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#dom!harry smut
freedomfireflies · 13 days
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Teenage Dirtbag*
Summary: The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, gag, exhibitionism if you squint, fratrry, not suitable for Ramadan!
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“Okay, next question. What is the Albedo Effect?”
“27.”
“Harry, come on.”
“What?”
“I need an answer.”
“That is an answer. Maybe not to this question, but it’s an answer to some question.”
Your expression falls flat as you toss a piece of popcorn at him. “H, seriously.”
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“We are.”
“No, actually studying.” You toss another piece at him, which he catches in his mouth. “Harry—"
“The Albedo Effect is the reflectivity of the Earth’s surface,” he finally says before grinning smugly. “There. Happy?” 
“Mm.”
“Since I got it right, do I win a kiss?”
“No. You win another question,” you say before switching to the next notecard. “Okay, what is the average temperature of the Earth’s surface?”
“27.”
“Harry.”
He laughs before he’s reaching across the bed to grab the stack of notebooks, cards, and books all over your lap. Effortlessly discarding of them while leaning toward you to ghost his lips over yours. “59 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Your lashes flutter. You want to argue. Want to fight him and demand your things back. But it’s hard when he’s this close. “Um…right.”
He smiles, mouth dangerously tempting as it dances along the curve of your jaw. “Give me another.”
“I…” You swallow. “I can’t. You stole my cards.”
“Oh, did I? Oops.”
“You’re mean.”
“Yeah. But you like me.”
“Not right now.”
“Yes now. Always.”
You huff. “I’m not…I’m not kissing you until we finish studying—”
“Well, I’m not studying until you kiss me.”
“Harry—”
“What, angel?”
You fist his shirt. You mean to push him away and yet somehow, he ends up even closer. “I didn’t invite you over for this.”
“I know.” He smirks again. “This is just a bonus.”
“We agreed to study.”
“We are.”
“Jessica’s gonna be back soon—”
“So?”
“So, you know you can’t be here when she gets here,” you remind him, finally finding the strength to shove him back. “Come on, a few more questions and then we can take a break.”
“You said that a few questions ago,” he argues.
You grab the cards. “Oops.”
Fifteen minutes go by before you finally reach the end of your notes, earning a loud sigh from your study buddy as he flops onto his back in defeat. 
“That was awful,” he declares. His head rolls until his eyes find yours. A soft green beneath those long lashes. “You take way too many notes.”
“I like to be prepared,” you pout as you stand and put them back on your desk. “You don’t take nearly enough.”
“Because I have you.”
“Yeah, well…that’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I’m helping you use them.”
You turn around and place your hands on your hips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He sits up and reaches for you. Easily tugging you between his legs as you try—futilely—not to fall for that gorgeous grin. “And yet you keep me around.”
“Mm…for now.”
“For now, huh?” His large hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you do nothing to stop him. “You just use me for my cock, is that it? Cause I’m a good fuck?”
Your skin grows warm as you look away. “Stop it, don’t say it like that.”
“What? M’I embarrassing you, pretty girl?” he whispers. He squeezes your sides, palms soft against your stomach. “Which part did it? Cock or fuck?”
You close your eyes and groan. “Harry—”
“What? They’re just words, baby.”
“Yeah, but they’re dirty words.”
He’s grinning again. Arrogant and far too smug. “I’ve seen this pretty mouth do far dirtier things—”
You bury your face in your hands to hide. “Please don’t remind me—”
“Why not? Hm? You don’t wanna remember the way you took me down your throat like a good girl?” He lifts your shirt and presses a gentle kiss just below your belly button. “Or what about the way you scratched your nails down my back as you came? Crying my name until your voice went raw?”
“Harry…”
“What about when I fingered you under the table?” he murmurs, then moves his kisses up your torso. One after the other. Slow. “And you had to bite your cute, little lip to keep from moaning?”
You start to squirm. “H…H, please—”
“What about the time I bent you over that desk—” He nods his chin toward the table in the corner of your dorm room. “—and made you cum so hard, you squirted.”
You make another noise and melt into his touch. They’re good memories, you know that. But they do unspeakable things to your anxiety. Just the thought of what someone might say…the idea of what the two of you have done. You weren’t raised to think or feel so freely and Harry is a master at making you nervous.
You’ve done more with him than you ever have anyone else. More than you imagined you’d ever do. And even if you wouldn’t trade it for the world, you can’t say you really welcome the reminder.
His kisses reach your chest. Naked and bare and begging to be touched. “You can be dirty, too, pretty girl.” 
Your hand finds his hair. Fingers sweeping through his soft curls that are normally restrained by some sort of beanie or bandana. “H…”
He hums. He knows he’s embarrassing you. But you suppose that’s why he does it. 
The small room falls silent, save for the gentle sounds of his kisses as they move toward your breast. His tongue is dangerously close and you know if he gets his way, you’ll never get anything else done.
However, just before those pretty pink lips can make contact, you hear the sound of your roommate’s voice down the hall. Loud enough to startle you and pull you out from between his legs.
Quickly, you’re tugging your shirt back down and grabbing his hand to lead him to the window. Nearly shoving him out onto the fire escape before he’s even had a chance to catch his breath.
“Go,” you whisper as you toss his flannel at him. “Hurry.”
“You know, as much as I like being your dirty little secret, you know she’s gonna find out eventually,” he says while dipping beneath the window frame until he’s completely out of the room.
“I know. But today is not that day.”
Once you’re sure she won’t see him, you get ready to close the curtains. But you’re stopped by his large hand slipping around the back of your neck as he yanks your mouths together. Finally getting the kiss he so desperately wanted.
“You’re still coming to the party this Friday, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.
You kiss him back just once before you’re shoving at him again. “We’ll see,” you call.
He winks.
With that, the window slams shut, and he disappears into the darkness. Right as Jessica slips inside the room and begins to tell you about her incredibly long day.
And every trace of Harry has gone.
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“Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. And if we hate it, we can leave.”
“All right, fine,” you agree, begrudgingly following your friend into the large, familiar house that sits a few miles outside of campus. “Ten. But if I get a single drink spilled on me…I’m out.”
“Deal.”
You laugh as Jess throws her arm around your shoulders to lead you inside, shoving past the group of college students already gathering in the living room.
Every inch of the house is packed full of people. The music is loud, the smell of weed is strong, and a lively game of cup pong is being had down the hall. Truth be told, this scene always tends to catch you off guard. No, this isn’t your first party. But you were raised in a world and in a home where drugs and alcohol were never present. 
You don’t mind being around them or watching people participate, but the concept is still rather foreign to you. Even if Harry’s presence in your life is beginning to change that.
Speaking of, you can’t help but search for him as Jessica drags you from room to room. You imagine he’s around somewhere. After all, this is his frat house, and you’ve never known him to miss a party.
But with the football game happening tomorrow night, you wonder if he’ll be out practicing or if he’ll be here with his teammates, pre-gaming.
You catch a glimpse of his red, backwards baseball cap as you’re leaving the kitchen. He’s across the house, clad in a black, graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, leaning against the wall as he talks to one of his friends.
He’s nodding along to something they’re saying, taking slow sips of whatever’s in his solo cup while lazily looking around.
And that’s when he finds you.
Even with all these people, you feel like the only two in the room. And you catch the way he smiles. A soft, secret smirk meant just for you. And a gleam in his eye as he takes another sip and returns to his conversation.
He’s glad you’re here and honestly, you think you are, too.
“Oh, Zack, there you are!” Jessica suddenly exclaims before she’s yanking you toward one of the guys on Harry’s team. “Zack, this is the friend I was telling you about.”
A bit confused, you and Zack exchange a nod as your roommate begins the excited introductions.
“This is the guy I wanted to set you up with,” she whispers under her breath before straightening up. “So, uh, Zack! You’re single, right?”
Even more surprised, Zack blinks as his attention drifts to you. He hesitates, and for just a moment, you wonder if he recognizes you.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this house. And it’s not the first time you’ve met Zack. However, you and Harry have been rather diligent about keeping your visits a secret, even from the other boys that live here.
Still, Zack almost caught you once when you were forced to hide in the shower as he brushed his teeth. And even though he didn’t seem to notice, Harry mentioned that he did see the earrings you accidentally left behind. The same earrings he proceeded to tease Harry about for the next week.
And the same earrings you’re wearing now.
But, if he’s begun to put two and two together, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m kind of seeing Annie. I guess.”
You smirk. “You guess?”
“I mean, we’re fucking,” he argues. “But, like…I wouldn’t say we’re together. But she would. I don’t know. But she’d be fucking pissed if I went out with someone else.”
To your surprise, Zack seems to be covering for you. Because you happen to know Annie is actually seeing Derek. She and Zack never got past the drunk-fuck phase, but it seems Jessica doesn’t realize the lie being told. That, or she’s lost interest.
“Oh, boo,” she pouts before turning to you. “Well, I tried. Sorry, babe.”
You laugh. “More than all right. I’m…I’m gonna go use the bathroom and maybe look for some water. I’ll meet you here in a bit?”
“Yes! Text me! Or call me. Or…just yell my name really loud,” she says, already slipping into the next room. “Whenever you wanna go, we will, okay? Seriously.”
“Got it,” you call. And with that, the two of you split. Leaving you to look for the only man you really care to see.
He’s no longer talking to his friend and doesn’t seem to be in the lower part of the house. So, you make your way to the next floor. Shoving past couples making out on the staircase and groups doing blow in the bathroom.
He might be in his room, although that’s perhaps a little too obvious. You still aren’t ready for people to know that the two of you are…well, whatever you two are. And you can’t imagine he is, either. Not considering his reputation and the other girls he’s been with before. 
Compared to them, you’re just…you.
Swallowing your own disappointment, you continue down the hall in search of him when a large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm and yanks you into a bedroom.
You aren’t surprised that it’s him. You aren’t even surprised that he’s brought you back to his room. You are, however, rather confused by the giddy grin on his face.
“You came,” he whispers before he’s shoving you against the closed door and kissing you hard. “Been waiting all fucking night to see you.”
You’re breathless. You always are when you’re with him, but this…now. His kiss, his touch, his voice. The sultry way he speaks that goes straight to the place between your thighs.
“Missed you,” he says. He sucks on the spot below your ear. “God, I really fucking missed you, angel. You have no idea.”
“You saw me this morning,” you remind him. “And for lunch in your car.”
“S’too long,” he argues. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”
You grin. Even if you know he’s merely being cute, you can’t help but believe him. “Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it. Besides, you think I wanna watch Zack fucking hit on you all goddamn night?”
You lean back. “You saw?”
“Course I fucking saw. Could hear that shit-eating grin from outside,” he huffs before he’s kissing you again, as if to prove a point. Either to you or to himself. “But he wouldn’t if you’d just let me take you on a proper date.”
“H…”
“Yeah, I know.” His kisses get softer. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, I…I get it,” you sigh against his cheek. “I just…it’s hard—”
He takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “I know, angel. M’not pushing, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 
You squeeze his wrists and smile. You sometimes find yourself surprised by how willing he is to be seen with you. You aren’t sure why, but you always assumed he’d be ashamed. That he’d be the one to want to hide. To lock you away and keep your rendezvous a secret. 
And maybe you like it this way because you’re afraid. Because you’re worried that once he sees how odd the two of you look together, he won’t want you anymore. That the relentless teasing and comparisons will drive him to end things.
And you’ll be devastated.
Perhaps sensing where your mind has gone, Harry resumes his work on your throat, efficiently distracting you. You happily relinquish your overthinking to him and his intentions, and it feels good. You used to be scared of being touched, of being loved. But it’s becoming easier with him. A routine you wouldn’t trade for the world.
He begins to pull you toward his bed. It’s made for once, which you have to admit impresses you. Harry doesn’t tend to devote his time to things he doesn’t think matter. Like cleaning his space, taking notes, or worrying about his classes. Somehow, he manages to pass every semester, keeping his spot on the football team, while you struggle to keep up even with all the time in the world.
Half the time you suggest studying together, it’s because you’d actually like his help.
“Wait…wait, Har,” you murmur as he sits onto the mattress and begins to pull you in a straddle over his thighs. “Wait, not…not when you’ve been drinking—”
“Haven’t,” he exhales against your mouth. “S’just Sprite. Coach doesn’t let us drink before a game.”
Almost relieved, you lift a brow. “But he doesn’t mind a wild party?”
He smirks. “Technically, we’re not supposed to do that either. But…I kind of live here, so…”
“Ah.” You dip down and press your lips to his softly. “Then I guess you just don’t have a choice, huh?”
“Nope.” He moves his hands to your waist, subtly grinding your body over his until you both groan. “Besides. I’d much rather be here with you than down there with them.”
“Mm. That’s the right answer,” you tease as he laughs and slips his fingers under your dress. 
You know this dance by now. You even enjoy it when Harry’s at the lead. He knows what he’s doing, even if you don’t. And he knows just how to teach you. Show you. Guide you. 
You take a deep breath and let yourself submit. Let his hands roam, his thighs flex. Let his mouth travel down your neck and to the curve of your shoulder. He slips the strap down until he has more room and then he moves for your chest. Hungry kisses meant to devour you.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers, tongue licking a stripe along the top of your breast. “Wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?”
Your lashes flutter. “Thought…thought it would be easier.”
“Easier?” He glances up, smirk devious. “You wanted me to have easy access to your pretty pussy?”
The vulgar language brings a fervent heat right to your face. You glance away out of habit, but he doesn’t let you this time. Instead, he pinches your chin tight between his fingers and forces your attention back.
“Is that right, angel?” he asks again, firm.
You swallow. “…yes.”
“Mm. Good girl,” he mumbles before moving his hand to your tit. Squeezing it gently while wrapping his lips over your nipple. “Or maybe you’re my naughty girl tonight. Yeah? Wearing something so sinful. Just for me.”
You nod quickly as your nails scratch down his scalp. “Just for you.”
“Mhm. Not Zack.”
“No. No, not Zack.”
He simpers at the sound of your breathless whines. Enjoying the way your hips roll against his. The way your naked thighs feel against his clothed ones. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Let me have a little taste?”
Your stomach flips. Harry has introduced you to a world of pleasure you never knew possible, but you still can’t deny that it makes you feel vulnerable. The way your body is put on display for him. Accessible to his tongue, his hands, his…
You close your eyes and force a nod. You just won’t think about it. You’ll let him have his taste and then he’ll start. You understand the science behind it. Your body needs to be properly lubricated before he can begin. And it’s not exactly a step you care to skip, even if it does make you nervous.
He grins at your reaction before he’s leaning back onto the bed and dragging you up toward his face, that bright red hat falling off in the process.
He’s mentioned this position before. Apparently, it’s his favorite, but it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. You don’t understand the mechanics. How you’re meant to surrender control but also keep from crushing his pretty face beneath your weight.
“Angel,” he calls, pulling you back. “What did I say last time, hm?”
“I…I know, I just…” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You won’t,” he promises yet again. “You can’t. I know what I’m doing, yeah? Trust me. Just let me do this, I’ve got you.”
And you know that he does. So, surrendering your inhibitions, you let him place you just where he wants before he nods at you to pull your underwear to the side.
You do. Fingers shaking as you drag the damp fabric away and present yourself to his tongue. You want to look away. Want to hide from the growing look of hunger in his eyes, but he’s already sucking on you before you can.
And once he starts…things don’t seem so bad.
His tongue is magic. His lips are divine. Even his hands are wonderful with the way they hold you still. 
You think you could spend a lifetime against his mouth. Live here, die here. Do anything and be anything he wanted so long as he never stopped.
“Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” he says after a moment, and you almost miss it over the faint thumping of music outside his room. “You okay?”
You nod, fingers back between his curls as you brace yourself. “Yes…yes, I’m…I’m all right. Am I…am I too—”
“No,” he says simply. “No, you’re perfect. Don’t move. M’having so much fun.”
And you don’t doubt that he is. His eyes are closed and he’s feasting on you like he’s been starved his whole life. His entire face is between your folds, licking, sucking, nipping. Wet sounds that are somehow louder than the noise outside. 
You can’t help the way you groan. The way you say his name and shake in his hands. It’s too much and you’re still unsure how to handle so much ecstasy.
But he knows. And he keeps you planted on his tongue until you’ve nearly soaked his entire face. And then…he stops. Seconds before you can find that sweet release and you gasp as he pops off and scoots you back.
“What…what did I do?” you pant.
He laughs while he sits up, cupping your cheek in his palm before pulling you forward for a kiss. “Nothing,” he whispers, and the taste of you on his lips makes your insides twist. “I told you, you’re perfect. I just have something else in mind.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twist together. “Do you…do you want me to…?”
He smiles again then shakes his head. “Not this time, pretty girl. You know I don’t always expect that, right? I don’t eat you out just so you’ll suck me off.”
“I…I know.”
“Good. I eat you out because I fucking love it.” Another kiss. “And not just to get you wet.”
You feel your features scrunch, the urge to hide much stronger. “I know.”
“And I don’t want you to forget. I love watching you take me down your throat, but only when and if you want to. Tonight, I thought we could maybe try something we haven’t yet.”
“Oh…”
His eyes settle on yours. “I want you to ride me.”
Your lips part. “You…oh.”
“We’ve talked about that before, yeah?” He sweeps his thumb across your cheek. “About if you think you’d be comfortable?”
“Yeah, we…yeah. I…I don’t mind. I just…I don’t know…”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll show you, hm? We can just try it and see how you feel. And if you don’t like it, we can do something else.”
It’s a good plan. A solid plan, and even if you’re unsure, you can’t help but feel excited. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats happily before scooting back toward the headboard. “All right, can you take me out, angel?”
Eagerly, you agree, crawling after him until your fingers find his jeans. Seeing such a massive dick always tends to surprise you, but you find that you feel more confident now than you did before. He’s beautiful, every inch of him. And he seems to love the way you touch him. The way you look at him, admire him.
And that’s your favorite part.
“Good girl,” he coos as you reach inside his boxers to wrap your palm around him. “Not so shy anymore, hm?”
You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you release him from his pants. 
He laughs. “I can see that. Can you give me your hand, pretty girl?”
You oblige and he pulls your palm to his mouth before he’s spitting directly in the center. A large wad that sits snugly in your hand before he drops it back down to his cock and nods at you to continue.
You drag the wet substance up and down his rather impressive length until he’s glistening. He’s already quite hard, but your delicate strokes seem to get him the rest of the way. Until he’s standing straight up and nearly leaking. 
“Good,” he says again, a tad breathless. “So fucking good at that, you know?”
You smile. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Mhm.” He chuckles. “Then can you show me how good you are at putting me in?”
You nod fervently. The academic overachiever in you is always anxious to prove yourself to him. To show that you’ve learned, you’ve improved. That you’re worthy of his time and his body. 
You use one hand to guide him and the other to keep your panties to the side. He, in turn, makes sure to lift your dress high enough that you can both see and the moment his tip makes contact with your throbbing clit, you whimper.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re all right. Go ahead and tap it a couple times, yeah?”
Forcing your pulse to steady, you do. The heavy appendage seems to taunt you as you pat it against your pussy and the sensitive nerves that make your legs shake. But it feels like heaven and even Harry has to take in a labored breath as he watches.
The two of you rarely use condoms these days. You did when you first started, but after getting tested and being assured that you were the only person he was sleeping with, you decided to try just once without.
And you know the risks. Know it’s rather idiotic to tempt fate the way you do. The pill isn’t a guarantee, and you know neither one of you are ready to be parents.
But after feeling him…feeling all of him…you became addicted. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eager to feel him again. And again. And again. 
And now, well…now you don’t think you can go without.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Just like that. S’it feel good?”
“Mm…mhm.”
“Good. Go on, baby, put me in now.”
With his help, you lift up and guide his large head toward your hole. Slowly pushing it in while dropping yourself down.
“Fuck,” he exhales through a groan. “Shit, just like that. You okay? S’it hurt?”
You shake your head. You don’t have the strength to speak.
“Okay. Keep going.”
You do. A steady pace that seems to torture you both until the whines and cries slip out before you can stop them. 
“Goddamn, angel,” he grits. “Shit, you feel so fucking good. You still all right? Know what to say if you’re not?”
“Ye—yeah.”
“Attagirl. Okay, baby, I want you to lift up now, yeah? Nice and slow.”
