I laugh, low and dark, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her soaked skin. "That's not what I asked for, sweetheart." And then, because I want to watch her fall apart, I pull my head away.

She fucking hates this. Hates me. I can see it in the way her lips curl back, in the sharp bite of her nails against my skin as she tries to shove me away. Like she actually thinks she has a chance.

"Get the fuck off me," she spits, her voice ragged, her body twisting beneath me.

I catch her wrists in one hand and pin them above her head. "Not a chance," I murmur, my voice rough, breathless with the way she clenches around me.

She bucks against me, her glare slicing into my skin, but all it does is make me harder. She's furious, practically trembling with it, but her body? Her body's telling a different story.

"Fuck you," she hisses, her voice breaking on the last syllable.

A slow smirk tugs at my lips. "That's the plan, sweetheart."

She jerks against me again, but it's useless. I press my forehead to hers, watching the anger flicker across her face, mixing with something else-something she doesn't want to admit.

"You're gonna come on my cock," I breathe, my grip tightening when she tries to turn her head away. "And you're gonna fucking like it."

Some point along the way, I'd lost my pants. Hovering over her heavy now almost felt like too much. I reach down onto the floor, pulling my wallet out of my pants pocket.

Breathing heavy, Vienna's chest rises under me as she gives me a frustrated, yet curious look. I pull what I'm looking for out of my wallet, and hold it in front of her face. A condom. The gold wrapper makes her grunt impatiently. "Of course you have one in your wallet-just," she shifts under me, completely stripped, "Just hurry up."

I chuckle darkly, sitting up a bit to pull my own underwear off. I'm a bit embarrassed by the small wet spot on the front as the waistband comes down-

"Jesus fucking Christ."

I snap my head back up, pushing my boxers down the rest of the way. "What?"

She rolls her head back dramatically, gesturing to my lower half. "That's not-"

I smile at her, making her attempt to slap my chest. "That's not fitting."

Shrugging, I tear open the package carefully, examining it. The last thing I need is a mini of the person I can't stand. I roll it on carefully, rubbing myself up and down her folds, sliding easy in the mess she's created.

Moaning each time I pass her sensitive spots, I look up at her to be met with a simple nod. I huff. "I need fucking words, Vi."

She sits up, eyes blown out. "Yes, fuck. Just-"

Good enough. I push foward gently. I never bothered to ask about her sex life, which I'm now regretting.

Holy Shit.

She's so tight around me I can barely breathe. Her own eyes are scrunched shut as I keep my hips slowly moving.

By the time our hips are fully together, she's glazed over, focus on the ceiling. The sight alone almost makes me come.

I grip her thigh, keeping her still as I let her adjust, every inch of her clenching me like she wasn't sure she could take it-but fuck, she was. She would.

"Breathe," I murmur, my own voice coming out rougher than I intended. My forehead presses to hers for just a second, and her breath hitches. I can feel every shaky exhale she takes against my lips.

Vienna's hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging in like she needs something to ground herself. She's warm, tight, fuck-so tight it's almost unbearable, but I stay still, giving her a second.

Her fingers twitch. Her body squirms, adjusting. Then her lashes flutter open, and she looks at me with something between frustration and need.

"Move," she grits out.

That's all I need.

I pull back, just enough to feel the drag of her around me, then push forward again, slow and deep. She gasps, back arching slightly. I do it again, watching her face, how her lips part, how she fights every sound that threatens to escape.

"Don't-" she swallows hard, "don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" I thrust a little harder this time, feeling the way her breath stutters, the way her nails dig deeper.

"Like you're enjoying this."

I let out a dark chuckle, lowering my mouth to her ear. "I am enjoying this."

She shudders, but she doesn't deny that she is too. Her legs tighten around my waist, trying to pull me in deeper.

"Fuck, Vi," I groan, picking up the pace, my grip tightening on her hips. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, her strangled little moans barely contained, and it's driving me insane.

She slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling herself, but I yank it away, pinning it above her head. "Let me hear you."

She glares, like she wants to fight me on it, but then I angle my hips just right, hitting something that makes her choke on a whimper.

"Fuck, Harry-"

"There it is," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before dragging my lips down her throat. "Now, be a good girl and come on my cock."

Her whole body locks up beneath me, back bowing as a sharp moan leaves her lips. She clamps down so tight around me that I nearly see stars, her orgasm ripping through her so suddenly that it drags me right over the edge with her.

I bury myself deep, groaning against her sweat-slicked skin as I spill into the condom, her name slipping past my lips in a hushed, wrecked whisper.

For a moment, all I can hear is our heavy breathing, the faint creak of the bed beneath us.

Then she exhales shakily, voice hoarse. "I still fucking hate you."

I smirk against her shoulder. "I hate you too, baby."

She tries to push me off almost immediately, her body still trembling beneath me. I don't let her. Not yet.

"Get off," she grits out, attempting to wiggle free.

I catch her wrists, pinning them lightly to the bed. "Stay still."

She glares at me, but I can see the exhaustion setting in. Her muscles twitch with the aftershocks of her orgasm, her breathing still uneven. I shift off her slowly, careful as I pull out, making her suck in a sharp breath.

She winces, legs clamping shut as she rolls onto her side like she's trying to get away from me. I don't let her.

"Need to clean you up." I tell her simply, because I'm not asking.

"I can do it myself," she snaps, pushing up on shaky arms.

I grab her by the hip, keeping her in place. "You can barely move."

"Fuck off, Harry-"

I ignore her, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table and running it between her legs. She tenses, the fight still in her, but her body betrays her when she lets out the smallest sigh at the contact.

Her eyes squeeze shut, her lips pressing into a thin line as I finish, taking my time even as I know she wants to swat me away.

Once I'm done, I toss the tissue in the trash and roll onto my back beside her.

The silence is unbearable.

She shifts, pulling the blanket over herself even though I can feel the heat radiating off her skin. She doesn't look at me. I don't look at her.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing, still uneven, like neither of us has quite recovered.

Then, from downstairs, the front door creaks open.

Laughter spills into the house, too loud, too carefree.

Niall and Kaydie are home.

--

A/N oh. my. gawsh.

i took her to my safehouse and i freaked it

Thanks for reading Tumblr :)

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

still upset that WoT has been cancelled but i need to post more positivity of the show as it is.

i loveeee Egwene's character and the narrative framing around her. she's introduced as the Obvious Protagonist – she's just come of age and gone through a big ritual to prove it, she's told she has great things ahead of her, she has a seemingly perfect boyfriend, and she has a longing for Something More out of life than her idyllic small town. and she gets it! she's told that she's an incredibly powerful channeler and might even be the Dragon Reborn and... well her town is invaded and a lot of people die including her mentor but... that's just the inciting incident, right? every hero has something traumatic like that happen but trauma like that is the way to a cool destiny.

except it's not. her mentor isn't dead, she's a more powerful channeler than Egwene will ever be, and her boyfriend is the Dragon Reborn. and neither of them even want it! Egwene might be a powerful channeler but no one takes notice when she's always standing next to Nynaeve or Rand or even Elayne – the future Queen. the only person who ever tells her that she's special is the woman who enslaved and tortured her. and that traumatic shit only happened because she was collateral damage of a plot targeting Nynaeve! and she has to relive it in her dreams every night because Lanfear is torturing her while also coercing her boyfriend to cheat on her! she ends up with all of the trauma and ruined relationships and none of the accolades or respect while those who would rather be living a quiet life in a small mountain town have everything she wanted.

the narrative Egwene thought would treat her as the protagonist betrayed her and now she's left to carve out space for herself and push on the narrative walls that are trying to trap her as second fiddle. (and god i wish we could see that happen onscreen)

[laroserie]

high noble fae lord that take pity on you, a poor little fragile human servant and plan to make you their play toy but they end up falling a bit too hard for you so you end up becoming his number one priority

they try to hide it by telling you 'they could never fall in love with some measly stupid human' but they will rip the eyes out of anyone that end up staring at you a little too long. they aren't the type to be coy with their pseudo-rivals.

they tell you you are nothing to them but they will take you shopping every few weeks because they need to dress you up all pretty for them ! but don't let it go to your head, it's only because they don't want you to be a stain next to them, nothings more, nothings less obviously.

they like to play on the power imbalance to keep you obedient, you are only a servant, their personal servant, so your entire life is in their hands, - oh and of course the lives of your friends and family.

they could probably end up trapping you into marrying them, because they genuinely want to be forever bind with you until death do you part (quite literally, fae marriage are something) but also because they desperately want to get away from what is the milieu of the fae nobility and its culture of arranged (forced) marriage, from which they want to get away from as much as they can

[novlr]

What goes into a great book blurb?

Want your book’s blurb to grab readers from the first line? Check out these necessary elements that make up a book blurb that will get readers interested in your work.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

was talking to @awildwickedslip about tender is the night and then still thinking about it later that same day wound up talking to @inwhatfreshhell about tender is the night and now... well now... i'm rereading tender is the night... but who can blame me... still one of my favorite first pages of all time:

On the pleasant shore of the French Riviera, about half way between Marseilles and the Italian border, stands a large, proud, rose-colored hotel. Deferential palms cool its flushed façade, and before it stretches a short dazzling beach. Lately it has become a summer resort of notable and fashionable people; a decade ago it was almost deserted after its English clientele went north in April. Now, many bungalows cluster near it, but when this story begins only the cupolas of a dozen old villas rotted like water lilies among the massed pines between Gausse's Hôtel des Étrangers and Cannes, five miles away.

The hotel and its bright tan prayer rug of a beach were one. In the early morning the distant image of Cannes, the pink and cream of old fortifications, the purple Alp that bounded Italy, were cast across the water and lay quavering in the ripples and rings sent up by sea-plants through the clear shallows. Before eight a man came down to the beach in a blue bathrobe and with much preliminary application to his person of the chilly water, and much grunting and loud breathing, floundered a minute in the sea. When he had gone, beach and bay were quiet for an hour. Merchantmen crawled westward on the horizon; bus boys shouted in the hotel court; the dew dried upon the pines. In another hour the horns of motors began to blow down from the winding road along the low range of the Maures, which separates the littoral from true Provençal France.

A mile from the sea, where pines give way to dusty poplars, is an isolated railroad stop, whence one June morning in 1925 a victoria brought a woman and her daughter down to Gausse's Hotel. The mother's face was of a fading prettiness that would soon be patted with broken veins; her expression was both tranquil and aware in a pleasant way. However, one's eye moved on quickly to her daughter, who had magic in her pink palms and her cheeks lit to a lovely flame, like the thrilling flush of children after their cold baths in the evening. Her fine forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet, and shining, the color of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood—she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her.

[jarofstyles]

Allure

Hello my lovelies. I’ve been writing this on and off for a lil bit but I figured I’d give it to you guys as a treat since I’ve been slacking a bit with updates 😔 we’ve got a dark sugar daddy/psycho Harry and soft y/n who is completely enamored with him. This is a toxic relationship for sure but he is very soft for her- soft as hell, really.

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WC- 10k

Warnings- oh boy… weapons, murder, Harry has no regrets at all, sugar daddy behavior, big dick energy, mention of blood, blood play, daddy kink, spit play, impact play, slight breeding kink, housewife(??) kink, controlling h, toxic relationship, age gap, Harry is not a good person in general but he does love her, sweetie pie y/n, use of slut and bitch, creampie, cum play, unprotected sex, mention of anal, etc… I probably forgot some 😆

—————

Her smile was sweet as she looked up at him. God, always so fucking sweet. Far too sweet for him, he knew. Her hand placed against his arm, she looked up at him, trusting him enough to keep her safe even when she probably shouldn’t. Most people wouldn’t, but Harry always did keep her safe. “Are you okay?” She peeped up at him, fingers gently rubbing over his arm.

"M'fine, my Angel." He mumbled, eyes sharp as they looked over the room. Always on alert, he had a hard time relaxing at any stage- but the soft hands on him reminded him why he especially couldn't let his guard down at the current moment. Harry was the only one who could hurt Y/N, and that was usually in the name of pleasure and pretty marks for them to admire the next day. "You're gonna behave for me tonight, yeah?" The words were slightly sharp on his tongue, but he needed that promise.

She blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden change in tone. Her cheeks flushed slightly at the implications of his words, but she didn’t look away from her boyfriend. Weirdly, it gave her one of those familiar tingles in her stomach that she knew all too well to be the first seedling of arousal. It wasn’t time for her to question it. Instead, she gives him a small nod, a determined glint in her eyes. “Of course, H.”

“I know y’will, lovely. You’re always good for me… but s’extra important tonight.” Harry had been gone for two weeks working on… things… and Y/N had been the good girl she always was, waiting for him diligently. He knew she hadn’t expected to come out with him tonight, but he also knew she couldn’t say no to him. Her dress that she had thrown on in haste was covered by his jacket that she was sort of swimming in, but it soothed the possessive beast in him. “Don’t let go of me, and stay close.”

She nodded, her fingers gripping the man’s hand tightly. “I won’t move from you. I promise.” Her heart raced. In her chest as she felt the serious demeanor radiating off him in waves. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he’s always on edge. She did her best to always do as she was told when it came to Harry’s business. Never sticking her nose into anything that wasn’t for her, not eavesdropping, listening when he said to drop it- tonight wasn’t going to be any different. One thing she was good at was listening to him- something they both benefitted from.

Weaving through the crowd of people, he finally made it to the dingy back room of the club. Dark and ugly with god awful gaudy plates on the door, he rolled his eyes as he approached the one he needed to go into. It wasn’t the way he wanted to spend a night back, not when he had Y/N’s pretty face and petal soft thighs he wanted to focus on, but duty called. And duty sort of pissed him off. Y/N knew that very well. His fist slammed on the door in three knocks, stepping back and shooting her a look. “Y’know the drill, hm? Keep that pretty mouth shut while I do business.”

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. The anticipation of what was to come had her heartbeat quick, but there was no questioning she was safe. Harry was the safest man to be around- for her- and that wasn’t debatable. She knew this was part of his life, and she had to accept it – even if it made her stomach churn with nerves.

