#daddy harry hook

[charlotteking23]

Jealousy

king Ben x reader

Warnings: Smut, praise, breeding kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, uses the nickname 'daddy', not edited.

requested: yes

summary: Y/N and Ben are dating and a new kid shows up and start flirting with her so there's a bit of jealousy with it ending in smut! with praise, sir/daddy, and breeding.

You were by your locker looking at some of the photos that were inside showing you and Ben on your first date and some other cute pics, you were in so much of a dazed you didn't realize someone was behind.

"Hey, pretty girl", Ben said behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"Ben you scared", you said startled putting a hand on top of your heart seeing how fast it's beating.

"Sorry, pretty girl...I couldn't help it you look so cute today, he smiled admiring you outfit.

"You like it", You smiled spinning around, showing off your outfit to Ben.

"Hmm, yeah I do...Hey I see you later okay after your class", Ben said kissing you neck while his hands tighten slightly on you waist.

"Okay", You giggled before pushing Ben a little heading to your class. Ben watched your every move admiring you, as you left laying his head on the locker in a dazed.

As you walked into class, you noticed your usual partner Lonnie wasn't here in class before remembering she had to skip today's class because there was a fencing tournament.

You sat in your seat before your teacher began the announcement.

"today, we have a new student joining us today, please make him feel welcome", the teacher said before signaling the student to come out.

"hmmm...you can sit next to Y/N for today since her partner is absent..Y/N raise your hand", the teacher said to the new student.

You raise your hand before smiling kindly at the new student. "Hey I'm Y/N" you smiled before putting your hand for a handshake.

"Hey, I'm Jake, He smiled back before taking your hand in his, holding it.

As you work silently on your work, you could feel Jake watching you closely making you uncomfortable.

Finally the class had ended, you quickly packed up your stuff bolting out of class as fast as possible.

"Hey Y/N", Jake called out to you making you stop before turning to him hesitantly.

"oh umm...Hi, Jake", You said trying to keep the conversation short without being mean.

You both talked briefly more like he was flirting with you but couldn't take the hint you were not interested.

"What's you next class", Jake said interrupting you from your thoughts.

"Oh, umm calculus", you fake smiled at him.

"hmm same..I guess fate wants us to be together", Jake said kissing your hand.

You pulled your hand out of his grip before wiping your hand on your back disgusted by his actions.

Before you could speak you felt someone presence behind, before you could turn around you heard a familiar dark voice.

"She's not interested", Ben coldly said from behind you before pulling you behind him standing in front of Jake.

"Who are you and why do you care"?, Jake angrily said, not realizing the trouble he's in.

"I am king Benjamin Beast of Auradon and she is my girlfriend so get away from her", Ben coldly said before pushing Jake away from us.

"I-I.." that's all Jake could say before running away scared.

Ben watched him run away before turning around to you, "Hmm..pretty girl I think you need to be taught a lesson", he whispered in your ear, kissing the shell before carrying you bridal style away to his room.

Ben laid you down on the bed before hovering on top of you kissing your neck.

His hand reached out to your legs rubbing them, spreading them apart. You felt his hands slightly rubbed against your cloths clit.

"You're like it", he whispered in your ear, leaning close enough into your ear until nothing but a breeze could separate his lips from your skin.

you could only moan in enjoyment as your head fogs at the sudden movement, knees landing roughly on the bed with a pained gasp as you stare into the wall, your back arched in a very, suggestive way towards the man.

"Your so wet pretty girl hmm" he chuckles.

his rough fingertips came in contact with the crotch of your elastic pants, rubbing across your slit through the fabric, rough enough for your growing wetness to seep towards the exterior.

“fuck— pretty girl” he is very much enjoying this, palming his already hard cock through the loose fabric of his own pants. “gonna take care of you, princess, fuck you nice and good til’ that pretty head of yours goes dumb”.

A moan escapes you lips, suddently losing balance until your cheek is pressed against the bed. a lewd sight of your willing body all pliant for him.

“Call me Daddy” he huffs, leaving a single sharp slap on your ass before shredding the cloth down along your drenched panties, enough for his thighs to come between yours and stretch them, leaving your pussy to his lustful gaze, “remember the name you’ll be screaming tonight”

Ben's words are remarked with a couple soft slaps on your throbbing clit with the tip of his cock, making your thighs twitch and whimpers escape at the sensation.

he’s big. incredibly big and stretching you so well your breath comes out unsteady and erratic, nails digging against his back to conceal the pleasure you’re currently feeling, something no one has ever made you feel before.

“Daddy...” you whine pitifully loving how the name felt on you lips.

“that’s right” he grunts, slowly but steadily feeding your cunt the rest of his fat cock, his own breathing coming in stuttered huffs with how tight you felt, “you’re squeezing me so fuckin’ much, you just needed a fat cock to satisfy you, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

“ha— ngh!” you sob, toes curling in your shoes when his heavy balls kiss your clit, and then he’s fucking you with abandon, holding onto one of your shoulders to pull your upper body up, forcing you to meet his thrusts that almost knock the air out of your lungs.

“good fuckin’ girl” Ben laugh resonates through the empty room, mingling alongside the wet sound your slapping flesh, it’s dark and dangerous, but still makes your cunt flutter, “do you like how I ruin your pussy?”

for a second, your eyes cross, brain shuts and opts not to reply, due to Ben's cock continuously slamming against your sweet spot, forcing waves of slick to drool out of your slit and stain your thighs and bed, mixed with the creamy precum coating your sensitive walls.

“answer me, pretty girl” a rough hand comes to cup your jaw, forcing your head up until his lips ghost over the skin of your cheek, hips rutting into your slit and forcing his length a bit deeper into your abused pussy.

"y-yes!, feels so good daddy" you stutter, eyes rolled back and hair clinging to every corner of your forehead, aware of the movement of your own hips in an attempt to fuck yourself back on him.

“good girl” Ben leaves a single chaste kiss on your cheek, taking his previous position, although this time he forces your waist to arch deeper, almost mounting you before resuming his thrusts, “gonna breed you pretty girl, put a baby in you, you want that".

you whimper his name in approval, completely gone while letting him use you, positively drooling onto the bed and making a mess like he’s doing with your cunt.

with a choked out sob, you cream all over his length, shaking and crying while clinging to the bed sheets, yet he didn’t stop, fucking the white ring of cum back into your drenched pussy.

he leaves a sharp slap on your overflowing pussy, loud and wet enough for your mixed fluids to splatter, and then he’s quick on his feet, untangling your hands from his while chuckling at the yelp and beautiful sight of his cum oozing from your hole.

"that feel good pretty girl", Ben said before taking his thumb wiping the drool from you mouth.

You only nodded to fucked out to answer, you felt Ben get up before he wiped you with a towel.

"Let's get you in the bath", Ben said carrying you bridal style to his bathroom, drawing you a warm bath.

"Thank you", but your voice was all hoarse from the screaming.

He carried you before dressing you in his shirt, before bringing you to his mirror gently rubbing you stomach, "I can't wait to see your stomach swollen with our baby".

He whispered in your ear, kissing the space behind your ear trailing down to you neck wrapping one of his hands around your waist and the other on your stomach.

He carried you to his bed again dropping you gently on it before pulling back the covers for you to get in. You felt his hands rub against your stomach luring you into a peaceful slumber.

[claireywestside]

Today I indulged my thirst for Jason Isaacs by watching him in the two roles where he serves the ultimate daddy vibes 🥵

Watching him in Peter Pan as Hook is a whole new experience as an adult … and I thought my feelings were impure when I was 14 😅

[humaforever]

The fucking songs! I can't breathe 😭

"Ticktok" (feat Uma)

"Tortured pirates department"

"My Hook only tears my favorite sails"

"Well, well, well..."

"So long, isle of the lost"

"But daddy, I want to hook him"

"Fresh off the plank"

"Auradon!!!" (Feat Gil)

"Guilty as a sword"

"Who's afraid of captain Hooks's son"

"I can hook him? (Aye I can)"

"Muscles"

"I can do it with a broken hook"

"The smallest clock that ever ticked"

"The elixir of the isle"

"Bow of the boat"

Bonus track "The Clock"

Harry! Drop the album! I'm considering this canon now, thank you very much.

[the-ace-of-fools]

pathetic & greasy & disco

[1800titz]

HI FRIENDS. WOOOOOOOOOOO. Camprry. Aimed for 5K or less and managed to get wordy again. Reader insert and basically pure smut. This one was supposed to be vanilla with some praise kink (and exhibitionism if you SQUINT since it’s in a tent) but….. hahahahaha….. WEEEELLLLLLL.

CONTENT WARNINGS: oral sex, face fucking, exhibitionism-ish if you squint, choking-ish if you squint, light dom/sub, praise kink, daddy kink, intercourse

WC: 7.5K (whoops)

There is nothing remotely sexy about a camping trip. 

In fact, Y/N thinks that if she were to deduce a list of words upon first thought when it came to camping, sexy would be the furthest one from qualifying. 

There’s nothing sexy about reverting to caveman-ism, sleeping on the ground, sheathed by some paper-thin layer of nylon and polyester and plastic support beams. There’s nothing sexy about pit stains from the lack of air conditioning or its antithetical twin sister, the bumps that rise over chilly skin and trembling bones without the luxury of an electric heater. There’s nothing innately erotic about kindling fire like electricity doesn’t exist, and cooking hot dogs on skewers over the flame, and perpetually swatting at insects that incessantly stick to shins and calves like the flesh there is coated in sugar. 

There is something sexy, though, when it comes to the way Harry’s arms work as he pitches a tent, bi’s and tri’s intermingling in an alluring duet, pumping and settling with each motion. The sleeves of his tee ride up when he raises the limbs, and sunlight catches shadow in ridge and sinew of muscle. There’s something sexy in the way his back ripples, in the way that thin fabric does nothing to cover what she imagines — no, what she’s well aware lies underneath. The same traps and lats she’s scraped her nails over and dug into. The same shoulders she’s sunk her teeth into to bridle cries of bliss. 

There’s something hot about the cinch in his brow when he works, something alluring in the curl at the plush of his mouth when he turns his head and beams lopsidedly at something that their friend has said, too low for Y/N to catch. There’s something sexy in the way that his eyes skim her frame when she’s sitting in a fold-out chair with sunglasses. When his eyes glide over his shoulder. It’s in the most subtle way. There’s something sexy in the way he tears that gaze away. 

There’s something sexy in the way that no one around them knows she spends nights bouncing on his cock. 

This lustrous affair — this sneaky fling. This filthy, dirty secret that only the two of them share, slinking and sidling through the shadows. 

Really, it’s nothing more than a raunchy circumstance of friends-with-benefits, only kept on the down-low to evade prying questions from friends and the sickly confrontation of …feelings. Because it’d be easy to admit they’re fucking, that they’ve been hooking up for months after an impromptu, late night of drinking. But then it’s sort of cementing, right? At least, in a way. 

There’s a status that floats about when you confess you’re sleeping with somebody — when you admit that you’ve entangled them into your routine beyond one mishap of sex. In the eyes of your friends, admitting that you’ve upkept a sex buddy through the roll of the seasons is, like. Well, it’s basically admitting some form of something sentimental. 

They’re just fucking. They’re just friends that fuck. And the way that nobody around them has any sort of suspicion that he’ll most likely be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night for that... 

That’s sexy, the young woman thinks. 

They’re coiled around the campfire once the sun has ducked out and simmered off behind the trees, and Y/N thinks about it. She watches the shape of his features glow beyond the crackle of the flame, and she thinks about the way his nose bumps over her clit when he licks into her. She watches his mouth move when he talks, a muted strawberry that’s dimmed in the night, and she thinks about the cushion of it pressing open-mouthed kisses to her flesh. She’s in his sweatshirt, because she had to borrow one, and it smells like him. She’s coated in it — his scent. Warm, pleasant musk and remnants of tantalizing cologne. It reminds her of the way the same sweatshirt had been discarded and draped over the foot of her bed haphazardly one night, as he kneed his way onto the mattress and clambered over her, fingertips exploring and tongue trailing. It reminds her of the way he smells when he brushes past her in the company of others, just solid weight and warmth. He does it nonchalantly, but the green of his eyes is knowing and flirtatious. That’s when the same scent teases her senses. It reminds her of the way he smells when he’s up close and personal, when he’s rocking against her and groaning softly into the nook between her shoulder and her neck. 

She stares at his hands — the way they lay over the armrests of his fold-out, the way lengthy digits adorned with chunky rings cradle a can of beer. She imagines the same fingers wrapped over her throat, squeezing lightly, in that way that he does. 

Y/N isn’t panting into the chill of the air. The white of her exhales just surface …quicker. His hands, and his smell, and his mouth are entirely irrelevant to the matter. 

By the time they all retire to their respective tents, the young woman is pleased to get a breather from his hands and his …ludicrously plush, smiley mouth. At least in a public circumstance, so she can’t be caught fawning over his mannerisms from a distance. The smell …she can’t escape that. In all honesty, it should be shameful, basking in the scent of a sweatshirt. Instead, she coils up in it under the covers.

She’s turned on her side with gritty rock coursing through wire, chords of guitar and drums rippling out from the little speakers in her ears, entirely engrossed as she scrolls through what little apps can manage access without a durable station of wifi. 

Y/N nearly squeals when an arm slinks over her chest, when a palm nudges over her mouth. And then another hand is plucking at one of the earbuds, giving her leeway into the crinkle of the sleeping bag, crickets, and the sound of bated breaths behind her. 

A low baritone, hushed and teasing against the same ear where the earbud’s been removed, “Easy, baby.” 

The gentle murmur that his lips shape does, frankly, little to soothe the hammer of her heart. In fact, if anything, the muscle soars in pace behind bone with the way cushiony pink grazes her jaw, the way his warm weight presses up behind her. 

“Easy.” 

She’d sit up and turn over her shoulder if she had the opportunity, but the same inky, muscly arm she’d admired hours earlier cradles over, preventing the motion. Harry can tell too, evidently, based on his soft snicker. He’s pleased from the way her head juts to steal a peer back. He’s pleased when she doesn’t succeed.

Instead of letting up, he takes the same earbud he’d pulled out and presses it into his own ear so that they’re sharing the set, crooning, “What are you listening to? Hm?” 

He sponges another kiss to the side of her throat, a stray tendril flopping over his forehead. Y/N knows that he’s listening to it, too, then. She knows from the playful, little nudge of his head with the rhythm, from the way the cord of the earbuds grows taut, from the sound of mirth he muzzles to her skin when he drives his mouth over the side of her neck. The young woman wriggles her arm, just enough for his grip to loosen, and then uses the opportunity to raise her head to take her own earbud out. The motion jostles Harry from the nook he’s seemingly made homage in, and he nips at her earlobe in protest. Anyways, the whole thing sends a chill wracking down her shoulders. 

When he lets up, Y/N twists in his grasp to her back. The earbuds splay over her chest, his own discarded, too. There’s still music seeping softly. She blinks, gaze tracing over his features, basked in shadow and soft amusement. 

“Hey,” she croaks, her voice catching on a crack with the effort to keep quiet. 