Doing your best not to tremble, you raise back up and feel the way his thick cock seems to stretch you open. The way it travels through your body, making you feel empty without it. 
And once you’re near the tip, he pulls you back down, and you start again. 
The speed is tediously languid. It almost hurts and the noises tumble from your lips one after the other without pause.
Your thighs burn. Your core burns. Every inch of you seems to be screaming, yet Harry doesn’t break a sweat.
“Doing so good,” he praises again. He pulls at your jaw until you kiss him. “Know it’s hard, but you look so good riding my cock right now.”
You only mewl. Loud and incoherent. 
He releases your cheek to reach for something on the nightstand beside him. Something you don’t see through your hazed vision until he begins to unwrap it and bring it to your mouth.
His bandana.
It’s his favorite one, too. The white one, with little back details on it. But you aren’t exactly sure what he expects you to do with it now…until he smirks.
“M’gonna put this in your mouth,” he says before resting it on your lips. “Gotta keep you quiet since I didn’t lock the door. Don’t want anyone to hear you and come lookin’, hm?”
Your eyes widen as you gape at him. “Harry—”
“Sorry. S’just too distracted.” He grins. “Open up, pretty girl.”
Rather excitedly, you obey. Giving him just enough room to slip the fabric between your teeth until you can clamp down and he can fasten it in a knot against the back of your head.
“There you go,” he declares when he’s through. “Now you can be as loud as you want, yeah?”
You nod.
“Mm.” He dips down to start kissing at your chest. “Can you keep going, baby? Or do you need me to take over?”
Your lashes flutter.
“I know,” he coos when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. “S’hard, isn’t it? My angel’s getting tired, huh?”
Another nod, slower.
“Okay,” he chuckles. He grabs onto your hips and straightens up. “Okay, I’ll fuck you.”
Just like that, he resumes the pace you set. Using every muscle in his thighs and abdomen to fuck his cock up into you and leave you a wilting, blubbering mess.
The poor bandana becomes soaked as he pounds into you. Faster and faster while your body shakes and drool pools at the sides of your mouth. 
Your whimpers sound shuddered now. In tune with his fast thrusts and the wet, lewd cacophony of your bodies connecting. Pornographic in nature yet somehow…euphoric. 
He sucks your tit back into his mouth and you clutch onto his scalp. Nails scratching at his neck, shoulders, and chest until you feel your orgasm coming up on you once more. 
And he feels it, too. Features twisting at the way you clench around him. The way your body draws him in, treats him right. He’s obsessed and he’s told you as much. Even with the level of stamina he possesses, he can never seem to last all that long when it comes to you.
“Fucking hell,” he groans before he’s tightening his hold on your waist. “Shit, s’it feel good? Like being on top, angel?”
You nod and press your forehead to his. Even if it’s rather exhausting, you can feel him in places you couldn’t before. Nudging against your g-spot until you see stars and have to physically fight the urge to cum. 
“No, don’t,” he pants, seeming to sense it. “Want you to cum. Right now, baby. Okay? Let me feel you first.”
Even if you wanted to argue, you can’t. The low, graveled instruction goes straight to your cunt and you cum before you can stop yourself. Drenching his cock, his thighs, your thighs. You sway, go limp in his hold. Until you’re slumping against his chest as he fucks you through every second of it.
“There,” he praises, large hand rubbing up and down your back. “God, you’re fucking good at that. Love the way you cum for me. S’fucking heaven.”
You know he’s close. And you know he won’t finish inside you, instead wasting his offering on his stomach or somewhere else.
So, you get an idea. You pull off him as best you can while he hisses and resists the temptation to release inside you before you slip the bandana back out and crawl down his lap.
Then, you take him in your mouth. It only takes two sucks before he’s grabbing at your neck and finishing down your throat. The warm, sticky substance familiar and far too thrilling. 
He cums and he cums until you’ve nearly sucked him dry and his tired body melts into the bed.
He whispers your name and fights to keep his eyes open so he can gaze at you. Then, he tugs on you. “Come here.”
He kisses you. Tongue and teeth clashing in a messy exchange, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Moans into your mouth and pulls you against his heart until you can both catch your breath.
You revel in the post-orgasm glow. Body’s abuzz and slightly sweaty from the workout. But you wouldn’t trade this ache in your joints for anything. 
And you realize you wouldn’t trade him, either. 
“You okay?” he murmurs after a moment.
You hum. “Yeah. M’tired.”
“Yeah,” he echoes with a gentle laugh. “It was fun, though, right?”
“Mhm. Very.”
“Think you’ll wanna do it again?”
“Maybe,” you admit. “As long as you do all the work again.”
His laugh is louder this time. “Deal. Or maybe we’ll just have to work out your muscles until you can do it all on your own.”
“Mm…unlikely.”
“But maybe.”
“Maybe not.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Might hurt.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He smiles. “Can you stay tonight?”
“I don’t know. Jess might be looking for me.”
“Tell her you’re staying.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell her who you’re with.”
“H,” you sigh. “She thinks I’m a virgin prude. If she knows I’m staying, she won’t let it go until she finds out who I stayed with.”
The room falls silent. You feel him sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
You glance up. “I’ll tell her one of these days, I promise. I just…I wanna keep you to myself. Just a little longer.”
His grin splits his face. “Good. Think I might wanna keep you, too.”
He kisses you again. Soft, slow, sensual. Filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say out loud. And long enough to leave you breathless.
Until the door opens.
And Zack walks in.
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God I love fratrry 😭💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry
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1800titz · 2 months
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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)
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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.
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jarofstyles · 12 days
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One More Night of Freedom
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.... hey.... So this is another piece of filth! Stripper!Y/N and Bachelor Party!H with his one night of freedom. I hope you enjoy love bugs!
Check out our Patreon for early access and 150+ exclusive writings!
Warnings- infidelity (H cheating WITH Y/N), stripping, dirty talk, daddy kink if you squint, slight anal play. We don't condone cheating irl thanks
WC- 4.6k
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Harry knew it was wrong. So wrong, so against every normal moral compass he usually held, but there was something about the woman in front of him that enchanted him. Made him second guess everything.
It was his bachelor party and his mates had encouraged him- forced him, really- to go to the back room to get a private dance from the one he’d been eyeing up all night. It was hard not to, with her creamy smooth skin, breasts held up perfectly by her bra and those fucking garters around her thighs- it was a major weakness of his. She moved her body like water, smooth and rippling as she worked around the pole. Hair following her like a velvet curtain and a cat like grin, full of filthy promise. His head had been reeling as an unfamiliar feeling rose in his guts and his cock shamefully grew in his trousers. 
The thing was- He’d been trying to talk himself out of having cold feet for months. Proposing was what felt like the next logical step. That’s what her friends had said, what her parents had hinted out. They weren’t wrong, he supposed. Savannah was a good girl, someone his parents approved of, and she was nice. The sex was alright, she didn’t complain, and she was beautiful. But there was something missing. 
That passion. That lust he’d always thought he would feel when it came to his forever partner. Something he’d been convinced wasn’t real. And he was a piece of shit, because watching the woman in the skimpy get up approach him as he sat in the oversized cushy chair, his cock had more interest in her than it had in his fiancè in the last 4 months. 
“Hello.” She purred, syrupy voice warming his bones. “I heard I was specifically requested and with quite a nice tip promised. I can’t help but be flattered.” He could see her skin sparkling, like there was body shimmer sprinkled all over her. The thighs, the chest, her breasts especially- he felt that guilt in his stomach start to dissipate as she got closer to him. She smelled sweet, like coconuts and vanilla, and she stared right back into his eyes. Her lips painted a cherry red, he nearly panted as she placed her knees on either side of his spread thighs and sat on top of him. 
God, he felt like his heart could beat out of his chest. Her warmth went straight to his cock though she wasn’t sitting on it yet, her hair long and brushing his forearm as he kept it on the arm of the leather chair. It was oversized for this specific purpose, he thought. 
“Well, I have to admit to you that the feeling is mutual. I could feel your eyes on me when I was on the stage and I was impressed. Such a handsome man.” Her fingers stroked his jawline, tilting it up towards her face as she moved her hips. He was hypnotized. Eyes dipping to her lips and back up to her heated eyes. “You’ve got me for an hour, now. I think you should introduce yourself.” 
He could barely feel his tongue, but he had to get to talking. She almost intimidated him, sitting on top of him and touching him like she had all the rights to be there. Like he wasn’t about to get married. “Harry. My name’s Harry.” He rasped, managing to spew those words out without losing his tongue. Thank god, because he knew it wanted to do many other things. 
“Yeah? Well, Harry… you can call me Angel.” She purred, slipping her fingers up and through his hair. It was embarrassing when he let out a soft moan, feeling her manicured nails against his scalp. It had been so long since someone touched him like this. His fiancè was sweet, but she didn’t really… do much for him. Not like this. She’d make a good wife, a good mother no doubt, but he wanted more than that. “I don’t usually take offers like this, you know.” The temptation moved from straddling him to standing in front of him, turning around and bending over to brush her ass against his crotch. “I don’t do private rooms but being blunt? I thought you were sexy. We can break a few rules tonight, can’t we?” 
Her body laid on top of his as she rolled her ass on top of him, making him drop his head back against the chair. There was no way she couldn’t feel his cock, not with the way it was straining against his trousers. She moved perfectly against it, her arm coming back to tangle in his hair. Her temple was against his cheek, feeling the slight scruff as she took his hand from where it was clenching the arm of the chair with white knuckles, pulling it to run over her stomach. 
“Usually… we don’t let people touch us. But I think I can make an exception for you.” Her hand was slow as she moved it up, trying to feel for any resistance. It was clear she wasn’t going to make him do more than he wanted- but that was the problem. He wanted. Fucking desperately. It was hard to hold on to the resolve, to remain faithful when the girl of his dreams was dangling herself like a cat going for a string. He wanted to touch and taste and feel. All the things he absolutely, positively should not do. 
“Yeah?” His voice was dark and rough, trying to find his self control and ultimately failing as he let her drag his hand up and cup around her breast. The both of them let out a noise of relief as he squeezed without her urging, continuing her moving on him. “What kind of exception?” 
“Well… your friends told me that you have one more night of freedom. That you didn’t seem like you were getting what you needed in your other situation.” Her thumb ran over his ring finger. “They told me that you needed to pull your head out of your ass and see that it’s a mistake.” Her body moved further up, lips ghosting his jaw. “To put it bluntly, Harry, they wanted me to show you that you could have the attention you want. Don't settle for the first pretty face that someone approves of. Sometimes….” She moaned as his fingers pinched her pierced nipple through the lace of her bra. “Sometimes you’ve got to be reminded of the things you could have.” 
Harry was in a trance. He’d barely had a sip of his drink, having been too enthralled with her on the stage. His friends must have noticed it, and he hadn’t even been sure considering he had stared her whole set. Tipped most of his cash he’d taken out. At one cold sober, and he couldn’t even blame it on anything but his own mind. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at other women, tried desperately to make this work and be faithful but fuck, he was losing. Her supple ass moved against his cock, his fingers plucked her nipple as she was giving him an in. 
“And how am I going to be reminded of that?” He was going to regret this, probably. When he woke up tomorrow and the adrenaline had faded… or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe his mind would be as clear like he had been dying to have it. 
“Like this.” She hummed. “Let yourself do what you want with me, Harry. If you do decide to go through with it… if you cuff yourself to that woman, as lovely as she may be… you’ll have had one final night of freedom.” Her voice was a purr. “Let me take care of you.”
It scared him. Being locked into a relationship he knew he wasn’t going to be fully satisfied with… it wasn’t what anyone wanted, but he felt a little trapped. He’d settled, he knew that, but it hadn’t been so obvious to him until a woman he was truly attracted to came and ruined his plans. It wasn’t fair to put this on her, but it was like looking at his decision for what it was. A mistake. 
He wished he could be stronger. He wished he had more resolve, that his prick wasn’t leaking in his pants as he palmed her tits, that he stopped her from sinking to her knees and undoing the belt his fiancè had bought him for his birthday, that he didn’t raise his hips and help her pull his pants down. He wished he could say he didn’t groan in satisfaction as her hot little tongue ran up the length of his cock, from his sac to his tip with a filthy little giggle, but he did it anyways. 
“Fuck…” she cooed. “Such a pretty cock, Harry.” Her words were murmured as she lapped over the leaking slit. “I’m going to take care of you. Don’t worry about a thing, okay?” She took his hand and pulled it to her hair. “I’ll pinch your thigh if I need to stop for a second. Let go of all that worry and let me take care of you.” 
The guilt that had still tried to roll around in his stomach began to dissipate yet again as she sunk her head down on his length. Taking him down, showing off her skills as he felt the tip of his cock in back of her fucking throat. His mouth fell open as he looked down, feeling her nose brush his tummy before she pulled up, saliva stringing to her lips as she sent him a filthy grin. Harry hadn’t felt that in ages, his fiancè more gentle with the way she gave oral- refined. She didn’t like to do it much anyways  which- it was fine. Everyone had their preferences. But fuck, when she spit thickly on his cock and used her hand to stroke and smear it all over, he remembered just how much he missed a sloppy blowie. How much he missed the animalistic desire, when a person would be so eager to please that they’d put their all into it. 
“Shit.” He hissed through his teeth. “That’s good.” The words fell from his tongue without a second thought and her eyes brightened as she sucked the tip back into her mouth. The soft squelch of her wet hand stroking him was audible, sucking firm on the ruddy tip and her tongue brushed the slit, making his breathing quicken. He was only a few minutes into it and it was the best head he’d ever had. “Take more.” 
The Angel on her knees simply looked up at him, putting her clean hand on his on the back of her head and motioning for him to push. 
Fuck. 
“You- You want me to fuck your mouth.” He rasped, watching as she nodded, humming the best she could around him. How could he say no to that? When his prick was dripping for her and her hand was firmly stroking over the base. He held her hair in his hand, slowly pushing her down as he watched. Her red lips had smeared on his cock and his stomach and he knew he’d need to wash up before he got home and his clueless fiancè possibly saw, but it sent a thrill up his spine. Watching her stretched lips sink all the way down, marveling at how she took it with only a few gags- he was in his own version of heaven. 
“Christ, you’re good at that.” He grit his teeth, pulling her up slightly before pushing her back down. “Let me know when you need to breathe. Fuck, it’s been so long.” His head rolled back on the chair, lifting his hips slightly as he felt her throat flex. She was drooling around him, letting out noises that vibrated against him and added to the pleasure. It was disgusting, filthy, so fucking wrong- and yet he was obsessed. 
She sat like a good girl, even though she was being a filthy whore for him, her free hand gently dragging her nails over his inner thigh. It made him fucking crazy, hissing as he really fucked into her throat. She’d feel it tomorrow, she’d remember taking his spoken for prick into her mouth and changing his whole fucking world view. “Such a good slut for me. Can’t believe you’re taking all of this, fucking Angel.” He slurred, rutting up into her face as she let out little gags and fueled his arousal. 
Giving her a chance to breathe, he relished in the choked sound she let out as he pulled out of her mouth. She panted, pulling on his length before spitting on him. The girl was a fucking wreck, eyes wet with tears and chin dripping with spit but she looked happier than he’d ever seen anyone else taking his cock. It made him think about how she’d never seemed this happy to pleasure him. It was done, of course, but it seemed like a chore. This girl, Angel, which he doubted was her real name- she was enjoying every bit of it. Loving it. “You like sucking me off, don’t you?” He thumbed away some of the mess. 
“I love it.” She admitted, turning her head to press a kiss over his thumb. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to suck a pretty cock. None have been as good as yours.” The girl’s voice was wrecked and it did something to him, the most primal part. “Is this all you want, sir?” Her eyes gazed into his own. “Did you want to cum into my throat? Or….” She tilted her head. “Did you want to do more to me?” Her eyes fluttered as she gave him a soft, coy little look that made his prick twitch in her hand. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
The man didn’t even know that was an option. Honestly- he shouldn’t. This was bad enough. He was cheating, he was fucking up massively, but he couldn’t deny he was drawn to this woman. This beautiful stripper who had given him the most glorious head and let him fuck into her throat. It would be wrong to fuck her. So fucked up, so awful to do this and crawl back into bed with Savannah when he got home- but he couldn’t say no. He really, really needed this. 
“I want to know your real name before I fuck you.” He decided, sealing his fate as an awful- but sexually satisfied- person.
“Y/N.” She mumbled, moving up his body. “But don’t tell anyone else, yeah? I like you…” her lips brushed against his own. “So I’m going to let you do awful, filthy things to me. The stuff the girl at home won’t let you do.” The side  took the lead again and took his hand, cupping it over his cunt. “Don’t waste a tight, hot cunt that’s wet for you. Or… my ass.” She purred. “It’s all up to you. I’m open to anything with a cock like that.” 
Harry moved in a blur. A double check she was okay with it, a condom being produced from the side drawer that she slipped on his cock and her body climbing on top of his, he couldn’t really find a way to stop himself when the mere sight of her had changed his plans, ruined his mental resolve. Her panties yanked to the side, her slick cunt wasted no time. He’d offered to prep her but she shook her head, telling him she wanted the stretch- and he wasn’t going to tell this girl no. 
His mouth fell open as he groaned, watching her cunt spread for him. He had a front row seat as she sat herself on top of his cock, watching it fill her up. She whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders as her tummy jumped at the sharp breaths, but she never stopped. Slowly taking him in, she engulfed him and covered him in that tight, sopping heat that he had been desperate for. She was much tighter than the woman he had waiting for him at home, and the thought only spurred him on. “Fuck me… you’re so tight.” He hissed, hands gripping her ass tight. His marks would be visible on her. She’d stumble home and go to sleep, wake up with the reminder of his cock in her and his hands on her- but he couldn’t have the same. He wished he could, though he doubted he could ever forget this. 
“Just for you.” She purred, pushing him to lean back against the chair. Fully sat on him, she began to grind over him. Whimpering as her clit brushed his stomach, looking at his face as his eyes were moving from where they were connected and her face. He looked almost like he was in pain, but she knew it was pleasure. Getting used to feeling her around him. The girl knew it was wrong to do this, but she never claimed to be a saint. A man as sexy as him should be positive about who he was marrying, because god knew he could get anyone he wanted. “Is that what you needed, Harry? Needed a tight cunt wrapped around your big cock?” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Testing her limits. 
Everything about this was wrong, but it had never felt so right being inside of a woman. Feeling her squeeze him as she rocked back and forth in his lap, her breasts brushing his chest and her lips nearing his. He knew kissing her would be the final nail in the coffin, the last straw, there would be no turning back or controlling his urges. But he knew she was the one in control at the moment and he was at the mercy of the beautiful woman and the needs of his leaking cock. “So fucking good, baby.” He panted. “S’all I needed.” 
Y/N beamed, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back before connecting their lips. And that was game over for Harry. 
He gave in. Submitting to his desires, the last tiny droplet of guilt drying up like water on a hot pan. Sizzling away as the arousal burned hot in his gut, his balls tight and full as she began to lift herself up and down on his prick and her tongue entered his mouth. Sweet like cherry vanilla, moaning into his mouth as she fucked herself on his cock like she owned it. Hell- he had to admit that tonight, she did own it. She was giving him everything that he had been dying for, begging for, but couldn’t have. He’d settled without it for a while but this was the reminder that it could be better- he could have better. 
She was so fucking wet. Harry’d never felt pussy like this before, not with it dripping down to his balls and smearing over his stomach as she whimpered against his mouth. Her hand held his hair and tugged, making him growl against her mouth as he began to fuck into her. Sinking down further into the chair with his feet firm on the ground, bucking into her welcoming, sopping hole as she let out little noises against his mouth. 
“Take me.” She taunted through breaths. “Fuck me, Harry. Fuck me like you’ve been needing.” Lips dragged across his own and he could feel her smile. “She doesn’t give it to you like this, does she?” Her hand pulled harder at the nape of his neck, making him grit his teeth. “Doesn’t suck you nice and messy, doesn’t let you take her pussy like this? How could she waste such a gorgeous cock…” her other hand clenched down on his shoulder, a squeak leaving her as Harry’s hand came down roughly on her ass. “Oh, fuck. She doesn’t let you do that either, does she?” The girl had nerve to giggle against him, suckling on his bottom lip as he snarled. “Do it again, baby. Hit me.” 