The girl kept her gaze focused on the ground – not wanting to meet anyone’s eye for fear of giving something away. Her fingers played with the hem of her dress, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake.

“Gentlemen.” Harry nodded, walking into the room with Y/N on his arm. “I hope you have what I was promised.” It was immediately that he noticed their eyes on his girl, his angel, and that didn’t make him very happy. With a sigh, he took the gun out of his waistband and fired into the wall, making all of them jump, features blanching. “I’m really not in the fucking mood for this tonight. Keep your eyes away from my woman if you want t’keep them. I asked a fucking question, so answer it.”

Y/N flinched at the gunshot, her eyes wide with terror. She had only seen him like this a few times before, and it was terrifying each and every time. Her handed tightened her grip on his arm, trying to ground herself and offer some sort of comfort- if she could. Harry was different in this sort of scenario.

She silently cursed herself, her heart hammering out of her chest. Of course didn't like the attention from these men- it felt icky and objectifying, not in the way she liked either- but she didn't like seeing Harry resort to violence. Part of her was still sort of in denial at times about the different sides of him. Her sweet boy turned into this hardened man, it was always off putting her to see. The reminder of how dangerous the man was, despite how much she loved him, always had her knees feeling shaky.

No one spoke, making Harry exhale slowly. “I gave you a month. Plenty generous, I think. Sent my guys over here every week for updates. They said y’had it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know know better than to bullshit me?”

“It’s almost done, I promise. We just, we had an unexpected expense and we had to pull some of the funds-“ Harry didn’t think twice before he aimed the gun, placing a bullet in the guy’s shoulder. His face cold, unfeeling as he looked borderline bored. “I fail to see how that’s my problem. You borrowed from me, it was expected back now. I was the priority.”

Y/N gasped as Harry shot the man, her eyes fixed on the blood soaking through his shirt. She knew Harry had a temper, but seeing him this way was something else entirely. The calm, collected way he acted as if he had just done the most mundane thing in the world, it was chilling. No matter how many times she heard him talk about it, heard it in passing, it still shocked her each and every time it happened in front of her.

His irritation grew as he felt Y/N hide her face in his arm, lip twitching in a snarl. the first sign of emotion he’d had since walking in. “See what you’ve done? Made me shoot you, and now my girl’s uncomfortable.” Sharp eyes looked over to the head of the table, keeping his weapon out. “So do you magically have my money now? Or am I gonna have t’kill that son of a bitch and come back to pick you off one by one until I’ve got it?”

Y/N slowly pulled her face away from Harry, her ghroat thick at the tone of his voice and the pure irritation bubbling under the surface. She took in the scene before her, the man on the floor writhing in pain, the others around the table all stiff, their faces frozen. She was praying that for their sake, they had the money. Harry was notorious for not liking his income fucked with- even if he had millions that people had no idea about.

“We don’t have it yet, but you don’t have to kill anyone! I swear, next week-“ the man was cut off by the gun firing off again, finishing off the man on the ground. His struggles froze, his body still as the bullet took him out. Harry didn’t care. He had been lenient enough. “So have it next week, or one by one you’ll each end up like him.” Motioning to the body with his gun, he narrowed his eyes. “And if you have the stupid idea of running, don’t. I have you all surveillanced.”

Y/N felt her heart sink as she watched the man on the floor die, his life slipping away in a pool of his own blood. She glanced up at Harry, seeing the cold, calculating gaze he was giving the others. She knew he wasn't bluffing, he would do exactly as he said. Sometimes it was moments like this that made her understand exactly who she was with, made her wonder if it was worth it- but only for a mere moment. Realistically, she knew no one else had ever or would ever make her as happy as he would.

As soon as she was pulled out of the room, Harry led them out the back exit and gently pushed her into the waiting car, barking at Adam to drive. “M’sorry you had to see that, my angel.” His hand stroked her cheek softly. And there was the switch. The man she knew. the cool mask slipping off and the warmth gliding up his features, the fingers that had just pulled the trigger curling under her chin and those hard eyes looking so adoringly. it was hard to believe that just moment ago, he had killed someone in cold blood. “I know y’dont like that. I didn’t want our night out to end that way… was hopin’ they had the money so we could go get you something pretty.” His frown was laced with irritation before it softened again, lips twitching up. “Mm.. too bad. Guess we’re gonna have t’use some of Daddy’s other money, hm?”

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears as she looked up at Harry, his hand on her cheek was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the cold brutality he had just displayed. She felt unsettled seeing this side of him, hated the way it made her feel so small and helpless. He wouldn’t stop and she knew that, but she also knew she couldn’t try and change him. "Harry, please..."

“Oh, baby…” He cooed, wiping over her chin. “Don’t cry, my love. Breaks my heart.” It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how it must affect her, but he simply didn’t think of all of it as devastating. The people in that room were bad people. They didn’t deserve mercy. Y/N was a sweet little thing, she saw the good in everyone. She saw they probably had families or lovers and all of that and cared for that rather than the fact they were bad people.

It was endearing, but he did worry for her.

"I know, I know." She sniffled, leaning into his touch. "It's just... hard for me to see you like that. You're always so kind and caring with me. It's hard to reconcile the two."

“Mhm. I know that, my heart. But you’re the only one who gets that side of me. S’all for you, yeah?” It wasn’t a secret. Harry was known for being cold blooded in the underground, and Y/N like a soft, fuzzy little bunny. She’d fallen right into the big bad wolf’s jowls and made a home there, submitting happily and stroking his teeth. He’d never seen himself as a relationship type of man, but the moment he saw her shy away and get flustered from him, he knew she was his. “Don’t need to shed any tears for that man. We’re gonna go get you somethin’ pretty, okay?” Tilting her chin up, he forced her gaze. “C’mon, baby. Give me those eyes.”

"Harry... I-" She swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in her throat down. Her eyes met his and she was met with a sense of warmth and safety. She didn't understand how he could be so violent and yet so gentle with her, but she couldn't deny it made her feel weirdly special.

“Alright. C’mere.” He sighed, pulling her into his lap and tucking her face into his chest. Sometimes it was hard for him to understand how she was so tender hearted and why he of all people had her love, but he had her now and he was selfish. There was no chance of letting go. “Tell me about what you did when I was gone, hm?” In reality he knew almost every detail. His girl was watched 24/7, protected, but she didn’t need to always be aware of it.

"W-well... I mostly just worked at the bakery." She murmured, feeling a sense of comfort in his embrace. She knew he had people around her, but she never felt threatened by them. Instead, she saw them as her protectors.

“Yeah? What did you make?” Even if he had insisted she didn’t need to work, she liked it. He was allowing it for now. She liked to bake and make treats, though he knew she would have been a little sad he wasn’t there to eat them. “Anything new?”

"Um, yeah... I tried making some new cupcakes. Chocolate peanut butter and strawberry basil- not all together though, cause that would be a little cross." She said, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the buttons on his shirt. The girl loved baking new things, but she always hoped he would like them too. It made her happy to see him enjoy her creations.

“Oh, wow. M’a little sad I didn’t get to try them.” His lips ghosted over her forehead, letting his facial hair tickle her skin. “Do you think you’ll be especially nice t’me this week and make them again so I can try?” His attempt of cheering her up was working, thankfully, because he wanted that smile after the bloody week he’d had.

"Maybe... if you beg." She teased, a small smile appearing on her lips. She looked up at him with a sparkle in her eyes, the stress from the day already seeming a little lighter. "But only if you promise to give me a kiss as soon as you get home tomorrow."

His eyes flashed, eyebrow high as she teased him. This was one of his favorite parts of her- how easily she gave into him and his love. Never once did she take it for granted. “Oh, I’ll give you far more than a kiss, little miss.” He purred, thumbing over her lip and watched it snap back into place. God, he loved that fucking mouth. “Daddy’s missed his angel. Been missing you so much while I was away..” Lightly pinching the plump bottom lip, he gazed over her face and saw that she was early getting the message. “Did you miss me too, my heart?”

She nodded eagerly, her heart skipping a beat at the possessive nickname and the gentle pinching of her lip. "I missed you so much, Daddy," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She loved when he called her his angel or his heart, it always made her feel so cherished and loved. She felt her body relax as she felt his gaze on her, his touch on her face, her lips. She couldn't believe she could miss someone so much, but she did, and his touch was slowly making her calm. There was no doubt in her heart that she could never deny him.

“How much, baby?” He crooned. “How much did y’miss me?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at him. "I... I missed you so much, Daddy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I couldn't sleep at night without you, I couldn't eat without thinking of you, I just... I missed you so much."

Harry grinned widely at her emotional display, smug that he had gotten her here. As fucked up as it probably was, he wanted her to need him. Wanted her to be just as needy for him, crave him, never want to leave him- because there was no way in hell he was letting her go. Y/N belonged to him in every sense of the word. “Oh, my girl.” He chuckled. “I missed you too. M’glad that you think of me while I’m away.. but you don’t need to cry.” His voice was soft just for her, though he didn’t really care if Adam overheard. “S’so nice to have my girl miss me while I’m away. Gives me something to come home to.”

She nodded, wiping at her tears as he chuckled at her. There was nothing more she loved more than she loved that sound. It made her heart soar and her body shiver, it was her favorite sound in the whole world. Being one of the very few people who could make him react like that made her feel special. She loved him so much, and now that he was back, she could just relax in his presence.

“Now… do you want a necklace?” Moving forward, he wanted to spoil her some more. Give her a reward for listening to him while he was away, keeping herself safe. Just like he asked. “A bracelet? Earrings? Mmm… maybe some clothes? What does my angel want me to buy her?”

Y/N sniffled and looked up at him with shining eyes, her smile forming at the prospect of a reward. "A necklace, Daddy," she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement. She loved getting jewelry from him, it made her feel like a job well done. Getting to wear something he had bought just for her had been the best part.. "Something pretty, please?"

“I doubt I can find anything as pretty as you, my heart… but we can try.” His lips pressed against her cheek, before tapping her nose. “Anything for you.”

——

Harry let her pull him around the shop, looking at the glittering jewels and precious stones. His hand firmly in hers, he watched with contentment as she looked over the selection, trying to understand which piece it was that she wanted. “Have you got your eye on anything?”

She shook her head, still staring at the necklaces. None of them seemed good enough for his money- or so she thought. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she spotted a dainty gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant hanging from it. "Look at this one!" She squealed with excitement as she pulled him over to the necklace display, her hand tightly gripping his. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she pointed at a dainty gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant hanging from it. "Look, Harry! Isn't it perfect?"

“Absolutely.” His grin was gentle as he felt fondness take over his chest. This was the only time he felt this way. The only time he felt gentle and sweet and yearning to feel that all encompassing warmth, it was Y/N that made him happy. It was no wonder he was obsessed with her. Her joy and gratefulness were genuine. There was no hint of being spoiled even if he bought out a whole store. She would take anything, a rock even, and coo over it. He didn’t know much about or have much of an opinion about jewelry, but he did want her to make her feel happy. “There’s a matching bracelet too, you see it? would you like that too?” His fingers ran over her back as he looked back at her pretty face.

She nodded eagerly, feeling his fingers tracing over her back, sending a wave of warmth down her spine. "Yes, please!" Watchin on with glittering eyes as he picked up the matching gold bracelet with a small heart charm, she bounced on the balls of her feet. She watched as he paid for the necklace and bracelet, taking care of it without blinking an eye. There was no second thought as she wrapped her arms around his, tilting her chin up to look at him. The way he looked at her made her feel like the most precious thing in the world.

“You happy, love?” His other tattooed hand stroked over her hair as the sales assistant wrapped up the boxes. “We can do a proper shop later this week and get you some new clothes… know you’ve been good all week, so I think you deserve more than just some pretty jewelry. I’m just a little selfish with my alone time with you tonight.” The man had spent enough time away from her and having to control his hands.

She beamed up at him, nodding her head eagerly. "I would love that, H." she replied, letting out a little sigh of contentment as his hand ran through her hair. The way he pampered her and took care of her made understand just how much he adored her. For a man who could clear a room with a single glare, he sure as hell made it no secret how much he loved her. Spared no expense in taking care of her.

“Good. It’s settled then.” Harry kissed the top of her head before taking the bag holding their purchases. “Let’s get you home so I can see you put them on for me.”

—

When they arrived back to his place, he was quick to scoop her up in his arms. Jewelry bag hanging off his wrist, he held her bridal style as he climbed the staircase. In all honesty? He needed to be truly alone with her for a little bit. The whole time he had been away had been brutal, and to come home and have to go do some work had really fucking irritated him. He wasn’t bothered by the people he’d killed in the last few weeks, but he was bothered by the fact it had taken precious time away from spending with his girl.

She giggled as her body was bounced with each step he took, letting herself lean into him. Y/N safe in his arms, nuzzling her face into his neck as he carried her up the stairs, no complaints as she let him do as he pleased. She could sense the hint of tension in his body, the slight tightness in his jaw, and she knew exactly what it meant. He was stressed, and he needed her. She would never fully grasp the reasons why he did what he did, nor did she ever want to. He was a dangerous man, a killing machine, but he was hers and she loved him regardless. If he was flawed, so was she. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as she breathed in his scent deeply, her fingers tracing small circles on his shoulder.

“Alright, my heart.” He started lowly, placing her down on to the bed. “Why don’t you put these on for me… and something else pretty.” He tilted her chin up to look at him. Yes, he towered over her, but he liked it that way. Harry liked to be in charge. “Something that shows that gorgeous body, how much of an angel you are. I missed my slice of heaven while I was away.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, her heart racing with excitement at his request. She loved when he talked to her like this, when he made her feel like a treasure to be admired an cherished. Like he didn’t have access to all the other luxuries in the world, and she was the only one he indulged in. She obeyed, slipping off the bed to go to her dresser.

Harry took the moment to go into the bathroom, freshening up. Taking his shirt off, washing his face and hands, cleaning up whatever could stain his precious girl. The only marks or stains he wanted on her were to be put in by him. Bite marks, mottled bruises from sucking or his thumbs or striking her plush flesh, he’d welcome those and those alone. Leaving the gun in his waistband, he strolled back out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, looking over his pretty girl.