And Harry drags a thumb down her stomach, fingers meddling where the fabric of her (no, his) hoodie has rucked up. The ticklish sensation makes her shift a little. His mouth quirks, and he smooths over the same spot again. 

“Hey, you.” 

Her lips part and her tummy jolts when he slips the chilly pad of his thumb back over the line he’d run for a third time. She wants to bring her own hand up and trace the contours of his cocky mouth with her fingertips. It shapes the words, like baritone bathed in honey, “Ticklish?” 

When he brushes over a fourth time, her arm twitches, and her hand shoots for his wrist, squeezing lightly. Corners of muted pink spring up, dimples scoring softly. 

“Yes,” she gripes in a whisper, but the gripe doesn’t come out very gripey at all. Instead, it’s sort of small — that’s on account of his warm weight shifting onto her. Which is a new development, and it’s one that stirs something familiar and warm below the sleeping bag she’s nestled into, half-zipped and mostly just thrown over. 

His sturdy thigh slips in the empty gap between her own, and Harry ducks his head, the dimples deepening and the glint of white teeth escaping through the part of his lips. And then he dips lower until his face is nearly tucked into her hair. 

“I missed you,” his admission is soft-spoken. It’d be sort of tender if it didn’t come out so …hungry. 

Y/N takes in a little, shuddery breath. The same hand that's settled over her hipbone comes up to brush hair away from her throat, and a mouth stipples kisses over her pulse. His voice is a raspy, desirous tease, “Did you miss me?” 

Christ. She thinks that maybe if he were telepathic and had even a brief glimpse into the filthy things that’d cycled behind her skull for the duration of the day, then he’d only be more smug. 

That’s dangerous. 

She’s glad he isn’t. 

The young woman hums — an apathetic sound that feigns contemplation, like his touch doesn’t light every nerve ending in her system on fire, like she hasn’t spent hours staring at his arms, his mouth, his hands. Like she hasn’t been picturing expanses of muscle and skin hidden under his tee, imagining her tongue tracing through the vales of his v-line and her fingertips following the trail of hair below his belly button, slipping lower and lower…

“No?” Harry murmurs, lips bumping wetly over her flesh. What follows is a gentle exhale, and then his mouth is sponging another open-mouthed kiss, and his tongue brushes warmth against her, like he’s petting with it over her pulse. He caresses all the way back to her ear. Something dirty and thrilling slinks down the knobs of her spine when he mumbles, unconvinced, “I think you’re lying to me, little miss.” 

Her breath stutters. 

“I think,” Harry muses, fingers dipping beneath the shroud of the sleeping bag and smoothing back over her waist testingly, “that if I had a look right now, you’d be a drippy mess.”

Her throat bobs on a swallow. Petulantly, and so obviously feigning, Y/N tips her chin back and tells him, “…Not at all.”

Instead of smoothing tips of digits back over the naked, little expanse of skin again, they venture lower, teasing at the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I think your sweet, little pussy would tell me otherwise, wouldn’t it, pet?” 

Another deep breath rolls her chest under the cushioned sheet of fabric when fingertips dwell in. Just centimeters, practically. They retreat. Harry presses another kiss just below her ear. 

“Hm? It’s been so empty all day long. Achy, I bet.” Chills rise awake all over when he murmurs, purely condescending pity painting every syllable, “Poor baby.” 

He’s always had it — this gift of filthy, dirty gab. This ability to render her craving and wanting with his words like it’s innate, practically. She shouldn’t be surprised when he shifts over her, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, tips of his curls tickling at her cheek, “Could stuff it full. Make it all better.” 

Y/N sighs. Finally. Like it’s a release of the whole act, and the seams of it come apart to bliss when he nips with his teeth. She cranes her neck to give him more room to work. 

“Would you like that?” 

And she would, she thinks. Very, very much, and his lingering fingers — when they pull out and he hooks a thumb in and just tugs down a smidge — remind her of how hot she suddenly is. How hot everything is, despite the chill in the air. Instead of answering, the young woman nudges with her chin — a nod. An unsatisfactory one, evidently. 

“Words,” Harry mutters. It’s gentle, and quiet, and she hopes the polar opposite of the way he’s going to fuck her.

She cranes her neck more and splays her thighs what little she can under his weight. It’s kind of a plea. It’s also sort of pathetic. “Yes.” 

But it makes his mouth crook. His palm draws away. No. That wasn’t the intended effect. She curbs her sound of protest, but he can tell that it’s bridled in the chamber — she knows because the curl of mirth grows wider. He sits up a bit, bracing on his arms until he hovers over her, and then he sighs, jade sliding to the sector of the bag that’s zipped. Slowly, like he’s teasing, he grips over the notch and tugs. 

“What d’you do if you want me to stop?” Harry beckons, nearly a whisper but not quite, fingers skimming up under his hoodie. The same hoodie clings to her flesh, and every nerve sparks alive at the touch, striking her lungs to expand heavier. The air catches when the pads of his fingers graze up the vale of her sides and siphon a flinch. 

“Teacup,” Y/N breathes the safeword in response, and the fingertips climb her ribs like a staircase, pleased. 

“Good girl,” He tells her, and the pads sink back over, bumping over the ridges, and he tugs the fabric up over her chest. 

Her bra is red. It’s a nice detail, all lacy cupped over her chest. He draws the tip of an index over the edge and says, “Cheeky,” like his comment isn’t, “…Did you wear this to get fucked?” 

The young woman gnaws at her lip. Innately, it’s not an accurate statement. She didn’t wear it to get fucked — not when she knew he’d be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night and fucking into her regardless of the state of her underthings. But it’s a nice touch when he ducks, palm squeezing over one of her tits, and tacks on all low against her ear, like it’s praise, “Because you know I love you in red, pet.” 

The satisfaction of pleasing him buds in her chest, right at the core of her ribcage, warmth pitted deep, and it slinks out like beams of gooey sunshine, winding and seeping through the cavity until her veins practically thrum yellow. She’s buzzing beneath him, pulse thumping and fibers of muscle twitching. It makes his mouth curve — the way he feels her trembling under him like she’s a taut string, and he traces a thumb over her mouth. 

Then jade flits to her chest, and Harry takes the thumb away to hook fingers under the cups and tug. They settle under her tits, perking them, and the way the wire settles over her ribcage isn’t particularly comfortable, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when he shimmies down her body and draws a stripe down with his tongue, all the way from the hollow of her throat to the edge of the bra, settling in between. He kisses down her stomach, green salacious and twinkling up through shadow at her, and his tongue draws a circle around her belly button. His mouth quirks there, too, because it makes her flinch. Because he knew it would. Harry brushes with wet taste buds lower, settles on a side, low on her tummy, and sucks a pressing kiss. Her whole spine wrings and writhes, arching when he pairs the sensation with a dull graze of his hand over a nipple. It’s barely anything, but it’s a touch she longs for. And she doesn’t know why, but it always lights her on fire when the pleasure entwines with something that makes her want to squirm out of her own skin.  

Because when he turns the graze into a pinch and a roll, when he hones on the drag of his tongue and the suckling of his mouth, when he skirts featherlight fingertips up her side like he’s plucking invisible strings, the yellow thrums red, and hot, and hungry. When his mouth lets up and he drags wet lips to curl over the opposite nipple and the featherlight turns more purposeful, squeezing at sensitive flesh, this knocked-out unph escapes her, like a bridled grunt he’s punched from her. Like a half-laugh, like a moan, like a mottled gasp, like discomfort and please-don’t-stop enmeshed, curbed out of desperation. It makes the red fucking neon. 

Harry withdraws with a pop from the bud, and the air bites onto the wet to replace his mouth. The ambiance of rickets and cold reminds her that they’re kind of, sort of, definitely in public, only really shielded from said public (and the intrusive presence of their friend group) by thin sheets of nylon erected with plastic poles. Her eyes say it all then — this hesitation sparking, lashes bouncing and bounding from the nervous shift of her pupils, working from his eyes to his plush mouth and back as he rises to settle over her more. 

“They’re asleep,” he promises, a hushed murmur he seals to her own mouth in a sloppy half-kiss. His top lip ghosts over her cupid's bow, and he smooths a hand back over the vale of her waist where he’d squeezed a second ago. Her chest rolls under him, and her mouth parts, just a little to let a mottled little sound escape, like a wheezing gasp she’s muffled. 

And he muffles it more with his own lips, pressing against her. The sleeping bag rustles, and it’s quiet beyond the stilted sheets barring the wilderness. Harry’s hand skims down. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Harry murmurs into her mouth, palm trailing until it stills at the waistband of her shorts, fingertip lingering over an expanse of skin below her belly button that he’s well aware will have her squirming. Y/N jerks. “Here? Or… maybe…”

The young woman practically does a squished, weighted version of a body roll beneath him when he moves his hand to her inner thigh, dragging the pad of his index over the sensitive skin higher up. “Maybe …here? …No, I don’t think so…” 

His tongue licks into her mouth when she opens wider for him, desperate for the taste of him on her tongue, and she nearly gasps over that same tongue — loudly — when his palm cups unceremoniously between her legs. “…I think you want me here. That’s about right, isn’t it?” 

Y/N makes a little noise — it’s something between desperation and wordless agreement, and it quirks the corners of Harry’s mouth, carving dimples in beside his smug beam. The hand withdraws so suddenly she wants to melt into the hungry soil. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweet thing,” he declares, voice hushed, a bass-deep admission soft-spoken and colored with teasing.

Instead, he presses up until he’s hovering over her and then knees his way back, and then his fingers tuck up under the waistband of her shorts. When he discards them into the beginnings of a pile of clothing beside them, coaxing her hips to rise up enough with a soft word, blood teems into her cheekbones, like it’s all new and foreign. 

It’s not. 

It’s the most comforting and familiar when he traces a fingertip over the cleft at the crotch of her panties, the most familiar when he shimmies his fingertips under the sides of the fabric at her hips and tugs those off, too. It’s familiar when he holds a leg up, fingers gentle at her calf, and sponges kisses up her leg from her ankle to her inner thigh. It’s familiar when his tongue dances over hot, slick, flesh in craving, when it rolls around her clit and circles back. When he’s amused by the proof that he was right, that she is soaked, and his ego inflates like a hot air balloon. It’s familiar in the draw of his tongue, in the brush of his lips, in the way his fingers brush over her thighs, over her hole, over the sensitive areas in between. It’s familiar in the way that she watches stars speckle in the darkness behind her clenched eyelids, in the way that Harry doesn’t let up even as she pants and wrings her own fingers into his curls. In the way that he only responds with a moan against her at the rough treatment of his scalp.  

It’s somewhere between heaven and hell, teetering on the wire, when he laps over her pulsing cunt. His irises flicker up when she shudders, when Y/N makes a futile attempt to clasp her thighs over his head and prevent the light drag of his tongue over her oversensitive button. Instead, he tucks a palm against one of her legs and holds it down, plush lips curling around an ‘o’ and sucking. Every muscle seizes, her fingers twitching and struggling to curl into the thinly stuffed fabric of the sleeping bag. She bridles a whole-body thrash, neck straining as her breath stutters. 

“Please— plea— it’s too much—“ Y/N swallows midway her begging to avoid choking on her own spit, and that’s cute, Harry thinks. 

Aw, Y/N thinks he’d coo up at her from between her thighs, if his mouth wasn’t occupied at her core, those are pretty words. They don’t sound like a safeword, though. 

He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, humming quietly over her clit (honestly, she can’t tell if it’s in protest or agreement) and rolling a slow circle over nerves that are spent and nearly raw post his caress. 

Her chest is still rolling when he clambers his way up onto her, kneeing around her sides and then coaxing her arms up into a stretch. Harry cages those with firm thighs at the roots of the limbs, kneeing his way higher until he’s hovering over her chest and admiring her, all pliant and worn out and obedient beneath him. He sniffs, head cocked and eyes glimmering, and then sighs when he tucks fingers into the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers twitch, outstretched above her. And he’s weightless, and steady, and careful over her, but despite that, filth from his tongue punches her breath out like he’s sat directly over her lungs.

“Gonna suck my cock, baby.” 

It’s not really a question — not in tone. It’s a coo, a declaration, insight before Harry digs his fingers further past elastic and discards two layers of fabric with one tug, and his cock bobs free, glistening with a bead of precum at the head. 

Y/N swipes out over her lips with her tongue, and the sheen of spit over pink nearly matches the glimmer on the pink of his tip. The man cradles his free hand over his base and tucks the waistband lower on his hips, just until it rests under his balls and a glimpse of inked laurels and milky expanses of a bare tan line are on show. Bracing himself with a hand planted on the ground, Harry leans over her and aims his shaft, daubing over the plush of her mouth. When her tongue peeks out to swipe over the silky skin, she thinks he’s going to chastise her for her lack of patience. He doesn’t. Instead, he ogles down at the motion like she’s a goddess, cracks in otherwise apathy morphing; a light crease between his brows, a twitch in his lips. The same lips part for a shuddery breath like he’s trying to reign in his composure. And with every drag of his head over her slippery, hungry taste buds, a slow, side-to-side swipe that seems to lose precision with each motion, those cracks in his control give more. His jaw sets and he takes a long breath in through flared nostrils, and then shifts the palm that’d settled on the ground to rest over her wrists. 

“M’gonna fuck your mouth,” Harry tells her, pupils scoping carefully from her lips to her own eyes in finality. “What do you do if you want me to stop?” 

Y/N blinks. Her fingers twitch. She bends the digits over his grip and squeezes, flexing and unflexing over his own fingers like code in a tempo of frenzy. His gaze doesn’t even flicker from the aim of his tip, and he draws it over her mouth like he’s in awe of the sight.

“Good girl.” 

The young woman takes in a breath, mouth parting over his head slightly, all doe-eyed. He smushes his cockhead to the open seam.

“Open up for me,” the soft croon is accompanied by the tilt of his head, and a stray curl dangles over his forehead when he swipes the tip over her lips, “Nice and wide. Show me that pretty tongue.” 

And it slinks from her mouth as if on mindless command. Harry smears his tip over it like a filthy greeting, and then he feeds his fat cock in, guiding it up until the point to where he’s able to shift his weight onto the hand that doesn’t coat her wrists, careful not to cause the confined joints any discomfort.

“That’s it,” his praise seeps out all breathy, barely over an awed whisper as he sinks in and her tongue flexes to encompass the drag towards her gag reflex, “That’s a good girl.” 

The pointed little end grazes over his balls. 

“Eyes up here, pretty thing,” Harry encourages, ducking his own chin. There’s something pretty in the dance of her lash line, in the way her pupils flit up to his shadowy face, the way her lips tuck over her teeth to cushion his shaft. The way her tongue stays stuck out, flexing under the welcomed intrusion, “…Wanna watch them get all teary.” 

It’s like she tries to appease him. It’s as if on instinct to his words, that her lashes flutter as she tries to peer up, the beginnings of a ready sheen glazing the pretty color there as her tongue twitches and her throat bobs in an attempted swallow.  

And Christ, does it feel good when she does that. 