Harry felt like he could pass out. Fucking into her cunt without reservation, her filthy words fanning the flames of his arousal and dousing any possible guilt even just talking about her, she told him to smack her ass again. So he did. He didn’t hold back, feeling the sting in his hand but also noticing how she got even more soaked as his length pistoned into her, how she let out a string of low curses before tugging his hair harsher. “Again.” She growled. “Fuck me, Harry. Fuck me like you can’t do to her. Are you going to lock down this perfect cock on someone who can’t use it right?” Y/N was pushing boundaries but she was getting what she wanted, another rough spank that she was sure would bruise. 
“Yes, yes- you know I’m right.” A giggle of disbelief filled the room, along with the slap of wet skin. “You could have pussy whenever you want. Don’t-don’t tie yourself to someone you can’t pound like a slut. That’s what you’ve been needing, isn’t it? Pussy better than that frigid bitch of a wannabe wife-“ the words were cut off as Harry took control. Turning them around, he stuffed her face into the cushy back of the chair and lifted her hips up, making her scramble to hold on to the chair as he slammed back in. 
“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, tugging her head to the side so she could breathe but holding on the side of her head so she stayed put. “Just shut up and take my cock like the good little whore you claim to be. Fucking slut.” He smacked her ass again, smiling to himself at the fucked out smile on her face. This was the nasty shit he’d been holding back, no outlet to put it in. It was pathetic, he knew it, not going after what he wanted- but this was a wake up call. Women like Y/N existed. Who wanted it just like he did, who taunted and craved and let themself get messy. Didn’t worry about bruises, who asked for it harder. This was his dream woman, if he was being honest. 
“Sorry, Daddy.” She whined. “I’ll be good for you. Just don’t stop fucking me. I’m gonna cum.” It wasn’t a secret. He could feel it, feel her beginning to pulse around his length as he railed her. He was in her stomach, fucking her deep and she took every inch. The thought lingered in his mind, thinking about how an hour wasn’t enough. He needed more of this. He wanted to take his time, to make her whimpery and wobbly in the knees. Make her fall out of work the next day. It wasn’t something he thought she did, but if she would allow it he knew he was going to pay her for every second. He’d been depriving himself of everything he wanted for the idea of a picture perfect life, for what people thought he should have. “You’re going to make me cum…” the warning was higher pitched, her eyes watering.
“I can feel it. God, can’t believe how lucky I’ve got it. Perfect little slut for my cock.” The chair was hitting the wall but the pumping music outside muffled it. His balls smacked against her clit, getting wet with each thrust and making her legs quiver. The girl’s fingers held tightly to the chair he was fucking her into, body lax and giving him then ability to do whatever he needed. “Maybe I’ll come back and take this pussy again. Would you like that? Like being a nasty fuck like this, ruining my plans?” 
“Yes- yes, don’t keep this dick away from me, Harry. I’ll do anything to have it again.” She was cockdrunk and he knew she may not mean it, but it was what he needed to hear. Y/N was doing what he’d needed to have months ago, providing him the mental clarity to see he was making a massive mistake if he went through with this. “She doesn’t have to know. I’ll be quiet, please- come back and see me. Shit.” Her hand hit the fabric, eyes hooded as he gave her what she needed in return. “Or don’t go th-through with it. I can give you what you need- oh my god.” Her words were interrupted by him spreading her open and spitting right over her hole, thumbing over her ass. “Yes. Yes- please, do it.” 
Harry was in awe of her, pressing into the needy girl’s ass with his thumb and watching as her mouth dropped open. It was a domino effect after that. Pushing his thumb in and pulling it out only once before filling her back up, she began to shake under him before letting out a choked moan of his name- she came. Wet and hot, gushing slightly around his cock and making a mess as she came, slick and perfect for him. 
He wished he had more willpower, but it had been so long since he’d fucked properly. Seeing her whine and reach back, finding his arm and digging her nails into his forearm and cumming like a mess around his cock, he was quick to follow. It surprised him how intense it was. Feeling her pulsating hole trying to milk him of every drop, he growled loudly and sloppily thrust into her, looking at the creamy cunt as he unloaded into the condom. His legs felt weak as he slowed his thrusts, breathing heavy and sweat covering his forehead as he looked down at the view under him. 
His dick sheathed by the best pussy he’d ever had, her ass snug up against his body and her blissed out face looking back at him. He was a mess, one that he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone without making it abundantly clear about what happened, but this was the best he’d felt in months. 
“You okay?” He asked softly, stroking the hair out of her face. “Went rough on you.” His knuckle brushed away the trail of tears. It did something for his ego, he knew, and this would be something he remembered forever. The most beautiful woman looking at him like he’d hung the damn moon. He’d done that to her. It filled him with pride. This was the feeling he was supposed to have after sex. That feeling he’d been going crazy searching for. Not the slight disappointment as soon as the lackluster orgasm faded. Savannah wasn’t a bad woman, not at all- but she wasn’t right for him. 
“I’m fucking perfect.” She breathed out, shaking her head. “Just- don’t pull out yet. I need a minute.” Her voice was weaker now as she slumped against the chair, Harry following suit. Pressing himself against her back, he took the lead and kissed her again, humming at the taste of him and cherry vanilla on her lips. “Are you going to come back and see me?” She mumbled as he pulled back a bit. 
“I’d like to, yeah.” He laughed breathlessly. “Have some things to break off but… I’d love your number, if that’s something you’d be comfortable with.” If he didn’t do this again, he thinks he may die. Dramatic, but his life was changed.  “Mmm…”’she hummed. “I don’t usually do that, but I’ll make another exception for you.”
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cherryjuiceblues · 10 months
Text
𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐊 𝐀𝐓
➯ HARRY’S GROWN IN SOME PLACES AND Y/N IS MORE THAN OBSESSED. ✰ sexual content. size kink. daddy kink. degradation. creampie. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 5k
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Harry was changing.
And he had been for a while. Slowly but surely—bit by bit—and all Y/N could do was sit back and watch.
Y/N thinks (and she knows she’s biased because, well, she loves him more than life itself, but still thinks) that Harry will always be the most beautiful man in any room. No matter his age, or the clothes he wears, or the facial expressions his features are presenting, he will be pretty personified to her.
And she never thought he could look better. Because he always looked like he’d been handcrafted, slaved away at for hours to achieve the sharp line of his jaw or the divine slope of his nose.
But now he was changing.
And Y/N was wrong.
Another thing she believes (or had believed) is that being with Harry removed any and all of her preferences when it comes to attraction. No matter the way he looked, Y/N loved it—would never change a thing—would never think that maybe that shirt would look better if his chest hair was thicker or that those trousers would be sexier if his thighs were bigger, or that that suit would be more impressive if he was taller. 
Because Harry was visually stunning, always. And even if in the past, Y/N might have been more attracted to a rugged beard, or a different hairstyle, or a specific type of dress sense, then all of that went out of the window when she met Harry.
But now, Y/N was being proven wrong.
She supposes it was a small change at first, so subtle that she didn’t even notice—because Harry had always been strong, even if it didn’t necessarily show and he’d never hesitated to throw Y/N about whichever way he pleased (which could tend to be an insecurity of hers at times).
When she did start to notice though… Nothing else could catch her attention. Whenever he walked into the room her eyes would drift, and whenever she was looking at him whilst he spoke, she’d be itching to lower her gaze and feel her pupils dilate.
Harry didn’t understand at first. He had picked up on her recent lack of concentration, and of course he had, he was attentive—but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was distracting her so much.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
It’s when the weather starts to warm up enough to get his arms out that it clicks.
And that’s what he’s smiling about now, as he hauls patio furniture about and potters around—in a black tank and highlighter yellow short shorts—doing all the garden jobs that had been ignored during the winter and spring. Admittedly with much more flexing than is necessary—after his minx of a girlfriend reacts far too excitedly at the delivery of a new pod chair, and squeezes her thighs together in anticipation, before proceeding to lounge around in her shortest of sundresses with the horniest of gazes as she watches him work.
Harry’s trying to be subtle about his amusement, wanting to play with her for as long as he can now that he knows why she’s been drooling for him more than usual. But his tummy is fluttering with excitement as he schemes the best way to rile her up.
He thinks she’s probably already wet, if the clenching of her thighs is anything to go by as she sits in the pod chair she watched him assemble; her naked legs swinging gently. And he’s worked up quite the sweat, out in the sun for a while already—droplets starting to trickle down his back.
So he thinks it only natural to remove his shirt, biceps straining as he reaches behind him to tug the material over his head. 
Y/N’s breath hitches. No matter how many times she sees Harry’s body, it makes her go all silly without fail. And the same happens now as his glistening, tanned, ink-covered torso is revealed and her eyes start to fight over which part of him to gawk at first.
He’s big. Bigger than he’s ever been—and Y/N must send his PT some flowers or something because she’s sure she’s never been so turned on in her life and that deserves a thank you, doesn’t it? 
Harry’s chest rises and falls gently, pecs dusted in sweat-soaked hair that Y/N has never wanted to lick more. She knows she can stare; is well past the point in their relationship to care about being caught—wants to get caught even, to aid his teasing that does so much to her insides. A drop of sweat trickles in between his abs and Y/N always swore she didn’t care for the definition of those muscles, but on Harry… he looks like the posterboy for all pornstars. Everyone’s wet dream, everyone’s type, everyone’s secret fantasy.
Yet, it’s still his arms that stun her the most. She’s not sure why—if it’s solely because of some undiscovered size kink or how obviously he could overpower her—there might not be any deeper meaning other than looking sexy and strong. Maybe it’s because they’re so big that they bulge with every movement, muscles contracting and golden, tattooed skin stretching. Maybe it’s the fine hair that covers his forearms—that have also become considerably thick and meaty. Y/N has lost count of the amount of times she’s wished to sink her teeth into them. Especially when a particular vein or tendon makes itself prominent. Paired with the fact that she has always been undeniably turned on by his hands and Y/N doesn’t stand a chance.
It’s like the man she’s known, who was already completely and utterly everything she could ever want, has been multiplied by ten. And now Y/N is left to try and function as a normal human being with this Greek god of a man who has arms bigger than her head.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
“—I don’t think I love you anymore.”
Y/N flinches, eyes shooting up to Harry’s and away from his body.
“Oh, so now you listen to me,” he rolls his eyes, smirk obvious.
“That’s not funny, Harry.” Y/N frowns, heart going a million beats a second. “Why would you say that, you dick.” She hoists herself out of the chair and storms towards the patio doors. With no way she’d ever make it very far, as Harry drops the tools he was using to assemble a coffee table and hastily swoops in behind Y/N—wrapping her up in the things that got her into this position in the first place.
Her back meets his chest. His bare chest. And his face meets her neck, stubble tickling her skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it.” He’s smiling. Y/N feels his arms tighten around her waist. “You weren’t listening t’me, were you?”
She huffs and says, “No,” in a tone that Harry never appreciates.
“You know I don’t like it when you ignore me. I’m far too needy, aren’t I?”
Y/N hums something incomprehensible, ashamed by her pathetic reaction to such a basic body part.
“C’mon, come back. Y’givin’ me something pretty to look at whilst I work.” Harry pinches her waist and she can’t help but shriek a laugh, body betraying her when his fingers dig in.
“You weren’t even looking at me,” Y/N scoffs, reluctantly making her way back to her chair as Harry finishes up on the floor.
“How would you know?” His arms bulge as he screws the table together. “Weren’t exactly staring at m’face, were you, love?”
Y/N rolls her eyes, fluffing up her dress around her thighs.
“I’ve noticed something recently,” Harry starts, admiring his handiwork before getting to his feet and making his way over to Y/N. He picks up a previously ignored bottle of sun tan lotion on his way. “Or, you’ve noticed something, I suppose.”
He kneels before her, hands steadying the gentle swaying of the chair before he smooths them down her legs and props her foot up on his thigh. Y/N pretends to not have a clue. It makes her belly tingle with juvenile excitement.
“What do you mean?”
Harry pops the bottle open and generously squeezes the lotion into his palm. It’s cold as it meets Y/N’s calf, and she twitches a little. But Harry’s hands are warm; he already knows that thirty seconds of this will have her melting into him. 
“You think I don’t see the way you’ve been looking at me lately?” He massages the muscle in his palms and Y/N sighs blissfully.
“I always look at you the same, my love,” she exhales.
“Hm? And how’s that?”
“Like you’re the only man in the world.”
Harry pinches her thigh and Y/N yelps. “Don’t get all soppy on me now. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” and like the sadist that he is, Harry subtly flexes his arms—covertly enough that it looks like a completely involuntary twitch of the muscles. But Y/N’s eyes snap there regardless, and Harry smiles, vast palms moving up higher on her leg as he applies more lotion and starts on her thigh.
“I don’t know, Harry. Why would I look at you different? What’s different about you?” Her voice holds the tiniest of inflections that only Harry would notice means she’s being playful. And it riles him up some.
“Okay, baby. If that’s how you wanna play.” Harry switches legs. He’s much less slow and tender, digging his fingers into her calf and holding firmly when she tries to pull away. The strength he exhibits only has Y/N’s eyes even more trained to his body. When he gets to her thigh he pushes her dress up until her underwear peeks out and delivers a harsh, unexpected slap to the inside—purposely where it hurts a little. Y/N gasps and her hips push up. Harry pays her no mind, applying more lotion before rubbing it in—far too high under her dress where no sun is reaching—and Y/N can see where this is going. Which Harry is coming out.
It all happens so quickly; Harry’s hand pushing against her collarbones to angle her awkwardly against the deep back of the chair, slumping her body surely unattractively, before flipping her dress up higher and tugging her to the edge. His breath fans against her warmth, cruel eyes looking up at Y/N in her stunned state. He leans down and his arms curl under her thighs, hands resting atop and squeezing them tauntingly. God, she can feel his biceps tensing against her.
He’s right there. Lips ghosting across where she needs him. Close enough to barely peek his tongue out and have it meet. Right there. And then he’s gone. Shrugging her legs off his arms and standing up, making some comment about how they need to buy some more sun tan lotion as he goes to walk inside.
Y/N is scrambling off the chair. “Fuck you!” Her hand shoots out and grabs Harry’s wrist. Immediately he spins and flinches away from her, replacing her grip with his own and twisting her arm behind her back. Her chest pushes into him as he leans down.
“You think I haven’t noticed how much of a brat you’ve become?” His voice slicks down her thighs. Oh. “Never fucking listen to me anymore,” she tries to reach for his waist but he twists that arm behind her as well until he’s holding both of her wrists in one of his hands. He leans down further so it’s even harder for her to balance as she bends back. “Just drool over me like a needy slut, don’t you?” Y/N whimpers, the only thing she can do is look up at him. “You’ve been treating me like a piece of meat—staring until your pretty cunt is dripping, right? I can treat you like a piece of meat too, sweetheart.”
“Shut up,” she pouts, before whining, “want—you,” neck aching from the angle she’s bent at. Harry laughs, pulling her hair a little for being a brat, before ghosting his mouth across hers.
“I know. Made that pretty fucking obvious, you silly girl.” He plucks at her bottom lip with his thumb. “You don’t need my cock to be fucked dumb, do you, baby? That little head of yours is always empty.” He squeezes her cheeks together with his fingers. Harry smiles down at his girl’s wide doe eyes staring up at him, completely at his disposal. “Speak.”
“I’m empty,” Y/N nods, giving up her attitude, “need you.” And that’s not what Harry meant but it’s close enough.
“I don’t think you deserve it,” he whispers into her mouth—and then he’s standing behind her, wrists still firmly in his grasp as he shuffles them closer to the windows. The sun glares down, casting a clear reflection of the both of them. Of Harry wrapping his forearm around Y/N’s collarbones, forcing her back to arch. “You haven’t been honest with me,” the entirety of his body is pressed against the back of her. It has her mind scrambling. “You’re not good.”
It’s a low blow. One assured to have Y/N begging and pleading in no time; desperate to make him happy, and desperate to be pleasured.
“I’m…sorry,” she frowns, eyes fixated on the reflection of their bodies. “Wanna be good f’you.” Harry squeezes her wrists as a warning to keep them behind her back before letting go to wrap his other arm around her waist—excited himself by the way he engulfs her. He bends down, causing Y/N to go with him, and the weight in his shorts is growing heavier by the second as they just look at themselves.
Y/N stops herself from wiggling back; doesn’t want to misbehave for a second—not anymore. “Please. All I think about is you, Harry. A-all the time,” her breathing is laboured and her underwear is suffocating. 
And this is how he gets her. “What do you think about?” He turns his face into her shoulder, nudging her sleeve off with his nose before dotting distracting kisses along her skin.
Y/N hesitates. This is what the game was all about. Pretending there was no reason for her gawking. She’s stubborn. But so is Harry. The arm around her collarbones shifts until his large hand is cupping her throat. Y/N’s knees nearly buckle right then and there. Her head tips back a little against him but he squeezes the sides of her neck, right where the blood is fighting to flow, and forces her to look back at the reflection.
“Tell me.” His voice is so deep, so low; the vibrations spread through her like treacle. “Look at me,” he squeezes again, “and tell me.”
He doesn’t ease up around her throat so her words are tight. His arm moves down to her hips. “You’ve got…so…big,” she whimpers. “Everywhere.” Harry’s hips twitch, dying to rut against her ass. But instead, with teasing fingers he lifts the hem of her dress. Up and up until he can stuff it between his hand and her throat, obsessed with the way her bare stomach rises and falls at a rapid pace.
Y/N’s flimsy panties don’t stand a chance—the once pale pink now a much darker hue in the place she needs him most. But Harry wouldn’t be so kind. He makes her think he’s going to rub on her like she wants, middle finger trailing over her clit with a feather-light touch. Barely there but still enough to make her twitch. He does it again—a small circle—before dipping lower, pushing in her underwear and feeling it slick against her.
And then he rears his hand back, too quickly for Y/N to realise, and brings it back down to her clit in a harsh, tight slap. She buckles and writhes, held up solely by the hand around her throat as Harry trails his fingers along the inside of her thigh. His smirk tickles against her shoulder.
“Har—Harry!” she gasps, unable to stop her body from moving against him now, not whilst she’s thrumming.
“I’m big, yeah? Too big for you, surely. Look at the way I swallow you up.” Oh, and she is. With half-lidded eyes and shallow breaths.
“Yes, I love it, Harry. I love it,” her hips search for his hand and he pushes her against him, spanning across her mound.
“That’s not everything though, is it?” Another squeeze around her throat. “Be good.”
She tries—so hard—as Harry starts to suck and bite marks into her skin. “Arms, it’s your arms,” she breathes, head foggier and foggier by the second. He eases up a little when she starts to slump, tracing his thumb across her lips.
“What about them?” Fingers slip inside her underwear; a reward for using her words. Even as he starts rubbing small circles, he knows she’ll cum quickly.
“So hot, Harry. And big.”
He laughs, “Y’already said that. Just so hot and big, aren’t I?” The narcissist in him goes wild, cock twitching in his shorts. And he allows himself one rut against her, just to take the edge off. But Y/N wants more—of course she does—and she’s starting to make all sorts of pretty noises as he rubs her clit. So Harry keeps moving, sure that the feel of him against her is propelling her towards her orgasm whilst he’s barely teasing himself.
“You’ve got a slutty pussy, Y/N,” he tightens his hand around her throat once more, lips brushing her ear. “Drenched because your boyfriend can manhandle you, yeah? I could do anything to you ‘n’ you’d let me, wouldn’t you? Because you’re so desperate for it.”
“Uh-huh,” Y/N nods shakily. She’s trying to keep her eyes on their reflection, to see Harry’s muscles work as his fingers hide in her underwear, and the way his hips push into her ass. 
“Tell me.”
“Want you to—manhandle me…use me—need t’cum.” She’s building up, can feel as Harry smears her arousal around in a mess before rubbing harder on her clit. And faster.
“You g’na cum?” Faster.
“Yes! Yes, yes, please.” He lets her throw her head back, lets her reach the edge, whimpering and whining just as she starts to let go.
And then he’s gone. Harry rips his hand from her pussy and shoves his glistening fingers in her mouth before she can talk. Y/N cries around them, shaking her head in a desperate plea.