She had listened.

“Oh, sweet little thing. You know how to make me happy.” Lingerie, soft looking and a light blue. his favorite.

Y/N smiled shyly, the grin deepening on her cheeks at his praise. She turned around slowly, giving him a full view of the lingerie he had requested. The light blue material contrasted her skin beautifully, almost making her glow under the room's lighting.

“God…” He sighed, pushing off the doorframe to approach her. “You are my gift. Someone sent the little angel down to hell for me, didn’t they?” Y/N was too bright for his world, but he made sure she knew she was the most important thing in it. “You are so gorgeous, my girl. Makes me so happy…” His fingers brushed the strap of her little babydoll top. “N’You love to make me happy, don’t you?”

Y/N bit her lip softly when he drew closer, a small whimper escaping as his fingers grazed her top strap. Her eyes half-lidded with the desire that he brought her, a soft smile gracing her lips, "Of course, I do... I love you."

“I love you more than you could ever fathom.” He whispered. “I’d kill armies for you. If it wouldn’t upset you, I’d gouge the eyes out of any man who looked too long.” Harry would shed liters of blood for her if need be. “But you’re my personal angel, sent t’make me happy. Sent to show me love… to help me.” his fingers trailed up her throat, gently clasping it in his grasp. He felt her swallow against his palm, a dark smile raising on his lips. “Are you going to help Daddy, baby?” Applying a tiny bit of pressure on the sides of her neck, he watched her eyes get hazy. “Hm? Gonna get on your knees for me and make me feel better?”

Y/N felt herself lean closer to him, the possessiveness and the darkness he exuded was addicting. His pet names for her, so sweet but borderline condescendingz she loved it. The way he touched her making her head feel so empty, but so alive at the same time.

"Yes, Daddy..." she whispered, eyes hooded with her arousal. She'd help him in any way he wished, even if it meant getting on her knees for him. It was what she was made for, his love for her pure and true but his actions wildly darkening that love.

“That’s my girl.” Keeping his hand around her throat, he kissed her hard. He’d been holding back most of the day, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from letting loose the moment he truly allowed himself to kiss her.

She moaned into the kiss, her hands instinctively going to his chest, nails scratching lightly into the tattooed skin. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his kiss hungry and bruising. It was moments like this that Y/N felt like she truly belonged with him.

The way his hand tightened around her throat made her tummy clench in the best way, the possessive hold sending a thrill down her spine. His lips were demanding, taking everything she could give and more. A metaphor for him. She felt herself getting lost in the kiss, her mind going blank as she gave into him completely.

“Open that mouth.” He demanded darkly. “Stick out that pretty tongue for me, baby.”

Y/N complied immediately, her lips parting and her tongue sticking out, trembling slightly as she looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. She loved when he spoke to her in that commanding tone, it made her feel so small and helpless in the best way possible.

He groaned deep, pursing his lips and spitting onto her tongue. Y/N knew better than to move, and when he spit a second time, he felt his cock stir as she whimpered for him. “That’s it. Swallow.”

She swallowed his spit as he commanded, not even bothering to close her mouth. Y/N could hear the praise in his tone, and that alone made her heart skip a beat. She would do anything for him; she'd proven that more than once.

“You’d do anything for your Daddy.” Harry crooned, taking his thumb and running it over her tongue. “You filthy little bitch. I love you so much.”

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears at the endearment, her devotion for him more the evident. She loved being called his dirty girl, his filthy bitch, his everything. She nodded eagerly, her mouth still open as she awaited his next command, her tongue still wet from swallowing his spit.

“Get on your knees.” he pulled his touch away momentarily. “Get my cock out. I’m pent up, my girl. Need you to get me relaxed before I take that pretty cunt.”

Without a second thought, she lowered herself down onto her knees as soon as he pulled away. Like the habit it was, she reached to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, taking a deep breath before grabbing the gun he had tucked in there and looked up at him in question.

“Safety’s on, sweetheart. Put it on the bed.”

Y/N carefully placed the gun on the bed, hands slightly shaking before reaching back into his pants to pull out his hard cock, stroking it a few times before looking back up at him, awaiting further instructions. She loved how big and heavy it felt in her hands, and she knew just how to make him relax. He’d taught her just how he liked it. Her plump lips were slightly parted, ready to wrap around his thick cock as she looked up at him, momentarily biting at her bottom lip. Her fingers gripped him tightly as she waited for his permission to worship him.

“Go ahead, pet. Show me how much you missed my cock.” Lazily he wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her face closer. “Give it some kisses.”

She moaned softly at his dirty words as he pulled her closer to him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock before parting her lips wider and wrapping them around his hardness. Slowly, she sucked on the tip, her mouth stretching wide to accommodate his thick girth before popping off and making her way back down. She kissed and licked every inch of his cock, making sure to pay special attention to the head. Her hands fondled his balls, gently rolling them between her fingers as she pulled the tip back into her mouth again, keeping her eyes on him for his approval.

“That’s my filthy girl.” He laughed under his breath, slowly pulling her further down his cock. “Y’don’t know how badly I needed this all week. It was so fuckin’ annoying, y’know that?” Shaking his head, he felt her take what he fed into her mouth with no complaint. “Got half of my clothes soaked in blood… ruined my appetite half the time. And then, when I got back t’my room afterwards I didn’t even have my precious little cunt to fuck afterwards. Wasn’t fair.”

Her lips stretched further down his cock as he pulled her head down, her tongue lapping at his hardness as she listened to Harry's musings about his gruesome work week. She let out a soft, muffled moan around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him.

Her mouth felt like a warm, wet heaven on his cock. Every inch that disappeared between her lips was met with a satisfying suckle and the soft cushion of her tongue l. The velvety interior of her mouth enveloped him, her plump lips stretched around his width as her head bobbed up and down ever so slowly. Her saliva coated him, adding a slick layer to her movements as her tongue danced along the underside of his shaft.

His reaction was a pleased groan, his eyes rolling back in his head as he savored the feeling of her mouth on him. Hands tightened in her hair, guiding her head up and down his cock at a pace that was both slow and relentless, giving her time to breathe between sucks.

“Fuck… I needed this.” He sighed, slowly pulling her head off to let her take a breath before pushing her back down, making her take it further. “This perfect mouth. This is the only cock it’s ever gonna take.” He muttered darkly. “Right? You’re mine to fuck?”

"Yes," the gasp was wet in agreement, sound muffled with his cock still filling her mouth. She pulled back to look up at him, eyes wide and pupils dilated with lust. The possessiveness in his voice only made her hotter, making her core clench with want.

He groaned again, the sound deep and guttural as he felt her mouth envelop him again. His eyes glazed over with pleasure, a lazy smile crossing his lips at her words. He tangled his fingers back in her hair, encouraging her over and over again to take him as deep as she could. The room was filled with the sounds of his pleasure. The wet slurping of her mouth on his cock, the occasional moan escaping past her lips. His deep sounds of pleasure, punctuated by occasional curses as she took him deeper than before.

“You love it, don’t you baby? Love taking this cock down your slutty little throat.” He breathed hard, pushing her down until her nose brushed the thatch of groomed hair at his stomach. “Yeah… you do. That’s fucking perfect, choke on it. Choke- yeah, that’s my girl.” he growled, pulling her back and watching the strings of spit web from her mouth to his cock.

She coughed at his words, pulling back to take a much needed breath, but she didn’t stop. She kept her glazed over eyes locked on his, sucking him again as he pulled her back down on his cock, helping her take what they both needed over and over again.

Her chin was a mess, spit stringing from her mouth to his cock with each pull. Her lips were puffy and swollen, her mouth hanging open as she gasped for air between sucks. His cock was glistening with saliva, his balls heavy and slick with each thrust of her head.

“Fuck, yes.” He hissed, feeling his cock pulse inside of her mouth before finally pulling her off. “Need t’be in that cunt. Bend over the bed.”

As usual, Y/N did as she was told, still gasping for breath. She leaned over the edge of the bed, her ass in the air as she braced herself with her arms, spreading her knees wide. Arms shook slightly as she held herself up, her back arched as she presented her ass to him. Her pussy was dripping, the juices running down her thighs and pooling on the bed. Her hole was puffy and slick, the lips slightly parted to reveal her clit, already starting to swell with need.

Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, the sight of her pussy nearly making him cum right then and there. She was so open, so vulnerable, and it was all for him.

“You are a vision.” he murmured, brushing his hand over her. The little angel had forgone panties under her babydoll, the smartest choice when it came to his tendencies. “Poor little pussy… did it miss me, too?” His fingers slid down and over her slippery slit, spreading her open. “Did you touch it while Daddy was gone, getting all the money so he can buy you pretty things?

She let out a soft whimper at his touch, her hips bucking slightly as his fingers spread her open. "Y-yes, Daddy." Shyly, she admitted it, her voice a hesitant whisper. "I missed you so much, and my pussy kept getting wet thinking about you."

“Oh, darling.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “You know you’re supposed to wait for me…”

She sniffled, her face pressing into the bed as she felt his fingers teasing her entrance. "I'm sorry, Daddy... I just couldn't help it. Every time I thought about you, I would touch myself and imagine it was your fingers inside me..."

“Yeah?” His tone was painted with intrigue. “And what exactly did you dream about Daddy doing to your little holes, hm?”

She let out a soft little moan, her body trembling beneath his touch as she felt his fingers teasing her entrance. "I… I dreamed about you taking me roughly, Daddy. I imagined your thick cock stretching me out and filling me up completely… N’I dreamed about you punishing me for being a bad girl, Daddy," she continued, her voice breathless. "I imagined you spanking me until I cried, and then taking me hard from behind... It made me so wet..."

Harry let out a deep sigh, stroking his cock with his other hand as he admired her bare pussy, glistening and wet. “You know… This is why you’re perfect for me. Such a sweet, angelic little thing most of the time… but let me move wrong, and your filthy cunt is weeping and you’re ready to be a proper whore for me.”

She shivered at his words, her body responding to the word she had been waiting all week to hear. Sure, she knew he wouldn’t be fully pleased at the idea of her touching herself but she knew he would understand this instance. "Yes, Daddy… I can't help it. You bring out this side of me that no one else does. Wanna be your little whore, Daddy, please…” She backed into him. “Use me however you want." Her voice cracked with desperation. "Spank me, choke me, fuck me rough... Just please, make me yours completely. I'm your girl, your little fucktoy... Use me however you see fit."

A chuckle sounded in the room as his hand pulled back, smacking against her wet cunt. Sharp and stinging, he watched her cunt get slicker, ass pushing into him as he did it again. “There she is. There’s my slut.” He sighed in relief. “You know I love you… but you know how much your little holes love to be filled.”

She squealed and writhed at each blow, but her legs apread wider and her moans grew louder. She craved his roughness, craved his filthy words and his cock. All she had been wanting to do was make him feel good, and there was no doubt that they’d both get what they wanted. "Yes, Daddy." She mewled, her body aching for him to continue.

With each slap to her pussy, Y/N's eyes rolled back in pleasure. She was completely at Harry's mercy and she reveled in it. Her body was racked with shudders as he continued to spank her, and her hand snaked down to rub her clit.

“Who told you to do that?” The man scoffed, pushing her hand away. “You had enough self pleasure. Think you forgot about the fact that this cunt belongs to me.” His hand sharply smacked her clit again with his fingertips, watching her body jolt. “Played with this little button while Daddy was out there, covered in blood. All so you can be a little princess at home.”

Her voice was breathy and full of desire as she pleaded with him, "Only because you were gone so long. I needed release, Daddy." She spread her legs wider, silently begging him to touch her again. "Please, forgive me."

“God, you really are a desperate little thing.” He laughed in awe. “If it didn’t drive me mad, I’d leave more often. Make you this desperate for me when I come back… Make you beg and cry for my cock.” The taunt had her shaking her head as he slipped two fingers into her cunt, curling them slightly as he began to fuck them into her. “Tell me you love me.”

"I love you," The girl whimpered, her hips thrusting back to meet his fingers. She was so wet and ready for him, her pussy clenching around his fingers as he fucked her harder. "Please, daddy, I need you so bad."

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” He pulled his fingers out, teasing his cock over her clit. Using the arousal left in his fingers and the spit as lubrication, he nestled the tip of his cock at her entrance. “Tell me that you’re going to be my little angel forever, and I’ll give you that cock.”

"I'll never leave you," she promised, her voice shaking with need. "I'll always be your little angel, Harry. Forever and ever." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, desperate for him to claim her as his own. "Please, daddy, fuck me. Need it."

“Never fucking forget it.” His cock was thick, achingly so, as it began spreading her open as he pushed it inside of her. Y/N was always tight, always hot for him, and it never wavered. He let out a little groan as he felt her cunt flutter around him as he pushed himself further inside, wrapping a hand around her hair and tugging her up further. “You’ll never leave me, because m’not gonna let you. M’gonna make you my wife, make you mine in every fucking way possible.” He shallowly jumped into her as he worked his length in.

Her back arched, the stretch feeling oh so good. She moaned and bit her back lip as he pushed the rest of himself inside of her, completely filling her up. His words made her heart surge and tears appeared in her eyes, knowing how hard it would be to remain his calm and rational force.

"Y-yes, daddy," she stammered out, her voice trembling with desire. "Make me yours." She spread her legs wider and pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts, taking him deeper inside of her.

Harry's grip on her hair tightened as he heard her agree, a sly smirk appearing on his face. His thrusts began, deep and slow as he bottomed out each time pushing her further onto the bed with each push inside. His eyes were wild with desire, watching as Y/N submitted to him so readily. It was exactly how it should be, how they both wanted it. “Think we need t’make it official now.” He breathed, hand brushing over as ass. “Think we need to ink my name on this pretty skin. Where should we do it?” Watching his cock sink into her over and over had him worked up. “Should we put it right above your ass, hm? so there’s no doubt I own it?”