Harry’s own neck cranes, the muscles there flexing and veins swelling there like little ropes pulled taut under his skin. He groans, and it makes her do it again. His brows are furrowed when he risks a glance down at the picture-perfect view, and his hips nudge forward a smidge, only for him to bask in the sight of her irises lolling back and her lashes batting. A hiss lips through gritted teeth like rain through a gutter, and his head cocks further as he smooths an index to rest over her palm. She doesn’t have her digits balled — not all the way — not until his forefinger rests in her reach. She squeezes over that, almost like it’s an anchor. Something grounding to tether her. 

“Shit,” he manages out, barely over a whisper to bite back a throaty groan, hips rolling and brows furrowed in pleasure, “Shit — you’re good. You’re so good—“

And it makes the twitch of her lashes melt into a flitting bat, the color there rolling back and hiding behind the flutter. She can’t exactly hum in acknowledgment, but Y/N makes this garbled sound around him — this desperate kind she’d only make with his shaft stuffed down her throat, and it’s loud. Too loud. He squeezes over her wrists with his thumb, hips slowing until he’s wedged in to the hilt, stilled with the tip of her nose pressed to the light dusting of his pubic hair.

And Y/N thinks she’s going to implode. She’s going to implode if she doesn’t suffocate over his cock first. 

“Shh, shh,” Harry wriggles the index she’s gripping until her touch loosens enough, and he’s able to stroke the tip over her palm, “Shh.” 

Her pupils flit up to him in this deliciously delirious way for air. Harry tips his head down, the shadow of another curl flopping over his forehead. His cock twitches. Y/N makes another sound over him, this one lower. More pleading. More distressed. Her lashes flutter, cheeks puffing. Just when she’s about to clench and unclench over his fingers, he pulls out. It’s nearly all the way, but not quite, and she wheezes oxygen into her deprived lungs, muffling a fit of coughing. When she turns her head to take in more air, his tip slips out and draws a wet streak of saliva from the corner of her mouth across her cheek. 

“So pretty,” Harry murmurs. His tone sounds distant, and absentminded, and awed, like her mouth is divine and his voice is sort of full of worship, “You take me so well.”

Y/N blinks up at him, lips swollen post his ministrations and parted, slick with spit. Harry adjusts his grip, balancing his weight, and curls his lengthy digits over the base of his cock, aiming it back to that pretty, pretty mouth. 

Her jaw practically unhinges at the implication, tongue sticking out to daub at his cockhead when he croons, “And you’ll take a little more for me, sweetheart. Won’t you?” 

The sultry plush of his mouth curls up, all smug like when the tip of her tongue prods at his head, and then he feeds himself back into the warmth of her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, hips rolling slow and cautious as he guides himself in, “Yeah, you will.” 

He settles back into a pace of shallow, jutting thrusts, slow, and calculated, and testing. But then those melt and meld into something smoother, something deeper that brushes the back of her throat. Her fingers stretch wide and open and curl helplessly, never quite squeezing over his own digits, and Harry basks in the wet, pornographic sounds that envelop his shaft. Even as she tries to dim their volume, the sound of her sputtering around his cock isn’t something she can exactly mask when he brushes her gag reflex, again, and again. With every prod forward, every second she spends with her jaw wide open for him, that flame in her core kindles higher and higher. When he pulls out, jaw clenched and tummy flexing, ridges of his abs caught in the shadows, it’s like he pours kerosene. 

“Suck,” her friend tells her, soft-spoken as he nudges with his hips. His palm cradles his cock, fingers curled under the base. But her range of motion is limited, and Harry tips it up from her wanton, slick lips. Almost like it’s purposeful, because it definitely is.

A tentative tongue slips out to draw over his balls, and the way his front teeth lodge against the plush of his bottom lip, head cocked to indulge in the innocuous peer of her eyes beneath him — that’s a pretty sight she can make out even through the lack of light. She takes a million mental snapshots with her pupils, all of him in his all, curls dangling from the angle and the sharp line of his nose, his panting mouth as her tastebuds drag, sinew of muscle at his abdomen flexing, a rise and fall. The barest shape of the dark anchor etched into his wrist, his long, ring-clad fingers, the way they curl over his cock. The shape of it hovering over her face. 

A low groan squeezes past the door he’s made with his teeth, and then he says, “Yeah. There. Go on.” 

Her tongue morphs to her mouth, lips latching over lightly and sucking, just as he’d directed, and parting teases paste to him like doting kisses. Her lashline bounces as her eyes attempt to make his responses out through the rough angle and the dark that coats them. His head craned back there, his tummy rising and falling in pants there, his face tipped down over her to watch. The most insightful — and frankly, the most satisfying — are the sounds. 

The hisses of air he sucks in through his teeth, the way huffs fall out from between his open lips. They’re slow, and they come out like he’s trying to control them for the sake of the decibel, but they shake as they escape, and that’s a telltale. And then there’s the moans. 

There aren’t many of those to indulge in, but there’s a couple, one that Harry can’t seem to curb, despite his seemingly best efforts, when Y/N rolls her tongue over him all slow-like and comes off with a pop. And then another, later, that has him hanging his head when she stipples kisses to the sensitive skin there. 

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” 

The young woman hums, maybe in agreement or maybe goading, lashes batting innocently beneath him as she draws her lips over his sac aimlessly. 

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and then he stifles and clams up like he’s contemplating. When her tongue drags over him again he seems to make a decision, tearing himself away and kneeing his way back until he’s hovering over her thighs, his cock bobbing and wet with spit, “Sit up. Take this off.” 

Do this, do that. A shudder climbs up the knobs of her spine, slithering its way up the bone as she basks in the dominating note plucking at his tone. The sweatshirt catches on her hair and tugs strands, but it’s frenzied, somehow fond, the way his hands rove up her sides and slip up her back, roaming over hot skin to toggle at the back of her bra.

Then it’s, “Roll over,” with the last of her clothing discarded into the darkness, somewhere beside them in the same, sloppy pile with her shorts and her underwear. “Gonna—“ she thinks he sheds his t-shirt then, imagines his muscles rippling and flexing as he pulls it off, over his head from the back, “—fuck you like I want your snug cunt wrapped around me forever.” 

And then go his shorts, judging by the way his weight dips and balances, the shuffling from behind as he kicks them off and they’re flung somewhere by his ankle. He presses up onto her, grappling her by the hip, all warm weight and everything brushing together. 

“You wanna bounce on my cock, baby?” Harry murmurs, pink lips grazing her temple. A curl tickles at her cheekbones when he ducks to skim his teeth over her earlobe, to ghost a breath of promise — of foreshadowing against her neck when he tells her, sultry low and smooth like honey, “Be a good girl and ask Daddy nicely. Maybe then I’ll let you.”  

Shit. Fucking Shit. That little word teems down her ears and hikes all the way down her nervous system and back up, lighting everything in her alive.  

Quietly, barely over a whisper, Y/N beckons, “Please.” And when Harry doesn’t immediately move, she licks out at her slips, swallows, and pleads, “Daddy. I need you. Need you inside.” 

In response, her friend cups a hand over a love handle and guides his cock to press against her. But he doesn’t breach. 

“Better, but not quite,” he sighs. There’s leaves rustling outside in the gentle breeze, but Y/N doesn’t hear anything besides the rush of blood in her ears when she begs more, and it doesn’t get any quieter when Harry rewards her by tucking himself inside and pumping forward, just about halfway. 

It’s a crying shame when he doesn’t make any motion to keep going. And then it’s quiet besides their panting breaths intermingling. Eventually, though, he does talk.

“Fuck yourself on it,” Harry instructs, cadence ludicrously controlled given that half of his cock is tucked into her. Y/N peers over her shoulder to catch glimpses of his furrowed brows — the rip in the stitch of semblance. She can only manage to see so much. He ducks his head and nips at the shell of her ear, coaxing tingles down her neck, her shoulders, all the way from her nape. “Go on. Don’t pretend to be shy about it.” 

Fucking fuck. How can she not be, she thinks, when he talks like that? 

There’s a heat that seeps over her the crest of her cheekbones where he can’t see, and she squeezes over him in response to the filth. Harry settles back up. From the corner of her eye, Y/N notes lines of muscle shaping his arms as he hovers over her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she arches her hips up a tad and nudges back. It’s not enough — it’s maybe an inch, and she rocks forward by pressing her hips down and then repeats the motion. Just as there was a lack of control over her shame when he spewed dirty, brazen, filth, there’s also a lack of motion when she’s rolled forward with her tummy pressed to the ground. There’s only so much — so many inches she can ride back on when she’s rendered immobile. 

He knows it, too — it’s obvious by the poorly muffled note of mirth in his tone from behind, “Good girl. But you can do better than that, can’t you?” 

Helplessly, Y/N grits her teeth, fingers tangling into the fabric of her sleeping bag as she rolls her hips back in another attempt. It’s stuttery, and awkward, and not really a seamless, Shakira-esque roll at all. It’s a poor shuffle, hips raising more than traveling back. 

“Come on,” Harry goads, tutting like her tries are half-assed and she’s not currently exerting her body into creating motions that are simply unrealistic, “Take it proper. You want it? Then take it. Show me.” 

Camping is supposed to be wholesome. Camping is supposed to be laughter, and deep, pure breaths of air that scrub out the tainted glaze of city life from the walls of your lungs, sticky like cigarette smoke residue on the walls of a house. It’s hiking boots stuffed with the thickest socks. It’s marshmallows on twigs over curdling flames that lick up, it’s flashlights, and spooky myths and legends verbalized, and more laughter. 

Instead, Y/N is camping, and she’s currently barely grinding over inches of Harry’s cock. 

“I can’t,” she grits out, frustrated, but it sounds more like a whine than anything with bite.

“You can’t? Sure you can, pet,” Harry grapples over her hip, bracing on one arm in, honestly, an impressive showcase of athleticism, and manually rakes her hips back over him. It allows for more — more of him, more of his cock, more of his touch. More of him splitting her open and spreading her apart over him. “Just like this, right?” 

She’s sure he must be meeting her at least a quarter, if not halfway, though. It all feels like a devious ploy. Y/N whines. He makes this amused sound then, one of those puffs expelled through his nostrils like a half-laugh, accompanied by a hum. And then he pulls out and pumps his hips forward, until he’s flush to her backside, and then reverses and repeats. Three times. He gives her three, good, long, full thrusts, smoothing out to the tip and in to the root until she’s stuffed, just like he’d promised. Then, he presses in all the way and just basks in her heat. 

“Better?” Harry asks, but his tone catches on a quiet grunt and wavers in its prior composure. She squeezes over him, really squeezes, and he muffles a groan with the seal of his mouth. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all, and then the filth spills again. It’s odd how patronizing he can sound, despite the way her cunt so obviously affects him, “Need Daddy to do all the work, is that it?” 

Y/N hums. There isn’t much she can say to disagree because it’s good. At some point, his slow rolls morph into sharp juts, and the brace of his arms bends and gives until his chest is flush to her back. 

“Please, please, please, please,” Y/N croaks out the mantra, muzzled by the smush of her cheek to the ground with the pressure of his hand palming at the side of her skull. 

“Shh,” Harry rocks forward, fingertips twitching into her roots like a meld of petting and admonishment. He rocks into her until he’s flush against her backside, splitting her over him to the hilt, “Shh …don’t need to beg, sweetheart. You can have it. Have it all.”

He’s warm weight over her, hard muscle like hot, sticky stone as he works into her from behind. He’s a welcome stretch, a pleasant burn, inches of bliss that her spongy walls cling to in a warm hug. He’s tips of curls brushing over her cheeks, filthy words in a murmur flush to the shell of her ear, little, repressed grunts and shuddery exhales as his hips rock. He’s a headlock that squeezes over her throat deliciously and keeps her neck craned back. It’s in this perfect way that almost has her gasping for breath. 

The young woman practically bites into her tongue to curb a nearly animalistic groan that climbs from the depths of her chest and squeezes out past her detained windpipe. She doesn’t need to try as hard when his opposite arm shimmies up over the poorly-cushioned sleeping bag, when his hand clamps against her mouth, palm smushing over her lips. Instead, her high whimper catches on his skin and muffles out. Her nostrils flare over his digits when Harry shushes and chastises through grunts. 

“I know, baby. I know. Need you to be — shit — a good, quiet girl for me, though.”

Her irises nearly loll back into her skull, fluttery for the ceiling of fabric in their sockets at the dominating tone of his cadence. 

“Gonna be good for me? Make me—“ his words taper off when he muzzles a groan with the seal of his own lips, and what comes out is hushed, and masculine, and obviously bridled. But it doesn’t make her as hungry as when he beckons, “—Make me pleased with you?”

Because she wants to please him, wants to be good, wants his digits to press harder over her tongue when he slinks them into her mouth. It’s not her fault when the motion siphons a whimper. So Harry does — press harder that is, an inclination for her lips to wrap over his fingers, his chin tucked over her shoulder. His mouth presses to her temple, gracing her with puffs of air through his nose as he rocks into her.

“There we go,” Harry coos, soft and barely over a whisper when her mouth seals over the intrusive digits, “There’s a good girl. Let’s keep those pretty sounds to ourselves.” 

He rocks into her until she’s whining into his hand, until they’re really slick with sweat, and he’s grazing at his own peak, working until it unravels him from the inside out. She’s still making hushed sounds against his palm when he groans all low into her hair and his motions melt into something stuttery, when he empties ribbon after ribbon as she clenches over him and milks him through it.

He’s probably going to rifle through the dark for some discarded fragment of fabric to clean the mess. It’ll be haphazard on account of the night, and she’ll still feel the sticky remnants, dried up at the peaks of her inner thighs in the morning. But it won’t really be gross. Sort of a sordid, morning-after keepsake, sort of a dirty thrill as they pack their stuff among the others in their cohort. Sort of, probably, an excuse to fuck later in the day when they have a moment alone to themselves, reminiscing on the night before. 

But before that, he’ll probably clean his mess and run a hand down the vale of her side in a praising caress, like he normally does. Probably lay next to her for a bit before sneaking off to his own tent because, even though they’re just friends that fuck, he’s never been weird about cuddling — aftercare is sort of a must. He’ll probably say goodnight with another searing kiss, the kind that burns deep inside, because every time he leaves is kerosene actively poured into the pit of a bonfire. Because every time he leaves, she wants him more.

Tomorrow they’ll still be friends. 

Just friends that fuck.

[jarofstyles]

hi! i cannot express how u have i adore your writing!!

this is my first time resending in an ask so i don’t know if i’m doing it right lol, but i would love to see this prompt:

“you're fucking gorgeous like that, spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.”

for bsf’s dad harry.

thanks!!

Hi Angel! Thank you so much, you’re so sweet! You absolutely did it right and I’d be happy to write a little blurb for it.

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- age gap relationship, smut hehe

———

Y/N felt the shiver run through her body as she looked up at Harry. He’d arrived home from work, one of the unfortunate days he actually had to go into the office, calling for her. Usually she dealt with these days just fine, but today… she had been feeling exceptionally needy.

Sprawled out on his bed, her fingers dipped over her swollen clit and her hair fanned over his pillow, she laid naked on top of the downy comforter. Slick to the touch, hot and throbbing under her fingertips, her eyes peeked through her lashes as she gave him a tiny little smile, the slow circles drawn into her cunt slowing just a bit.

“Hi, Daddy.” She purred.