“Mmph—no!—Please,” she tries, but how could Harry ever understand what she wants?
He takes hold of her wrists again and bends her forward by her waist, kicking her legs open wider. She’s completely held up by him; if he were to let go, she would topple straight over, no doubt about it.
With a heavy hand, Harry pushes her dress up and over her ass and delivers a well-connecting smack to the rounded flesh. Y/N mewls, legs shaking in surprise. It’s harder to maintain her eye contact with the window at this angle, especially when all she wants is to lull her head like she’s weightless. Harry wastes no time in tugging her underwear halfway down her thighs. Finds it satisfying to keep her somewhat immobilised.
And Y/N couldn’t care less, as soon as she feels Harry pulling himself out and sinking into her—she’s sure she wouldn’t notice if their house was burning.
He barely lets her adjust, and no matter how wet she is Harry’s always a stretch. A deep inhale, body stilling kind of stretch. And once she’s full and his pelvis pushes against her bum and they both allow for a second of joint ecstasy at being as close as possible once again, Harry is quick to treat her the way she so desperately wants.
His other hand comes up to her hair, pulling it sharply so Y/N’s neck bends back. “Look. Watch as I fuck you.” Incomprehensible noises are forced from her throat, jaw hanging looser with each inch that Harry invades. She’s never been more grateful to have a secluded garden. 
The sight before her rivals one from a porn film—fitting for her sex god of a boyfriend; she could only hope to look pretty enough next to him. Her body bent forward, neck stretched and inviting, back arching with the force of her arms behind her back. Thighs open just enough to fit Harry’s cock into her weepy hole, flesh threatening to rip the underwear that controls their freedom. 
Occasionally the sun will reflect just right and Y/N will notice the glistening of her wetness spread across her mound. Though her eyes soon fall shut with the strength of Harry’s thrusts, unrelenting and point-proving.
“Fuck. Can feel you squeezin’ already.” His words shoot straight to her clit, tingling and buzzing. “So easy, aren’t you, pet?” Y/N nods fruitlessly. “I shouldn’t let you finish,” he threatens against her ear. “Should fill you up with my cum, have you serve your purpose and then thank me for it.”
She pulsates at the thought, at the warmth of feeling him drip down her thighs. Sometimes dripping around the sides of his prick if Harry’s particularly wound up and has a few rounds in him.
“Please,” Y/N cries, sweat beading at her hairline.
Harry groans into her jaw, hips meeting her ass bruisingly. “Yeah? Filthy girl, jus’ my hole, aren’t you?”
“Mhm! Please cum in me, please,” Y/N tries to turn her head, nose bumping into his cheek. She wants a kiss but her brain cannot possibly communicate that to her mouth as it hangs open.
The sounds of skin meeting skin ring in her ears and her throat threatens to cry perfectly timed noises with each thrust. And she’s not sure when it happened but her tits are out of her dress and Harry’s letting go of her hair to palm one roughly as he starts to breathe heavier and heavier.
Body leaden, Y/N’s head falls back to his shoulder and her eyes peel open slightly, watching Harry’s face contort beautifully from above her. She wants it so bad—knows that he’ll always make her finish regardless—needs to walk around in her summer dress and cum-soaked panties. “Please, Daddy. Cum in me.”
The name has Harry groaning, hips stuttering and stilling against her as he paints long, thick stripes inside Y/N. “Thank you!” She cries, his release stimulating her like nothing else. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Despite Harry being the one with orgasm heavy bones, Y/N crumbles, knees buckling as she takes them both to the floor. He braces her fall, arm strong around her waist. His cock stays twitching inside of her, still hard, and he angles her ass into the air as he stands on his knees astride her legs.
“You good, baby?” Harry smooths a hand up her back, pushing her dress out of the way.
Y/N’s arms stretch above her, content to be lying on the hard floor. “Yeah, really good. Thank you, Daddy.”
Harry smiles softly to himself, she’s under. “You wanna cum?”
“Am I allowed? I said some bad things to you.”
“That’s okay. I want you to squeeze on my cock ‘n’ let me fuck my cum into you. Can you do that for me?”
“Uh-huh,” she nods nastily, head turned to the side on the concrete. He’d take care of her later.
“Good girl, nice ‘n’ tight, f’me.”
The noise of their arousal mixing together, probed by Harry’s cock is one he’ll replay in desperate moments alone. Squelching and slicking as he starts up his rough pace once again. Y/N contracts around him in quick, spasming motions—hips attempting to push back from her awkward position. Her tummy is hot and her clit is painfully untouched; she’s sure she’d grind it on the floor if she could reach but Harry’s hands are firm on her hips, angling her just the way he likes as he pounds into her tight hole.
Harry wishes he had his phone to hand—would take enough pictures of the sight before him to last forever. His cum is starting to leak out the sides, dripping down to Y/N’s clit and slicking up his cock. The mess of it all has his eyes rolling back.
“God, y’just perfect. Wanna keep you like this forever. Make you sticky with my cum, then maybe take you out and watch you try to ignore the feeling of it dripping out of you.” Harry slaps her ass and moans as she spasms around him, hands pulling her cheeks apart to reveal her other hole. “Wanna mark you everywhere. Especially here.” He thumbs over the puckered skin. “Fill you up and push in every drop, then give you a pretty plug so it stays inside all day.” Y/N’s shaking, eyes clenched shut and pussy quivering. All Harry has to do is reach around and start rubbing tight circles into her clit and she’s gone.
“Harry! I’m cumming, I’m cumming—D-daddy, thank you.” Harry leans over her back, kissing the side of her face and not slowing down for a second.
“Gimme another,” he whispers, speeding up his thrusts and slapping her clit one, two, three times, vibrations elongating her orgasm and sending her straight into her second one. Harry pulls back, regretfully pulling out for a moment to flip Y/N over and tug her flush against him. He wraps her thighs around his waist and guides her arms around his neck, endeared by her fucked out expression. “Doing so good, honey.” She smiles, eyes closing and nuzzling her face into his neck. Harry thinks if he wasn’t already hard, that smile alone would’ve given him a love boner.
“Jus’ sit all pretty, Daddy’s got you.”
He holds her hips securely, palms encompassing miles of skin, and lifts her just enough to start fucking up into her cunt. Their cum will surely make a mess in their laps but he minds none—goes faster at the very thought, even. Thinks about scooping it up with his fingers and feeding it to Y/N, and then leaning in to get a taste of them together, moaning into her mouth and suckling at her lips like a starved man.
As if she can read his mind, Y/N starts nibbling at his skin, laving her tongue over the drops of sweat that trickle down his neck. Then she pulls back just enough to wilt against his mouth, lips barely responsive but Harry kisses her with all he’s got. And she’s close again, when her heavy hand trails down to start rubbing at her swollen, cum-drenched clit much daintier than Harry had.
“F-feels so good,” she whines against his mouth, happy to let Harry lick against her tongue, “love you.”
Harry whimpers, “G-god, I love you too. So much, you’re so good, I love you.” Y/N rubs harder, pussy tightening—and Harry fucks harder as they both rest their foreheads on eachother’s shoulders. With her other hand, Y/N holds his bicep, squeezing and scratching as much as she pleases. She barely covers the muscle and Harry can’t help but smile as his orgasm rushes closer.
It’s when she whispers, words garbled and strained, that Harry tips over the edge. “F-fuck me so good, s-so good. G’na make me pregnant—‘n’ full of you.” And it’s his warm spurts that have Y/N cumming as well, pulsating around Harry as she milks him dry. He cums a lot, and the more he does, the longer Y/N’s orgasm lasts—they melt against one another in a mess of moans and gentle rutting, sweaty skin sticking them together. 
Y/N peels her hand from Harry’s arm, seeing the crescent moons she’s left behind and looking up at him guiltily. He smiles, pushing her hair away from her face and leaning down to kiss her nose.
“Felt good,” he promises. “Now I know how much you like them, you can do whatever you want.”
Y/N whines, biting his shoulder playfully. “Shower now, please. We’re gross.”
Harry hums, staying tucked inside and holding her tight to him as he stands on nearly wobbly legs. “Just so you know, if we shower together, I will be naked. Will you be able to contain yourself at the sight of my big, sexy arms?”
She sinks her fingers into the hair on the back of his head and tugs. “Shut up. They’re not even that big.”
“Okay, my love. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
2K notes · View notes
gurugirl · 1 month
Text
the fleshlight blurb | subrry
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Based on this request!
Summary: Harry has to go on a business trip without Y/n so she gets him a special toy to use while he's away and she tells him to send her a video of him using it.
Word Count: 1,536
Warning: smut (masturbation), sub/dom dynamics, descriptions of Harry's sperm making a bit of a mess
. . .
"So what do you think?" She bit her lip as Harry looked down at the custom fleshlight, made to look like her own pussy. The outside was a replica of her vulva.
"I love it," he looked up at her with a sweet grin. "So you're asking me to bring this with me on my two-week business trip? To like? Use as a replacement for you?"
Y/n laughed and shook her head, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Since I can't be there, I don't want you to just be stuck with your hand or those poor hotel pillows. I want you to feel like I'm there with you."
Harry was obviously over the moon about the gift. He'd never had a fleshlight before but he'd definitely be missing Y/n while he was away. She was his safe haven. His respite from his demanding job and title. Harry was a CEO at a banking company and he called the shots all day. He was the boss. But when he got home to his Y/n, he would let her take care of him and take over so he could finally relax.
. . .
"I want you to use the toy I got you tonight after your meetings. I know you probably need a release so bad don't you baby?" Y/n spoke to Harry through the receiver of his phone on the third morning of his business trip.
"Yes. I didn't touch myself at all just like you told me. Can't wait to use it and pretend you're here with me." He smiled as he spoke. He missed her so much.
"So good for me, Harry. You can pretend you're fucking me tonight. But I want you to make a video so I can see how it looks on you. Want to watch how you use it and watch you come."
Harry was good at following Y/n's instructions. He always only wanted to please her. And all day as he was meeting with other CEOs, eating lunch, and listening to presentations he couldn't stop thinking about finally getting to come while using his new fleshlight. He was so pent up and stressed out and he missed her just like he always did when she couldn't go with him on business trips and help him unwind.
He ate dinner in a rush, excusing himself from the group of men lingering over cocktails and personal stories Harry had no interest in hearing. His excuse was that he wasn't feeling very well and needed to lie down and relax. Which wasn't a complete lie. He really did wish to relax after an orgasm which would make him feel better.
Back in my room now. Wish you were here with me to help me unwind. Can you please send me something to look at while I use the toy you bought me?
Y/n grinned upon seeing the text and took a few pictures of her tits with her thumbs over her nipples. He loved her tits. Loved sucking on them and nuzzling into them. He often fell asleep with his head lying over her chest as he was kissing them softly.
He groaned when he saw the pictures she sent as he kneed up onto his hotel bed with his cock in his hand. He set up his personal laptop to begin the video of himself and angled it so it showed everything. He could even watch himself this way which made it hotter.
Using the lube he brought with him from home, he smoothed it over his tip and down his shaft as he began to grow harder and harder and he looked into the camera and let out a heavy breath as he situated himself and knelt on his bed, facing the headboard. Letting go of his heavy, thickened cock he picked up the fleshlight and moaned as he kissed around the polymer mold and propped up the picture of Y/n, wishing it was her that his lips were pressed against, "Wish I was tasting your pussy. Wish you were grinding on my face and getting yourself off on my nose and my tongue, Y/n..." he whined. That was his favorite. Loved it when she pushed him down and sat on his mouth and made herself come. Harry would die a happy man with her smothering him like that.
But he was so horny and so impatient he didn't take too long to lap at the mineral-based sleeve as he drizzled a healthy amount of lube inside before pressing his fingers through the interior to spread the slick along the plushy toy and hearing a nice wet squelch. It wasn't the same, but it felt nice.
Placing a hotel towel over a pillow, Harry propped that between his knees before he looked from the picture of her tits to the camera as he placed one palm on the big wooden headboard to keep himself stabilized on his knees and then cupped the toy with his other fist before he pressed inside.
The toy had a similar appearance to her labia he noted as he pushed inside. It wasn’t nice and warm like Y/n was, but it felt good to have his cock touched nonetheless. Even if it was just a fleshlight.
"Oh fuck..." he slowly began to thrust himself in and out, holding it steady with his hand as he rocked into the toy. His muscles were straining, thighs flexing with every thrust.
His heart rate began to rise with every slick push and pull of his shaft, the end of the toy was open (for practical purposes as Harry's cock was quite lengthy) so his pink tip punched through every time he pressed himself in all the way. He knew that if he were inside of Y/n that would be the spot where her cervix was.
"Ohhh... I need you..." he whimpered as his lips parted and he began to fuck into the polymer material with more force.
The sound of fucking a fleshlight was different than the sound of fucking wet pussy. It sounded synthetic but still slippery and wet. But fuck if it didn't feel amazing wrapped around his thick girth and cupping his tip on each plunge. Plus the view of it… It really did look like he was fucking into Y/n’s cunt, pussy lips wrapped around him as he drove in.
“Fuck me…” he groaned as his hips began to stutter. He kept himself held on his knees up with his palm against the headboard, hips rutting and cock twitching as he bucked himself in and in and in… He gripped around the plastic outer part of the toy and watched himself as he masturbated with the toy and felt his thighs begin to tremble.
“Mmm… Y/n… can I come, please? I need it?” He was mumbling and shaking as he looked at her picture and into the camera. He felt himself throbbing as precome began to drip from his tip and down onto the towel he’d placed over the pillow.
His desperate moans grew louder and he grabbed the pillow with the towel and lowered his hips down, humping his cock through the fleshlight and down into the pillow as his face screwed up in pleasure, the intense wave of relief that he felt as he began to pump come onto the terry fabric had him gasping, a soft moan of Y/n’s name falling from his lips.
It was intense. He hadn’t come in days, at Y/n’s directions, so he soaked through the towel and was sure the pillow underneath would be wet.
“Oooohhh…” he rocked his hips down gently into the pillow, stilling himself as every drop of his come was drained from his balls.
When he finally lifted up, he was in a puddle of his come as he slid the toy from his shaft and hissed at how sensitive his tip was. With his fist around his softening cock he looked into the camera, chest still heaving and flushed red, “I came too fast, Y/n. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. M’cock was so achy… made a big mess.”
Y/n was too excited to get the video of Harry. She was not disappointed as she watched the video twice. It was short but it did the trick. Because she missed him just the same.
Harry had just finished cleaning himself up when he heard his phone ringing.
“Baby, I’m so sorry it was short–“
“That’s okay, gorgeous boy. I know you were pent-up. You get a pass today. Tomorrow night we’ll have you do it again but I’m going to be with you on the phone watching the whole time and telling you exactly what I want to see so you’re not finishing so fast. Yeah?”
“Yes. I want that. I miss you.”
“I know you do, baby. Felt good to use that, though?”
Harry grinned and balled up the dirty towel, tossing it to the floor, “It felt nice. Never as good as you, though. Your pussy has a choke hold on me.”
Y/n smiled, “That’s right. Nothing better than this pussy for you, baby. It’ll be that much better when you get back from your trip.”
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665 notes · View notes
shroombloomm · 3 months
Text
so high.
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cw: degradation, size kink, praising, hair pulling, mention of drugs (weed.), and sexual content.
pairing: drug dealrry/baldrry x mc.
The cold night held thick air, still in the darkness as Jules drove one handed down the road. A blunt between her lips, she knew this would be the last of her stash until she went to see her dealer. The thing about her dealer, though, was that he was consistently fucking busy. It was always so hard to get a hold of him, so she either had to buy in large amounts or she had to start texting him at least a week before she was going to run out. 
The schedule worked out perfectly this time around, just as she was running out of weed, he had texted her to come through to reup. So Jules did just that, smoking the last of what she had while on the way to his house. The soft acoustic tunes trilled through the stereo, humming along to a song she just found online not many days ago. She didn’t know the words, but she liked it. 
Her pointer finger and thumb pinched the skin of the blunt, taking the last puff and inhaling deeply into her lungs. Jules held it as long as she could before she started to cough up a lung. Smoke bellowed from her nose as she rolled the window down and threw the butt out with ease. 
Ahead, there was the house she grew familiar with. The front porch lit up to welcome her, she pulled into the driveway and threw the car into park. When Jules stepped out of the car, a cloud followed after her. She couldn’t help but to chuckle, knowing the entire neighborhood was going to know what she was doing prior. 
On the front porch, she knocked and waited. After a few moments, she contemplated pulling her phone out to text him. It was bitterly cold and the sweater she wore was not giving her enough warmth. 
“One sec!” He shouted from the other side of the door. 
Jules pushed herself off of the wall, crossing her arms over her cold chest. When the door opened, she locked eyes with her dealer, Harry. 
“It’s about time,” She joked lightly as he moved to the side to let her in, “It’s cold outside.” 
“Sorry ‘bout that, doll,” Harry sighed, closing the door behind her, “I was smoking in the other room.” 
Despite knowing that, there was still a thick haze at the top of the ceiling. Jules chuckled, shaking her head. She sat down on the couch, letting out a relaxed sigh. Harry rounded the coffee table, kneeling down in front of her; Harry was styling a bald look with bright blonde hair, a loose black sweater on with black pants. A cross earring dangled from his right ear to match the same necklace around his neck. 
“That’s alright,” Jules hummed, “How have you been?” 
“Been fine,” Harry mumbled, taking a bag of weed from underneath the table and setting it onto the glass top, “How much are you wanting this time?” 
“With the way you reply, let’s say a quarter this time.” She smirked softly. 
Harry bit down on his tongue as his lips quirked upwards into a smoke, “Cheeky.” 
Harry and Jules weren’t strangers, they were actually really good friends. When she started to smoke in high school, Harry was the only one that she knew to get from. He was the dealer of the school, but of course that was very hush hush. She’d remembered when she first smoked with him on top of a bridge, overseeing a busy road. 
Truthfully, Jules had always found Harry a bit attractive. There was an instance in high school where her pick me friend had basically outed her feelings for Harry. At that time, Harry was in a relationship with one of the popular girls; which was funny because historically, Harry couldn’t fucking stand any of the popular girls. 
But, lord, did he fucking love Naomi. 
So, in truth, Jules never really dated anyone because she had always had eyes for Harry. Sure, she had eyes on a few people throughout the years, she was an adult now and she didn’t want to get caught up on an old crush from some years ago. Jules had dated multiple men throughout the years that never truly satisfied her needs, plus they weren’t really down with her constantly smoking weed. 
It wasn’t that weed was a crutch, it definitely wasn’t. Jules used it for her anxiety and depression. A lot of people didn’t understand that. 
But Harry understood that. 
“Did you want to smoke before you go?” Harry threw a baggy towards her, “That’s gonna be sixty, by the way.” 
Jules pulled her wallet from her purse, shuffling through her bills before placing the exact amount onto the table and taking the plastic bag.
“I just smoked, but I wouldn’t say no,” Jules broke into a smile, putting the weed into her tote bag. 
“You’re just so greedy, aren’t you, Jules?” Harry teased her as he plucked a wrap from one of the packages, “How’s work been?” 
“It’s been fine, really,” Jules let her cheek rest on her hand as she watched Harry clear the cigar of its tobacco, “And I guess business is going fine with you?” 
Harry hummed, nodding to her. His thumbs brushed against the wrap to flatten it, sticking his tongue out to lap up the inside of it. Jules’ lips parted, her tongue sticking out to swipe her bottom lip. Entranced by the small action, her cheeks heated up. She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. 
“It’s been fine, yeah,” Harry finally said, swallowing the peach flavor of the wrap, “Sorry I’ve been too busy to get with you. Maybe we can plan something soon, y’know?” 
“I’m down for whatever,” Jules shrugged. 
Harry sprinkled the weed into the wrap, then proceeded to roll it carefully. While he rolled it up, his lips worked onto the wrap, his tongue poking out to lap the wrap up to keep it firm. This had reminded her of the time that she smoked with him on that bridge, watching him work on the blunt; it was such a simple action, but the fire still sparked inside of her. 
It was something about not being able to have something that she desperately always wanted. Maybe her crush from the past was starting to spark inside of her again, or maybe it was the thought of his head between her legs that made her want him. If his tongue could work wonders on the blunt, commanding it to stick delicately together just for him to burn it later, then she’d wondered what kind of trouble they could’ve gotten into together. 