She gasped as his hand brushed over her ass, the idea of having his name permanently inked on her body making her shudder. "Yes daddy, I want that." Maybe she was mindlessly agreeing from how good it felt, but she felt slightly crazy for liking that idea. A small moan squeaked out as she felt him thrust deeper, her body aching for more.

"Above your ass, right where I can see it every time I spank it," The man agreed, his hand leaving her ass to reach up and grab her chin, forcing her to turn to look at him. "And maybe a permanent necklace on your neck with my name, so everyone knows you belong to me. Get a nice little lock that only I have the key to." Harry's fingers dug into her chin, his grip unyielding as he held her gaze captive. His other hand never left her ass, occasionally giving it a firm slap as he spoke. "I want to see my name on you, skin or necklace, marked as mine for everyone to see."

She was too good to let go of. He never knew of someone who was so good at keeping him calm and yet able to elicit such extreme reactions from him. He’d always been cold and calculated- it’s how he was good at his jobs- but something in this woman had melted the ice around his heart. Lit him on fire. “Fuck, this ass is mine. This cunt is mine… No other cock is ever going in there again.”

Y/N's cheeks flushed at his possessive words, her body aching for his touch once more. She never wanted to be with anyone else, as Harry had somehow managed to break down the walls she once had up. "Only you, daddy." She arched her back, pressing herself further against him with a soft moan. He has always been a little rough with her, but she loves it, loves him. "Do you want me to say it again? How you’re the only man I want."

Again- she was perfect. He nearly laughed at how she knew exactly what he wanted, making him push her back down so her cheek was on the mattress. “Yeah. Tell me, baby. Need to give your cunt a better fuck.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she felt his strong hands grip her hair, pushing her face into the mattress. She loved when he was rough with her, it only turned her on more. She opened her mouth, speaking softly into the pillow as he demanded. "My cunt belongs only to you, daddy."

She felt his hand run down her back, grabbing a handful of her ass. She was glad she had worn something that showcased her assets for him. "I'm the only one who can make you scream my name, the only one who will ever be deep inside you."

She felt his hand leave her ass, only for it to return with a firm slap. The sting of pain made her gasp, but only served to heighten the pleasure coursing through her body. "Yes!" She cried out as he entered her once more, filling her to the brim.

She shifted her hips down to meet his thrusts, desperate for more contact. "Daddy, deeper. Please, fuck me deeper." She pleaded with him, gripping the sheets tightly as her body arched against him. "Are you going to fill me up, give me what I need?"

“Greedy.” He snarled, picking up the pace. “Greedy little bitch for my cock. For my cum…” The little whimper she let out at the mention made him chuckle. “Yeah… I know what my sweet little whore wants. Jus’ needs my load dripping out of that puffy hole…” He groaned as she clenched around him. “Thought about it when I was gone. How it’s time to make you permanent. Make you my wife…” He felt her buck back into him. “Can quit the job and bake just for me, be a good little housewife for me.”

Y/N's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he spoke those words. The thought of being his in that way, his wife, it was everything she wanted. She loved the idea of quitting her job and dedicating herself entirely to him, being his perfect little housewife.

"Yes, Daddy. I-I want to be yours like that, wanna be your wife. I'll quit my job and be your perfect little housewife. I'll cook, clean, and bake just for you. I'll wear the clothes you like and do whatever you say. I'll be yours completely. Never wanna to be free from you." She moaned as he slammed into her with renewed vigor. "Do whatever you want with me, as long as you never stop fucking me."

“Fuck… I knew you were meant to be mine.” The answer stroked something in him, a new level of obsession breaking through. He’d known she was going to be his since he set eyes on her, but hearing such a needy and solid agreement to what she should want made his life easier. It was her path, the one he carved out for her. “Oh, baby… m’never gonna stop using your pussy. And that ass…” His thumb rolled over it. “But right now M’gonna focus on that pussy. Think it needs practice for when m’ready to knock you up.”

Her breath hitches at his words, a new surge of pleasure flooding her system. The idea of him breeding her, of making her pregnant with his children, was the most erotic thing she'd ever heard. "Yes- fuck. Please, fill me up with your cum and make me pregnant." She cried out as she felt him thrusting harder and faster, his thumb rubbing her ass as he spoke. The thought of carrying his child was the hottest thing she'd ever imagined. "H-Harry."

The idea was enticing. Even further trap her with him, add another layer to it… He would deliberate later. “Mm.. Just practice for right now, my angel.” His voice softened. “Want t’have you as my pretty little housewife for a bit before I knock you up full, but I’ll give you my cum….” His smile returned. “If you really think you deserve it.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with desire as she looked up at him. "Mhm, daddy, I deserve it. I'll be such a good little housewife for you. I'll cook and clean and take care of you, anything you want. Just please, give me your cum and practice breeding me."

Harry pulled out of her, grabbing her hips and tossing her into her back before slipping back inside of her. He wanted to see her face, watch her as he said these things and filled up that perfect cunt that was so snug around him. “I’ll kill anyone who wants you.” He murmured. “Gun, knife, my bare hands. I’ll kill them for thinking about you.” His hand collared her throat as he gave slower thrusts, a contrast to his brutal words. “I’ll make it clear to anyone who has the privilege of looking at you that they can’t have you, even in their thoughts. Because you belong t’me, my angel.”

Her face flushed with a mix of arousal and adoration as she looked up at Harry. She knew he would protect her, keep her safe and loved. The possessiveness in his words only added fuel to her desire for him, her body trembling beneath his touch as he choked her gently.

Her eyes watered slightly from the pressure of his hand on her throat, her body squirming and arching towards him with need as he thrust into her again and again.

Nails dug into his back, leaving crescent moons in their wake as she moaned and gasped for breath, her body trembling with pleasure and need beneath him. "Harry..." She whimpered softly, her voice strained and needy as she begged for more. "Please..."

“Yeah? You’re okay with that, my heart?” His eyes were dark and hot, staring into her own. “You don’t mind if Daddy kills for you? Because I’m looking forward to their blood on my hands.” He purred, the deep thrusts getting harder, full balls smacking against her ass. “Won’t mind being pretty in our kitchen, me coming home and washing the blood off my hands before I use them to make you cum?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head as he spoke, the dark promise of his words sending shivers down her spine. She loved how possessive and protective he was, how he would kill for her and make a mess in their home. It was so wrong, so fucked up, but it was everything she craved. That dark piece of her that he had exposed and had embraced was something he cherished, made her feel normal.

Her back arched against the bed, pushing her breasts out and up as she felt herself crawling closer to her climax, every smack of his balls against her ass making her whimper and moan. "Daddy..."

At her plea, Harry's expression twisted into something feral and possessive, his eyes burning with an unholy hunger. He leaned forward, his teeth sinking into the side of her neck as he fucked her harder, his thrusts becoming brutal and punishing.

Y/N's back arched off the bed, her breath hitching at the mix of pain and pleasure. He wanted to claim her, mark her as his while he fucked her to the edge of no return and back.

The bite on her neck made her let out a strangled whimper, a sound filled with pained pleasure and submission. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her nails digging into the fabric as Harry fucked her relentlessly, her body bouncing on the bed with every hard thrust. Blood dribbled from the bite on her neck, trailing down her skin as Harry continued to fuck her with vicious abandon. His balls slapped against her ass with a sickening smack, the sound echoing through the room along with her desperate moans and his growled curses.

“That’s fucking right.” He grunted between thrusts. He knew she liked a bit of pain but how tight she had gotten around his cock, how she had gushed, it made him understand that his angel was more of a masochist than he had ever realized. “You’re gonna happily take my dick in those holes whenever I want, because you love me, don’t you? You’ll let me fuck away all my anger and be the sweetest place to unload my cum…” He wanted to hear it again, even with his fingers pressing into her throat. “Tell me, my heart. Use that gorgeous mouth.”

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as Harry's words washed over her, his fingers tightening around her throat, smearing the blood on her skin. She struggled to breathe, her vision blurring at the edges as she fought to gasp out air. "Y-yes... I love you... I'll take your dick anywhere... anytime...” It was hard to think straight with his cock hitting her perfectly. "I'll be your toy, your angel, your wife, your everything," She choked out, her voice barely audible over the sound of their harsh panting. Harry's fingers squeezed harder, cutting off her air supply until he let her breath, the rush of air making her shudder. “Wanna cum. Wanna cum, please, H. Please make me cum.”

Harry's reaction was immediate. His thrusts became erratic, his hips slamming against Y/N's ass with feral force as he chased his own release. He released his grip on her throat just long enough to grab her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck, the teeth marks from the bite, the blood smeared on her skin. She was the prettiest picture, bloody skin, hazy eyes and swollen lips. His personal angel under him, letting him sin with her body. Letting him corrupt her, dragging her down to hell with him. Leaning down, he nuzzled his nose against hers before pulling back. “Cum. Cum for me, make a fucking mess."

As Harry’s release built, so did hers. She could feel the warmth spreading between them, slicking her thighs as she writhed under his grasp. Her whimpers turned into gasps and desperate pleas as he brought her closer to the edge. “Yes, yes...” Y/N could hold back no longer. As her orgasm broke, she arched her back, her nails digging into his arms as she called out his name. The intense pleasure rolled over her again and again, a blinding tidal wave crushing down on her.

Her entire body trembled, shuddered, spasmed as Harry fucked her through the first orgasm as it rolled into another orgasm. The pleasure was overwhelming, the building pressure suddenly released and Y/N’s mind went blank, senses heightened as she experienced a pure moment of ecstasy.

As Y/N's orgasm subsided, Harry let out a guttural moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own climax. His hands tightened around her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he fucked her harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. “Beg for my cum.” He demanded, slipping his hand up to hold her jaw. “Beg me to make you mine, for me to keep you, and I’ll give you my load.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, his grip on her jaw tightening as she looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. “Please...” she whispered softly, the single word filled with meaning and need. “Make me yours, Harry. Keep me for your own. “I beg you, Harry...” Her voice was a soft murmur, barely audible as she whispered her plea. “Please cum inside me, make me yours. I want to feel you fill me up, I want to bear your mark.”

Harry's eyes squeezed shut as he reached orgasm, his body tensing and freezing as he released inside Y/N with a groan. The grip on her tightened, fingers digging into her skin as he felt his orgasm tear through him, so much pleasure that he almost felt pain.

Thick ribbons of cum shot deep inside her, coating her insides and marking her as his own. Harry's hips continued to jerk, his body shudders with each pulse of his release, as if he couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get deep enough. His cock throbbed and spasmed, pumping out an endless stream of hot, sticky cum into her waiting cunt. The room filled with the sound of his grunt, the slap of his hips against her ass, and the gush of his seed inside her. He felt her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him deeper. A satisfied groan escaped him, a sex drunk smile raising on his face as he kissed her deep, messy, but he didn’t care. He was happy for the first time since he’d left her side to go on ‘business’.

Y/N's arms wrapped tightly around Harry's neck, holding him close as he continued to fill her with his cum. She kissed him back just as deeply, her lips moving against his in a sloppy, loving mess. She moaned into the kiss, feeling so full and satisfied, so loved and cherished. Even with how rough he got, how dirty their need was, there was no doubt in her mind how he felt.

“There you go, my heart. Take every drop.” He murmured, slowly fucking the cum into her. “Practicing making it stick. This is how M’gonna knock you up, when I feel the time is right.” He brushed the hair out of her face, body feeling lighter and head less cluttered. Y/N was his medicine, his heart. “I love you. You’re never leaving me.”

A blush spread across her cheeks at Harry's words, a soft smile on her lips. "I love you too," She whispered back, pulling him closer for another deep kiss. She could feel the warmth of his cum inside her, a reminder of how much he had craved her.

“Good.” He stroked over the bridge of her nose and down to her lips, smearing their spit around. “M’gonna make that appointment for my name right above your ass. You’re going to quit that job and be my little housewife, and you’re gonna love every bit of it.”

She giggled at his words, her heart swelling with happiness. "I'd love that," she replied, her voice soft and full of affection. She could already imagine it, waking up every morning to make him breakfast and taking care of their future children.

“Yeah? That’s my girl.” He didn’t mention that now that his mind was made up there wasn’t much room to move the plan, but she knew that. Y/N knew that Harry loved her, but he was in charge. “Gonna take you on a shopping spree tomorrow, get you that ring…” It wasn’t the most romantic proposal but it didn’t need to be. Harry had decided she was going to marry him, and she would do it because she was good and she loved him right back.

She nodded excitedly at the thought of a shopping spree and a new ring. She knew that Harry wasn't the most romantic man, but she didn't need grand gestures to know that he loved her. The fact that he wanted to marry her was enough for her. "Anything for you, Daddy.”

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel (Part 3)

Harry and Y/N have sex for the first time.

warnings: Pure smut, 18+

read part 4 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was an ordinary Thursday evening, and Harry and Y/N were sprawled out on the plush carpet of Harry's living room.

A laptop sat between them, books open, and both were supposedly working on their assignments-at least Harry was.

His brow furrowed in concentration as his skilled fingers danced over the keyboard, his glasses perched delicately on his nose.

Meanwhile, Y/N found herself staring at him, absently nibbling the end of her pen. She couldn't help but wish it was something else in her mouth. For the past few days, she had been feeling extremely horny— maybe it was because her period was close, or maybe it was just because of Harry. She didn't know, but her thoughts had been consumed with him, ogling him whenever she got the chance. She admired his mouth, his toned biceps, and the way his thighs flexed under his tiny shorts, offering a clear view of the tiger tattoo during their dinner breaks. It was a sight that never failed to send heat rushing through her body. She didn't know when or how it happened, but she found herself scooting closer, desperate to capture his attention.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, tilting his face toward hers and placing the softest kiss on his lips. It took him a moment to process what had just occurred. "Kiss me, please," Y/N murmured, batting her lashes at him. Who was he to deny the request of his precious angel? She looked so innocent, her lips pouting adorably, drawing him in like a magnet.