His jaw clenched, tightening up as he dropped his suit jacket onto the bench at the end of the bed. There was no hiding the hunger in his eyes as he drew them over her naked form, pausing at her pebbled nipples, soft little tummy and right between her thighs.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He murmured. Slightly disheveled, his tie was undone and his sleeves rolled up on his button up-‘and god, if that didn’t make her even more wet. His hair he’d slicked back had fallen slightly, a few strands on his forehead as he knelt on the edge of the bed. “What’s goin’ on over here, hm?” He tilted his head, fingers curling around the bedpost. “S’my girl feeling a little needy?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, spreading her legs further and pulling her fingers away so he could see the arousal stringing on her fingertips.

“Christ.” He muttered under his breath. “Why didn’t y’call me, baby? I could have been quicker getting home.” As if he didn’t worship her already, she had to admit that the genuine disappointment made her keen.

“Cause you need t’focus. I can’t be a brat just because M’a little too horny.” The girl pouted. “You’ve told me not to be a brat. I think it would be a little bratty to have you rush home just to make me cum… wouldn’t it?”

“Not when you’re the only best I have t’look forward to when I get home.” He shook his head, crawling up the bed and flittering his eyes between her cunt and her face. “You’ve been so good to me. Rarely ever a brat anymore. S’cause I fuck you right, I know, but you’ve been insatiable lately. Can’t say I’m complaining.” His lips smeared over her knee as he slowly inched closer, laying himself down between her pretty thighs. “Didn’t know I’d come home to such a pretty picture. Could be very motivating for me.”

Considering his last marriage had been a disaster at the end and he’d been unused to this, it still felt like there were times he needed to pinch himself over the fact that he had Y/N. It wasn’t without sacrifice, but he considered each and every one to be a worthy one in exchange for the sort of relationship he’d always craved. At the risk of sounding in the midst of a mid life crisis, she made him feel young again. “You’re fucking gorgeous like that, baby.” He groaned, gently taking her wrist and moving it away from herself, exposing her pussy to him. “Spread out like my good girl. She was jus’ waiting to be eaten as soon as daddy came in the door, wasn’t she?”

Y/N let out a shuddery breath as his tongue slicked up her slit, starting his own clean up mission. Her clean hand tangled in his hair, ruining any semblance of hold that his gel had tried to keep. “Yeah.” The dreamy sigh was aimed right for his cock.

“I know. I missed you… missed this perfect cunt, fuck.” He groaned, hooking his arms under her thighs and pulling her into him. Nuzzling into her pussy without a second thought, no hesitation to get his face wet. It was an honor to taste her and he wasn’t holding back as his lips suckled around her clit.

“Oh my- yes.” Her head fell back against the pillows, his mouth suctioned against her cunt and hands holding her thighs. “Yes, I missed you. Missed you so much.” She whispered, bucking up against his mouth. Tongue flicking against her clit and slow head movements as he pulled at her, sucking and licking each little motion to make her eyes water.

“Jus’ call me next time, baby.” He mumbled the words, muffled by the kisses he pressed to her mound. “Care about you more than business. Don’t wait it out when I want you just as bad.”

[overallrry]

harry styles smut recs

✩ all credit to the authors ✩

series

magnetic (0nlythrowharrybeaux)

1 2

After Y/N and Harry hooked up after his Love On Tour show in Portugal, he has not been able to forget it. Even though he has a girlfriend now. No matter how they both try, they keep getting pulled back together.

silk and rope (cupid-styles)

full masterlist

in which y/n and harry embark on a daddy dom/submissive relationship, but things get messy — both in and out of the bedroom.

paper rings (vallentinerry)

1 2 3 4

Where you and Harry had a long-term college relationship but it ended as soon as you graduated. 5 years later, you’re being reunited again but with Harry now as a CEO? 

mutually beneficial (cherryjuiceblues)

full masterlist

in which Harry is an attentive CEO who likes to take control whenever he can, and Y/N is in desperate need of some affection but isn't kind enough to herself to ever realise.

vanilla lime (cherryjuiceblues)

full masterlist

in which y/n and harry become the only the only two people who understand each other... but they're not so easily accepting of the fact.

ride the tiger (1800titz)

1 2

pornstar!Harry

one shots

hugsandharrystyles

the chase

pathetic

babyyhoneyyy

ex marks the spot

[vivwritesfics]

I'm Having Your Baby

It's None Of Your Business

It was supposed to just be a one night stand. It wasn't supposed to be anything more. But three positive pregnancy tests later and she realises she's fucked.

(I actually don't like Harry Styles)

Warnings: smut, mention of abortion

The bass was thumping, the music blasting and the lights flying in the club. She was letting loose, shaking her hips in time to the music. She was the envy of everybody in the club.

He was across the dance floor, sat in one of the booths lining the wall. In his hands was a jack and coke, the ice in his glass almost completely melted. Although he was on the other side of the club, he could still see her. Actually, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Something about her drew him closer. He wove his way through the crowds of people until he was standing in front of her, hands of her gyrating hips. Wordlessly she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her body along with his.

He knew he had to have her. Carlos kissed her that night. He pulled her close as he pressed his lips to her. Before long his tongue was down her throat and they had forgotten about dancing.

She ended up at his place that night. He laid her down in his bed and stripped off her clothes. She shivered in the cool air of his bedroom, but it wasn't long before his warm, naked body was on top of hers, thrusting into her, bring wave after wave of pleasure.

He rolled his hips against her, setting his pace according to his moan. He was completely focused on bringing her pleasure again and again.

Nobody had ever fucked her like that before. No single man had ever made her cum that many times.

But still, she was out of his bed, out of his house before he woke up, never to see him again.

The pregnancy test was taken three and a half weeks later. At 25 days she realised she had missed her period. It wasn't worrying until she remembered her counter in the club.

But she never expected it to come up positive. It must have been a fluke she realised. There was no way she was actually pregnant. Not after a single occurrence of unprotected sex.

But then she took another test. And then another. They all came up positive. Fuck, she really was pregnant. And she didn't even know the name of the father.

Actually, it was pretty easy to find out the name of the father. Her little brother was into Formula One, and she recognised him the moment he walked onto the screen.

She hadn't told her family of her pregnancy yet, and she wouldn't, not until she absolutely had to. She hid her pregnancy tests in her apartment and headed off to spend time with them.

It was a Sunday, so of course her brother was watching Formula One while her mother prepared Sunday night dinner. She was sat behind her brother, sipping lemonade as the driver's on the screen were interviewed.

The camera slowly panned across the Ferrari garage. Her glass dropped out of her hand, shattering on the floor. "What the hell?" Her brother shrieked as he stood up, avoiding the smashed glass.

"Who is that?" She asked as she pointed to the number 55 driver. He looked just as he did all those weeks ago, somehow better in his black fireproofs and red overalls.

Her brother gave her a frown. "That? That's Carlos Sainz, but why do you care?"

But she had already disappeared into the bathroom to throw up until she was dry heaving. Her baby daddy was Carlos Sainz, the world famous Ferrari driver.

It took her a moment to calm down. When she did, she opened her Instagram and went to his account. She scrolled through his account, as if to make sure it was definitely him. But it was undeniable.

It was a gamble going into his messages. But she had to do something to get his attention, had to let him know what was going on. If he didn't see it then so be it, she didn't need him to raise their baby.

Hi, you might not remember me but we hooked up a month ago. We met in the club and I was wearing a red dress with converse. Well, I'm pregnant.

She sent the message and walked out of the bathroom. The glass had been cleaned up from the living room floor and her family were already sat around the dinner table, the race on in the background. Her legs shook as she joined them.

"Is everything okay, dear?" Her mother asked and she nodded her head. She'd tell them, but not today.

Three days later Carlos Sainz messaged her on Instagram. She couldn't quite believe it when she woke up to that notification.

I remember

That was all he said. It was disappointing, actually. Where did she go from here?

Carlos Sainz said nothing more to her, not until a few months later. She got on with her life while their child grew inside of her, and he got on with his.

Or she assumed he did, at least. Actually, Carlos hadn't stopped thinking about it. It was distracting him from racing and training, and stopping him from eating and drinking.

He remembered her from the club, remembered fucking her. Remembered the way his cock slipped through her velvety folds.

It was one night, it couldn't have been his, right?

After four months of needless stress, Carlos finally messaged her again.

I'm sorry to do this but I need you to prove it to me

No, it was fair enough. She grabbed her pregnancy tests, stood in front of her mirror with her bump exposed. That was the picture she sent to Carlos. That was the picture that made him realise that he really was going to be a father.

Fuck. A new wave of stress rolled through him. What was he supposed to do now?

Are you keeping it?

Yes, she texted back. Yes, I'm keeping it

That wasn't the answer that Carlos wanted to see. He was going to be a father and he really didn't want to.

I want nothing to do with it

She sucked in a breath. Fine, she didn't need him. They didn't need him. But still she accepted Carlos' request on Instagram.

Something in her still wanted his attention. As soon as she could, and for as little money as possible, she booked tickets to the next grand prix.

It was hot, swelteringly so. She was dressed in a tight fitting shirt and shorts that showed off her bump. Her parents paid for paddock passes and she spent as long as she could walking in front of the Ferrari garage.

Carlos noticed her, but not right away. It was a minute before he regnised her. But then he was Marching over to her. "What're you doing here?" He hissed as he pulled her away from prying eyes.

She swallowed thickly. "I..." but she had nothing prepared to say to him, no excuse. She'd hoped him just seeing her bump would change his mind.

But it remained unchanged.

"I'm here with my girlfriend. You can't be here," he said. He hadn’t looked at her bump, not yet. "Get out of here," he hissed.

But she stepped up to him. "I'm having your baby, Carlos."

"It's none of my business." He turned on his heel and walked away.

[freedomfireflies]

Tell Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where your best friend Harry suggests a fun, friendly little game of horny Simon Says.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, choking, Daddy kink

The look on his face is absolutely feral.

Your heart is in your throat. Pounding between your legs. Racing beneath your chest. 

And he’s looking at you like he’s ready to take you over his knee and show you exactly how much he’s missed you.

He takes a step forward, expression firm and never wavering. He studies you. Studies your trembling thighs, your quivering lips. He studies and he plots and he grins because he knows you’ll do anything he fucking asks.

He reaches the bed and his chin raises. “Are you gonna be good for me, Bee?”

You nod quickly. Of course. Always.

“Good.” He smiles and it makes your insides wrench. “And you still wanna play our little game?”

You nod again. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Then are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He smirks. “Harry says…lift your pretty skirt up.”

Quickly, you oblige, pulling the black fabric along your thighs and toward your hips. An easy task and you're eager to make him proud.

You can tell he's tempted to look. But he doesn’t. He keeps his attention on you. Only. Always. “Harry says pull your little panties to the side.”

Again, you obey. Hooking a finger around the already damp fabric and peeling it away from your cunt until the cold air finds you.

You shiver. He grins.

“Harry says spread your legs.”

You do. Easy.

He nods and his arms cross and he’s oddly calm. Focused. He takes another step closer and you could almost grab him. “Harry says show me how wet you are.”

You lean back and now he looks. He’s intrigued. Pleased. Proud. 

And the devious grin that splits his face is enough to ruin you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and then he’s crouching down between your knees. Lining his eyes up with your cunt in the most intimate of ways. “Touch your clit for me.”

Your fingers twitch and you almost do, but you don’t. You follow the rules. You know better.

He chuckles and places his hands on your thighs, keeping you open. “Smart girl, too, hm?” He dips down and presses a kiss to your knee that has you sighing. “Harry says touch your clit for me.”

You do, instantly, and it’s everything. Even the slightest brush of contact has you reeling and you whimper as your thumb sweeps across the sensitive nerves.

He watches you for only a moment—the way you circle and pinch, the way you gasp—before he’s jutting his chin up. “Harry says stop.”

You whine. Breathless. Needy. “Harry—”

“Stop,” he repeats firmly, eyes flicking to yours. You mewl dejectedly and pull your hand away. “There you go. See, you can behave when you want to, hm?”

You nod weakly.

“Good.” He’s smiling again—coy, evil—and kissing your inner thigh. “Harry says suck your fingers.”

You bring your slightly soaked digits toward your lips and you’ve never felt so enamored. Because he is sex and he’s nipping at your skin in a way that reminds you of how good his mouth is. And you love his mouth. And the way he tugs on your body as though tempting you with the idea of tasting you but never actually giving in. 

You suck and you moan and you make a show of it.

He hums. “Harry says give me your hand.”

You relinquish your trembling hand to him and he licks a long, slow stripe up your palm. All the way to your fingers while your eyes nearly roll back.

He hums again. “Always taste so good for me, Bee. You know that?”

You watch his lips. You don’t speak. And this is an evil game, a cruel game, and even if you win, you lose. But you don’t mind because he is your prize and that's all you've ever really wanted.

He drops your hand and returns his hold to your thighs. He smiles at you. “Harry says spread your pussy for me.”

With a strained inhale, you slip your fingers down and pull yourself open. His soft, warm breath fans across your dripping cunt and you whimper quietly. Desperate to weave your fingers through his curls and bring him closer.

And he knows you, knows what you really want, so he taunts you. Kisses up your thigh, over your hip, along the band of your underwear. Everywhere but where you need him most. 

He watches you soak the bed below and he’s so incredibly smug. “Harry says tell me what you want.”

“You,” you breathe instantly. “You, Daddy, please.”

The use of the nickname surprises him. You haven’t slipped into your subspace yet but you quite enjoy the way his expression grows dark at the use of the moniker. And, truth be told, you also happen to love the way it tastes to say. 

His eyebrow lifts and his hands curl tighter around your legs. “What do you want Daddy to do, Bee?”

You swallow. Thick. “Want you to fuck me. Please.”

His lips part. He’s mesmerized and wildly intrigued. And even if he knows you’re trying to cheat by using the more dominant nickname, he doesn’t seem to care. 

He stands up. “Daddy says lay down.”

Suppressing a grin, you slowly crawl back toward the pillows and settle onto the mattress. And he looks at you like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, so enticing. You imagine if this were a cartoon, he’d be drooling, and you don’t miss the twitch in his fingers as he attempts to resist chasing after you.

Instead, he’s deliberate. Practiced. Following you onto the duvet and hovering above you before nodding again.

“Daddy says take me out.”

You reach for his belt. Pulling it through each loop before tossing it toward the floor and continuing to his zipper. Once you have enough room, you slip into his briefs and find him. Hard, heavy, and leaking in your palm. You almost drool, too.

You take him out and your lashes flutter as you glance up at him. Looking for his approval which he gives you almost far too easily.

“Good girl,” he whispers. His voice is labored. Thick with lust. “Daddy says put me in.”

You bring him closer and run him up and down your pussy a time or two while you both shudder. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he slips in. And everything changes.

He curses and you gasp and the game is over. It doesn’t matter who won because this is why you play. For this feeling, this moment. This familiar and addictive stretch as he pushes in and sends you over the edge.

He puts a hand on your throat and his mouth finds yours. He kisses you—hard, hungry. Sloppy and rushed but full of love. He adores having power over you, but he loves you more. Getting to take you anyway he wants you.