“Here,” Harry said as he pinched his lips with his pointer finger and thumb, handing the blunt, “You can spark it. I’m gonna get a couple of drinks. Do you want anything?” 
“Erm, water?” Jules placed the blunt between her lips. 
“Can do.” 
She dug through her pocket for her lighter, then flicked the flame alive to light the blunt. From the earlier blunt, her throat was dry and she was desperate for something to coat her throat. She coughed lightly into her fist, staring down at the perfect pearl of the blunt. When Harry came back with a couple bottles of water, he placed it down on the table in front of her and sat undeniably close to her. 
“Can I have that, please?” Harry’s two fingers wiggled towards the blunt. 
“Mm, yes.” She handed the blunt to him. 
Leaning forward, she grabbed the bottle of water and twisted the top off. The coolness of the water hydrated her and brought her back to life. She drank almost half of the bottle before sitting it down on the table and turning her gaze back to Harry. 
Harry’s head was tilted back against the couch, eyelashes long and fluttering until his eyes closed. His cherry lips wrapped around the blunt, cheeks hollowing as the blunt burned bright red from his inhale. The smoke entered Harry’s lungs, and Jules was entranced as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he pulled the blunt from his lips. 
She almost blushed, she couldn’t stop staring at him. Harry still held the blunt, bringing his hand down to his thigh as his leg bounced from keeping the smoke inside his lungs. A breath of release and a large cloud flooded the area. The edge of his jaw could cut, perfectly slim and simple as his mouth stayed wide open to let out the smoke. 
When Harry turned towards her to pass the blunt, he caught her staring. Jules quickly turned her head, looking ahead towards the TV that she could barely hear; the volume was down low. Jules hated that, she wished that it wasn’t so quiet, if Harry stopped for a moment, he could probably hear the way her heart picked up when he caught her staring. 
“Here,” Harry brushed her thigh with his hand, sending a soft wink, “Take it.” 
When Jules felt his fingers brush her thigh, it was undeniable that her body reacted temperature wise. Sure, smoking could make someone much warmer, but she felt fucking hot in this sweater. Obviously, it was due to him, but she would never say that out loud. 
“Have you ever shotgunned before?” Harry said through his sip of water, his voice was lazier from the intoxication of the weed; each word dripped and oozed slowly from his lips. 
“Yeah,” She snorted nervously, “I have.” 
When she took another hit, she looked towards him and blew the smoke out. The silence was deafening and she wished there was some sort of noise to distract her from the way his eyes burned into her. Her gaze went to the blunt. 
“Do you want to shotgun?” Jules hesitantly asked, her voice shaking under the thought of potentially getting that close to Harry. 
Harry chuckled quietly, removing the blunt from her fingers, his cherry lips wrapped tightly around the end of the blunt as he sucked in a loud cloud of thick smoke. When the wrap left his lips, a small cloud of smoke escaped past his lips, but nonetheless, he still held the remnants in his lungs. His fingers curled towards her, motioning her to move closer. 
Jules didn’t have much time to think, the longer he held the smoke in his lungs, he would surely choke on it and have a coughing fit. Her body scooted towards him, to which his arm snaked around her shoulder; she felt his fingers caress the back of her neck as he leaned in. His tobacco vanilla scent infiltrated her nose, causing her cheeks to warm and her head to become dizzy at how intoxicatingly delicious he had smelled. 
When Jules locked eyes with Harry, she studied the way his eyes were different shades of red, she could barely make out the dark green in his eyes. He was heavily intoxicated by the weed, but so was she, and she couldn’t rip her gaze from his eyes. He blinked once, moving in dangerously closer, while his fingers pinched the back of her neck. 
She parted her lips just as Harry nodded upwards to her, his Adam’s apple bobbing from still holding in the thick smoke. What seemed like a lifetime, only lasted seconds. The shadows casting over her were due to Harry’s face being mere inches away from her lips, if she had moved her lips just the slightest, they could’ve locked with his. 
Harry’s nose nudged with hers, then settled on one side of her face as his lips parted and circled into a pretty ‘O’, then slowly, surely, blew the smoke into her mouth. Jules inhaled as much as she could, feeling the burning sensation down her throat until it started to strain her lungs. Eyes fluttered closed for mere seconds, and when she opened them, the overcast of Harry had departed; no longer being clouded by the cologne of his. Still, she blew out a nervous breath as the ghostly smoke barely spilled from her lips. 
“Shit,” She coughed lightly into her hand, leaning towards her water bottle for coating. 
“I’ve always loved shotguns,” Harry told her with his lips quirked upwards into a smirk. He shamelessly liked making Jules flushed and nervous; she was a shy girl anyway, and sometimes he wondered just how shy she could be. Or if it was a cute girl facade. Regardless, he enjoyed the way she avoided eye contact after their mere contact, “Alright?” He chuckled quietly. 
“Me?” Jules still tried to remedy the burning sensation in her throat, but she feared this was no real way to remedy the other burning sensation that rested between her thighs. 
“Who else would I be talking to, Jules?” He tilted his head, resting his hand on top of the small hairs of his head, brushing his fingers over the buzzcut of his, “A ghost?” 
“You’re high enough,” She joked, giggling as she sat her bottle on the table, “I wouldn’t put it past you to see some shit.” 
While Harry wasn’t hallucinating, he had to take a second glance at the way her thighs were clenched tightly together and her gaze was forced to the TV with a flustered smile. Harry enjoyed watching the impact he had on others, even if it meant it being his best friend. Truthfully, it crossed his mind a couple of times what Jules would look like underneath him. She was peachy cute, quiet, and chill. Just like he was. 
If Harry were to hook up with anyone, it would be with her. He was sure they would click so easily together. 
“What’re you staring at?” Jules finally broke the silence, catching his lustful stare that hid behind the glossy look in his eyes. 
“What do you think I’m staring at?” Harry mumbled, lips taught upwards with a smirk as he placed the half smoken blunt into the ashtray, “Here’s a hint, it’s not a ghost.” 
She pushed her lips to the side, trying to ignore the bubbling in her stomach. Jules knew that answer to that question, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. She didn’t know if it was the weed, or if the tension had just appeared, thick in the air. 
“I don’t…” Her voice trailed off, mousey and quiet. 
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” 
The words floated in the air, not giving her enough time to react to the compliment, or to the sudden fact that she was getting hit on by one of her good friends. Her drug dealer. Someone she had a crush on for a long fucking time. The air around them became thicker when another body brushed up against hers, glancing out of the corner of her eye, Harry had moved closer to her. 
Silence filled the air. She dared not to fully look, if she wanted to bite down on the goofy smile on her face and hide it away from him, she shouldn’t look over. She wouldn’t. She won’t. But Harry’s stare was burning into the side of her face and it made her want to sink into the couch and never come back up. 
“So shy all of a sudden?” Harry’s breath hit her ear and her breath hitched. His cherry lips parted softly, using the pads of his fingers to brush against the jawline of hers. When she didn’t turn her head to look at him, he wondered if he had mistaken the tension; if he was just high, or did she really want him like he wanted her in that moment?
“Is this okay?” Harry asked quietly, bushy brows furrowing in deep concern of the blurred lines. 
That made Jules turn her head. She couldn’t tell if Harry was joking or not, if he was just trying to test their friendship, or if he really wanted her like she did. Jules parted her lips softly, her tongue swiping across the dryness of her lips as she locked into his dark gaze. She only gave him a small nod. 
“Words, darlin’,” He cupped the underside of her jaw, tapping her lips lightly with his thumb, “Let me hear those words.” 
Jules swallowed thick, trying to keep her eyes from closing just from the smallest touch; yet it sparked her skin and set her alight in ways she hadn’t felt in so long. 
“Mhm, yes,” She whispered soft as a feather. 
Harry licked over his lips, studying the features of her flustered expression. Her brows were slightly pinched together, thighs clenching and unclenching together, and her bottom lip threatened to quiver. His thumb traced over her bottom lip once more, dragging it to the side before sliding his thumb down to pull the lip down. 
Boundaries weren’t tricky, yet they were walking a fine line on their friendship. That didn’t matter, not when they were high, not when they were both wanting the same thing at the moment. The warmth of Jules' mouth had taken his thumb into his mouth. Harry’s eyes blew wide in surprise, yet not very. Somewhere deep inside of her, she was not shy, and Harry knew if he pushed her enough she would show the side where she could let the little devil come out of her and play. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry chuckled quietly, shifting his hips on the couch as he gave her a small once over, “It’s like that then, huh?” 
This new found confidence in her dazed mind, and Harry’s reaction, was enough for her to push the boundaries and see how far they could walk this line before they both toppled over it together. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, steading his movements, as her tongue started to slowly trail around his thumb. Hollowing her cheeks and sucking it deeply, showing off the skills that Harry desperately wanted to test. 
“Naughty little minx,” Harry commented, trying to ignore the half chub in his briefs that grew from anticipation. Maybe the lines didn’t exist at all, maybe the lines were a made up rule, or maybe it was a rule that didn’t apply to them; either way, Harry still pumped his thumb in and out of her mouth and pressed down on her tongue just to hear her gag. 
The taste of his thumb satisfied her, but she wondered what other parts of him tasted like. Many nights she laid awake, wondering, thinking; dreaming of him growing inside of her mouth. Jules knew she could satisfy him, she was confident about that. One small pop sounded between them, Harry’s thumb now cold as the air hit it, and Jules’ mouth still watering and awaiting more, deeply in anticipation. 
“Kiss me.” 
Those two words, shattering the tension in the air within seconds. Jules’ couldn’t believe the words that left her. A weight lifted off of her, but another weight brushed against her chest instead. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around her throat, taking her bottom lip into her mouth to taste the sweet indica they had smoked earlier. His lanky body pressed against hers, the sweater giving a facade of bulk, yet when she reached out to touch his hip, it was petite. 
He assaulted her lips in a feverish kiss, bruising her bottom lip between his bunny teeth as he bit on it, pulling on it, and sucking it harshly while his fingers pinched the skin around her throat lightly. The fire inside the both of them were only fueling the flames much higher than before; the room burned with fumes of euphoria and lust, rolling each other up and smoking each other to become addicted to the pleasure they could offer each other. 
Letting off her lips, she inhaled sharply at the realization that this was, in fact, really happening. Every part of her wanted to take off her clothes, but slow and steady always won a race; one that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to win. 
“You taste so sweet,” Harry’s voice rasped out in a sharp breath while his lips continued to kiss around her neck, his hand resting on her shoulder as he squeezed it tightly to ignore the throbbing in his pants, “Fuck, I want more of you,” His tongue lapped up the side of her neck, nibbling on the supple skin. 
“Shit,” She hissed at the feeling of his bites and kisses. Jules couldn’t refrain from anchoring her body down against his, letting her legs open. Harry caught the hint, nessling between her thighs and pressing himself tightly against her front as he bit down harder on her neck, “Fuck! H-Harry–,” A choke of moans blurted from her. 
“Want to taste more of you,” He mumbled against her skin, “Won’t you let me? I know you must be fuckin’ soaked.”
“Mmmph,” Jules almost choked on the thick swallow, feeling his hardened member pressed tight against her front. She wasn’t sure how long she could take the foreplay, even if it just started; she knew that the moment Harry touched her, she would fight her for life not to come too soon, “I want that,” She whimpered, “I want to feel your mouth on me.” 
Harry’s large hands pushed up the sweatshirt that she wore, and she accompanied him in taking off her top. He awed at the sight of her body, leaning down to kiss the valley of her chest while his hand traced over the top of her breast; giving it a hard squeeze, he kept his lips on her skin until he hit her belly button while letting his body slink down. 
“Your body is so fuckin’ hot,” He mumbled softly, giving the button on her pants a kind kiss before undoing them, “Can’t wait to see the rest of you. Taste the rest of you.” 
Her chest was rising and falling under the anticipation, watching as Harry peeled her pants off of her and exposed the white laced thong she wore. Harry smirked wide, creating dimples in her skin as he kissed her inner thigh, letting out a hum of appreciation. 
“This is a sight to see,” Harry taunted, parting his lips as his two fingers swiped up the front of her underwear, a beautiful trace of arousal lightly coating his fingers, “Wet. Just as I suspected,” He teased, then stuck his tongue out to lap up the arousal, it was light and sweet, almost making his head dizzy from the taste, “Tell me something, Jules,” his thumb placed the swollen pearl of hers, flicking his dark gaze up to her, “How long have you been this wet for me? Be truthful with me and I’ll make sure to take care of you, darlin’.” 
There was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, the temperature in the room had heightened by what seemed like a million degrees. Her throat was dry, continuously swallowing the saliva. Jules’ eyes fluttered down to Harry, tongue barely poking out to wet her lips. 
“A while,” Her voice shook, flicking upwards into exasperation as his thumb started to circle around the swollen clit of hers, “F-Fuck, that feels really good.” 
“Wonder how long you’ve been wanting this,” He teased softly, moving in closer between her legs, his breath hot on her clit as he spoke, “If you’ve been dying for this scene. Me, between your pretty thighs, eating your pretty little cunt.” 
Words, they weren’t available to her. Jules’ drew a blank in her mind, and just as she opened her mouth to respond, a long drawn out moan escaped instead. Harry’s tongue pressed hard against her clit, his two fingers pushing her panties to the side as his tongue began to flick upwards between her slick folds. Describing the feeling of being ate out while high on weed was almost impossible to her, the feeling was so intense that she could barely keep her hips still. 
But Harry helped her with that, of course, he was a lovely gentleman and wanted to get the job done. His free hand made sure to hold one side of her hip down. The warmth of his mouth was enough for her stomach to swirl and her thighs shake, the tip of his tongue teasing the arousal between her folds as it dripped down onto his chin, then using just the tip to circle carefully around the swollen flesh that needed it the most. 
She was in heaven, or maybe a made up heaven that her mind made her see. Either way, she was in the clouds of pleasure. Jules’ back arched upwards as her hand went to his head, fingers curling into the buzzcut, just for her fingernails to dig deeply into the palm of her hand. A gasp, a moan, a whimper, a plead. 
His tongue was working magic, but when his fingers plunged into her hole, she let out a mere cry that made her thighs close around his head. Harry chuckled deeply, removing his head from her thighs while he pumped his fingers and out of her at a steady pace. He watched as her body withered underneath him, face scrunched in pleasure, while she silently pleaded for him in short breathed curses. 
“How can I let you cum if you close your legs, pretty girl?” Harry coo’d softly, using his hand to force her thigh back down, “Is it too much, hm? Can barely take two fingers f’me?” 
Jules’ whimpered, trying to relax her legs enough to make room for him. 
“It–it feels so–good,” She breathed out as her eyes rolled back into her head, trying to catch her breath. 
Harry curled his fingers into her cunt, watching her body react to him.
“I know, darlin’, I know,” His voice was laced in fake sympathy as he dipped back down between her legs, “And I’m gonna take such good care of you, too. Just need you to be a good girl for me.” 
When Jules felt his tongue back on her flesh, it was merely over for her. She was approaching her first orgasm of the night, something inside of her was telling her this wasn’t going to be the last one either. One of her legs hooked around Harry’s neck as she brought him closer, his tongue assaulting the swollen flesh at a quicker pace, while her moans and whimpers echoed through the living-room. 
A long drawn out whimper of his name escaped her, then silenced her as euphoria flooded her veins. Stomach tightening, her body froze as she drenched Harry’s chin. His tongue slowed its pace, but still relentlessly rode her orgasm out until she was pushing her body away from him from the burning sensation of the over sensitive area. 
Harry’s head popped up from between her legs, chin glistening with her arousal, and a lopsided smile on his lips. Jules looked so fucked out of her mind, chest rising and falling while she tried to catch her breath. He rubbed her thigh slowly, leaning down to kiss down the valley of her chest once more, then the top of her breast. 
“I’m not done with you yet, Jules,” He mumbled against her skin, “Need to bury my cock inside of you, hm?” 
“Mmmh, yeah,” Jules nodded her head softly.
“Mhmm, I know, honey,” Harry coo’d as his fingers hooked underneath the string of her thong, pulling it down her legs and flicking them to the floor. 
Jules unhooked her bra as Harry took his sweater off. They both discarded their clothes to the side. Harry’s lanky body had carved parts that were prominent, his hips making a sharp V line that disappeared down to his pubic bone, complimenting the ferns that looked so pretty between the sweet happy trail of his that disappeared into his pants. 
She couldn’t not notice the veins in his hands as he undid his belt. Flexing, twitching until his fingers wrapped tightly around the belt and pulled it off with a loud snap. The sight made her mouth water; remembering the one time that she had ever seen him shirtless, but this was different. This was intimate, this was for her; he was hers, just for the night. 
When he removed his pants, his thick cock sprung from his briefs. Pretty and complemented by the bush of pubes around his member, red and angry, yet soft and pink in some places. Harry’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking down the veins that displayed across his cock as he took in the sight below him; Jules body, beautiful and all his, perfect in the ocean waves of her hips and clouds of her supple breasts. 
“Gonna take my cock f’me?” Harry drew out in a half moan, tracing his hand up the back of her thigh as he brought her ankle to his shoulder and held it there. It took everything inside of him not to shove himself inside of her already, but he needed to know she was ready; which Jules very much was. 
“Fill me up,” She begged in small whines, reaching out to touch the carved V line of his, fluttering her eyes, “Stretch me out and fuck me dumb, please?” 
Fucking hell, Harry thought to himself as his eyes rolled back into his head. 
“ ‘M not one to disappoint,” He licked over his lips, tapping his cock against her cunt softly, watching as his tip lathered around her arousal through her slick folds, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb.” 
The tip of his cock brushed against her wet cunt once more, hips steady as he pushed forward. She was fucking wet, but still tight around his cock. His thick girth stretched her out in ways that she hadn’t had anyone do before; yet he was doing it. Stretching her out and making her body crumble underneath him. Harry let out a string of curses under his breath as he leaned over her, one hand on the couch, curling his fingers into the fabric just as his bottomed out to the hilt. 
“That’s good, taking my cock so good,” Harry breathed out, a growl vibrating through his throat as he pulled his hips back, just to snap them harshly against her, earning a moan from her, “Fuck, just like that. Y’sound so fuckin’ heavenly.” 
Jules whimpered underneath him, wrapping her one leg around his hip and bringing him closer. The shadow of his sharp jawline casted over her as he nearly hid his face into his arm in pleasure. Thrusting, hearing the sounds of skin to skin, arousal meshing, their  moans intertwining in the room and spinning in the air together. Harry’s hand cupped one of her breasts, parting his lips as he caught her mouth with his. 
Jules used her hand to cup his cheek as she overtook him in the kiss. His tongue lapped messily around her bottom lip, to which hers met his, rubbing against each other as they made out feverishly. Sucking lips, moaning into each other’s mouths, and Harry’s hips messily snapping against hers. His head was burning with the warmth wrapped around his cock, her cunt barely accommodated his cock, which made Harry work that much harder to fuck her. 
All while desperately trying not to fucking bust. He needed to slow down, or it would’ve been over in seconds. It was almost not fair. Something he desperately wanted in the moment, being ripped away by his shortcomings. If he could make it a few more minutes with her tight cunt wrapped around him, he’d be considered a winner. 
Harry broke the kiss, leaning down as his lips perfectly wrapped around her nipple and his tongue slowly licked at the skin, eyes shut closed. She had never come from nipple play before, but her core was nearly flooded and throbbing with pleasure. Harry gazed up at her in wonder, the noises she made made his cock drip with each mewl. Ever so often, she would go back to grinding, but the way he worked her nipple had made her go still. It was like she couldn’t bear to move. If she moved, she would certainly cum.
Her fingers digging into the couch, and her nose resting at the top of his forehead, she begged him for more. Small pants and breaths left her as she ground her hips against his cock, toes curling as she whined to herself. The pleasure was so much that she wanted to fucking cry from how good it felt.
“Keep sucking them, p-please, p-please don’t stop–” She nearly cried. 
With each kitten lick, she drenched Harry’s cock, only making him more proud of the way he made her feel. The adrenaline rushing through him, the pleasure, it was blinding; having such a gorgeous thing laid out in front of him, and getting the honor to have her. 
But, he wanted more too.