He leaned closer, taking her bottom lip between his and sucking it gently, eliciting the most sexiest sound from her lips in response. It was a sound that ignited a spark within him, sending his heart racing. The position soon became uncomfortable, and he gently pulled away to sit up. Y/N opened her eyes, her half-hearted protest dying in her throat as she saw Harry inviting her to settle on his lap.

Without hesitation, she climbed onto him, straddling his waist as she pushed his glasses atop his head. She adored how sexy he looked in them, but they often got in the way. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and they both leaned in for another kiss. Harry's hand drifted to her jaw while the other rested on her waist, as if trying to mold their bodies together.

What started as a sweet peck quickly escalated into a heated mess of tongues and mouths. Both groaning in each other’s mouth. Y/N felt alive, every nerve ending tingling as their connection deepened. They lost track of time, completely immersed in each other, panting heavily as they rested their foreheads against one another, breathless. 

"Harry, I want this," Y/N whispered breathlessly, the words tumbling from her lips with an urgency that surprised her. Harry opened his eyes in confusion, trying to contemplate what she was referring to. Then it struck him,

Oh, oh...

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N had been thinking about it for a while now. She felt safe, so safe with Harry, and wanted to take their relationship further by having sex with him. She knew he was a virgin as well, just like her. She understood the weight of this moment, the significance it held for both of them. She knew how important intimacy was to Harry and wanted him to feel safe and comfortable too. So they discussed it a few days ago, where she asked him if he ever wanted to have sex with her.

He'd smiled at her question, trying to keep the blush creeping up his cheek at bay, nodding his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispering, "Yes, I want to, whenever you are ready."

But in that moment hearing her say it, his heart was racing. His chest felt warm, almost buzzing, as he looked into her eyes. The way she wanted him, with that same vulnerable openness, made him feel understood in a way he'd never felt before. The anticipation swirled between them, palpable and electric, igniting the air around them.

He then asked her, cheeks red with blush and embarrassment, if she thought it was weird that he was still a virgin. Her heart clenched at the thought of Harry feeling insecure—she hadn’t realized he saw himself that way. Harry went on to explain that it was all new to him; she was his first girlfriend, and he’d never been interested in random hookups, so he hadn’t had the chance to be with anyone before. She quickly reassured him that she understood and admitted she actually liked knowing he hadn’t been with anyone else. The thought of Harry saving that part of himself made her feel a little warm. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry scooped her up in his arms, his confidence surging as he rushed to his bedroom. She yelped in surprise and laughed as he gently tossed her onto the soft bed. The laughter filled the air, mingling with the tension that hung between them. Climbing up beside her, Y/N looked at him, her expression serious. "Wait, do you want this, Harry?"

His heart warmed at her care, knowing she wanted him to feel comfortable too; he loved her more than anything in this world. "Of course I do," he reassured her, though the flutter of nerves danced in his stomach.

"We can do it another time if you're not ready, Harry," Y/N whispered, running her fingers through his hair while he was momentarily lost in thought.

"No, no, I promise I want this, baby,"

Harry murmured, determination shining in his eyes. She still looked uncertain, so he gently held her face and kissed her. "Relax," he whispered against her lips, trailing soft, wet kisses down her jaw and toward her neck. All thoughts drifted from her mind as she surrendered to the bliss of his mouth, instinctively relaxing and arching her back. They both peeled off their shirts, leaving her in her tiny shorts and him in his boxers.

Harry cupped her breasts, gently rolling a nipple between his fingers and leaning down to suck on it, his moans sending vibrations through her body. Her back arched, fingers tangled in his hair, and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, feeling his hard length grinding against her clothed heat. The sensation was intoxicating, and she felt the heat pooling in her belly, a familiar ache of desire that she had longed for.

He knew how sensitive her nipples were-always so responsive-and he loved how they perked up whenever she was aroused.

He made a mental note to make her cum just by sucking on them one day, but for now, he wanted to taste her.

Kissing his way down to her navel, he tugged off her tiny shorts, leaving her in delicate lace panties. Pressing gentle kisses against her covered center, he dragged his nose along her slit, then hooked the panties aside with his teeth, kissing up her exposed folds and drawing her small nub into his mouth, sucking on it tenderly. 

"Oh, fuck... Harry, oh my god," Y/N moaned, her eyes closed as pleasure built in her belly, her vision clouding white. Her hand threaded through Harry's hair, tugging lightly, and she could tell he liked it by the way moans slipped from his mouth. She squirmed and writhed, her mind overwhelmed, especially as his hand drifted up to squeeze one of her nipples. Her other hand found the second, giving it the same attention. 

Harry then slid a finger inside her heated center, driving her wild. Her hips lifted instinctively due to the sensation, but Harry placed a hand on her hips to keep them down. He was sucking on her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her, stretching her, while his other hand drifter upwards to play with her nipples. It was all too much for her. She was so close-almost there-but she stopped him, wanting to finish together, with him inside her.

Gently, she tugged on his hair, "No, I want to cum with you... please." Harry immediately slid her panties off, Y/N lifting her hips to help, and then his boxers followed, leaving them both bare.

"Shit, Y/N, I don't have a condom. I didn't think..." Harry murmured, looking down at her with concern.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm on the pill," Y/N reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. She could see his nervousness-he wanted everything to be perfect, for both of them.

He nodded, curls bouncing and falling over his forehead. She pulled him closer by the neck, kissing him deeply. Harry stroked himself a few times before guiding his tip to her entrance, letting it slide against her arousal. Y/N shivered at the contact. Gently, he eased just the tip inside while their mouths stayed connected, both of them letting out soft whimpers as he slowly pushed in further. Y/N closed her eyes, wincing slightly at the stretch, and he immediately stopped, looking at her with concern.

"Are you okay? Should I stop, baby?" Harry asked, his voice filled with worry. 

"No, please keep going. I'm okay, I promise," she whispered back, reassuring him. To ease her, Harry started rubbing tight circles on her clit, and the discomfort quickly turned into deep, pleasurable moans as he began to move, thrusting in and out, their bodies finding a rhythm together.

Y/N had never felt this full before; it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

The slight pinch had melted into pure pleasure, and she felt like she was floating on clouds, her mind filled with pink and white stars. Words slipped from her mouth, incoherent and overwhelmed, while her moans grew louder as he moved, hitting all the right spots. He was so big, filling her snugly, warmth radiating from him, and he felt like he was made to fit inside her, perfectly molded just for her.

Harry whimpered from the sensation, burying his face in her neck and gently biting, sucking the soft skin there.

"Harry, I'm close," Y/N murmured.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum-l want to see you." His voice was firm, laced with desire. Y/N opened her eyes, meeting his darkened gaze, lust pouring from him. Suddenly, the tension in her belly snapped, and she climaxed as he rubbed her clit faster. She clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, grounding herself as the waves of her orgasm ebbed.

Moments later, he was right there with her, his breathing ragged. "Y/N, Y/N, holy fuck... fuck," Harry chanted, burying his face in her neck as his own release took over, spilling warmth inside her. She could feel him, his cum slowly dripping down her thigh as they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily.

They held each other close, his weight resting on top of her, still connected and completely bare. Minutes, maybe hours passed, neither of them sure, but they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry slowly began to pull out, and Y/N winced at the sensation, his careful movements showing his tenderness towards her. He then gently scooped her up, carrying her to the bathroom and making sure she peed and cleaned both of them. While she was busy, he quickly changed the sheets in the bedroom, wanting them both to rest on fresh linens afterward.

When she returned, they climbed into bed together, pulling each other close under the warm covers. Harry wrapped his arms around her, Y/N smiled, looking up at Him, her eyes soft with emotion. She reached up, gently tracing her fingers along his jawline, and whispered, “I love you, Harry.”

His face lit up, and a warm smile spread across his lips as he gazed down at her. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

With their hands intertwined, they settled into each other’s arms, Harry continuing to whisper sweet words in her ear until sleep overtook them. They drifted off together, both feeling as though they were exactly where they belonged.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What starts as a sweet and innocent crush ends with you finally getting your hands on the guys you've been eyeing for months.

Paring: Frat!Harry X (Fem)Reader

Tags: @sassamanda77 @loverofhsandallthings1d @styless-syndrome @carolinaastyles

Word Count: 10K

A/N: This was based on this CONCEPT<- from the wonderful @hesbunnies This a bit of a slow burn but so worth the finish!

Warnings: 18+FLUFF/SMUT(Language, alcohol use, light peer pressure, light public humiliation, size kink, talks of oral sex/ oral sex (m) receiving, brief spit talk, light Dom Frat!Harry behavior, protected sex, hair-pulling...) I think that's it. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

It started as innocent. 

Sweet.

A playground crush, the kind you held like a treasure.

A glimpse from across the room, the cute boy you have that one class with.

Tuesday and Thursday.

All it took was one glance to lock that secret inside. You held it near like you were waiting for a rainy day, the chance to hold out your tongue and pray that tiny gumdrops would fall from the sky. 

That day, you took your seat, setting yourself up for that morning’s lecture, slightly hungover from the night before. You knew that you had dealt with worse, that you could push through it, but that didn’t stop you from forcing your headphones into your ears and putting your head down to rest your cheek against the cool surface of the desk. 

As the song changed, you caught the pitch of the professor’s voice, and you lifted your head just as Harry walked in, barely making it to class on time, the two of you locking eyes immediately. The second you made the connection, his presence stole your focus, the song pouring into your ears ushering him in like it was meant for this very moment, your gaze following as he found a seat. 

When he didn’t look away, neither did you because with a face like that, how could you? 

Especially once you noticed that slight little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, he had you captivated, and that’s when you realized you were smiling, your eyes darting away as fast as you could, but it was too late because just as your eyes moved away, you caught a glimpse of the smile that little smirk had turned into.

 You knew you were screwed.

So fucking screwed.

It was like once you saw him, you saw him everywhere. 

The campus coffee shop was your favorite place to glimpse him, see him out in the wild, in the untamed setting that didn’t confine you both to a classroom. He had just started working there, a startling site to see the first time you saw him behind the counter. 

That’s where you noticed his dimples for the first time, his green eyes, the rasp in his voice when he called out your drink, and you had to suffer your way to the counter, too shy to meet his eyes, just bold enough to mutter “Thanks,” because him taking your order at the register was all you could handle, and as you pushed through the door, you peeked over your shoulder, Harry’s eyes on you, and you were grateful for the chill of the day, the cold air settling over your flushed face. 

You were already hooked, and you knew it.

The dining hall was fun; those were the times you got to see him come alive. When he was no longer in a role but hanging with his friends, not a care in the world but eating—He was silly, boyish in the way he shoveled food in his mouth as a laugh spilled out, mouth-filled conversations, jokes being passed around, a pat on the back here and there—boys, being boys, but not in the barbaric way you pictured, just having a good time. 

And god, there were so many glances, the stolen glance from across the class, Harry never sitting in one spot, but always in your line of sight somehow, the back of his head, a side profile, sometimes at the end of your row, only capturing a glimpse of him from your peripheral view, and if you dared to sneak a peek, of course, his eyes would catch you, and you would have to play it off like you weren’t seeking those green eyes out.

You swore your eyes were magnets for his, like he was seeking yours, too. This gut-deep feeling, sickly sweet, that churned deep in the boom of your belly, always leaving you wanting more.

The more details you gathered from afar, the more you picked up on his charm, and dammit, it was so effortless, his presence sugary sweet, coating your insides like cotton candy fluff, each sugary layer dissolving on the tip of your tongue, the moment it came in contact because with the charm came the girls, and fuck, there were so many girls vying for his attention, the girls just as consumed by the tattoos and skinny jeans.

You realized this made you no different than the girls huddled close in the library watching him walk by, you snagging fragments of their hushed conversation, the topic of his hidden tattoos, that so and so had hooked up with him last week, and he was even hotter in bed.

The thought instantly consumed you and sent you reeling—adding yet another hopeless layer to dissect.

Luckily for you, your roommate Lena seemed to be hitting it off with one of his best buddies, which gave you an in because that was the first time he gave you a nod of recognition—a sweet little morsel you almost missed because you were so caught up in the words drifting behind you that you barely caught the smile he left you with as he shoved a hand in his pocket and strolled out of the library.

For days, you sat floating on a fluffy pastel daydream, his smile the only thing you could see, and that’s when your looks became intentional, not just a hopeful glance, but a direct line of sight.

For months, you spun the idea of Harry in your mind, each thought starting off sweet, sometimes heating up—a low simmer, a carmelized daydream spinning into thin strands of candied floss, a clouded haze of fluff you were dying to devour. 

And he never let you down because there he was feeding you those tiny morsels, like sucking on a lemon drop—sweet and sour—a treat that took its time to melt in your mouth. A “Hi” here, an “I’ll see you around” there—the art of Lena now dating his friend paying off when you found Harry sitting on your couch one day after class. 

You remembered this because the vision would haunt you for days to come as you felt his eyes follow you to your room. Harry was still in sight when you reached for the door, and as you turned the knob and stepped inside, you stole one last look, his gaze still trained on you, then he disappeared as you entered your room, his curious glance making your heart pound in your chest. 

And when the early evening turned to night. You stayed in your room because you knew you wouldn’t be able to play it cool, and as the noise picked up down the hallway, you laid there in bed, memorizing the way his deep voice echoed in your tiny apartment, and swore one day he would be in your bed.

Another night, you found yourself in the backseat with Harry, him grabbing a ride with his buddy, and Lena, dragging you along, and although you put on a show of not wanting to join, deep down, you knew Harry would be there. 

 This was another memorable night, playing out in your head so fucking clear because you were so nervous. You remembered sliding into the backseat, thinking Lena would be joining you, but then Harry made it a point to give Lena the front seat, and the second he slid in, it was like he stole the oxygen straight from your lungs. 

This was the closest you guys had ever been, only a shallow gap sitting between you both. You felt yourself straightening in your seat, lengthening your spine so you could take a decent breath, a silent intake of air that you held in your lungs as your body went still, your heart hammering in your chest after you muttered a quick “Hey.” 

And there was silence until there was music. 