He squeezes your delicate neck and your vision blurs around the edges in the most delicious of ways. He knows what you like and he knows that you’d gladly put your life in his hand any goddamn day of the week. So, he holds you, and he chokes you, and he waits until your gasps are shallow before loosening his grip ever-so-slightly.

“Shit,” he exhales before he’s pulling back and thrusting in. “God, you’re so tight today, lovie.”

You arch off the bed and reach for his back. Nails scraping down his spine while his dark shirt wrinkles beneath your hands. “Daddy, please—”

“I know.” He bites your neck. Pulls the skin between his teeth and laps at it with his tongue. “Fuck. I know, baby. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Poor little cockslut was just so empty while I was gone, hm?”

You nod fervently. You hate when he leaves, hate when his job takes him on trips away from you. And fucking yourself isn’t nearly as good as when he does it.

And he knows it.

“Say it,” he hisses. “Fucking tell me how good I feel.”

You reach for his ass and grip. “So good, Daddy. Needed you so bad.”

He nips at your earlobe and then returns to your mouth. The sound of his cock fucking into your pussy is loud, almost as loud as the sound of him sucking your tongue. And it almost ends you, right there.

He smells like vanilla and sex. A musky, familiar scent that seems to seep into your bloodstream and go straight to your clit.

You don’t imagine either one of you will last much longer, not after being away all this time. But you try, you do. You meet his thrusts as best you can and you kiss your name into his neck until he groans.

“So many things I wanna do to you,” he whispers and he’s gentler now. “God, Bee. You have no idea what I wanna do to you. All the things I imagined as I fucked my fist just thinking of you.”

“Tell me,” you whimper. “Tell me, please, Daddy—”

He curses again. “Want you to sit on my face until I can’t fucking breathe. Wanna taste you—gotta taste you, baby. Missed it so fucking much.” He reaches for your clit and you moan. “Wanna eat my cum out of your pretty pussy and I wanna make your thighs fucking shake.”

God. You tug on his curls and you’re so close. So fucking close.

“Then I wanna watch you bounce on my cock,” he says. His thrusts are harder now. Faster. Sharper. “Wanna bend you over and watch this pretty little ass shake for me.”

Your leg hooks around his hip and you whine his name.

“Wanna have you in the shower, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the car, against the window so they can all watch. Fucking everywhere.”

A strangled sound leaves your throat and you know he means it.

“Want you to fucking own me, Bee.” He slips his hand around the back of your neck and pulls on your roots. “Cause you do. You know that? You fucking own me. I’m yours. Always—”

“Harry,” you gasp.

“Show me you know that,” he hisses. He’s almost there. “Show me you fucking know that I belong to you—”

You come and when you do, everything changes. Lights are brighter, sounds are louder, life is sweeter. You see stars and you see him and you don’t need to see anything else ever again. 

He follows right after, unable to resist the way your pussy clenches around him as you come. He’s warm and it feels like heaven. You hold tight to his shoulders and you ride each other through. It’s not until you writhe away from the ministrations on your clit that he slows to a stop and drops his face to your neck.

“Fuck,” he exhales. You have to agree. “M’sorry. I tried to make it last longer, I swear—”

“No,” you whisper. You take his cheeks between your hands and lift his face to yours. “No, it’s okay. It was perfect, I promise.”

He sighs. “I know, but after all that time, I just…I wanted to do better—”

You shush him and nuzzle your nose against his. “Harry, it was perfect. Trust me. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Yeah?” 

You grin. “Yeah.” You kiss him. “That was quite a fun game.”

He laughs now and the sound is like magic. “You think so?”

“I do. Love it when you tell me what to do.”

He smiles again but you notice the devious expression returning. “Is that right, lovie?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hums and it’s wicked. “Then maybe we should play another round, hm?”

Your stomach flips. You nod.

He smirks.

“Then Daddy says…on my fucking face.”

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @jessitpwk @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @harrysgf01 @spinningoutwaiting4ya @vyctorya @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @wolfmoonmusic @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream 

[ellecdc]

(not a request, just some thoughts to ponder! godspeed regarding exams dear elle <3)

Thinking about ploy!marauders x reader who get together after Harry's been born? I would think that Remus and Sirius would have been together since school. But reader's always been stuck pining after her loves who were all already in relationships.

But once James and Lily separate the dynamic shifts and I can totally picture Sirius throwing it out there that they should all give being together a good go. James and Lily are still good friends, happily co-parenting.

Just stuck on the idea of what you think the reader and marauders role in raising Harry would be? would they be auntie and uncles? or function more like step-parents? And when James has Harry for the week how would that change their routine? Curious to hear your thoughts!

Lots of love :)

okay okay okay okay I don't have a fic for this but I have another request that I think needs this background for the head canon's I've been obsessed with based off of this suggestion (with @unstablereader's help)

so this isn't a fic but this is an inside look on how a lot of my fics are formulated 🤣😭

okay so I always hate the idea of Lily and James separating 😭 so either it was super amicable OR maybe Harry was the result of a drunken hook up between the two friends?? (before Jamie was with the other Marauders)

either way, I totally think the other's would have a parental/step-parent role. Like if the boys weren't called papa (Sirius) or da (Remus) etc, he'd certainly be like "at my house with my daddy and my moony and my pads!" and Pandora (I love me some good Pandalily) would be 'ma' and Lily was mummy.

So where @unstablereader and I went wild was maybe reader was our whimsical reader? And when Harry was quite young (toddler) and Siri & Jamie were aurors (so would be at work) and in a Voldemort free au we figured maybe Rem would start teaching earlier? That reader would watch Harry for them when it was Jamie's week with their son

And the boys were all obviously in love with her but none of them did anything about it yet. So we imagined this happening during one of Lily & James' exchanges or parent dates:

Lily: so, Y/N's been around a lot lately, yeah? James: oh yeah she's amazing; I mean, three of us and still our household would probably crash and burn if not for her Lily: *knowing smirk*, hm, so when are you guys going to make it official? James: I beg your pardon? Lily: please, Potter. I see the way you blokes look at her James: no no, it's not like that... *not convincing at all* Lily: James. Do you know what Harry calls her? James:........ Lily: he calls her "lovie". in fact, he calls her "his lovie". He thinks that's her name, James. James:...... Lily: he said, and I quote, "I was at home with my daddy, and my papa, and my da, and my lovie!" James:...... Lily: listen here; I have eyes, potter. and if she's as lovely as you're saying she is, you three better snatch her up before panda and I do.

then we imagined that maybe Sirius and Rem were close by

Sirius: *barges in out of no where* NO RED PLEASE YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US Remus: Sorry guys, I tried to tell him to leave you guys to it. But now that we're here: Lils, please have mercy. The three of us can compete with you and Pandora??? Lily: you guys have a week and then fair's fair.

so a week later when Lily comes by to pick Harry up and reader is there

Lily: *sultry* hello darling y/n: Hello Lily! You know, if you'd asked first I would've said yes Lily: well if they don't treat you right, you know where to find us *James & Sirius come racing over* James: lovie, step away from the door right now Sirius: no more talking to Evans unsupervised *Remus walks in with Harry on his hip* Harry [speaking toddlerese]: mummy! is my wuvie going to wive at bof of Harry's houses? Lily: I'm not sure Has; what does your lovie think? Sirius: *panicked squawking* I SAID YOU CAN'T HAVE HER RED *throws reader over shoulder and disappears further into the house*

the end :)

[bvidzsoo]

Masterlist

↳ MS stands for Mini-series; S for Series; 18+ for anything that contains mature themes; F for Fluff; A for Angst; you’ll find warnings at the start of each one-shot

☆ Drive to survive ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; Formula One Racer AU; Red Bull driver AU ☆ You belong to me ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; mobster AU; Joker/Harley vibes ☆ I know you want me ↳ [F; A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; enemies AU; police reader AU

☆ Lust we both share ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; vampire AU; enemies to lovers AU ☆ Your desire ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; sugar daddy AU; university AU ☆ Take me to Paris... ↳ [F; A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; single mother AU ☆ Obliviate Me ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; Harry Potter AU; lovers to enemies AU; tragic love AU ☆ Sugar on my lips ↳ [F, suggestive]: non-idol AU; university AU; sports AU; 90's romcom; enemies to lovers AU

☆ Who am I? ↭ Part 2 ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; university AU; bad boy AU; gang AU ☆ From people you know, to people you don't ↳ [A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; lovers to exes to aqcuittances AU ☆ bf!Yunho instagram stories ↳ [F]; smau; idol AU; boyfriend AU ☆ Above the world ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; Spiderman AU, strangers to lovers AU, highschool AU ☆ Under the pretense ↳ [F, suggestive]: non-idol AU; university AU; sports AU; 90's romcom; enemies to lovers AU ☆ How beautiful you are ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; Jane Austen AU; 1770 AU; enemies to lovers AU

☆ Take Control ↳ [A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; reader is a gang member

↳ Coming Soon

☆ Grease and Oil ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; car mechanic AU; mutual pining AU ☆ Love Me Like A Rockstar ↳ [S;A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; enemies to lovers AU; university AU; rockstar AU; he fell first, but she fell harder AU ☆ Forget-me-not ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; illegal racing AU; enemies to lovers AU ☆ Love you, forever ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU; boyfriend AU; university AU ☆ Preying on you tonight ↳ [A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; Academy AU; werewolf AU; vampire AU; enemies to lovers AU ☆ bf!Mingi instagram stories ↳ [F]; smau; non-idol AU; boyfriend AU ☆ Cold Red Iron ↳ [18+, humour]; non-idol AU; Iron Man AU; workplace AU; enemies to something more AU ☆ Haunted me, haunting you ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU; Hunger Games AU; victor AU; acquittances since childhood to lovers AU

☆ Daemonium ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; demon AU; crack AU; dormmate AU; university AU ☆ I'll go animal to keep you next to me ↳ [A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; stalker AU; university AU; strangers to enemies AU

☆ Shameless ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; marriage of convenience AU; established relationship AU

☆ Black Ocean ↳ [S; A; F; 18+]; non-idol AU; pirate AU; siren AU ☆ bf!ateez drunk texting you while they're out with the boys ↳ [F, suggestive]; non-idol AU; smau; boyfriend AU ☆ best friend!ateez texting you about tomorrow's exam they have forgotten about ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; smau; best friend AU ☆ drunk texting bff!Ateez and accidentally confessing you're into them ↳ [nsfw]; non-idol AU, smau, best friends to lovers AU ☆ accidentally texting fwb!ateez about the hook-up ↳ [nsfw]; non-idol AU, smau, friends with benefits AU ☆ texting fiancé!ateez about their Coachella performance as you weren't able to attend it ↳ [F]; idol AU, smau, fiancé AU, Coachella AU lol ☆ Beyond the Obscure ↳ [S;A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; royal AU; assassin AU; fae AU; fantasy AU ☆ Cosmically divine ↳ [S;18+;A;F]; non-idol AU; Greek mythology AU

☆ Devil!Hongjoong ☆ Vampire!Seonghwa ► Slow it down →  Park Seonghwa ► Summer Lovin' → Jung Wooyoung ► Does he know? → Choi San ► Love made me crazy → Choi Jongho ► Sweeter than honey → Jeong Yunho ► Stern, but sweet → Choi San ► Cherry Blossoms → Song Mingi ☆ Boyfriend!Wooyoung → Jung Wooyoung

❀ join my permanent taglist here

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis With Benefits - Part 5*

Keep me awake, buy me a coffee!

Summary: “Friday nights at the bar are harmless fun, until Harry’s ego and your jealousy get in the way…”

Wc: 4.1k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: SMUT, exhibitionism kink, daddy kink, degradation, spanking, jealousy, bit of possessiveness but not much

A/N: Hiya! Back again :) Here’s the newest part of Nemesis With Benefits! Things are getting real… enjoy!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

It's Friday night, which means getting drunk at the bar nearest to campus.

At least, that's the way Rebecca sees it.

And because you are Rebecca's friend, it is how your Friday night is also being spent. Benjamin and the others mentioned they might come too, so you were very excited to go out tonight. You had to admit that there was a small part of you which wondered whether Harry was going to show up too.

He did.

He joined the group a bit later, but your stomach felt funny when you spotted him walking through the door. You realized, of course, that you should immediately do something about these... feelings, but not tonight. Tonight was for dancing, and drinking, and secret glances.

Ones you have been sharing with Harry all night. Traces of the memories of the other night are still lingering in his eyes, and you are sure in yours too, as you catch his gaze every now and then. It makes your core heat up, just thinking about other things you could do on a night with him. Or day, or morning. Are you ovulating? You have to be.

Despite the fact that your eyes pull to Harry like fucking magnets, you put all your energy and focus into keeping up with Benjamin and Rebecca's conversation. Harry turns around and joins the three of you—which is noted by Benjamin as his body stiffens and he shares a nervous glance between the two of you—making it even more difficult to pay attention to what your lovely friend is saying. Until you hear the mention of your name

"I just need to find a random someone and have mind-blowing sex, like Y/N." She waves towards you as she explains the dry patch she has been going through for the past months. She's been so caught up in school that she hasn't had time to date at all.

Your mouth dries and your cheeks flush, feeling all eyes on you, especially Harry's. Benjamin's head whips towards you.

"You had mind-blowing sex?"

Before you can answer, Rebecca chimes in. "Yeah, she hooked up with some guy she met on that one dating app, and it was amazing, right?"

You are so utterly fucked. You know you are completely fucked when you say, "Yes."

"See? I need that too!" She asks, while Benjamin is still gazing at me with his mouth wide open.

"Oh my god, girl. So, he was good? Was he... you know? Big?" Benjamin, in very Benjamin-esque style immediately fires his blunt questions at you.

Before you can stop yourself, your eyes flick to Harry and back, uneasiness dripping off of you. You sigh.

"Yeah, yeah he was."

You hear a sniff of laughter on your left. With a clenched jaw, you try to control your breathing. You can't believe you got out in this embarrassing position. And you have no one to blame for it other than yourself. You hate this, the cocky bastard's ego is only going to get more inflated by hearing this conversation.

"Are you gonna see him again?"

Filled with irritation and a desire to humble the guy standing next to you, you shrug. "I don't think so. It's kind of like a disposable razor, after a few times it just won't do it for you like it did before. Plus, his arrogance alone took up like half of the space in bed."

Benjamin and Rebecca chuckle at your comment, and you smile, satisfied with that little jab you managed to make towards Harry. When you glance at him for that slight second that you allow yourself to, your stomach turns at that standard lazy smirk he wears.

You talk for a bit more, and Harry slowly fades out of the conversation over time. It takes everything to not let your eyes see where he is going as he walks away and disappears into the crowd. He probably went to pee, you tell yourself.

After a while, the song selection in the bar improves and finally Rebecca drags you onto the very occupied dance floor. You move on the beat like two idiots who look like they've had way more to drink than they actually have. Tonight is a 'dance like nobody's watching' night, filled with funny made-up moves, as opposed to the 'dance like everyone's watching' nights, which are filled with sensual hip movements and cute hair flips.

Just as you've finished your just invented dance move called 'the lawnmower', and are watching Rebecca's dancing rendition of turning on a lamp, you spot Harry at the bar. Your laughter fades a bit, concentration now full on where he is standing, and talking, to a girl.