Adjusting his hips, he slowly, painfully, thrusted his cock up into her–the slow pace was enough to make her cry. Tears welled against her waterline as she bit down onto her knuckle, her orgasm was slowly inching more and more.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face into his shoulder. He let off her nipple, kissing up her breast slowly as he nuzzled his face into her neck, continuing to thrust up into her. The sudden emptiness made Jules mewl out in desperation, only for Harry to grab her hair and force her to her hands and knees. 
“Look at you shaking, can barely take my cock, ” Harry breathed out, slapping his cock against her ass with a huff, “So pathetic, I fucking love it. Watching you like this. Never thought I’d see the day you’d cry over how good I fuck you.” 
“F-fuck…you,” Jules whined quietly, closing her eyes as she pressed her ass against his cock. 
Harry sat pretty on his knees behind her ass, his cock in his hand as he slowly pushed back into her pretty hole. He let out a guttural moan, tilting his head back with his Adam’s apple bobbing as he continued to buck his hips in and out of her. 
“Trust me, baby, I will.” 
He grunted out, thumb trailing down to her hole, rubbing it in circles as his hips snapped against her skin harshly. 
“God, I fucking love your ass,” He hissed out, “So fucking thick. So full. Gorgeous, really.”
“P-Please…” She whispered.
“I know, baby,” He chuckled out, taking both hands as he spread her cheeks apart, then shook them carefully. Spreading them apart, he could get a full view of how his cock slid in and out of her. It made his spine shiver.
She grumbled, hiding her face as the euphoria nearly sent her over the edge of an orgasm. Harry hollowed his cheeks, then spat onto her other hole before rubbing the wetness around it slowly.
“You like that?” He taunted.
“Y-Yeah, please keep rubbing it, feels really good,” She whimpered with a beg as she looked back at him. Harry smirked wide, snapping his hips to burrow his cock deep into her.
“Keep talking like that and we’ll have to switch holes, darlin’.”
Jules could barely hold it together, her cunt dripped around his girth as he stretched her out. It was impossible not to come, but she needed to make this last; each thrust was contradicting her thoughts, his tip brushing against her spot delicately, making her thighs clench and voice mewl out in long, sultry moans while his fingers dug into her ass. 
Harry slowly pulled out of her, letting out a half broken moan as he fell back onto his ass. Jules, utterly fucked, looked from behind her as Harry patted his lap and curled his fingers in a come hither motion. 
“Come ride me, dollface.” Harry mumbled, fucked. 
His thighs were toned tight, the way he looked with his thighs spread and chest heaving up and down; glistening with sweat, Jules moved herself into his lap and pressed her mouth against his into a hard kiss. Harry grabbed her jaw, handling his aching cock underneath her as she eased down onto it once more. Her hands found his chest, curling into his skin as she felt his thick girth fill her back up, her mouth opened against his as she mewled out a desperate moan.
“Gonna sit still for me, let me do all the work for you, yeah?” Harry brushed the stray hairs from her forehead, kissing the underside of her jaw as he rocked his hips back and forth. 
Her stomach was burning, thighs shaking from the tip of his cock grazing her spot with each thrust. She placed a hand against the back of the couch, panting out as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Harry cupped her breast, slowly kissing it as he whispered sweet praises to her. 
“I said sit still,” His voice was firm, yet sweet, his jaw clenched as he felt her walls pulse around his cock. She let out a soft whine, clutching his forearms tightly. Jules was close, there was no denying it anymore, she would surely spill on him any time soon. 
“It feels–god!” She cried out, pinching her eyes shut tightly. Harry chuckled darkly, one of his hands roaming to the back of her neck to grasp the roots of her hair. “Just like that—,”
“Be a good girl and shut up f'me, okay? Tongue out,” He used his other finger to tap her lips slowly. She whimpered, doe eyes glued down to him as she poked her tongue out slowly. He smirked, forcing her head to come closer before sliding her tongue past his lips.
He sucked her tongue, massaging his own against it before flicking and kitten licking it carefully. At the same time, the force of his thrusts rocked through her, harder, faster, Harry was peaking in his own orgasm. Her stomach was on fire, feeling like she was going to explode into a million pieces. Harry’s hand slowly roamed up to her stomach, past her belly button and to her nipples.
His two fingers pinched, twisted and flicked at them as his other hand took her hip and made her grind against his cock at a quicker pace. She cried out, nearing tears as pants left her. Harry felt her pussy start to become drenched, her walls throbbed in agony as it signaled that they were both reaching heaven, right where they wanted to be. 
Taking a handful of her breasts, he squeezed it harshly. He started to buck his hips up into her cunt. Her fingers dug into his skin, eyes rolling back into the back of her head as her stomach began to twist for the second time this night. Mewling out, her head tilted back from the pure bliss that filled her veins. 
Jules’ forehead rested against his, pleaing, whining, only ultimately to be given what she had wanted in the first place. Harry smirked, letting go of her tongue before taking her hips into his hands and watched as she fell apart on his cock.
His attention to her details, her body moving with each twitch and cry, and the beautiful feeling that overcame his cock; he let out a throat ripping moan right as he orgasmed deeply inside of her, just as she finished the same time. They held each other tightly, breaths staggered and tired as they relished in their high, just to come down from it moments later. 
“Fucked dumb, baby?” He chuckled out.
“So fucked dumb.” Jules whispered back to him.
1K notes · View notes
x0xomady · 1 month
Text
touchdown*
⭒⭒⭒
⭒ Football!Harry / Coaches daughter!reader ⭒ frat boy harry ⭒ shy reader ⭒
warnings: smut, 18+, cursing, unprotected sex.
summary: harry is the varsity quarterback for their universities football team. after a practice harry is accidentally left at the field with no ride home. y/n is there to help him.
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⭒⭒⭒
y/n’s dad was her universities football teams head coach which meant she was forced to go to most of the games. she didn’t have a huge interest in sports, but she went to support her dad.
she occasionally went to practices because she loved to study outside. she was studying film so she would film the teams pre-game videos and promos.
today was a beautiful day. y/n decided to go to the practice and sit up in the stands so she could study in the fresh air. the whole team knew who she was so it wasn’t awkward or weird when she walked in.
y/n was sitting in the first row of seats editing her film assignment. she wasn’t paying much attention to the running and yelling going down on the field. she heard her dad close up practice which meant she had to pack up and go get her stuff from his office.
harry was having a good day. he had an amazing practice and felt good. his frat was having a party tonight too so he knew that would be fun. harry liked to take a few minutes after practice to stretch so he wouldn’t injure himself. after that he did his normal routine of showering, changing, and getting a snack from the vending machine.
however, today he realized that everyone from his team had left together by the time he was done, and harry didn’t have a car. he looked around the locker room and field to see if anyone was left but he was completely alone.
maybe his coach would be nice enough to give him a ride. harry walked to the office looking for him, but instead saw y/n exiting.
“hey y/n!” he says with a smile.
“hi!” she was cute, very shy, but cute.
“do you mind giving me a ride home? they ditched me.” he laughs a little.
“of course!” y/n thought nothing of it. harry and her had an english and psychology class together so it wasn’t their first time interacting. they actually ran in the same big friend group. they just never hung out one-on-one.
the car ride was filled with quiet music and mindless chatter between the two of them. y/n always had a small crush on harry so she was a little exited about the private time between them. she would never admit it to him because he didn’t like her back, but she thought he was hot.
i mean who didn’t?
harry was practically the most wanted guy on campus. he had an array of tattoos covering his arms and chest, he had the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, and he was built. as she pulled her car up to harry’s frat house, he turned to her.
“are you coming to the party tonight?” harry thought she was hot. she wasn’t super out going, but he liked that about her. girls that were super loud and in your face weren’t attractive. she was sweet and cute. he secretly hoped she said yes just because he wanted to see her again.
“yeah i’m going with y/f/n!” she nods at him.
“cool we can hang out.” he smiles and hops out giving her a ‘thank you’ and a wave.
unlike most frat boys, harry was super sweet. he was always respectful and kind to her whenever they talked. which is why she liked him so much. that and the fact that he was insanely attractive.
she was almost bursting with excitement by the time the party rolled around. y/n was wearing a mini strapless black dress. she would never admit it, but she was wearing it to get attention from harry.
harry was just as excited to see her. he was wearing a thin black sweater and blue jeans. he put on a cologne that she had complimented one time when they were hanging out with their friends.
y/n and her friend pulled up to the house and it was already blowing up. harry was in the biggest frat on campus so everyone was anticipating this party.
when they walked in they were instantly struck by the large group of people filling the home. luckily, since they were friends with harry and others in the frat, they were let into the back where only select people were allowed to go. it was much less cramped in there and their friend group was sitting around on couches drinking.
“hey!” niall, y/f/n boyfriend walked over and greeted them. the rest of their friends welcomed them as well. y/n was immediately handed a drink from one of the pledges harry and niall had walking around serving drinks.
she accepted it and walked over to the couch to sit. niall and her friend were already making out so she needed to get away from them. y/n’s eyes started searching the room for the boy she had come to see.
“hey y/n.” she looked up to see harry standing next to the couch.
“oh hi!” she smiled and scooted over so he could sit next to her.
they talked for a bit and joked around with the other members of their friend group for a while until y/f/n walked over to you.
“c’mon let’s go dance!” she grabbed y/n’s hand and pulled her away from harry.
the dance floor was filled with people and the only thing that could be heard was ‘Rock your Body’ by Justin Timberlake.
y/n and her friend were jumping and dancing with the other people when she felt somebody walk up to her.
“missed me that much” she laughs at harry who was smirking down at her.
“oh it was terrible” he says dramatically.
they dance together and y/f/n gives her a look and a knowing smile before walking away to find niall.
when the song changes y/n feels harry grab her hips and flip her around so she is facing him. without any warning he leans down and kisses her on the lips. she was shocked by this and pulls back.
“fuck i’m sorry i shouldn’t have done that.” harry’s eyes widen. maybe he had misread the signals and she didn’t like him like that.
she doesn’t respond and instead stands on her tiptoes to give him another kiss. y/n wraps her arms around her shoulders to deepen the kiss. his lips felt amazing. he had his fingers in her hair holding her to him tightly.
“wanna go to my room?” harry says leaning down to kiss her on the neck. she nods and pulls him towards the stairs to his room. they had to get through a maze of people making out against the walls.
she has been to harry’s room a couple times before while they were working on homework and projects together. as soon as the door is locked harry is on her.
he leans down to pick her up against the door and press his lips against hers hard. y/n whimpers out and holds her hands on either side of his face to deepen their kiss. harry presses his hard on to her core and groans.
“see what you do to me?” he slowly grinds into her while they continue to kiss hard. “can i taste you baby?"
“please harry” she whimpers as he moves them from the door to his bed. he wastes no time in pushing her dress above her hips. harry presses kisses against her clit through underwear. “need you."
“where do you need me baby?” he teases her by running his fingers against her inner thighs.
y/n was too shy to say it. “you know.”
“no i don’t you have to tell me.” harry smirks. “here?” he presses a kiss to her inner thigh. y/n shakes her head.
“please harry need it so bad.” she begs him.
“only cause you’re so sweet.” he smiles and pulls her underwear off. he hastily presses an open mouthed kiss to her clit. “such a pretty pussy.” he licks a stripe from her slit to her puffy button.
harry brings his lip to her clit and sucks hard. y/n moans and wraps her legs around his shoulders. “fuck harry!”
this is all the encouragement he needs to go faster. he gives her clit one last kiss before leaning down to push his tongue past her entrance. y/n is experiencing true bliss from the feeling of harry’s thick tongue and his nose that’s pushing against her bundle of nerves.
he brings his hand up to press a finger into her entrance while moving his mouth back up to her clit. he fucks her with two fingers while suckling on the bundle of nerves. this has her approaching her orgasm faster than ever.
“fuck i’m gonna cum harry!” she gasps and pulls on his hair slightly.
“cum for me baby.” he moans out at her tug on his hair.
with one final kitten lick against her clit she cum's on his face.
“gonna let me fuck you baby?” he gives her cunt one last kiss before climbing back to press kisses along her neck.
“yes please need it so bad.” she nods quickly and leans down to help harry take off his pants and shirt. once they are both naked he wastes no time in pushing past her tight entrance.
“shit got the tightest pussy i’ve ever felt.” he moans and leans down to kiss her on the neck again. he starts rolling his hips into her hard.
“harder harry.” she whimpers at the feeling of his thick cock running deep into her cunt. she clenched tightly around him moaning louder.
“if you say so.” he picks up her hips and starts drilling faster into her dripping hole. y/n was losing it. he was thrusting at the perfect angle. his cock was hitting her g-spot perfectly and his hip bone was stimulating her clit in just the way she needed to orgasm.
“such a perfect little cunt.” he groans and thrusts harder. harry was obsessed with her. he was obsessed with her moans, her face while she was coming, and her cute little moans.
“let me ride you.” y/n turns harry over so she can be on top. she hastily raises her hips above his cock and drops down hard. this makes the two of them moan out in satisfaction. she grinds over his hard length which has harry groaning.
“gonna cum in you baby.” he moans and grabs her hips to help her move faster over his cock.
“cum with me.” she gasps and pushes her hands against his sweaty chest for stability. the two of them are experiencing pure ecstasy.
with one final grind against him y/n cum's on his cock while harry empties his balls deep inside her cunt.
“fuck why haven’t we done that before?"
743 notes · View notes
iloveinej · 1 month
Text
Unquenchable
Theodore Nott x reader
Catagory: Fluff, Smut
Warnings: Handjob, dom!reader, they're in looove
Summary: Theodore and her venture down a path they'd never stepped upon. Because of Theodore's insatiable desire and her new night dress.
Words: 3,7k
AN: I have nothing to say. Enjoy.
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She could feel his eyes on her, even if he tried to hide them by reading the book resting between his fingers. She didn't know why he was so inclined to always have his eyes on her. Especially when she was only brushing her teeth, lather covering her lips and running down her chin. She didn't look attractive at all.
But what she didn't realize was that the silky, skintight nightgown she wore gave Theodore the perfect view of the behind of her thighs. And the fabric ended right below her behind, teasing Theodore's poor old heart to death.
It was the first she had ever worn something so revealing, especially in front of him. Usually, she buried herself in her brother's old clothes and rags, finding them to be the most comfortable clothing.
And not that she didn't look dashing in those, but this was new territory for Theodore, and he wasn't taking it very well.
His heart was increasingly picking up speed and the apples of his cheeks were burning with either shame or lust, which one he didn't know. He was lucky that the duvet was covering the lower part of his body, otherwise, his desire would be much harder to hide than it already was.
(Name) threw a last, suspicious glance in Theodore's way, noticing his clenched jaw, before leaning over the tap and spitting the remains of the toothpaste out before washing it off her lips. Then she sauntered out of the bathroom, closing the door and absentmindedly rubbing her eye out of exhaustion.
Theodore's eyes were glued to her face as she floated around the room, blowing out the warm candles that were scattered on her many shelves and drawers, slowly inciting the room into a solace of darkness. The only thing helping her see being the last candle on the nightstand, which she waited to blow out.
Instead, she lifted her side of the duvet and crawled under, glowing at the warmth it provided. As an extra procedure turned over to Theodore and efficiently latched onto his bare side, her arm hugging around his torso and her head being buried in between his neck and shoulder.
It wasn't often that they got a chance to be with each other during the night times because of Hogwarts rules and the partition between the boys, girls, and different houses. This is why these moments are always highly appreciated, no matter where, how, or when.
Her nose, lips, and forehead rest comfortably on his pulse point, ears perking at every beat of his heart and bathing in the comfort of being so close to him. She doesn't think about how fast it is beating, or how Theodore's breathing is slightly uneven. Before, when she lay down, she didn't notice how he directed her legs when she wrapped herself around him so that she wouldn't accidentally grace his, at the moment, very sensitive area.
"Are you done reading soon?" She asked, his skin muffling her words and the air tickling his neck. And he raised his arm which he formerly circled her and stroked her hair back, his eyes stuck on the pages. "Only two pages left. Then I'm all yours."
A girlish smile lit up her face and she buried herself even deeper into his neck, not letting Theodore see how easily he made her insides melt and her face heat.
And as promised, after reading the last two pages of the chapter, he closed the book and put it on the floor. And (Name) took the honor of leaving his side and blowing out the last candles, this time letting the room be cast in a shadow.
Theodore eyes were glued on the back of her body as she leaned forwards, and painfully remembered the hard piece of trouble that throbbed between his legs. Before, when she was pushed up against him and his eyes actually could focus on the words in his book, he had forgotten how turned on he was. But it seemed everything she did right now made his pent-up mind turn to the less innocent part of his brain.
(Name) stopped all her movements when a large palm placed itself between her shoulder blades and gently pressed. Not to push her, but to feel her skin, how her muscles moved beneath his hand. The hand travels from its place in the middle of her back, up to her neck. Her arms gained goosebumps when Theodore cupped her neck between his fingers and thumb, fingertips almost reaching to her throat.
A sigh of delight is all she can muster when he rubs circles into her neck, carefully turning her head towards him. His black pupils had taken over his iris, only leaving a rim of his brown-stained, lust-blown eyes. Those eyes were something unfamiliar, something (Name) had never seen before. Not even in their most passionate moments, which to his dismay had only been the hidden snogging in the corner of the school library where she could guarantee that none of her siblings were watching.
The hand behind her neck traveled to her shoulder, and she swallowed when he gently pushed her down into the pillows. And she held her breath and watched with bug eyes as he crawled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, and laying his arms on either side of her face to keep his body from crushing her.
And he stared at her, intense eyes locking with hers as if they were trying to tell her something, to imply something. And she didn't understand, but the tension in the air made her crazy and she longed to snap it like a twig between her fingers.
She let her hand travel from her side, up to the back of his delicate neck. She mimicked the hold he had on her before, and gently pushed him closer so that she could claim his lips with her own
Warmth and relief spread like wildfire in her stomach when Theodore returned her kiss with more eagerness and power than she had ever seen him do before. A sigh of delight escaped her nose, and she basked in the love Theodore provided for her every day, every minute to every second.
Her arms encircled his neck, and she slowly pulled him closer, letting him rest all his weight on her body. He moaned airily into her mouth, and (Name) saw it as an opportunity to let her tongue invade his mouth. She could feel how he melted against her body as she took control, forcing the kiss to become deeper, more sensual as she massaged his tongue with hers.
Theodore didn't know what to do with himself, for he had never experienced someone taking such control over him. Both body and mind were completely devoted to her and he had no longer any wish to think for himself, only to let her lead him through.
Slowly but surely, she slowed the kiss down, and Theodore found himself frowning when she disconnected their lips entirely. Spit collected on her bottom lip and without breaking their intimate eye contact, he leaned down and sucked the liquid off her lip. A sweet, closed-mouth moan echoed in her throat and Theodore felt how his hardness throbbed in his boxers.
"If you only could understand how absurdly amazing you make me feel." He mumbled with lidded eyes.
Her chest was heaving against his bare one, and she looked at him as if he was the reason for all the good in the world and all the good in her life. His skin erupted in flames and he, once again, leaned down although this time connecting his lips with the column of her throat.
A hand buried itself in her locks and she had no choice but to close her eyes as his lips traveled along her neck, at first only planting innocent pecks, letting his rosy lips leave invisible prints on her skin. Before he found the point right under her jaw and sucked.
"Oh, Theo." She simpered as he sucked, licked, and kissed the space, abusing it as a way of showing his love.
Her words made his hand tighten in her hair, and whilst she loved the attention she was receiving, she wanted to have more control. Theodore needed to be the princess for once. The one who would just stand there and accept the kisses and love. So she slowly enclosed her legs around his hips, squeezing him with her thighs as her hand traveled to his hair.
"You're always so good to me, taking care of me. And I love you so, so much." He sighed shakily into her neck, both because of the praise and also because of his crotch that was now pressed up against hers, and he needed almost all of his control to not grind into her and provide to his inextinguishable thirst for her.
"You own me, you own my body and you're the only thing on my mind." Theodore sucked harder on her neck, teeth grazing the blue area.
"And I own you, Theodore." And it was his downfall. He couldn't help himself but let his hips grind into hers and he grunted at the immense pleasure that spread along his stomach. And after that, he couldn't stop. Like he had been cursed, he continued to push himself against her, a secret fantasy of being inside of her, feeling her walls around his cock pushing him to continue.