The car ride was long, and no one wanted to play DJ, so Lena made you plug in your phone. Lena had put you on the spot, exposing you like a gutted fish. At least, that’s what it felt like, so you chose a recent playlist you had just made—later you would learn that this was also the night something shifted between you and Harry.

You kept overthinking every song that came on, a true act of vulnerability as each song came and went, and then there was that one song, the song you had been playing on a loop, the song that made you think of Harry, an upbeat tune with lyrics that made you melt at the idea of him, and out of nowhere, Harry asks:

“What’s the name of this song?” His voice woody as he cleared his throat, the silence taking its toll.

You pretended you didn’t know, even though you felt the title at the tip of your tongue as soon as he asked. Once you swiped open the screen, the title was there. You watched Harry pull out his phone and enter it into his search, adding it to his favorites. Then, he asked if he could look through the list, so you gently handed him your phone, your hand shaky, trying not to unplug the aux it was attached to. 

Giving him your phone was like giving him an extension of yourself, and there it was in his hands.

All you could do was watch, holding your breath until you decided to let it go; you falling back into your seat as he scrolled through the list, the blue light of the screen glowing over his face. You observed a smile ghost over his lips, making your chest tight with excitement, and you had to turn away as you exhaled a weighted breath, the tension tight in your body, your phone in his hands now a tether between you both.

The next time you saw him in class, he sat right next to you.

You were stunned, a slow smile spreading across your face as he dropped his bag onto the table, and you looked up at him. You knew you must have had a strange expression because he asked, “What? Is it not cool if I sit here?” And he smiled, that smile when both dimples show, and you nod your head, his green eyes searching your face, leaving you with nothing to do but smile.

From then on, he sat next to you every Tuesday and Thursday, always something to look forward to, that crush even more persistent the closer you got to him—a low whisper in your ear when he leaned over to crack a joke about something the professor said, or the times his arm would graze yours. Yet, another memory to add to the collection—the first time it happened, you subtly pulled away, his touch sending a jolt up your spine, a running chill over your skin as the tingle remained the longer you kept your focus on the touch. 

On another occasion, when it happened again, you waited to see if he would pull away, but he never did. As you slowly drew your arm away, you held your breath, and the feeling of your skin dragging against his heated you from within, sending a fluttering bloom to the depths of your belly.

Your resolve was starting to waver, and you knew it.

Your face had to be giving you away, the warmth filling your cheeks, burning as you tucked your hands into your lap, and you sat there perfectly still, leaning back into your chair like you were completely unphased by it all. You slowed your breath then, in through your nose, an even slower release, and you wondered how long you could go on like this, the room narrowing, Harry’s close proximity stirring the atmosphere of the room.

You were only aware of him and his every movement.

And when his knee knocked into yours, you bit down on your lower lip, your eyes flicking to his knee, now pressed against yours, and with every ounce of bravery you had, you chanced the smallest of looks at Harry—there he was, smiling the faintest of smiles down at his paper, his pen moving as if nothing was happening, even though your whole body was buzzing with it, and then you did something crazy, something completely out of character. You lean forward, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, elbow pressing into the desk, and you look him dead in the eye, sending him a playful smirk, and your hand smoothes over his knee, the move undetectable to those around you, but you knew, and you let your hand rest, the bold move sending a spark between your legs, that tension a growing knot in the pit of your stomach. 

What you weren’t expecting was for Harry to grasp hold of your hand, a quick squeeze, and then he was slowly dragging your hand up his inner thigh, stopping right before the crotch of his jeans, but you felt the warmth, the shock running through you like electricity, your head spinning as he flattened your hand against the top of his thigh, the tips of your fingers grazing near the mound between his legs, giving his inner thigh a light squeeze, and Harry pushed out a low laugh, his eyes flicking to yours, and you couldn’t stop the smile rising as you gazed back at him.

That’s when you knew you wanted him, no matter what it took.

Then, the professor was ending the lecture, the class beginning to stir, but neither of you moved, and when people began to stand around you, you gave his thigh one last squeeze, moving your grip deeper, your pinky brushing the inner seam of his jeans, and Harry sucked in a quick breath, a wide smile on his face as his hand grasped hold of yours and he squeezed your hand hard, pulling it away, and he bit down on his lower lip, scooting his chair back.

“Soon…” He whispered.

That was Thursday.

So on Saturday, when Lena asked if you wanted to go to the guy’s house for a little get together, you knew that was your chance; you knew this night would be different because Harry wanted it too. 

“Soon,” He said; the low tone of his voice dripped down your spine like a sugary glaze that you had to live with for almost two whole days with no plan. A single word looming over your candied haze, your mouth going dry at the thought. You kept thinking of that look, him biting down on his lip, the vision caking your mind, and now every passing thought was honeyed with his intentions.

You felt the pull deep in your body, a dull throb between your legs as you stood there, eyeing Harry from across the room, but you didn’t want to look desperate, so you kept yourself busy, thankful that Lena made you guys pregame before you came because it didn’t take long for your drink to start catching up, and it was welcomed because you needed the delusional courage you knew the alcohol would bring.

There were more people than Lena put on. You stood there thinking you would never get your chance with Harry, and it was understandable, but you couldn’t go one more day without a definite green light, without at least the taste of those heart-shaped lips pressed to yours, and you waited, so patient, so calm, so fucking unbothered by the many girls, flitting around, trying to capture his attention. 

How many times was he going to catch your eye and not make a move because you knew without a doubt you weren’t going to be the one? 

You were technically the one who made the first move, so he was going to have to give. So what’s another round of cat and mouse? You thought, taking another drink, Harry still eyeing you at every chance, ignoring the girl talking at him with desperation every time she flipped her hair over her shoulder, then you smiled into your cup, taking one more drink before you turned away, knowing Harry had his eyes on you no matter where you roamed around the room.

You liked this, this subtle power you knew you had over him; you had what he wanted, that much was clear, and when he finally made his way to you, you felt it.

His eyes traveling down your body spoke volumes, that cocky grin lingering as he took your drink from your hand, and he started toward the drinks, that invisible tether back, pulling from within as you felt the longing stretch through your entire body.

This was it,

this was going to happen.

 But how do you get there?

“So you’re not going to talk to me, huh?” Harry asked, handing you a full cup of something red, swishing around in your cup, and when you brought it to your mouth. Harry watched you, waiting for an answer as you shrugged your shoulders, the sweet taste of punch coating your tongue, spurring that cotton candy daydream to life as you gazed into his eyes.

“I was waiting for you to talk to me, sir,” You tell him, nudging his arm as your eyes flit over his top, a sheer material, leaving nothing to the imagination, and when you peep the vailed butterfly at the center of his chest, your eyes dart to his, then back, and you poke a lazy finger into the center of his shirt, and he laughs, taking hold of the tip of your finger. 

Just then, Lena calls your name from across the room, ripping your attention from Harry, and you pull your finger from his grasp, feeling like you just got caught doing something naughty, and even if you weren’t, you knew you wanted to, and your cheeks burned with it.

“You guys…” Lena shouts, “You too, Harry…” and when you look to Harry, he too is like a deer in headlights, pointing to himself like he has no idea what his name is.

“Come play guys…” Harry’s buddy yells, pulling Lena onto his lap, and the shame of your thoughts has you moving, not wanting to draw any more attention to you and Harry.

 What the both of you didn’t know was that they were playing Truth or Dare, and you had that sinking feeling already that you knew you were screwed because you guys weren’t kids anymore, and now there was alcohol involved. 

The first couple of rounds weren’t bad; you chose Dare right off the bat, thinking a bold move would mean they would go easy, and that they did. The dare was to take a shot; that was easy. Harry, on the other hand, was playing it safe; while you chose Dare three times, he chose truth, uttering things from his mouth that made you blush because, of course, each question was loaded.

 Who didn’t like a good dirty secret? 

By the fifth round, it was Harry’s turn again, and when he chose Truth, his buddy interjected and told him he had to choose Dare. When Harry smiled, your stomach dropped because his friend wasn’t budging, and so he took it, eyes flitting past you as they moved to his friend—it just took that split second of attention to rally every nerve in your body because, let’s face it…you were tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunkenness, and so was he. 

You could see it in his glossy green eyes, that lazy smirk that hadn’t left his mouth, the way he kept getting closer, the two of you shoulder to shoulder, even though there was plenty of space on either side of you both, that innocent touch making the room vibrate, buzz with the anticipation of how you wanted this night to end—it had to be with him, it had to be underneath, on top of him, his face between your legs, it didn’t matter, at this point you would even drop to your knees for him

But what do they say? Be careful what you wish for. Because the next thing you know, Harry’s buddy is giving the dare, telling Harry to pick someone to waterfall a can of beer into their mouth, and you’re so caught up in the idea of beer being a shit choice that you don’t even realize everyone is staring at you until you see that cunning smile Harry is giving you, and when your eyes flick to Lena she’s nodding her head, one of those, yeah you looks, then Harry grabs your arm, your whole body heating as your eyes dart around the circle of people staring back at you.

Your legs are stiff as Harry pulls you near, his buddy handing him a cold beer, your gaze trained on the can now in Harry’s hands. It’s all moving so fast, catcalls ringing around you, the energy of everyone picking up, gearing up to watch the show you’re about to put on for them because it’s fight or flight, and you’re sticking to it.

When Harry drops your arm, it’s like lightning tearing through your body, your eyes darting to his as the crisp sound of the tab bursts open, the cream-colored froth spilling over the edge of the can. You both glance down, Harry extending it further away so he doesn’t get any on his boots. Even though you’re not a fan of the taste of beer, you know the ice-cold liquid would cool you down because your body is on fire, heat creeping through you—should you be mortified? You’re not sure, but when Harry’s eyes return to yours, you swallow hard, your heartbeat pounding in your throat. 

You’re willing your nerves not to show as your eyes sweep over Harry’s face. Then he leans in and says, “I’ll go slow…don’t worry…”

You let out a small laugh, your hand finding his wrist as he pushes his hand into your waist, sending a raspy laugh into your ear while the tip of his nose brushes against your earlobe, and it’s dizzying. The only thing keeping you balanced is your grip on his wrist because, holy shit, you’re really going to follow through with it, and just as you tip your head back, Lena yells, “On your knees, bitch—” your eyes go wide, and Harry gives your waist a little squeeze as he pushes you back, opening up space for you to kneel before him.

His smile is teasing, spurring you on, keeping that flame burning within, but little does he know you’re about to make him pay, make him suffer, make him weak—water the seed you planted that day in class—leave him wanting more because isn’t that what this is, and so you play into it, a sly grin playing at the corner of your mouth as you lock eyes.

You release his wrist, then lock your focus on Harry as you begin to kneel, slow and precise, lowering until one knee hits the ground, then the other. You sit back on your heels, only breaking eye contact to place both palms neatly on your thighs, straightening your spine and rising up like the dutiful girl you’re about to become. Once your gaze moves back to Harry, he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort, and you know you’ve got him that easily, and you haven’t even opened your mouth.

He steps in front of you then, his smile fading, and he leans over you, his dick inches from your face, and he gathers a handful of your hair with one hand, a makeshift ponytail, adding to the list of unexpected acts, and when he gives your head a gentle nudge, you have to force your eyes away from the obvious bump in his pants because there’s no way this dude isn’t packing some serious heat, and your dying to know, and maybe, just maybe you’ll find out.

You comply when he gives your hair another little tug, your head falling back as your eyes meet his, “Now open that sexy little mouth,” Lena shouts, playing into the bit. She’s like the best wingman without even realizing it, and your lips part, your mouth rounding into an “O,” and you widen your mouth, opening your jaw, and you give Harry one last look before your eyes flit shut.

“That’s so hot,” someone says, and you smile. Harry presses the cold can to your bottom lip, and your heart picks up as the chill runs through your chest, a sudden thrill.

He’s playful at first, a quick glug of beer spilling into your mouth, and the second it spills out, the crisp cold carbonation washes over your tongue like water leaving the stale taste of sour yeast running over your taste buds, cheap beer of course, and you feel your throat seize, overwhelmed, the feeling intensified by your lack of visual clues, then you lap your tongue over your bottom lip licking a stray drop that just hit the surface.

As you open your eyes, you take a moment to straighten your posture, preparing yourself for what’s next. Leaning back again, you feel Harry starting to pour, the can hovering just above your bottom lip. As your mouth widens in anticipation, he carefully lifts the can, his grip on your hair gentle yet firm, slowly guiding your head back. The beer flows steadily, and with each widening of your mouth, your jaw relaxes a bit more. Your gaze is fixed on the stream, and you engage your core muscles to maintain your straight posture. Like a little bird being fed, you take in the first gulp effortlessly. 

There’s a slight strain, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

Like he promised, his pour was slow, and this time, you let your mouth fill more, thinking it would be easier. Your eyes flicked to Harry, a small grin peeking at the corner of his mouth as the stream got higher—tiny specks of droplets hitting your face as it splashed into your mouth, and you closed your eyes, stretching your spine to guzzle your next mouthful, now weighing down the back of your tongue, and you gulp, a loud gurgle coming from your throat as you hold steady trying not to move any other muscle but your throat, then someone yells, “I bet she’s good at giving blow jobs—” 

Hearing Harry’s raspy laugh, your eyes open, and you look him dead in the eye, opening your mouth as wide as you can, your jaw relaxing into the stretch. That’s when Harry decides to quicken the pour—the beer halfway gone, you hope— and he pulls at your ponytail with his firm grip, inching your head back further; and Harry takes control of the whole situation as panic rises up, your mouth filling faster this time, and you know you have to swallow.

 Then he’s pouring faster.

The new angle of your neck has made the strain harder, stretching the muscles in your neck taut, giving you less control, and you open the back of your throat as liquid spills down, fast, heavy as it gushes past the barrier you were holding, the choke down louder this time, a strained glug as you puff out your cheeks trying not to cough, and your eyes widen flicking to Harry who is biting back his smile, his chin rising as the pour speeds down into your mouth, and when his lips part, you choke down another gulp, eyes never leaving his.