She must be at least five inches shorter than him because there is quite a height difference. Her auburn hair is really shiny, though, and it looks like she is funny because Harry is laughing at whatever she just said.

You force yourself to turn your attention back to the dance floor, and continue dancing with Rebecca. However, despite your best efforts, your eyes keep flicking back to the bar, and that stupid smile that paints Harry's face as he talks to that redhead.

"I'm gonna get a drink!" You shout over to Rebecca, "do you want something?"

When she shakes his head, you give her a thumbs up and walk away. It is quite crowded so it takes a few seconds to get to the bar, but you arrive, right in front of Harry and the redhead. She has blue eyes, you notice. A flare of anger shoots down your spine.

"Excuse me, can I just—" before waiting on a confirmation or even a step back, you wring yourself between Harry and the girl, leaning over the bar to try and flag down a bartender. You don't miss the clench of Harry's jaw as he leans back a bit, giving you a bit of space instead letting you lean against him a bit.

It takes long enough for a bartender to arrive that the redhead decides to turn around and walk away, and you try not to smile too hard at the sudden free space beside you. You move away from Harry a bit, and he turns around and leans over the bar as well, getting closer to your face.

"Jealous?" He asks. You snort, slightly shaking your head.

"Thirsty." You shoot up straight at the feeling of a guy touching your waist and shoulders as he passes by—something which is entirely unnecessary because there is enough space to walk without touching you. You frown at the man who passed by, but re-direct your focus to Harry as you correct him. "I simply needed a drink and spotted some free space by the bar."

You can't look Harry in his eyes for too long because you know that he knows that you are lying through your teeth, so you turn your eyes back to the bar, hoping a bartender may have spotted you. You won't let yourself look as Harry moves away from the bar a bit, but your core flutters when you find him standing right behind you, hips pressed against your ass and his hands leaning on the bar, leaving you with no other place to go.

You try to be as casual as you can about it, but you can't help the shiver that runs down your spine as Harry leans into your ear and whispers, "You're jealous."

The low voice almost has you crumbling immediately, and the urge to lean back into him is almost too big, but you hold on to that last sliver of restraint. Luckily, a bartender finally comes to help you, so you can distract yourself by ordering a drink. While you wait for the drink to arrive, you turn around to Harry.

"You need to back off, all our friends are here. What if they see?"

Harry tilts his head, "You mean, what if they find out that I'm the guy from the mind-blowing sex?"

"No. I mean, what if they find out you are the disposable razor." You bite back, and Harry tsks you, a wide grin displayed on his face. He nods to the bar, and you quickly turn around to find the bartender putting your drink down. You thank him and lean forward to grab it, but your ass accidentally brushes against Harry's crotch as you do so.

He leans forward once again, saying lowly in your ear, "Everyone went outside to smoke, I saw them walk out just a minute ago."

You bite your lip at the thought of an open field, and lean back a bit further in response to his reassurance. Your ears catch the small chuckle that grumbles from Harry's throat as your ass presses tight against his crotch. His hand travels to your waist, tracing up and down as you take some sips of your drink.

You find it proves to be very hard to act like your entire body doesn't feel like it is engulfed in flames and his hands aren't the gasoline. It is way too warm in this room.

You gasp in surprise when Harry wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your entire body against him. You can practically hear your thunderous heartbeat as his hands glide down to your thighs and teasingly nudge your dress up a bit, and the heat of his breath fanning against your ear doesn't do much to help you either.

It takes everything in you not to turn around and kiss him, and you bring your drink to your lips, occupying your mouth with that instead. You drink, and drink, and drink, as if it's a potion of restraint. Ironically, it only takes you about twenty seconds to finish it. And even as you turn around and drag him towards the bathroom by his shirt, your mouth feels incredibly dry.

What you don't expect, though, is for Harry to change the path. Your brows knit together in confusion as he leads you to a random door that you've never seen before at the end of the hallway. He opens it, and suddenly you find yourself standing outside, behind the bar, in a small alleyway. You look on both your sides, but it seems to be impossible to access it from outside.

There are piles of crates filled with empty beer bottles that you have to shimmy around, and the other side of the alleyway is marked with only a chain link fence that looks out on a nearly empty, barely lit parking lot.

"Nice spot, do you take all your hook-ups here?" You joke, but you realize that as you say it, there is some hidden bitterness to the comment. You pray Harry doesn't catch it, but it doesn't seem so in the way he replies.

"Only the ones I hate." He looks back with a false innocent smile, coaxing you until you're leaned against the wall.

"Do you let them suck you off too?" You ask as you crouch down, maintaining eye contact and letting him see that salacious smirk displayed on your face. The hoarseness in his voice is apparent as he chuckles, observing you as you unbutton his pants and take his cock out of his briefs.

"Only the desperate ones." He retorts, satisfied with his humbling answer. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, and wrap your mouth around the tip of his cock. You press some small kisses to it, a lick here and there, and try not to smirk at the hisses sounding from above you.

You feign easing in, spitting on his cock and stroking the wetness all over his length, but when you put your mouth on him again, you instantly take him entirely down your throat. It takes focus, relaxation in your mouth and a lot of breathing through your nose, but the whine that falls from Harry's lips is worth it. You pull back, smiling up at him.

"Who's desperate now?"

With that invitation to a challenge floating in the air, you take Harry back into your mouth. You bob your head back and forth, this time making up for what you haven't got in your mouth with your hands. You take him deeper and deeper, until your nose hits his pubic hair again, and his cock slightly twitches in your throat.

"Shit..." He hisses, his hips bucking forward a bit and hits the back of your throat. A moan escapes you and it vibrates on his hard cock. By the pained sound he makes, you know that Harry is close to his orgasm. A sense of pride fills you as you begin to pick up your pace, but much to your dismay, your mouth is being pulled off of his cock.

"Hey! I wasn't done yet." You begin to protest, but he turns you around and bends you forward. You grasp onto the chain link fence, your cunt absolutely dripping as he flips your dress over your ass and roughly pulls down your panties. His fingers trace over your wetness, and you bite your lip to refrain yourself from making too much noise.

"Shut the fuck up, and just take it." Harry growls, his cock lining up with your entrance and pushing into you. You let out a sigh of relief at the now familiar warmth filling you up, and as Harry starts driving into you, you find yourself driving back into him.

"This is what you wanted right? That I fuck you somewhere in the dark instead of talking to that girl inside." He tuts you, grabbing your hair and pulling your head backwards. You whine at the impact. "Such an attention whore."

"I— I was just getting a drink." You croak out, shooting forward at every hard thrust that Harry makes. The fence echoes the impact of it, and every time you are sure you are going to fall down. But your legs refuse to give out because that would mean giving out on Harry's cock sliding in and out of you the way he is right now and you'd rather give up anything else than that at the moment.

You let out a small shriek when Harry's hand flies across your cheek, the stinging sensation instantly making you more wet.

"You're a bad liar, baby." He purrs, and another slap lands on your cheeks. You let out a string of mumbling words insisting he go on and 'harder'. Harry laughs lowly, and it almost sounds evil.

"So filthy. What would your friends think if they could see you right now?" His fingers find your clit as he speaks, slowly drawing circles.

"I don't care."

The words have left your mouth before you can even realize that you, indeed, really do not care. All that you care about right now is being fucked by Harry in this alleyway and you don't care who sees or hears it. As long as you can still feel this good.

Harry sniffs, and you know he's not taking you seriously right now. For some reason, you feel the need to prove him that you are in fact being serious.

"I wouldn't care if they were standing on that parking lot, I'd still let you fuck me." You confess, and your words seem to be the fuse for the cannonball that you send flying. That cannonball being Harry, and flying meaning he starts to jackhammer into you like his life depends on it.

"F—fuck! Ah, oh. My. God. Harry!"

What should be sentences leaving your mouth are only remnants of words, and what should be thoughts in your head are only him. The smell of him, the sound of him, the feeling of him. Everything disappears around you and it's just him and his extremely big cock pounding into you.

"You're a filthy fucking slut— fuck!" He rambles, the chain link fence masking the harsh sound of your bodies colliding with each other, and the ragged breathing that comes with it.

"Yes, yes, yes, daddy!"

You haven't even really noticed the nickname until Harry's reaction makes you aware of it. He groans out and brings his hand to your cheek again before focusing back on your clit and rubbing earth shattering circles that have your legs wobble.

"Fuck... Such a dumb fucking cock slut. Daddy needs to fill you up, huh?" Every word is laced with his cockiness, but you don't miss the gruffness that his hidden underneath. Harry is close and you know it, even if he doesn't want to let it shine through too much. In response to that, you begin fucking yourself into him once again.

"Fill me up daddy."

It's a demand, not a question or a suggestion or proposition. You need it, and he does too. But Harry refuses to obey you immediately, fixating on your orgasm first.

"Soak me baby, and I'll fill you up."

The promise causes you to let go. Harry uses his free hand to clasp it over your mouth, muffling the cries that fall from your lips as you clench around him over and over, soaking him as he requested, and it seems to be the catalyst for his orgasm.

You smile to yourself as you feel him fill you up, the almost pained noises you hear from behind filling you with some sense contentment that you are afraid to find out the details about.

But maybe you should, and then throw them away. The last thing you want is to develop feelings for the man who helped break your last relationship. It isn't right.

You push the thought aside, though, as Harry slowly pulls out of you and slips your underwear over your core again. You stand up straight and adjust your dress, turning around to the guy who just fucked you within an inch of oblivion. You giggle, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the situation. Harry grins at your amusement, finding it as entertaining as you do.

When you've both made yourself decent again, helping one another with some adjustment with their hair—and with that meaning Harry adjusting the mess he made of your hair—you decide it's time to get back inside before anyone gets too suspicious.

"We shouldn't go in at the same time." You say, and Harry nods in understanding. "You should probably go first."

He eyes you for a second, then shrugs, and waves at you weakly as he walks back to the door where you both came from. As soon as he's disappeared behind the door, you let out a sigh. For a second you let the realization of what you just did kick in, and much to your surprise, a giggle falls from your lips as your initial reaction.

It's just so... stupid. But it's funny, and you're enjoying it. Maybe you should start accepting it, and maybe that should start with starting to see Harry as a friend.

With that thought and a faint smile on your face you tread back to the door and head into the bar. When you emerge from the bathroom hallway, you crash into Rebecca, who grabs your shoulders and pushes you back into the hallway.

For a moment, you think, this is it. She's found out and she is going to absolutely flip. But the distressed look on her face makes you reconsider, and out of is instinct you look behind her to the bar.

Where is Harry?

"I've had enough of tonight, shall we go home?" The hurried tone of her voice only draws in more confusion from your side.

"What's going on?" You ask, shaking her hands off your shoulders. She keeps them by her side, her eyes filled with compassion... pity maybe?

"Rebecca?" You frown, tilting your head. She huffs and throws her hands over her face.

"I'm a horrible friend!" She confesses, peering up at you from behind her hands. "Dylan is here..."

Oh.

You stare blankly at your friend, your brain seeming to malfunction on choosing a reaction. There is nothing that really comes to mind. Most everything regarding Dylan has left you kind of numb. Well, except what happened between him and Harry of course.

Harry... shit!

You strut past Rebecca, walking onto the busy dance floor, and you spot your ex, standing by the pool table with another girl. You almost want to go over to the poor girl and tell her to run, but maybe she doesn't mind being a one night stand. You hope she does, you hope she doesn't get her heart broken by him like you did.

You want to do something... pour a glass of beer over him or anything else that feels even remotely cathartic. But somehow you can't. Somehow, all you can think about while looking at the boy who once used to be your boyfriend, is what a fucking pig he is.

The betrayal, the wound that you have been tending to, the one you have let breathe and has slowly started to heal feels like it has been ripped open again. That face and his features, you haven't seen them in a while and it makes it all so real.

He cheated on you. He cheated on you with someone in the friend group while you were together. He cheated on you with Harry.

And you just had sex with Harry.

You feel sick to your stomach. What the fuck have you been doing? How have you let yourself forget what kind of a person Harry is? God, you had even started to like him! Just five minutes ago you were beginning to think you might be able to be friends with him. You've made your life such a fucking shit show.

With tears blurring your vision, you turn your head back to Rebecca and say, "You're right, let's go."

She hurries over to you and gives you a hug before escorting you out of the bar. You don't know if Dylan sees you, but if he did he doesn't seem to care.

You walk to the car and step into the passenger seat, one question floating in your mind. One you're afraid will be too vulnerable, but you take the risk of asking it anyway.

"Where's Harry?"

It almost comes out in a whisper, but it's quiet enough in the car for Rebecca to hear you anyway. She looks over at you, all sympathetic like she's been looking at you for the past months, like she'll let anything slide just because she feels bad for you.

"Home, I think. Benjamin went with him. He practically stormed out as soon as he saw Dylan."

You look down at your lap, a heavy ache filling your chest. You have no idea how to identify what you are feeling right now. There is a part of you that wants to talk to Harry, ask if he's okay. But there's this other, bigger part of you that knows he is part of what caused this entire situation in the first place. And it just fills you with such anger... you don't know where to place it, you don't know how to filter through it and you especially have no idea how to ever get past it.

How can you ever have a healthy relationship— or well, friendship, with someone who did something like that to you? And why does the impossibility of it flood you with a sadness you've never experienced before. It's like... it's like you're doomed.

What the fuck do you do now?

taglist: @hisparentsgaleryy

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Marauders and Lightning Era Masterlist

started - 08.13.2024

last updated - 09.07.2024

Total Finished works - 17

WIP- 3

Reqs: Open! Can be as specific as you'd like, or as vague as Youd like! i write both xreader and canon x canon. all LGBTQ forms of requests are welcome!

All triggers and small summaries listed in the fanfiction

Matured audience advised

HARRY POTTER and CO.

-We'll Heal Together (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort) 13/? parts Remus Lupin/Sirius Black x Reader

Part 1-9 can be read as a standalone.

Summary: Harry Potter grew up without the warmth of a family he should have known. A father in James Potter, a mother in Lily Potter, a God Father in Sirius Black, and an uncle in Remus Lupin. Oh, and let's not forget, a godmother in {Y/N} {L/N}

Alt Summary: Starts at the end of Chamber of secrets and into the Prisoner of Azkaban with the first chapter, Harry meeting his father's old friends, and starts learning the fate of {Y/N}, who has long since been presumed dead. there seems to be more of a story hidden behind her disappearance, and in turn, her reappearance.

POLY!SHIPS

-Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Part 1 Summary: You find a group of survivors who could really use your help} Part 2 Summary: Someone had been hiding something fatal} Part 3 Summary: Reader has sometime with Remus, before she is sent out alone with Sirius}

-Jily x Slytherin!Reader

Part 1 Summary: An interesting situationship with Jily}

REMUS LUPIN

-Spoiled Brat (Pt 1?) (Lil Angsty, +18, fluff)

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

-Think like a Lupin (Angsty, lotta angst, happy ending! fluff +18)

Summary: Your parents are planning to marry you off the second after you graduate, but after an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf, plans change.

-Break a Leg Not My Heart (Some angst, mostly light hearted fluff)

Summary: You get hurt during Quidditch practice and Remus doesn't leave your side. Friends to lovers.