"Please." He begged." Please let me make love to you." She almost choked on her tongue at his confession, and that accompanied by the pressure of Theodore's hips grinding into her made her mind foggy.
"I would to have you." A breath got caught in her throat as pressure once more ripped through her body. "But I don't want our first to be in the same house as my parents." The movement of his body came to a slow halt, trying to control himself and respect her wishes. A few playfully pecs were placed on her collarbones and a giggle escaped her lips at the tickling of his lips.
He pulled away from her body and met her eyes, intense gaze making her confidence waver and her body heat soar. Just for a moment, she contemplated to let him have her right in her childhood bed. To let him have his way with her. But with the ounce of self-control left in her body, she stayed in her decision with the knowledge it could bring more problems than pleasure. For him, her, and the rest of the family.
A hard kiss on her lips broke her out of the daze, and Theodore gently rolled off her body, settling at her side with him facing her.
"You sure it's alright?" She asked lightly, fingers tracing the shape of his nose. Her eyes did discreetly look down his body lightly gesturing to his crotch. With fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his again, this time placing a lighter pec on her forehead.
"I'm sure, I'm here with you that's all I need. Nothing more."
"Are sure? Otherwise, you can-"
"I'm sure, never been more sure." With a gentle smile on her lips, she nodded, eyes fluttering shut when Theodore continued with her previous movements, fingers tracing her nose. "Go to sleep."
But she couldn't sleep. It was impossible. Butterflies were racing against her inner organs, in her belly and other places she had never felt the tickling feeling in. Her entire body was buzzing. Just the thought of her making the boy next to her so troubled, in a good way, was thrilling. Because he's Theodore, the attractive, brilliant, and kind Slytherin who everyone wanted to be or to be with. And he chooses her.
The boy next to her shuffled in the bed, body turning so his back faced her. She played as still as possible so he wouldn't notice her being awake, or to wake him for that matter.
But just when she was sure he was sound asleep, he sat up in the bed, throwing his legs over the edge and her heart beat in worry when his head hung lowly into his hands. She was about to lay a comforting hand on his back but he stood up before she had the time.
"Theo?" She asked and he turned around, startled by her voice. "You okay?"
A smile lit his face and he kneeled before her, kissing her lips quickly. "Just going to the bathroom." Even though her room was dark, the moonlight revealed an unmistakable redness on the apples of his cheeks and she looked down to see his problem still present, and once again her body erupted in a buzz.
Before he could walk away, she grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked at her with a question in his eyes, and she looked away in shyness.
"I can- I can help you if you want?" Her big eyes raked over his face, waiting for an answer while his face displayed a handful of different emotions.
"You don't have to, I don't want to force you." She flushed at his gentleness, but couldn't dismiss the new, lustful edge in his voice.
"I want to help you. Alright? I want you." When he didn't say anything, she tugged his hand towards her, enough so one of his knees met the mattress.
"Do you want me too?" Her voice took a change and her eyes searched in his. As an answer, Theodore grabbed her throat and pulled her into a searing kiss, tongue licking over her lips when he pulled away.
"I want you to, need you, truly." And he was about to go into a second kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
"Good. But on one condition." He listened idly, lips kissing on the pad of her finger. "You have to be quiet, at all cost. You can't make a sound, if you do I'll have to stop."
She gently positioned him on his back, brain going ten miles on hour at the newfound confidence, at the newfound domination. He nodded slowly and his eyes were hooded with the lust of anticipation.
Thedore was a naturally dominant person per se. In their relationship, in his life, and in his friend group. With a hand on her back, he guided her the way he wanted, and with the preeminence in his voice, she found it hard to deny him. But now, with his panting chest and pleading puppy dog eyes, she wondered where Theodore went, without complaining of course.
With shaky hands and Theodore's eyes intently on her, she reached for the edge of his underwear, fingers picking at his waistband. Her knees clenched together when Thedore put both his arms behind his head, face shining with confidence. And in the most loving way possible, a small part of her wanted to break it down.
Slowly, she pulled the underwear down, with the help of Theodore raising his hips. When she laid eyes on his crotch, she swallowed and looked at Theodore, who had his lip in his teeth.
As if he could see her hesitation, he gave her a nod. "It's okay, Lovie, you can touch me."
And in pure curiousness, she let the tips of her fingers run up his length, feeling the warmth emitting from his body. A gasp made way from his mouth and he threw his head into the pillow. In fear of believing she hurt him, she pulled back, hand landing on his thigh.
"Theo? Sorry did I hurt you? I didn't mean to." She stressed, massaging his thigh in comfort. But he only shook his head, trying to slow his increased breath.
"No, no don't stop." His voice cracked pitifully as he pleaded, but she wasn't convinced.
"Theo Im not su-"
"Please for the love of Merlin, touch me. I swear I'm going to explode." The doubt was replaced with fire in her entire body. And she did the same movement again, running her fingers up his length.
Once again, a gasp escaped his lips, and a rare, blissful expression covered his face. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and a small smile on his open mouth.
And she wanted more of this reaction, craved it even. So she continued to run her fingertips up and down, biting her lip to hide her smile at his panting and puffing.
"Come on, love, I know you can do more than that." He didn't. But she could do more. She met his eyes, who were intently, expectantly staring into her. Like he was daring her. Holding his eye, she took a loose grip on his cock, doing an experimental stroke.
His eyes snapped to where his body met her hands, and a small, low moan forced itself from his lips. So low she almost missed it, but she's glad she didn't. She forced her thighs together, rocking back and forth as she began to twist her wrist to give Theo relief along with herself.
He only continues to stare at her moving hand, his stomach and thighs flexing with pleasure. And she notices, of course, she does, and lets her free land on the place connecting his pelvis and thigh, slowly massaging it to get him relaxed. It does quite the opposite.
He throws his head back, straight into the pillow. "Fuck." He whispers as one of his hands clenches around the sheet.
Without even meaning to, she speeds up her hand movements, her body reacting automatically to his pleasure. And he bucks into her hand at the new feeling, a groan, louder than before resonated pleasantly in her ear.
"Merlin, shit what the fuck are you doing to me." He moaned desperately, taking satisfaction in her warm palm, in the intense feeling in his pelvis and length. In his entire body. It was like he was high.
She giggled lightly, bashfully continuing her stroking without a notion of how the sound affected him.
An idea formed in her head, a memory of a knowledge Theo himself revealed not long ago at all. She took her other hand, which was stroking his thigh, and gripped it above the hand on his lenght, and let her thumb run over his tip, using a little pressure
And Theodore let out a moan, a borderline whine. And it didn't stop.
She continued the abuse on his tip, along with rapid strokes of his length, and different types of whines, groans and moans left him, one after one. And they were loud, too loud.
"Shhh, Theo you need to quiet down." Deep down she knew he wouldn't, especially with her continued stimulation of his cock.
"Can't- Fuck. I can't, I can't." He cried head tilted down to take a peek at her hands. Bad Idea as his length throbbed in her hands, sending him into a new fit of moans.
So she stopped. Only as an attempt to quiet him.
But it left him unsatisfied and searching for stimulation, violently continuing to buck his hips for any kind of friction, sounds of complaint echoing in the room.
"Theo you said you could be quiet, so be quiet!" She whisper-yelled desperately, pushing his hips to still with one of her hands. But he just couldn't be quiet.
Now, he was instead whining over the lack of stimulation, thrashing his head from side to side at the lost feeling.
"Theo for the love of good shut up." At the sudden stern tone, he shut his mouth and turned to her, big puppy dog eyes staring at her with admiration.
They sat quietly as she listened after a single sound. But luckily, there was none. And she could let her shoulders relax.
"Good job Theo." She smiled, and pecked his lips, him chasing after her when she sat straight again.
The pace of her hands picked up again, and Theodore tried his utmost to keep his sounds down. But it was so difficult.
And he thought he would be able to hold himself quiet until her hands sped up greatly.
She watched with awe in her eyes as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips vigorously meeting her wrist as he fucked her hand, moans of her name and whined curses fleeing his pink lips.
"Fuck. I th-think." His head arched into the mattress, interrupting his sentence with a moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-im-" She panicked as his voice took a turn for the loudest, and without thinking she slapped her hand over his mouth, although with a force that pushed his head further into the pillow.
His entire body twitched violently at the harsh gesture, and his eyelashes fluttered when white-hot pleasure overtook his entire life.
Without meaning to, he threw his hand over the one covering his mouth, gripping it tight as the other squeezed her thigh in a bruising grip. And he came with a long, guttural moan, straight into her hand as she continued to stroke him through his high. And she didn't stop, not until his body had stopped convulsing completely.
When he was done, his chest was heaving as he chipped for air, and she placed a concerned and clean hand on his chest, rubbing it slowly.
"You need to slow your breathing, don't need you to faint on me after that." He nodded lightly, head too heavy for anything else. He took her hand and bullied his breathing to a normal pace, even if it burned his lungs.
He forced his eyelids open, and her body, once again, flushed at the half-lidded look he gave her. As if she hung the moon and stars for him.
But, what he didn't know was she had a last trick up her sleeve. She raised her dirty hand to his lips and slowly and carefully licked every bit of him left on her hand.
Theodore let out a small gasp, and his handanded on her thigh massaging it to the erotic picture, fighting another hard-on with his life.
She leaned down and was about to connect her tongue to his lower abdomen, ready to lick the cum of his godly body. But she only had time to graze him before he took her cheeks in his hands, squeezing them while lifting her head in distress
"No no no!" He stressed, and she started at him with, big, questioning eyes." Fuck. I love you, but you're gonna get yourself another piece of trouble if I let you continue." A laugh of surprise jumped in her chest, looking down at her lap, her body warm and humble.
"Youre seriously amazing, you know that right." He breathed out, a smile in his voice. And a chuckle bumbled in her throat, head hazy with bliss.
She kissed his palm. "And I love you, lovie."
-----
So... That happened
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wrongplacerighttime · 3 months
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agent!harry x agent!fmc
the one where grace and harry are agents on a case, and they have to go undercover to get closer to their suspect. however, tensions come to light when they’re undercover in a sex club, and harry just can’t take it anymore.
little bit of plot, mostly smut slcksxkskc but i LOVE IT ANYWAY. don’t come for me. 😤
wc: ~5k.
tw: MDNI 18+!!!, talks of murder, drinking, sex club, dom!harry, stubborn!oc
part two here // little bunny masterlist
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little bunny
The club Grace stood in front of was designed to be discreet to any unassuming passerby. Her coat was pulled tightly around her, hiding the expensive lingerie set she had bought specifically for the occasion. She had never been somewhere like this, and she felt out of place. The building sat flush with the rest on the block, the architecture of history’s past was accentuated with up to date brick and mortar, black metal accents adorning the doors and tinted windows. She was nervous, and walking into a somewhat dangerous situation. She stepped into the darkened club after showing her ID to the security guard in the foyer. She almost refuses to take away her only barrier between her dignity and indecency, reluctantly handing her coat over to the man standing by the coat closet, but she does, acknowledging to herself that she needed to play the part of a cheating wife here to find a man to satisfy her in a way her husband can’t.
She moves on light footsteps further into the building, the stench of sex diluted by cigarette smoke filtered into her lungs. She puts on a face of false confidence, taking all her strength to not hug her arms tightly around her body to hide her figure from the prying eyes in the room. There are men surrounding the bar, some of them sporting tan lines where wedding rings are missing, a detail often overlooked by most. They’re only here to get an easy, quick fuck while their wives are home not suspecting a thing. She wrinkles her nose before correcting her expression and runs a hand through her hair, looking around the area as she inhales and tries to shake the nerves away while pulling on the dreaded collar that her female coworker insisted she should wear to “help get into character”. “It’s just part of the costume,” she reminds herself while making her way to a bar stool.
“Weston, are you alright so far? We’re about to send Styles in.” She hears Aaron, her boss, in her earpiece, static interfering with their signal. She discreetly adjusts the position of it in her ear before answering.
“Yep. Just peachy.” She sarcastically answered under her breath, silently wishing she were anywhere else. She feels exposed and the fake wedding band is uncomfortable and feels tight, like it's holding her finger in a vice. She moves further into the club, making sure the ring is visible to any patrons that may be watching her.
She didn’t want to be here, but realistically, she knew she was the only chance they had to catch the suspect they’d been hunting for just over a week now. They have concluded that the suspect is a recently divorced man who is using surrogates for his murders, dumping them on the streets of Seattle and somehow hasn’t been caught yet. All of the victims were last seen at this club. They haven’t had any reason to arrest him yet, because otherwise he’s a perfect law abiding citizen, and unless they have proof beyond a reasonable doubt, they can’t get a search warrant issued. The only thing they’re going on is that the women he’s kidnapped from this club look eerily similar to his ex wife, and he takes a souvenir from them every time. Their wedding rings.
Grace lifts her gaze from her glass to look around the room, and her eyes briefly catch as the man beside her looks her up and down before turning back to his drink. She feels her cheeks redden slightly, thankful that she was wearing a decent amount of makeup to hide the stain of embarrassment. She would never be seen in something like this, even with her sexual partners. And she never wanted to admit but her sex life was pretty vanilla compared to this. She was dreading that Harry, of all people, was going to be seeing her like this. She only saw one of her coworkers before she had to go inside, and if she had a choice she wouldn’t have seen any of them. There was a knock on her hotel door that interrupted her just as she was putting on her coat to cover up. When she answered the door she expected it to be one of the other women she worked with checking on her, so she didn’t button up. To her dismay it was Sean, their tech guy. She needed to be hooked to an earpiece so she had to suffer through the breath catching in his throat and his endless stutters as he helped her hook with the new technology she was unfamiliar with. And of course, because it was Sean, it was more awkward than it needed to be.
“I’m inside.” She hears Harry’s voice through the speaker hidden in her ear behind her hair as she swallows down the martini she ordered, thankful that they were making an exception to the no alcohol on the job rule. She had a feeling she’d need a little bit of a buzz to deal with Harry tonight, and there was no telling how much time would pass before they got what they needed. Her boss told her to only accept drinks that she had watched be made, as if she didn’t already possess the common knowledge and she wasn’t a federal agent. Her eyes flitted around the room and she caught sight of Harry as he passed the bar and made his way to a location that wasn’t in her line of sight from where she was sitting.
The plan that she and Harry would be the ones undercover wasn’t her own. Harry had suggested it, and because it was his idea, it was the best one and it needed to be executed. Grace would be playing the part of the married woman here to cheat on her husband while he was at home not suspecting a thing. Harry just had to be the one she seduced and left with. They had no way of knowing for sure if the suspect would be there tonight, they were just betting on his timeline being the same as it has been for the past three murders. If he was there, there was no way to know if he would actually set his sights on her. As fucked up as it sounds, Grace hoped he would so she didn’t have to do this again, and she really wanted to be the one to cuff this scumbag. She glanced around the bar, hoping to see his face in the sea of sleazy men. She studies every single patron sitting within her line of sight, and finally, her eyes land on him. Jesse Baker. His dirty blonde hair was greasy on top of his head, and he was sipping on a glass of beer. She stares at him for a moment, willing him to look her way as if he could read her thoughts. After a beat, his eyes meet hers and she feels a shiver up her spine. She doesn’t react, she just makes sure her left hand is in view so he sees the gold ring adorning her finger. She knows he’s seen it when he scowls at her, and if looks could kill she’d already be dead.
“He’s spotted me.” Grace says quietly under her breath, looking away so he doesn’t see her mouth moving. “I’m on the move.”
“Did he see the wedding ring?” Aaron asks. Grace stands taking her glass with her and walking away from the bar.
“Yeah. He saw. Where are you, Styles?”
“Back corner.” His voice is low in her ear and she shivers again, this time for a different reason. There's always been some kind of tension between them, and Grace is no stranger to the way he looks at her when he thinks she doesn’t notice. But he’s never approached her that way, and all they do is bicker back and forth about the correct plan of action on every single case they work together. To him she’s always wrong and he’s always right, and when she is right he doesn’t even acknowledge it, just grumbles something about a ‘lucky guess’ and walks away. She saunters around the bar walking right past their suspect, spotting Harry in the far back of the club. A woman seems to be eyeing him from her table so Grace quickly makes her way to him before he’s stuck in a situation that would be counterintuitive to the reason they were here in the first place.
His eyes meet hers before trailing down to the black lace that covers her from her chest to the tops of her thighs, leaving little to imagination. And he has imagined it. Every time she juts her lip out in concentration, or everytime she gives him her endless attitude he so desperately wanted to put in its place. He shifts in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek before leaning forward and setting his glass down on the small table in front of him. She smiles nervously at him as she moves closer and when she’s within arms reach, he grabs her wrist and pulls her onto his lap.
“H-hey.” Grace stutters and catches herself on the back of the booth, caging his head between her arms. She tilts her head slightly and she wraps one arm around the back of his shoulders after she steadies herself. He lightly drags the tip of his nose up her neck before bumping it against her ear and she swallows a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Just playing the part, don’t want him to get suspicious.” He mutters and she nods, making herself comfortable, and while he was the one to pull her into his lap, he doesn’t touch her any further than that. Movement catches the corner of her eye and she notices Jesse moving closer to them. She watches him from her peripheral as he takes a seat at the booth behind them, facing them with his legs spread out and resting his drink on his knee while he holds the glass by the rim. She buries her nose in Harry’s hair, breathing in the delicious scent of whatever product he had in it and placing a kiss against his temple, her lips barely brushing over his skin.
“He’s behind us.” She mumbles, moving to straddle over his hips without thinking, just wanting to be able to keep her eye on Jesse. She hears him clear his throat, keeping his hands beside him on the seat and she’s sure they’re about to give away their guise because Harry is way too tense for someone who would’ve been expecting this. She brings her lips to his neck, taking his skin between her teeth before kissing over the spot. She hears him curse under his breath, clenching his hands into fists on the booth. “Do something with your hands, you need to make yourself a little more convincing.” She breathes against his ear and he nods once before placing his hands on her hips and squeezing lightly. Just as she was about to say something else, they’re interrupted by a woman dressed all too similarly to Grace. She’s tall, at least 6’ in her heels and she has long fiery-red hair cascading down her back, her neck adorned with a black leather collar.
“Look at you two getting all cozy.” Her eyes flick between Grace and Harry before narrowing. “There’s private rooms down that hallway over there,” she gestures with her hand, Harry’s gaze follows and he nods at her, flashing a wide smile her way.
“Thank you.” He croons and snakes his hand down from Grace’s hip to the swell of her ass, palming and gripping onto her as the woman’s eyes follow his touch.
“I’m not sure if we’ll need one tonight, I’m trying to teach her how to control and behave herself, she’s a bratty little bunny, aren’t you?” He turns his head and mutters the last few words against the skin between her breasts, his hot breath billowing outwards as he licks a stripe upwards to her collarbone. She whimpers and grinds against him purely out of habit from the pleasure building, and when she does she’s surprised to feel him hard under her. She nods shyly and his finger hooks under her collar, pulling lightly and tilting his head.
“Words, baby. Be polite.” He purrs at her, and it takes all of her mental strength to not widen her eyes at him.
“Y-yes sir.” Is all she can answer, her cheeks reddening slightly and she buries her face in his neck. He brings a hand up, trailing it down her spine with featherlight fingertips. He pushes her to stand, spinning her around before pulling her back down onto his lap, except she’s facing away from him now and he brings his hands over the expanse of her thighs before squeezing there, dimpling the skin. The nameless woman still standing and watching the interaction, clicks her tongue once and her eyes look back to where Jesse still sits. Grace watches her, noticing the way her eyes are narrowing at him and the way she shakes her head, like they’re communicating with each other telepathically. She turns her head back to Harry and Grace, plastering a fake smile on her face.
“Well. If you need anything, just let me know.” She eyes Grace up and down before turning and walking away. Grace waits until she’s out of hearing range before craning her neck to look at Harry over her shoulder. His eyes meet hers briefly before he looks away.
“Little warning would have been nice.” She grumbles as he scoffs.
“Yeah, how exactly did you expect me to do that?” He whispers with annoyance lacing his tone, bringing his mouth to her shoulder blade and kissing lightly. A burst of pleasure runs down her spine and she grinds against him, causing a hiss to fall from between his gritted teeth and he grips her hips tightly, moving her so the pressure isn’t against his cock straining in his pants. She chooses to ignore it for the time being.