He licks his lips then, and you do it again, just to see his reaction. As he licks his lips, a flying droplet hits your eye, then another, and you have to force your eyes shut, “Dump the rest in her mouth,” some dude says.

“Make her really choke on it!” another adds, and Harry grips the makeshift ponytail hard, and you open your eyes as the can comes down closer to your mouth. Harry tilts the can, emptying it out into your mouth, and you gasp down the beer, liquid spilling out the sides of your mouth, and there you are, squirming under Harry’s hold as you force the liquid down your throat, coughing in a gulp of air, once it’s completely down. 

As quickly as Harry grabbed hold of your hair, he released it, and you sucked in a breath, grasping at your neck with one hand, reaching for Harry with the other, and he pulls you to your feet and past the people flooding your hazy vision, your head spinning as a rush of oxygen fills your lungs, and it feels like your floating on a cloud, every limb on your body numb, heavy, yet weightless because you think you could do anything, yeah, you could do anything.

Then Harry pulls you through a doorway to a bedroom, your whole world coming to a hurried halt, you standing there trying to play catch up with a scene of events that just unfolded. Harry, in perpetual motion, moves way too fast, in a frantic rush, a hasty pace, as he walks over to his desk, grabs hold of a wooden chair, walks back to his door, and he jams the back of the chair under the handle, pulling on the knob to make sure it’s secure. 

And then he just stops, standing there looking at the door, and you don’t know what to do; the reality that you must be in his room setting in, yet Harry is unmoving. Standing there in some sort of contemplation, and you wonder if he forgot that you were here, and when he runs a flustered hand down his face, you listen to him exhale, putting a hand on his hip as he pivots to face you, “That damn lock is broken on my door,” he confesses, his smile suddenly shy.

“Yeah?” you breathe, unsure what to say.

“Yeah…” He says, his green eyes searching your face, and now you were dizzy with the vision of him before you, that shitty beer trying to show its face.

You had no idea what you looked like in that moment; Harry just stood there, rolling his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger, that boyish charm thing he does, another little cork you had picked up on over the months—was he nervous? You couldn’t tell with his furrowed brows, so serious, his tall stature seeming to consume the room because he was all you could focus on. 

“Was it weird that I brought you to my room?” He speaks up, and then he moves past you to turn on a lamp next to his bed.

Your response isn’t quick; it takes until he moves past you again to turn off his overhead light, a change in mood, the atmosphere shifting in a tipsy state, every subtle change amplified, “No…” is what you tell him because it isn’t weird, but getting to this point was overwhelming, 

“We don’t have to do anything…” He says, kicking a boot off, and you follow suit, peering down at your feet as one shoe comes off, then the next.

“But you want to, right?” You ask him, picking up your shoes and placing them by the door, and when you look back, you catch a hint of a smirk peeking at the corner of his mouth, a flutter building, and you bite the edge of your tongue to keep your smile at bay.

“I just wanted to get away from all those people…couldn’t think with all of that noise…” Harry tells you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It was so fucking loud…” you agree, eyes roaming his room, your obsessive little mind already at work.

“Yeah…” He says, and when your eyes shift to him, he’s leaning back into his arm, breathing an air of casualness into the room, and you rake your eyes down his body.

You give him a small smile, eyes moving away, “So you couldn’t hear yourself think, huh?” You ask, his room oddly sobering because how many times had you thought about it, wondered what it looked like? Imagined yourself in it, and who cares if you had been a tad bit obsessive? You never forced the idea on anyone or him; it was your sweet little innocent secret to keep, and look at what it got you: a front-row seat to your favorite show, so why not take it? 

“Yeah…a bit overwhelming…” he laughs, his tongue lazily stretching out that last word, his British drawl heavy.

You look over your shoulder, “Overwhelming?” You smile again, matching Harry’s smile, and your eyes dart to his books lined across a shelf. 

“What was there to think about?” you question, dragging a slow finger down the spine of an old book, taking in the faded colors, and you turn just in time to glimpse that cocky grin rising, Harry’s mouth corking to one side, mischievous is all you can think. 

“You—” He says, plain and simple, the word falling out of his mouth like a hopeful gumdrop falling from the sky, something you never imagined happening, and you felt your body buzzing with it, a slow hum vibrating deep in your belly, your pussy waking with it, and you knew this was it—You were going to get what you wanted.

“Tell me more…” You push, moving over to him, and Harry falls back into his other hand, his body now a long, lean line in front of you.

He pushes out a throaty laugh, eyes moving down your body, and you try to relax, let the alcohol work its magic, “I’ve noticed you blush easily…I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Hmm…” you hum.

“They’re a bit naughty…these thoughts—” He starts, sending a pulse straight to your clit as your heart begins to race, and you lean forward, placing a hand on each of his knees, looking him directly in the eyes, and you nod your head for him to continue. 

“You started it, you know…” and this makes you laugh, “When you put your hand on my knee…”

“But did I start it?” You asked, feeling playful, “You’re the one who knocked my knee…” you tell him.

“Okay…I did do that…but you actually started this whole thing?”

“This whole thing?” you repeat, eyes moving to his mouth.

He licks his lips then, well aware of your eyes, “Yeah,” he says, smoothing his lips together, “When you smiled at me…that day in class…I saw you…”

“What? How do you know I was smiling at you? I could have been smiling at anyone…” you lie, trying to sidetrack him, and he was right about the blushing; you could feel the heat rising, your brain stumbling over the fact that he even remembered that.

He rasps out a laugh, leaning up to rest his hands on yours, his face only inches away, and the light catches the glint of his green eyes, leaving you in awe. “No…I saw it…there’s no fooling me, miss.”

“Fooling you?” you ask, smoothing your hands up his legs a few inches, and Harry grabs hold of your wrists, stopping them, his eyes sweeping down to your hands.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you—” and you force your face forward then, your mouth knocking against his, and you couldn’t help it, that persistent thought of him making you spiral, and when he doesn’t hesitate, you begin to move your mouth.

Harry deepens the kiss as his hands move up to your face, and then your propelling you both into action when you bring a knee to the edge of the bed. Then Harry breaks the kiss, reality hitting like a tidal wave, one big rush of awareness, knocking the air from your lungs, and you realize you should have asked. 

“Is this okay?” He questions, his hot breath fanning over your lips, your face still in his hands.

You laugh, “I probably should be the one asking you, right? sorry…”

“No—I should have asked before I locked you in my room…” He forces, eyes darting over your face, but you’re watching the rise and fall of his chest, both of you winded from the sudden change of possibilities. 

Staring down at his shirt, you say, “I want it…if you want it…” and you give his shirt a longing tug, your whole body aching for him, like even just rubbing your body against his would be enough, yearning like an adolescent dying to be touched for the first time.

“I’ve wanted you so fucking bad—” He tells you, forcing the words into your ear as a hand reaches for the button of your jeans, and it pops open in one swift move, then you lean forward, beginning to push them down, Harry lending his hands as you move in to kiss him.

You pull away then, fighting with the leg of your pants as you watch Harry yank his shirt over his head, the sight momentarily stunning you when you spot the tattoo at the center of his chest that you glimpsed earlier. 

When Harry reaches for his jeans, you stop what you’re doing, “Please…give me the honor…” you joke, your hands moving with a need to the button of his jeans, and your mouth is already watering, excited when you spot the outline of his growing bulge taunting you.

Harry grabs hold of the top of his boxers as you shimmy his pants down his hips, lifting, then helping once they reach his ankles, “Skinny jeans will be the death of me…” He laughs out, ripping his ankle free, and then they’re off, Harry leaning back slightly to adjust himself in his Calvin Kline boxers, so fucking sexy, and your eyes feast on the sight of his abs, the tight muscles bending and flexing, and what a fucking sight to behold. 

But he doesn’t give you much time because he snags the hem of your shirt and pulls it up, standing to lift it over your head, and just as your sucking in a breath, his mouth moves to yours, grabbing you by the waist to shift you onto the bed as you try to drag a quick breath through your nose.

His hands are everywhere—your face, your neck, your stomach, gliding up the curve of your waist, gently cupping a handful of boob, hungry, but you’re just as hungry, gripping and smoothing your hands over his muscles, hands roaming down the plains of his back, grabbing his ass to press him into you. 

It’s all fast, every breath short and desperate, as desperate as you both were to spur this on.

And your legs are spreading, inviting him in, and when you grab his ass again, your shoving him into you, a slow grind into his hard bulge, and you gasp at the relief, the sensation, the air heavy, a narrowing focus that nothing else exists except this, and when Harry takes the lead pressing into you again, you arch your back, lifting your hips up to meet his, until you’re finding a rhythm, Harry just as involved, needy, forcing out moans, each one a low simmer, a slow burn, both your bodies heating with it.

Weak.

That’s what you are weak for him, a heady rush stealing every thought because all you can feel is him, his body, his slow grind between your legs, pressing into you hard, like he too is aching, longing, and it’s one long stroke, his dick so hard that you can make out the head hitting you right at your center, gliding up your panties until you feel the base of his cock, and he groans out your name, stilling his body.

“I’ll fucking come if we keep this up—” he tells you.

And you nod, planting a kiss on his lips, “I want you to fuck me…” you force, grinding your hips into his.

“Is that what you want?” He breathes, pressing a kiss to your neck, his words catching in the shell of your ear.

“So fucking bad…” you laugh, nipping at his shoulder, and he pushes himself up then, crawling back on the bed, the warmth of his body leaving you, making you even needier for him.

Harry reaches into his bedside table and mulls around, the sound of clutter filling the silence, and you draw your knees up, lifting yourself onto your elbows. “Sorry…I only have one condom left…”

And then you laugh, “Damn, I guess we’ll have to make it count...”

With a smile, Harry brings the foiled wrapper to his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth, your heart pounding in your chest as you hold your breath, a sliver of the wrapper holding by a thread at the edge, and you scoot forward on the bed, beating him before his hands can even reach for his boxers.

You look up then, “You have a big dick, don’t you?” you smile, giddy almost, thrilled at the notion of him being inside you.

“I guess to some…yeah…does that make you change your mind?”

He had you from the moment he walked into that class, but he’s about to have to figure out a way to rid himself of you because once you tug down his boxers, your eyes go wide, your hand moving like a magnet to his hard dick springing before you, and you’re already climbing off the bed, his warm dick in your hands, and your down on your knees before he can even say another word.

“I want to do something first,” You tell him, wrapping your hand around the back of his leg to bring him closer.

Harry lets out a breathy laugh and covers his face, letting his head fall back like the sight of you on your knees is too much, and he puffs out a loud sigh, dragging his hands down his face, “I can’t watch…” He tells you, pushing his words to the ceiling with a smile, and he laces his hands behind his head, letting the weight of his neck fall into his hands, and your eyes move down his body, traveling down his flexed stomach until you spot the tattoo, and you laugh, gripping his swelling dick in your hand.

“Oh my god, Harry—” and you peer up at him. He’s probably heard it all before, but it doesn’t stop him from laughing. 

The excitement sends a pulse through his dick, and it bounces in your loose grip, “I can’t look down…I already told you…”

You send your focus to the words inked into his skin, bringing his thick dick to your lips, the head of his cock, perfectly round like every candy-coated daydream you’ve ever had of him—a fucking treat, a lollipop earned, you think, already on your knees for him because those have been the daydreams you wanted to act out, put on a show that would drive him wild for you, but that was you on your knees tonight for him already, when you were that dutiful girl choking down beer for him, now you wanted to choke on him, fill the back of your throat until you were gagging on his big dick.

It started with a bounce against your mouth, the heavy head of his penis rippling across your lips; another bounce and you were lining your bottom lip with the ridge of his head, bounce, bounce, bounce, the weight of him hitting your mouth waking your senses, and then your lips were parting, a warm breath fanning over his dick, and your eyes flick up to Harry, watching him suck in a shallow breath.

“Might as well,” the tattoo says.

 So you open your mouth, flattening your tongue, your hand guiding his head into your mouth, and you open wider as you slowly drag him past the tip of your tongue, and you listen as Harry sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

You like this; you like his reaction, and when you close your mouth around him, your tongue flattens against his dick, working his head, your hand moving down his shaft, giving you more of him to take in; a couple of bobs and you hear him rasp out a low moan, throaty like he’s trying to control himself. When you pull him from your mouth, you gasp in a breath, gearing up to take on more, knowing you need to loosen your jaw. Then you’re diving for more, shoving him in further, and Harry forces out, “Oh, God—”

The encouragement provokes you further, ripping his dick from your mouth, and you spit down his shaft, working it down the base—a little extra help; then you’re bobbing your head, your hand moving with your mouth in unison, synchronized as your throat opens for him.

 “Shit—” Harry breathes when you give his head a little extra attention, and he meets your eyes then, your gaze unmoving when you puff out your cheeks and force his dick to the back of your throat and the thick head of his penis hits your gag reflex hard, making your throat close around him, constricting as you force him back further, and you grip the base, readying yourself to do it again, then Harry tears his cock from your mouth, your throat seizing as you choke in a breath. The abrupt movement snatches the air from your lungs, and you gasp in a fast breath.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry…I didn’t mean for it to be that forceful.” Harry blurts, leaning down to hook a finger under your chin, and you rise to your feet, wiping at the corner of your mouth. 

“Oh my god—” you say, trying to keep a straight face, falling back onto the bed, turning the dramatics up when you clutch your throat. “I could have died—”

“I swear I didn’t mean to—” he tries.

You push yourself up on your elbows, “Now you owe me,” you tell him, feeling the corner of your mouth rise, and you narrow your eyes, bringing your foot up to the middle of his chest when he tries to climb on top of you. 

That’s when Harry realizes you’re joking, and he wraps a hand around your ankle, straightening his torso with a smile, “I know just how to repay you—” he tells you, gently lowering your leg to the bed. 

His large palms come down to the tops of your thighs, giving you a light squeeze before they drag down your skin and hook behind your knees as you watch that smile widen on his face, and with one quick tug, he tugs you to the edge of the bed, a faint gasp leaving your mouth and you bite down on your lower lip, watching as he reaches for your underwear. 