-Meeting Royalty (Fluff, Suggestive)

Summary: Meet cute but make it royalty}

JAMES POTTER

-Fall in Love in a Night (A lil angst, basically just a fluffy fluffy love story)

Summary: College AU, Muggle AU, James falls in love with the some of the worst parts of you }

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

SIRIUS BLACK

-Casual (Angsty, fluff at the end) +18

Summary: Sirius falls for his most recent hook up, and she refuses to cave to what she wants}

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

HERMIONE GRANGER

-Invisible (Lil Angsty, basically just fluff) Blurb

Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff

MATTHEO RIDDLE

-But daddy I love him (Lil Angst, fluff)

Summary: Harry finds out his sister is dating Mattheo Riddle Ft. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius - No war au }

" Dinner Party " (Pt 2)

Summary: The Potters throw a dinner party; Mattheo meets the family} Wc- 4142

BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR

-The boy I knew {Sneak peek}

Summary- When Barty knew love

-The Boy I Knew {Part 1} (Angst, Fluff, +18)

-Traitor (Fluff, Angst) wip

Summary- The four times he should have said love, and the fifth time he lost his chance.

REGULUS BLACK

-Monarch butterfly (Hurt/comfort) wip

Summary- Monarch butterflies only live for up to six weeks. Their life brings an unspoken joy to the people who witness it, a peaceful feeling to the life that last so much longer then their own. They bring smiles to the faces of children, they bring good luck for those who choose it, they bring so much value to lives they will never truly be a part of. Your butterfly was, and always would be, Regulus black.

[x0xomady]

gold rush (pt. 2)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

part one can be found here - ✦

summary: harry and you have been secretly hooking up behind his wife’s back, and you start to feel guilty. harry isn’t going to lose you. (all characters are 18+)

warnings: 18+, NON-CON, smut, VERY manipulative behavior, breeding kink, cheating, choking, age gap, crying during sex, p in v, naive reader, pet names (daddy, pretty girl, sweetheart, etc.)

(cowboy!harry styles x femreader)

a/n: this story has DARK themes. please don’t read it if you’re not comfortable with anything mentioned. READ THE WARNINGS FIRST! also, i grew up in LA by the beach, i know NOTHING about horses, so don’t come for me if something about the horses is wrong.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“y/n, go take this down to mrs. styles. she hasn’t been feeling well so i made her some soup to soothe her throat.” your mother walks over to you and hands you a basket with some loaves of bread and a small container of soup.

your eyes widen and you try to come up with an excuse not to go.

HE was there. “uh- no i don’t think i-”

your mother shakes her head and puts the basket into your hands. “no excuses please, just take it down to their house. it’s not that much of a request.”

she had no idea how big of a request that was. it wasn’t like you hated mr. styles and their family, you just felt guilty each time you went over there.

“okay… yes mother.” you reluctantly nod and walk out the front door of the house with the basket in hand.

you trudge down the dirt path, the basket weighing heavily in your hands, not just from the soup and bread, but from the anxiety that's been building up in your chest. the cool autumn air does little to calm your nerves as you make your way down the street.

as you approach the styles' house, you notice the curtains are drawn, and the porch light is on, casting a warm glow over the front steps.

you slow your pace as you approach the styles' house, your heart sinking with each step. the warm glow of the porch light seems to mock you, making you feel like an unwelcome guest.

you hesitate for a moment, wondering if you can just turn around and go back home, but your mother's words echo in your mind, “it's not that much of a request.” you take a deep breath and continue up the path, the gravel crunching beneath your feet.

cas you reach the porch, you notice that the front door is slightly ajar. you push the door open slowly, calling out, “hello? mrs. styles?”

“oh y/n! hi sweetheart, what brings you here?” mrs. styles walks in from the other side of the room, a bright smile spreading across her face as she sees you.

she's always been kind to you, and her warm demeanor makes you feel like you're part of the family. but that sweet smile and unknowing attitude just makes the guilt grow, like a weight in your chest that's getting harder to bear.

“my mother made you some food because she heard you were sick…” you try to smile but it feels forced as you hand her the basket.

mrs. styles's eyes light up with gratitude as she takes the basket from you, and she inhales the aroma of the soup, her eyes closing in appreciation. “oh, that smells wonderful, thank you so much! your mom is always so thoughtful.”

just then the back door swung open, the sound of boots clunking against the floor making you jump slightly. your heart drops nervously as mr. styles walks in the door, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. a faint scent of woodsmoke and earth clings to him, and you feel a flutter in your chest as he nods at his wife.

“hey.” he says bluntly and looks over at you with a simple nod. how does he act so nonchalant? how is he so calm with what he does?

“hi love, i’m going to go heat up the food y/ns mother made…” she gives her husband a quick kiss on the cheek and gives you a smile.

"thank you again sweetheart." she turns to head towards the kitchen, the basket cradled in her arms.

mr. styles looks after his wife for a second, his eyes softening as he watches her disappear into the kitchen, before turning back to look at you with a blank expression.

"you busy right now?" he asks, his voice neutral, but his green eyes seeming to bore into yours, as if searching for something. you feel the nervousness and guilt hit you as you meet his gaze, your heart racing with a mix of anxiety and shame.

you hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before shaking your head, trying to appear nonchalant.

he rolls his eyes and walks back out the door, motioning for you to follow him. “cmon.”

the command is curt, but his tone is neutral, giving you no hint as to what he wants or why he's asking you to follow him. you feel a surge of trepidation as you hesitate, wondering if you should just turn around and go back home. but something about his expectant gaze makes you feel like you can't just leave.

you take a deep breath and follow him out the door, the cool autumn air enveloping you like a shroud. “mr. styles… i think i should go home.”

he doesn't respond, just keeps walking down the porch steps and onto the dirt path that leads towards the barn. you follow him, your heart racing with anticipation and guilt. the crunch of gravel beneath your feet is the only sound that breaks the silence between you.

he just shakes his head and keeps walking down the porch steps and onto the dirt path that leads towards the barn. you follow him, your heart racing with anticipation and guilt. the crunch of gravel beneath your feet breaks the silence between you. “you need to stop it with the “mr. styles.” it’s harry.”

as you walk, the barn looms ahead of you, its wooden slats weathered to a soft gray that seems to blend seamlessly into the fading light of day. the air is filled with the sweet scent of hay and the earthy smell of manure, a smell that's both familiar and comforting.

you've been to the barn many times before, but never with harry, and never with the weight of your secrets hanging between you like a challenge.

“c’mon.” he pushes open the barn door and gives you a glance before walking into the building. the sounds of horses shuffling in their stalls immediately hits your ears as you follow harry in.

harry leads you down the barn, past a few different horses, their coats glistening in the dim light that filters through the cracks of the barn walls. the smell of hay and manure fills your senses, and you can hear the sound of the horses shifting in their stalls as you pass. your heart races with each step, unsure of why he brought you here.

harry stops in front of a stall, and you see a beautiful chestnut mare looking out at you with curious eyes. she nuzzles harry's hand, and he strokes her mane, his touch gentle.

"her name is willow," he says, his voice low and soothing. "she's been having some trouble with her leg, and i need to check on her." he looks at you, his eyes serious. "i want you to help me."

you look at the horse and feel a little more at ease. maybe he just thinks it's better to forget what happened?

“okay, i’d be happy to help.” you nod and smile a little at the animal. as you draw closer, the mare sniffs at your hand, her soft breath tickling your skin. you reach out to pet her, and she nuzzles your palm, her eyes calm and gentle.

harry watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning to grab a box from a nearby shelf.

you nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you focus on the task at hand. you reach out to stroke willow's mane, and she nuzzles your hand again, her eyes closing in contentment. harry's hands move deftly as he examines her leg. you can see the tension in his shoulders, the concentration etched on his face.

as you stand there, the only sound the soft rustling of the hay and the occasional snort from one of the other horses, you feel a sense of calm wash over you.

you stand there in comfortable silence for a minute before speaking again. you distract yourself by petting willow's coat softly.

"mr. styles- sorry, i mean harry…" you say, the words catching in your throat. "can i ask, why did you ask me to do this? i know you're good with horses, you don't really need… me."

Harry pauses for a moment but then shakes it off and continues working on her leg. “‘cause you’re soft. you’re good with little things, like the baby.”

his words catch you off guard, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you continue to pet willow's soft coat. you glance up at harry, but his focus is still on willow's leg, his expression intent.

you watch as he gently manipulates her hoof, his fingers probing for any signs of injury. willow nuzzles your hand again, and you smile, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you. the tension in the air seems to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm, as if the gentle rhythm of willow's breathing has soothed your own frayed nerves.

after a few minutes, harry finishes working on her leg and stands up, pushing his hair back as he looks at the horse. "alright, all done." he nods and steps out of the stall, gesturing for you to follow.

as you exit the stall, harry turns to you, his expression serious. “c’mere for a minute”

his voice is low and gentle, but with a hint of something else beneath the surface. he leads you to a small area of the barn that's partially hidden by a stack of hay bales.

harry stops in front of you, his eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you just stare at each other. the tension between you is palpable, and you can feel the weight of your secrets pressing down on you.

you try to look away, but his gaze holds you in place, making your heart beat faster. his rough hands gently grab your jaw, and you feel the nervousness return as his fingers brush against your skin. he tilts your head up, so you're looking up at him, and his eyes search yours, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"you're not mad at me, are ya?" he asks, his voice low and husky, his words barely above a whisper. his eyes are serious, his brow furrowed in concern.

you shake your head and look up at him, his green eyes searching yours. “no… i’m not mad.”

the words slip out, almost against your will, and they hang in the air between you. in truth, you weren’t mad; you were confused, tangled in the web of unspoken words and hidden emotions that seemed to grow more complex with each passing moment.

harry’s grip on your jaw softens, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your cheekbone.

“good. ‘cause you know i didn’t mean to hurt ya, right?” he says seriously, his eyes searching yours as if seeking reassurance. “i just think you’re the prettiest little thing, and i wanted to get to know ya better.”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you process his words, your mind racing with the conflicted emotions.

the air between you crackles with an intensity that belies the quiet rustling of the hay and the distant sounds of the horses. harry's hand still cradles your jaw, his touch a warm brand against your skin.

"i don’t—" you hesitate, your voice barely above a whisper, the words heavy with the weight of your conviction. you look at him for a minute, the barn's dim light casting soft shadows across his face. "i don't want to do this anymore, it's wrong."

his eyes burning with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. you try to pull away, but his fingers dig deeper, holding you in place. the atmosphere is overwhelming, the scent of hay and sweat mingling with the sound of the horses shuffling in their stalls.

"i told you, sweetheart," he repeats, his voice low and husky, his breath whispering against your skin. "i need you to help me out. i need you to help my family out. you're just so perfect, so young and perfect."

harry's grip on your jaw tightens, his thumb tracing a soothing path along your cheekbone as he leans in closer. his breath is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“you’re so sweet," he whispers, his voice low and intense. “i need you to keep helping me out. you can do that f’me, right pretty girl?"

you feel a surge of fear, but also a strange sense of loyalty to him.

"i-i, harry, this is so wrong," you stutter, trying to push the words past the lump forming in your throat. your voice cracks as you speak, and you feel a wave of guilt wash over you as you think of his wife and baby, just down the path. the image of their faces, so full of love and trust, makes your stomach turn with nausea.

"your wife is so kind, and… and i just can't do it!" you shake your head, the motion jerky and uncontrolled, as tears begin to well up in your eyes.

harry's eyes flash with a mixture of anger and desperation as he pulls you closer, his breath hot against your skin. the scent of sweat and hay envelops you, making your stomach turn with nausea. you try to push him away, but his grip on your jaw is like a vice, holding you in place.

"breath for me," he coaxes, his thumbs gently kneading your shoulders. "it's alright. they don't know, they don't have to know. it's just you and me." his words are a gentle whisper, but they carry a weight that makes your heart heavy with guilt.

you shake your head and look up at him through teary eyes. “n-no please just let me go home.”

he holds your shoulders softly and shakes his head. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty girl. i’m gonna make you feel good, just like last time, okay?” his thumbs gently knead your shoulders as he looks down at you.

you try to pull away, but his grip is firm, yet gentle. he holds you in place, his eyes locked on yours, searching for something. you feel a lump form in your throat as you try to speak, but your voice is barely a whisper. “p-please, harry, just let me go home.”

harry shakes his head and moves his hands to hold your waist. “c’mon sweetheart, you’re okay,” he says softly, his voice a gentle whisper that makes the guilt and anxiety creep back.

his fingers dig into your skin, holding you in place as he gently pushes you back until your back hits the stacks of hay against the wall. the rough texture of the hay scratches against your skin, but you don't notice, your focus solely on harry's intense gaze.

as harry's holds you in place, you feel a surge of panic rising up, threatening to overwhelm you. your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes dart wildly around the dimly lit barn, searching for an escape. but there's none. the stacks of hay seem to close in around you, trapping you in this small, suffocating space with harry's intense gaze bearing down on you.

his eyes, a deep, piercing green, seem to bore into your soul, searching for something. you feel like a small animal, caught in the sights of a predator, unable to move or escape.

harry's gaze lingers on your face, his eyes drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

"fuck… you just get prettier and prettier every day," he mumbles to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. his eyes scan over you, taking in the tears streaming down your cheeks, the tremble of your lips, and the desperation in your eyes. his gaze is like a physical touch, making your skin crawl with unease.

as he speaks, his fingers tighten around your waist, holding you in place against the rough hay. the scratchy texture digs into your skin, a minor discomfort compared to the guilt and anxiety coursing through your veins.

his fingers wrap around your jaw, gently but firmly, tilting your head back so you're forced to meet his gaze. "not gonna hurt you… can i make you feel good, hm?" he says, his voice low and husky. 

you try to shake your head, but his grip is too firm, holding you in place. his face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin, making your heart racing with nerves.

harry's lips brush against the top of your head, and you feel a wave of unease wash over you. he gently tugs your legs apart, his fingers wrapping around your calves as he sinks down to his knees in front of you. the hay crunches softly beneath his weight, and the sound seems amplified in the tense silence.

your eyes lock onto his, and you see a flicker of something there, a spark of desire that makes your heart skip a beat. you try to push the feeling away, but it's too late.

harry's grip on your leg is firm, his thumb tracing a soothing path along your inner thigh, making you fill with a mix of anticipation and guilt. you try to close your legs, but his grip is too strong, and he pulls your sundress up, exposing your legs. he gives your thigh a warning squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours.

"shh, it's okay," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "just let me make you feel good."

you try to protest, to pull away from him, but harry's hands hold you firm, his fingers digging into your skin as he leans in closer. his lips brush against the fabric of your underwear, pressing a gentle kiss against your clothed core.

the sensation is like a spark to dry kindling, sending a feeling of surprise through your body. you gasp, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart, as your hands instinctively reach out for support. your fingers close around harry's curls, the softness of his hair a stark contrast to the roughness of the hay against your back.

harry's breath is hot against your skin, his stubble scratching gently as he plants soft kisses along your inner thigh. his hand moves away from holding your legs, and you feel a momentary relief, but it quickly vanishes as he pulls your underwear to the side.