When his fingers hook under the top of your panties, you suck in a quick breath, drawing your tummy in as he starts to pull, and you fall back onto the bed again, bringing your feet up on the edge of the bed to lift your hips as you close your eyes focusing on the way Harry slowly drags the material down your thighs, and you lengthen your leg as he pulls them past your ankles. 

That’s when you lean up, eyes meeting his as he drops to his knees. A flutter of excitement runs between your legs, and your heart races with anticipation. “Since you were such a good girl…” He starts his hands on your waist now, and his thumbs caress the skin of your hip bones, gripping the meat at your sides to drag you closer.

You can’t help but squeeze your leg shut. “You’ll have to open those legs so I can give you your treat, darling. “ and you laugh, his British accent making you giddy, and you press your thighs together harder. 

You speak up then, “I kinda want you to just fuck me…” you tell him, your voice coming off more timid than you’d like, and Harry lets out a laugh, brings his mouth to the top of your knee, and presses a kiss into your skin, making your pussy pulse. 

“But I really—” he says, placing another kiss on the other knee, “want to return the favor—” 

“How about next time?” you answer, your clit starting to ache for his dick to fill you up. 

“You promise?” he asks, resting his chin on your knee, his green eyes almost pleading like a cute little puppy begging for scraps.

And you reach forward, running a hand through his hair, giving it a light tussle, and Harry closes his eyes, relishing the feeling, “Next time…I promise—”

“But right now—” you force, and Harry’s eyes flit open, meeting yours, “I want you to fuck me.”

Harry’s eyes go wide then, his brows lifting, and he swallows hard, his chin digging into the top of your thigh as a playful smirk appears, “Yeah?”

“Please—” you push. 

He reaches for the condom he placed on the bedside table and stands to his feet, his large dick coming back into view, and you clench your thighs tighter, feeling the slickness between them spread every time you move.

You watch him pull the condom from the wrapper, his dick in one hand, slowly smoothing up and down his shaft, his eyes trained on you, “You want or need me to fuck you?”

You choke on a laugh then, your mouth going dry at the sight, and you lick your lips, “Both—” and you smile.

“Mmm…” he hums, concentration etching into his brow, “Take your bra off,” he tells you, and you push yourself up, your hands shaking with adrenaline as your heart picks up, and you unclasp your bra and toss it to the ground. 

This brings a smirk to his face as his eyes flit over your naked body on his bed, “I liked the way you grabbed my hair earlier… that was hot,” you tell him…” and he licks his lips, biting down on his lower lip to control the smile that’s dying to rise.

“Is that how you want it?” he asks, his deep voice humming through your body.

The smiles are gone, a new energy creeping into the room, something heavy and charged with a new demand, “That’s how I want it…” you tell him.

“Scoot up on the bed.” He instructs, making your whole body go numb, the excitement overwhelming your nerves, and as you scoot your way back onto the bed, your legs spread, bringing awareness to your wet pussy as a gust of air rushes over your skin.

When you look back up, Harry is rolling the condom down his dick, stopping once he hits the base, and you both lock eyes, “All fours—” he says.

“Turn around and get on all fours,” and you give him one last look and silently flip over, your heart beating in your chest.

“Good—just like that—face down—” he tells you, “ass up—” he demands as you press your face into the bed, and you extend your arms straight, feeling the edge of the bed under your palms. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks one more time, “ Is there anything you don’t want to do?”

“No anal…” you tell him, peeking over your shoulder, “I don’t think I could handle that on the first go.” 

Harry laughs then raises his brows, “Noted—” he answers, leaning forward to grab hold of your hips, and just as you plant your cheek to the comforter, he rips you back to the edge of the bed, no warning as your cheek drags across the blanket, and you gasp, the quick motion stealing your breath, and when you lift your cheek from the bed to readjust yourself, there’s a slight burn from the fabric grazing your skin. 

“Changed my mind…I want you on the edge…in case you try and squirm—”

And you swallow, pressing your forehead to the comforter, and lengthen your spine as Harry adjusts your hips, stretching your arms across the bed; no safety of the ledge, just the grasp of the fabric lightly bunching under your palms. 

When Harry presses a knee into the bed, you feel his flattened palm press into your upper back, trying to flatten you more, and you turn your face, trying to stretch further, the tips of your fingers now at the edge of the side, and you close your eyes.

Harry drags a finger down your lengthened spine, then, starting at the base of your neck, a slow drag gliding down your smooth skin, making you curve your back like a cat as a shiver runs down your spine at the very thought of his touch, and you arch your back, letting your ass come down to your heels, completely taken by the sensation shuttering through you. 

And all you hear is the tisk of Harry’s tongue, “Ass up—” Harry commands, jerking your hips back into place, and suddenly you’re scared out of your fucking mind, yet lost in the trance he’s put you in because you are so turned on, even more, turned on by his commands—You’ve never let a guy just take you like this, given him the control.

When you feel the pad of Harry’s thumb smooth over your slick entrance, you let out a soft moan, the feeling making your clit pulse as he spreads the wetness over the lips of your pussy, the cold air mingling with your wet skin and you suck in an audible breath. 

Then Harry dips a finger inside, getting you ready for him, and you feel yourself opening, melding into the bed as his finger dips further, and when he adds the motion of his thumb over your clit, you hold your breath, a slow circle beginning to take way.

“Oh—that—” you breathe, pushing out a heavy breath, a knot already forming deep inside.

“So fucking wet for me—tight,” he coos, the pressure on your clit deepening, and you moan out a loud sigh of satisfaction, raising your ass higher, growing needy for him, and then he slips another finger inside you, a light stretch as he sinks his fingers deeper this time, paving a slick way for his dick to fill you.

Harry dips his fingers one more time and then pulls them away, “Tastes good—” he says, and you lift your head just as he shoves his fingers into his mouth, his lips curving around them, and you have to look away, another shudder moving down your spine at the absence of his hands, and you almost want to beg, but then harry is grabbing hold of your hips again, a knee pushing back into the bed, and your ready, so ready, ass perfectly lifted, spine just how he wants it.

He brushes his thumb over your opening one more time, and he presses your hip into his inner thigh, you spreading slightly to give him more access, and you feel the firm head of his cock streak down your entrance, then again, making you draw in a slow breath, and your whole body tenses as he sinks in a little further, a groan leaving his mouth as the tip pushes past your entrance.

This is happening, his dick inching in more, and you moan out, pushing your forehead into the bed, gripping the blanket under your palms as if they could save you because then he’s pushing into you more, with a little force, your neck lifting to push out a low whimper.

It’s everything you pictured the stretch would be, a painful beginning, the delicate skin at your entrance on fire as your walls clench around him, and Harry forces himself deeper, stretching his way until he’s completely inside you, splitting his way past the point of no return, and you gasp out, “Fuck—” louder when he pulls your hips into him, your ass pressed to his pelvis, and Harry groans out, “So fucking tight—” a breathy laugh leaving his mouth as he leans forward to press a kiss into the center of your back, and the new angle has him pushing deeper.

“Mmmm,” you force, pushing your hips into him, trying to move past the pain, and he is so fucking deep, pressing into the pit of your stomach; at least that’s what it feels like because you’ve never been filled like this, every muscle lining the walls inside of your pussy straining against his large mass, and you know what this can be, and when he slowly inches his dick back, you feel the gap he leaves, your body already desperate to be filled again, and he thrusts back inside you, slow and rhythmic, the stretch evening out with every stroke.

“Is that good?” He asks, giving your hips a squeeze, and you drag your forearm down to your forehead and rest your head, trying to focus on every breath in and out, breathing in tandem with his strokes.

“Don’t stop, okay?” you force on an exhale, and you hear the rasp of Harry’s laugh as you slam your eyes shut, his thrust harder this time.

Harry’s grip tightens on your hips, and when he pushes inside you again, it’s one long, slowed thrust, and he drives himself inside you deeper, the pressure hitting your lower belly again, and you moan out, forcing in a sharp breath.

“You like that dick, don’t you?” He asks, but you don’t lift your head; you just nod. Harry pulls back again, and you grip the comforter, gearing up for his next thrust as they begin to pick up.

“I like—” you try as Harry hits that spot again.

“You like what—?” he huffs, pulling all the way out.

“So fucking big…” you tell him, and he shoves his thick cock deep inside you, pushing past your walls as a new layer of stretch burns like a line of fire inside you, and you force yourself up, reaching behind you to force his hips back as a pained moan leaves your mouth.

Harry knocks your hand away, “No—this is what you wanted, right?” he laughs, that dimpled smile beaming down at you, “You’re doing so well…I know you can take me.” and it’s like his words ignite the challenge aching in your bones, that longing for him, all those months of being so fucking patient, pining for this very moment.

And so you seize it, giving him one last look before you plant your hand back down on the bed, and Harry grasps a handful of your hair, just like you asked, slowly pulling your head back as he drives his dick back inside you, and you draw out your moan, the slow thrust in, stirring that knot in your belly.

In and out, slow at first, his grip on your hair light, your neck comfortably positioned as the pleasure begins to roll in, and you push back into him and lower onto your elbows, ready to let your lower half do all the work.

When he pulls back out, you chase his dick back to keep the same pace, rolling your hips back until your ass is flush with his body, and you arch your spine, your hair beginning to pull at your scalp from the new position, and you lift your hips, dropping back down as harry pushed in, the two of you finding a new cadence, spurring each other on as pleasure completely takes over.

“Mmmm—I like that—” he moans as you move up his dick, catching the head of his cock on your entrance; you dip back down, gasping when you hit that spot inside you, and it feels so good, a bittersweet edge as the pain dulls, and you do it again. This time, with more force, and Harry lets you take control, taking more hair into his grip, the reign between you both shortening.

“Those hips are magic—” Harry praises you, and you want more, so you pick up your pace, drawing your hips up, a light swirl at the tip, bringing them back down hard and fast, Harry tugging your head back until you do it again, and again until he’s pulling your hair so tight that every muscle in your neck is straining to catch a decent breath, a new facet of control you’ve never explored taking hold of your whole body, and you give in, Harry plowing his dick in and out of you like the gallop of a horse, your ass bouncing back against him as he tugs your hair, both of your words filthy, flying out of your mouths as you both act out in desperation.

“More—” you cry out.

And he does it, releasing your hair and pushing you to the bed as he grabs your hips and slams into you with such force that you yell out his name, the whole room spinning as you drop your cheek to the bed, and you tuck a hand between your legs, spreading until you reach your clit

That’s all it takes, your fingers moving between your legs, Harry’s hard thrusts in and out of you, and as you feel your orgasm about to mount, you dip your back, arching your ass out as far as you can, sending his dick deeper inside you, and you come, a hard tremble ripping through your body, so hard that it steals your words, your body going slack, a hard gasp in, your lungs seizing with the effort, and your whole body shudders, your walls clamping around his dick as Harry slams one last thrust into you and his entire body stills, arching around you as he comes, his sweaty torso, sticking to your skin as you fall into the bed, and the world goes silent around you both.

“It’s a shame you only had one condom,” You laugh, your body shaky as you stir back to life, and Harry plants a lazy kiss on your shoulder as he pushes himself up, his dick pulling out of you, leaving you hollow, and you cross your arms under your cheek, and lay there.

“Are you already wanting more?” and you lift your head and watch that charming little smile turn up at the corners of his mouth, drawing you in as you lay here in the sticky sweet aftermath of every candied daydream you’ve ever had of him, and it’s better, better than you could have ever envisioned, and when you lower your cheek back down to your arm, the air is light, your head clouding into that cotton candy haze, and your lost in him, lost in the feeling, and you know you’ll be forever wanting more because if that was just a tiny little morsel you want more and then you tell him:

“I have more condoms at my place…”

A/N: Well, that was a bit of a rollercoaster...what did you think??

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彡 "A PICTURE WOULD LAST LONGER"

☆. contains: neighbor!jason todd x fem!reader; fluff, he's down baaad wc: 0.5k

the sun is shining and it's the perfect time to go read in the park. feeling yourself, you put on a more risque outfit but what is the point of having nice clothes, if you just 'save' them for special events that you don't even go to.

you're in the midst of getting out of your apartment when a familiar voice speaks up from behind you.

"where are you going?"

"hello to you too, jason" you smile at him "i'm going to the park. to read. it's so nice out today."

"like that?"

a beat. your face falls and his heart stops.

"you don't like it?"

"no- no, i like it. i like it a lot. a- a lot." he quickly stutters out. "i just don't know anyone else who dresses up to go read but i guess you can never be overdressed, only underdressed, right?"

the frown is now replaced with a bright smile and he feels warm. and that feeling multiplies when he spots a light pink tone on your cheeks. you are so adorable.

"i don't know if this is called dressing up, i just wanted to look nice."

as if you don't look fucking perfect every day.

"you look pretty all the time, angel" he chuckles. you mumble a quiet 'thank you'. the light pink tint on your cheeks is now turning full red and you try to collect yourself by turning to lock your door. you feel his eyes on you.

"would you mind if i joined you?"

"what?" you turn back to him and you can't help but think how good he looks. it's still early morning and he looks like he woke up just an hour ago. hair still a mess and sweats hanging low on his hips. nobody should have the right to look this good this early, and yet he does.

"to the park. to read, i mean. it really is nice out."

"yeah, of- of course."

he flashes you a gorgeous smile and rushes to change and to get his book.

you guys stop by a coffee shop and get something to drink. he of course pays, even though you literally try to fight him over it. in the park you find a bench that sits in the sun and settle yourselves comfortably on it. you find your books and a pleasant silence takes over.

he can't really focus though. how could he? the sun is warm on your face and he just cannot stop looking at you. how you eyes glide over the words in your book, how every once in a while you gnaw on your lip. he wonders how it would feel to kiss you. to hold you in his arms. he has to hold himself back when a stray hair falls in your face. he watches you push it back behind your ear and everything is in slow motion. finally you catch him staring and now it's your turn to flash him a shy smirk.

"a picture would last longer, sweetheart"

oh, he's so fucked.