"good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "just let daddy make you feel good."

you take a deep breath and shut your eyes, the darkness a welcome respite from the intensity of harry's gaze. his warm breath dances across your skin, sending sensations through your body as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your clit.

the sensation is like a jolt of electricity, making your body arch involuntarily as his tongue begins to circle the sensitive flesh. his lips are soft and gentle, but the pressure is insistent, coaxing a response from your body that you're desperate to suppress.

his tongue licks a heavy stripe across your folds to your clit. you feel a rush of heat as his mouth closes around the sensitive flesh, his lips suctioning gently as he begins to suckle. harry's grip on your leg tightens, holding you firmly in place as he continues to feast on your most intimate parts.

your hands, still tangled in his hair, involuntarily tug on the dark curls as your body begins to respond to his ministrations.

you desperately try to push the guilt away, the thoughts of his wife and baby just down the path threatening to suffocate you. but harry's skilled mouth is relentless, coaxing a response from your body that you're powerless to resist. you feel a wave of shame wash over you, but it's quickly replaced by a surge of pleasure as his tongue expertly circles your clit.

you open your eyes, your gaze drifting down to harry's face, his eyes locked intently on yours as he watches your reactions carefully. his green eyes are dark with desire, his pupils dilated as he sucks your sensitive button into his lips.

"h-harry" you gasp as he pushes his face farther against your cunt, his tongue delving deeper into your folds. the sensation is almost too much to bear, and you feel your body trembling above him.

harry pulls his face away for a second, his eyes locking onto yours with a serious expression. "no," he says, his voice low and firm as he watches you. "what do you call me?"

you feel a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze, your heart racing with anticipation. you try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat. harry's eyes seem to bore into yours, demanding a response.

you want to resist, to shake your head and push him away, but the memory of his insistence on the nickname is still fresh in your mind. you swallow hard, the sound audible in the silence of the barn, and whisper the word he's been waiting for. "sorry… i mean, daddy."

the moment the word leaves your lips, harry's face lights up with a triumphant smirk. he leans in closer, his breath washing over your skin, and whispers, "that's my good girl."

his lips go back to attacking your sopping entrance, the warm wetness of his mouth enveloping your sensitive flesh as you hold onto him for dear life. your fingers dig deeper into his hair, the soft curls tangling around your fingers as you try to anchor yourself to reality. you feel your body begin to tremble, the muscles in your legs tensing as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

the air is thick with the scent of hay and sweat, the smell of your own arousal mingling with the earthy aroma of the barn.

your hands clench tighter in his hair, pulling him closer as you feel yourself reaching the edge. harry's fingers dig into your thigh, holding you in place as he continues to feast on your pussy, his tongue swirling around your clit in a steady rhythm.

"i'm gonna-" you whimper out in pleasure, your hips bucking against harry's face as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. his grip on your leg tightens, holding you firmly in place as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

"yeah?" harry murmurs, his voice muffled against your core. "that's it, make a mess on me, pretty girl." he hums against your core and continues suckling the bundle of nerves harshly, his stubble sending a conflicting mess of pleasure and pain through your body. the rough texture of his chin scrapes against your sensitive skin, making you gasp as your body tenses up.

your hands, still tangled in his hair, pull him closer, urging him on as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

harry's tongue swirls around your clit, the sensation building up inside you like a wave. your hips buck against him, your breath hitching as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. harry's fingers dig into your thigh, holding you in place as he continues to suck and lick at your sensitive flesh.

the sound of your own quiet moans fill the barn, echoing in your ears as you reach your peak. your body trembles, your hands clenching in harry's hair as you come hard against his mouth.

harry smirks and licks up the arousal on his fingers before standing up and grabbing your hips. he gently, but firmly, flips you around so you’re pushed over the side of the hay bale. “that’s a good girl. you’re such a good listener now. guess all i have to do to get you to listen is get a taste of that pretty cunt, huh?”

you nod weakly and lean over the hay bale on your stomach, too fucked out to protest. your arms dangle limply over the side of the bale, your fingers brushing against the rough wooden slats.

harry smirks and pulls his pants down. he grabs your hips again tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he positions himself behind you. “you want daddy to fill you up?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

harry's eyes are serious and cold as ever as he gazes at you, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. he gently taps the head of his cock against your clit, the feeling making you jerk your hips back in overstimulation.

you nod weakly again, your eyes drifting back to his as your gaze becomes trapped in the intensity of his stare. the guilt is eating you up inside, but you can't pull away, your body seemingly frozen in a state of surrender.

ethe gentle tapping of his cock against your clit makes your legs shake from the overstimulation, and you can't help but feel a thrill of mentement mixed with the guilt that's been eating away at you. your hips jerk back again, involuntarily, as he continues to tease you, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

harry's expression doesn't change, but his eyes seem to gleam with a knowing light, as if he's aware of the effect he's having on you.

he presses the head of his cock against your tight entrance, and you can feel yourself tensing up in anticipation.

"good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "open up for daddy." he kicks your foot lightly to move your legs open more, and you comply.

he slowly pushes himself inside you, and you gasp at the sensation of being filled up. your body trembles as he starts to move inside you, his thrusts slow and deliberate. you can feel the rough texture of his pants against your thighs, and the sound of his heavy breathing fills the barn.

harry groans out in pleasure and holds your hips tightly as he fucks you from behind. "oh shit- you always have the tightest cunt." he shuts his eyes and quickens his thrusts, bringing your hips back to fuck on his length.

you feel yourself getting close to the edge again, your body responding to his every movement. your hands grip the hay bale tightly as you feel the familiar wave of pleasure building up inside you. harry's fingers dig into your skin as he continues to thrust into you, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "such a good listener for helping me out." he pushes your hips back against the hay and thrusts harder, hitting the spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

you let out a moan as the sensation washes over you, your body trembling with pleasure. harry's words are like fuel to the fire, making you feel a mix of shame and excitement.

"you'd be such a good mama for me, wouldn't you? you'd take daddy's babies and be such a good mom."

your eyes widen and you shake your head, looking over your shoulder at harry. "n-no harry. you can't- not inside!"

harry shakes his head and pushes you against the hay harder as he thrusts to the hilt. "don't tell me what to do. be a good girl and take what daddy gives you."

you feel a sense of panic rise up in you, your heart pounding in your chest. you can feel harry's cock throbbing inside you, and you know that he's close. you try to push back against him, but he holds you in place with a firm grip on your hips.

you cry out and hold onto the wood frame of the barn tightly as he thrusts harder, the sound of his heavy breathing and your own ragged gasps filling the air. tears cloud your vision from the pleasure, panic, and humiliation of what's happening. "p-please!" you beg, your voice shaking with desperation, but harry just grunts in response, his thrusts becoming more frenzied.

his fingers dig deeper into your skin, and you can feel the rough texture of his pants against your thighs as he pounds into you.

despite your protests, the feeling of your orgasm approaches rapidly, the stimulation from harry's pants against your clit and his hard thrusts making the feeling climb quickly.

you try to push back against him, but he holds you in place with a firm grip on your hips. his cock throbs against your walls. the sound of his heavy breathing and your own ragged gasps fill the air, and you can feel the sweat dripping down your back.

your legs shake as the pleasure builds up, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. harry hums in satisfaction as he pushes you back down on the hay bale, “good girl. just take daddy’s load, pretty girl.”

you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm overtakes you, your body trembling with ecstasy. harry groans and thrusts to the hilt, your throbbing cunt milking him dry. the warm feeling of harry’s cum filling your walls sends feelings of panic and guilt through your body.

as harry continues to thrust, you can feel his cock pulsing inside you, releasing every last drop of his cum. you moan loudly, your body still trembling from the intense orgasm. harry holds you in place, his fingers digging deep into your skin, as he empties himself completely inside you.

once he's finished, he pulls himself out and pulls his pants back up. he pulls your panties back up to keep anything from falling out and lets your dress fall back down your legs.

"see? so easy to listen instead of whining like a brat," he says, watching your body recover from the activities.

you feel the shame and guilt hit you like a train as you realize what just happened. you can feel harry's cum still inside you, and you know that there's no going back now.

“now go make sure my wife doesn’t need help with dinner before you head home.” he simply pats you on the head before walking out of the barn.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

sorry it took so long to get this one out! i hope you guys liked it

-💋

[starboye]

movies

(fics ive made)

*updated regularly

smut = ★

angst = 🏹

fluff = 🍥

Rafe Cameron-

First Timer★

Dealer!Rafe Cameron★

The Cameron Boys★

A Night to Remember★

Please be Mine★

Satisfaction★

Sleepy Convos★

Risky Call★

Morning Rafey★

Jj Maybank-

Yard Worker!Jj Maybank★

Double Team★

Nate Jacobs-

jealousy, jealousy★🏹

brat★

A Feeling Unknown🍥

My Cum Toy★

Nick Nelson-

Cheater★🏹

Cheater pt2★🏹

Cheater pt3★🏹

Cheater pt4🏹

Charlie Bushnell-

Fair Date★🍥

Vinnie Hacker-

Streamer Head★

Drunk Fun★

Sly Boy★

Birthday Present★

Bryce McKenzie-

Addicted★

Kj Apa-

Model★

Breed Me★

Free Use★

Baby By Me★

Matt Sturniolo-

Beach Day🍥

Morning Horny★

Quickie★

Movie Night Teaser★

My Nerdy Boy★

First Time★

Harry Collett-

Video game Lover★

Charles Leclerc-

Need Love★

Chris Sturniolo-

Gamer🍥

Movie Night Gone Right★

You're Mine★

Overstimulation★

Stream Tease★

David Corenswet-

Daddy's Boy★

Manu Rios-

Work For It★

Harry Styles-

Make Up or Make Out★🍥

Ross Lynch-

Double Trouble★

Dylan Minnette-

Double Trouble★

Shower Time★

Steve Rogers-

First Date★🍥

The Boys-

Table Talk★

Drew Starkey-

Hot Jealousy★

An Award of my Own★

Your Brothers Best Friend★

Nico Greetham-

Sweaty Love★

Noah Beck-

Rough Love★

Chris Hemsworth-

My Boy★

John B-

Double Team★

Prince Henry-

My Good Side🍥

Ryan Reynolds-

Tease★

Brady Hepner-

Wild Side★

My Use★

Sam Golbach-

Newly Weds★🍥

Colby Brock-

Newly Weds★🍥

Tanner Buchanan-

Edged★

Chris Evans-

Lesson Learned★

Ryan Garcia-

Breakfast in Bed★

Ethan Landry-

Ghost 🏹

Eijiro Kirishima-

Gamer Fuel★

Katsuki Bakugo-

Gamer Fuel★

Jacob Elordi-

Free Use★

Jack Harlow-

A Want★

Scott Summers-

Time Fucked★

Stiles Stilinski-

A Dream Cum True★

Richard Madden-

Work Pet★

Steve Harrington-

Gay For You★

Hughie Campbell-

Shy Boy★

Bellamy Blake-

Supply Collectors★

Jensen Ackles-

Hard Worker★

Prince Ben-

New Kid★🍥

Harry Hook-

New Kid★🍥

Rudy Pankow-

My First Time★🍥

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

Bf Headcanons★🍥

Phone Sex★

A Gift★

Captain Price-

Bratty★

Chace Crawford-

Co-Star Fun★

Bill Skarsgard-

Affair★

Dick Grayson-

Wounds★🏹

Robby Keene-

Winner Winner★

Noah Centineo-

Bed Breaker★

Jake Gyllenhaal-

Spiderman Far From Done★

Tom Holland-

Spider Man Far From Done★

Wolverine-

Fucked Senseless★

Hole Used★

Deadpool-

Hole Used★

Joe Goldberg-

My Husband🏹

Lip Gallagher-

New Feeling🍥

Rome Flynn-

My Bitch★

Joe Burrow-

Letting Off Some Steam★

Charles Melton-

Gym Bros★

[wolfpants]

some fics I have been enjoying recently - wolf's reading list: june favourites 📚

As June draws to a close, I'm thrilled to say that both my reading and writing have picked up significantly after nearly a year of poor focus and general scatterbrained chaos. Hurrah! It's been a joy to ease back into the fandom, especially with so many wonderful fics to explore. Here are some I've devoured over the past month or so!

9 to 5 📆

E, HP, Drarry, 2.5k | @oknowkiss

Draco Malfoy hates Mondays.

“The Ministry will be breached. You’ll be caught in the crossfire.” Potter smiles crookedly. “Wrong place, wrong time. Funnily enough.” Draco swallows. “Hilarious.” “I’m keeping you here. For now.” Potter says. “Alive.”

-

Crush 🌶️

E, HP, Drarry, 8.2k | @citrusses

Harry Potter has a secret admirer. Harry's pretty sure that if this person figures out what an idiot he's capable of making of himself, they'll lose interest. So he turns to Draco Malfoy, reformed nemesis and stylish lawyer, for guidance.

“Malfoy,” Harry says. “Kiss me.” Malfoy winces. “Stop calling me that.” “Oh,” Harry says. “Sorry. Kiss me… Daddy?” “You absolute, clinically hopeless, fucking moron.”

-

Find New Ways 🫧

M, HP, Drarry, 3.6k | @skeptiquewrites

First comes marriage.

"We're married.” Draco trailed fingertips in the water, watching the little eddies in their wake. Harry's fingers curved around his ribcage. “We are.” The feeling in Draco's chest was too weighty for words, but he tried. “You’ll make a good husband.” The question of whether Draco would was outstanding.

-

Know Your Enemy 🗡️

E, HOTD, Daemon/Aemond, 2.4k | memequeen1127

Daemon follows Aemond after he storms out of the feast.

It is quite enjoyable, Aemond showing how unaffected he is by his nephew’s attempts to hurt him. He feels a thrill from emulating his uncle’s easy power. It’s the best outlet for his desire he’s found today. If Aemond can’t fuck him, then at least he can be him.

-

like some small animal that only comes out at night 🚾

E, HP, Drarry, 943 | @maesterchill

Unspeakable Malfoy and Auror Potter hook up in the bathroom at a Ministry charity event.

“Meet me in the gents,” Potter instructs, his whisper barely audible over the bustle around us, but so authoritative and unambiguous that it’s all I can do not break into a run.

-

Twenty-Two Cards 🃏

(Series) E, HP, Drarry, 108k | peu_a_peu

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case. (plus more!)

"Only one bed," Harry observed. "Guess you're on the floor, then," Malfoy said, throwing his cloak on it. "You're not even going to offer to share?" "Fuck off," Malfoy said, and then proceeded to use all the hot water for his shower. Harry resigned himself.

-

your braids like a pattern 🌳

E, HP, Drarry, 31.1k | @hoko-onchi-writes

Harry runs a camp. Malfoy is the new counsellor, and he's driving Harry to the brink of insanity.

“Why do you keep bothering me? Coming back and talking to me? I’ve been nothing but an arsehole to you. And you—you keep coming back.” Harry doesn’t mention that Malfoy is eye-fucking him on a regular basis because he doesn’t need to open that Pandora’s box. Not right now. “Oh, you are an arsehole. But I’m mercilessly fucked up, and I find it so endearing.”

-

That's all folks! I'll try and make this a regular thing at the end of every month. What should I read next? Recs always welcome! 💖