“Did you notice her looking at him?” She mutters and he nods, keeping his hands tight on her hips. She doesn’t know how much longer she can do this, and she hates to admit that Harry looks extremely delectable tonight, his hair styled to perfection on top of his head, dressed in black dress pants with a white button up loosely fitting his torso…unbuttoned enough to give her just a hint of the butterfly tattooed on his abs. She catches herself thinking about how it would feel to trail her tongue over it before she forces the image away from her mind and focuses on the task at hand.
-
About a half an hour passes of them bantering back and forth, Jesse watching them the entire time while they exchange just enough physical contact to make it believable. Grace has been drinking and it’s coming to a head, feeling tipsy now and a little more brave. She tangles her hands in Harry’s hair, the fake ring is visible to their suspect as she does so, watching as he narrows his eyes at her and Harry. She feels her arousal pooling on the material of the lingerie as she pushes her center against him and he leans his head back and lets out a soft groan. She watches his eyes flutter closed as he moves her hips over his erection. When he opens them back up to see her smirking down at him, she notices something primal in his expression. He stands abruptly, pushing her off of him in the process and grabbing her hand, leading her down the hallway of private rooms.
“Harry, what are you doing?” She whisper-yells at him, her words running together from slight intoxication but he doesn’t answer. He finds a door cracked open, poking his head inside and making sure it's unoccupied. He pulls her inside, closing the door and locking it behind them before he spins her around and pushes her against it. Grace jumps when a voice speaks in her ear.
“What's going on?” Aaron asks both of them and Harry curses under his breath and drops his head to her shoulder, both of them forgetting about the earpieces up until that moment.
“Give us a minute, new information. Need to come up with a plan.” He lies as he stares directly into Grace’s eyes with dark, blown out pupils, licking his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth
“Styles, we need to know your location in the club at all times.” Aaron scolds him and he shakes his head.
“Do you trust us?” He asks and Aaron responds with a hesitant yes. “Okay. Then give us a minute.” He says before ripping out his earpiece. He does the same with Grace’s, and then his lips crash to hers. She moans into the kiss, opening her mouth and giving him access to her. His tongue darts in and he’s running his hands up to the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling hard enough for her to yelp and he attaches his lips to her pulse point.
“You play dirty.” He mutters against her skin before pulling back and she gives him a devilish grin.
“Didn’t know I needed to play fair.” She remarks, feigning innocence and he pulls her hair again as she hisses through her teeth.
“Think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He seethes and she smiles again. “Think you can just prance over to me in this slutty little outfit and not expect me to want to shove my cock inside you?” He asks, tilting his head slightly and her eyes flutter closed at his words, a switch inside him flipping almost instantaneously. He thinks he has her right where he wants her, but she’s not going to give him what he wants that easily.
While still fisting her hair, he pulls her away from the door and shoves her down onto the sofa in the middle of the room. He flips her over, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her ass up in the air. She squirms underneath him, and he runs his hand softly up the back of her exposed thigh. She shivers, goosebumps forming at his gentle touch. He gives no warning before he pushes the material keeping her wet center covered to the side. He drags a finger through her arousal before shoving it into her and she cries out. He hums with satisfaction, feeling the way she clenches on his fingers at the intrusion.
“You’re dripping. All for me, sweet girl?” He coos at her but she doesn’t answer, instead her jaw falling slack as he pumps his finger in and out of her. His eyes flare with lust, but he stops all together causing her to whimper. “Need you to use your words or I’ll stop.” He demands, the change in his tone giving her whiplash.
“Y-you wish.” She stutters, trying to sound confident, and he knows she’s trying to put up a front, and he doesn’t like her answer. He smacks her ass, hard. He clicks his tongue, gently rubbing the area quickly turning red with his handprint.
“Want to rethink that?” His voice is low. She tries to push her hips back against him, searching for any friction but he doesn’t let her.
“Look at you, such a needy little bunny. You knew what you were doing getting me all riled up.” He croons, bending over her body and nipping at her ear. The pet name he used earlier brings a heat swirling into her belly, a feeling that she craved.
“Wasn’t doing anything. Just playing the part like you told me to.” She lies through her teeth in a breathy tone.
“Hmm. S’that why you’re all wet, then?” He pushes two fingers into her and her eyes flutter closed as she bites her bottom lip. He pumps and curls, stretching her so deliciously it makes her toes curl. He goes deeper, all the way too the knuckle and she feels the tightening of the coil inside her belly. She’s close, so close. He pulls his fingers away from her and her chest heaves at the empty feeling, tearing her away from the edge just as she was about to tumble over. He sits on the couch beside her, pulling her onto his lap and she straddles his hips. He pulls the top of her outfit down, exposing her breasts to him. In the same second, he attaches his mouth to one of her nipples while pinching the other between his thumb and finger. She throws her head back and grinds her hips down over his cock still confined behind the zipper.
“I hate you.” She moans as he lightly bites and sucks on her nipple. She’s breathless as she says it, and he bucks his hips to meet hers.
“You have a funny way of showing it.” He mumbles against her skin, reaching a hand between their bodies and rubbing over her clit. She falls forward, her head falling against his shoulder as he rubs circles at a slow, torturous pace.
“You think you’re so great? You think every woman who looks your way wants you? Like you’re God’s gift to them?” She huffs, not realizing the irony of her words and the position she’s in due to the insatiable want clouding her mind.
“And yet here you are.” He mutters, the corner of his mouth pulling into a half smile and she rolls her eyes. He grabs her face, forcing her to look at him. His pupils are blown out and he tilts his head, studying her like he’s a predator hunting his prey, knowing she’s about to say something smart again and nipping it in the bud before it has the chance to escape her lips.
“Attitude.” He says pointedly, squeezing her cheeks and she can’t help the whine that builds in her throat and betrays her. “Be a good little bunny or I won’t let you cum.” He threatens and she swallows her words down without so much as a sigh.
Her hands fall from his chest and to his pants, fumbling with the button and unzipping them. He lifts his hips and pulls them down just enough and his cock springs free from where it was confined behind his zipper. Her eyes widen and her mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to drop to her knees and take him down her throat at the sight of him. He watches her for a beat before pulling her face back to him and kissing her, shoving his tongue into her mouth aggressively.
In an instant, he’s gripping the backs of her thighs and lifting her as he stands from the sofa without detaching his mouth from hers. Her hands grip his hair, pulling at the root and he groans into the kiss, her back meeting the cool surface of the wall across the room. She feels the head of his cock at her entrance, and she wiggles her hips against him in an attempt to push him into her, begging for more contact. He holds her steady, and she’s unsuccessful in her efforts as she whimpers into his mouth. He pulls away far enough to meet her eyes, her chest heaving and her eyes pleading for him.
“Beg me for it.” He demands, breathless. The look in her eyes shifts, and she narrows them at him.
“Fuck you.” She seethes, her usual personality fighting to stay dominant over the one she wants to slip into. He holds her up with one hand, bringing the other up to grab the collar still strapped around her throat. He pulls, bringing her forehead to his, the tips of their noses touching and she feels her air supply dwindling.
“Beg. Or I’ll leave you in here, your pretty little pussy all weepy and empty.” He grits through his teeth and she can’t deny she wants him like this always. He lets go and she sucks in a breath that she desperately needed. She’s stunned for a moment, this side of him still new to her. She’s itching to provoke him further, just to see how far he’ll go. But she also just really wants him to fuck her,
“Please.” She whispers and he laughs, shaking his head slightly
“You can do better than that, bunny.” His voice is low and gravely, and she can tell he’s holding himself back. She sighs, throwing her head back against the wall. He waits, and when she lifts her head to look at him again, she gives him a look that reads mischief.
“Please, oh please, give me your cock, sir, I need it, need it so bad. Plea—” Her fake, whiny voice is cut off by him slamming his cock into her and she feels the breath whoosh from her lungs. Tears prick the corner of her eyes at the sting of him stretching her, and it’s all she knows. All she feels. Her head falls forward against his shoulder and she cries out from pleasure sparking down her spine.
“God, you look so much better when you just shut up.” He grits with annoyance, breath heavy in his lungs as she squeezes him perfectly. He tosses his head back as he sets a slow, torturous pace. Her hands find his hair again, holding the back of his head and fisting his hair for something to grip as he pulls out to the tip before driving back into her. She’s a mess of moans and whines and she lifts her head from his shoulder and arches her back against the wall. His mouth finds her throat, lapping and sucking on her skin. She knows she won’t last, and he can sense it too, the way she’s clenching him and bucking into him. He brings one hand up between her thighs, pressing lightly on her clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles with light pressure and his name falls from her lips in breathy moans.
“That’s it…cum for me. Know you want to.” He encourages her, and the sparks dancing down her spine travel right to her center and turn to flames of pleasure…desire. He presses her clit once, and that’s it, all she needs. She comes completely undone, tipping over the edge and dropping her head to his shoulder once more, her pussy squeezing him and willing him to come inside her. He groans, a single bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he slams into her.
“Feel so fucking good cumming all over my cock, bunny. So good. Like you were made for me.” He’s breathless, his hips meeting hers one final time before he’s spilling into her, bringing his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss as he rides through it, moaning into her mouth, filling her until he slides out and he drips down her thighs.
Gently, he lowers her until her feet meet the floor. She stumbles, humming as he brings his hands to her face and wipes the mascara running down her cheeks with the back of his fingers. His eyebrows pull together as her eyes meet his. He makes sure she’s steady, pulling her lingerie back into place and tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them before walking away and finding their earpieces that he threw across the room.
“Now, you’re gonna leave this room with my cum dripping from that pretty little pussy. Let it run down your thighs. Gonna be a good little bunny and let them all see who you belong to, right?” Her head is fuzzy, and she nods without thinking. She can’t think straight, forgetting for a moment why they were even here in the first place. He checks his watch, and all of twenty minutes have passed feeling like hours. He situates the technology in her ear, then moves to his, clearing his throat before he speaks.
“Aaron. We have reason to believe he’s working with a partner. There’s a woman in here that he’s been communicating with, and I think she plays a part in luring the women to him.” He speaks clearly, as if he didn’t just have his cock buried inside Grace, wishing he had a little more time, and he realized he was going to be insatiable for her, already thinking about when he could have her next.
“We didn’t profile a partner?” Aaron sounds confused, and Harry’s eyes travel to Grace still leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath without making it obvious to anyone listening.
“Grace and I went to a private room, Baker is going to assume he knows what we did in this room. He’s going to make a move, or his partner will. Need another body inside. Need more eyes on him.” Harry says, calm and collected. “It’s going to have to be a man, because I’m sure there’s no other women on our team dressed like Grace.” He mutters.
“Weston, are you there?” Aaron asks and his voice speaking directly to her snaps her back to reality quickly.
“Uh, yeah. Here. I’m here.” She makes her presence known.
“Alright. I’m coming in.” He says, and they both look at each other once before nodding. Grace feels the ache in her thighs as she walks towards the door, Harry behind her. He leans into her just as her hand reaches for the handle.
“Still hate me?” He whispers in her ear
“Always.” She mutters.
“Good. It’d be boring if you didn’t.” He smirks, his hand on her back as they exit the room. She knew she was ruined, already wanting more of him, more time with him.
But it’ll have to wait.
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heartateasee · 9 days
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“Reconciliation”
ex-dom!Harry x you
Word count: 8.5k
Warnings: dom/sub relationship, spanking, daddy kink, slight praise kink, size kink, quick breeding kink and unprotected sex
⌑⌑⌑⌑
You felt his stare on you from across the room as you indulged in a conversation with your friend, Cassidy. You had tried your best to avoid him and his piercing eyes all evening, but now you knew he was trying his hardest to get you to look over at him - to acknowledge him. You didn’t want to speak to him, or even look at him for that matter.
It got weird, and that caused the need for things to end.
It had been six weeks since you last saw him, and the image of him standing in your doorway, begging to speak to you was etched permanently in your mind. You didn’t let him in, and you told him to go home. It was the right thing to do. It was what you both needed - whether or not he’s come to realize it.
If it wasn’t for the fact that it was your friend Joseph's birthday tonight, you’d be at home on your couch. However, Joseph had been your friend since you moved into the city, and there was no way you’d miss it.
“You look so good,” Cassidy spoke as she took your hand, making you twirl in front of her. It caused you to smile sheepishly as you didn’t like attention to be on you too much these days.
“Thanks, Cas,” you bit down on your bottom lip as you looked down and saw that your glass of red wine was nearly empty. “I’m just going to grab a refill.”
You moved away from Cassidy, and you felt your shoulders slouch as you did so. It had been exhausting keeping your image up all night. The image that you were happy, and that everything was just peachy. It was far from it, but you didn’t want him to know just how much things were impacting you.
Making your way into the large kitchen of your friend's house, the music from the living room drowned out a bit as you eyed the bottles of red wine on the counter. Cassidy had grabbed the first glass of wine for you, so you weren’t sure exactly which one you had been drinking.
“Y/N.”
You heard the raspy accent behind you - causing you to suck in a deep breath. There was no way you could handle an encounter with him tonight. This wasn’t the time, or place.
“We’re not doing this,” you told him softly as you walked towards the sink.
You washed your glass out lazily, just enough to get the remnants of the first wine out in case you don’t end up picking the same one again.
“Doing what?” He was behind you now, and you looked up to the window in front of the sink that had a view of the backyard - seeing the reflection of the both of you in it. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. I was just coming to greet you.”
“Harry, you and I both know you’re not over here just to greet me,” you sighed, and you turned around to place your hand on his chest to move him out of your way. You kept your eyes on the ground as you did so, moving around him so that you could dry your glass.
You still felt him behind you as you made your way over to the wine on the counter, and you were doing your best to ignore him, but it was hard when he made it to where was so close now.
“So that’s it? You won’t even look at me now?” 
Sucking in a deep breath, you turned back around. You slowly trailed your eyes up his body, seeing that he was dressed in a pair of black dress pants with a sheer black short sleeved button up on top - his tattoos just barely shining through. Once you reached his face, you could see the sadness behind his emerald eyes, and that had you wanting to divert your gaze immediately.
“There - I looked at you. Are you happy?”
The corner of Harry’s lips curled down into a frown at your words, and you watched as he anxiously tucked his hands into his pockets. “No, I’m not. I haven’t been happy since you walked out on me.”
“Harry,” you shook your head. “I didn’t walk out on you. Our relationship wasn’t like that, and you know that.”
“And you know that from what I confessed to you that it was like that for me. You know it was like that for you too. You just won’t admit,” he scoffed, his eyes now trailing over you. “Seeing you tonight, looking so beautiful and talking to our friends like nothing has changed, it’s been killing me. Because it has changed, Y/N. Everything has changed.”
You felt a clenching in your chest at his words. You knew they were the truth. You had felt something more than what you had agreed upon, just like he did for you, but it scared you. Your relationship was based purely off of pleasure and dynamic. It was never meant to lead to anything further. It was only supposed to last until the two of you felt that it was time to move on. You had convinced yourself that’s what happened for you after that night, but you knew that was a lie. 
“That’s it, darling,” Harry hovered over you, looking down at your tear-filled eyes as he circled your sensitive clit with the pads of his index and middle fingers. “You’re ‘s pretty for me. You know that?”
You whimpered as you nodded, feeling him plunging in and out of your drenched cunt. “Always wanna be pretty for you, daddy.”
“Oh, honey,” he clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “You don’t even have to try. You’re always pretty. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
You loved when he showered you with compliments. It was one of your favorite things, and you knew he loved complimenting you too.
“Gonna come again,” you whined, snaking your hips underneath him. “Can I, please?”
“You can come. Let it go,” he coaxed you through it, applying a bit more pressure to your clit as he felt you clenching down around him - gushing past his cock as your third orgasm of the night plowed through you. 
You gripped to him once the height of it hit you, and you let out a small sob of pleasure as the feeling encompassed you from head to toe. You were brought back down as you heard Harry’s grunts of ecstasy as he continued to thrust - hips clashing against yours.
“Daddy,” his eyes snapped up at the sound of your voice - looking up from where you both connected so that he was now looking into your eyes. “Want to feel it inside, please.”
You both had established always talking about where he was going to come. Initially at the beginning of this session, you had agreed upon him finishing on your stomach, but now that you had already come three times, you were desperate to feel his come inside of you.
“Yeah?” Harry picked up the pace of his movements, and you knew it was because he was close. “Want me to come inside your tight, and perfect cunt?”
“Please, I want it so bad.”
Harry’s jaw went slack as you felt the warmth of his orgasm filling you - his chest collapsing against yours as he fucked it into your swollen pussy. You hummed at the sensation, and you soon felt his lips against the side of your neck as he began to still.
“I love you.”
Your eyes shot open when the three words left his mouth, and you swallowed harshly as you registered that he had actually said them. You pushed it away though as you lifted a hand to run your fingers through the back of his curls as he panted against your skin. 
You knew this could happen to people sometimes in the height of the moment, and you knew that it probably just slipped out without him even realizing. You knew he didn’t mean it.
After cleaning you up, he proceeded to clean himself up as well before he tucked the two of you into his bed. You were giggling and cuddling as his fingertips trailed over your back, both of you returning to the bed completely naked - something you did quite often.
His eyes wandered over your face as he lifted his other hand to push your hair behind your ear, and then he dragged his hand down to cup your cheek. The pad of his thumb brushed along your lower lip as he now stared into your eyes.
“I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I love you.”
You thought that maybe he had slipped into a subspace without you realizing, even though he was the dominant, and that he still hadn’t pulled himself out of it. 
Your eyebrows narrowed as you held his face into both of your hands. “Harry,” you said his name instead of his title, hoping that would cause a crack in his wall - that it would get him to come back to you properly.
He lifted his hands to wrap around your wrists, and he gave them each a squeeze. “I know that’s not what this was when we started it, and that you might not feel the same way, but I couldn’t resist not saying it anymore. These past six months with you have been so wonderful, and I want to still continue on with what we’ve been doing, but maybe we could change the dynamic a little bit. Maybe keep this reserved for only sometimes, and then we can try out-”
“Wait, wait, wait,” you dropped your hands from him as you sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet against your chest to cover yourself. “Hold on, please.”
You closed your eyes tight as you tried to control your breathing. This felt so overwhelming.
He was right, the past six months had been amazing, but it was amazing because it was the dynamic you had agreed upon when this all began. Not because of what he was trying to turn it into.
It was silent between the two of you for what felt like hours, but you knew it had only been a couple of minutes. You looked over your shoulder at Harry as he stayed in his position laying down on the bed, now on his back so he could look at your properly.
“You can’t mean any of that,” you whispered, and you watched as sadness filled his eyes. “That’s not what this is.”
“I know, I know,” he said, shaking his head. “But I do mean it. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“Harry, you can’t,” you told him, and as he sat up, you moved away from him. “Please - don’t.”
You quickly got out of bed, and you walked over to the bag you had packed for the weekend that was in the chair in the corner of his room. You pulled on a pair of sweats and a jumper, tugging on some socks as well before zipping it up - pulling the strap over your shoulder.
“Y/N, please don’t leave,” Harry hopped out of the bed as you left his room - holding the bedsheet around his waist. “Can we talk about this before you just up and go? It’s almost three in the morning. Please just stay.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you slipped your feet into your shoes that were by the door, and you grabbed your purse from the hook on the wall. “We both made an agreement when we started this, that if we ended up wanting different things, then we would end it. It’s clear now that we want that - we want different things. So, I’m ending it.”
“You can’t be serious,” you heard the tears filling his voice, but you couldn’t look at him again.
“I have to go.”
You walked out as you heard him calling your name again.
He showed up the next morning at your door, clutching to the doorway once you opened it to reveal him. His eyes were swollen, and his cheeks tearstained as he begged for you to please listen to him. You denied him. You shut the door in his face after telling him that it had to be over.
“I wish you would stop acting like you know the way I feel - the way I felt,” you corrected yourself, and you heard Harry let out a small laugh.
“I don’t know why you’re running from this.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but you were interrupted by Joseph coming into the kitchen. He stopped as he laid eyes on you and Harry, looking between the two of you.
“Everything okay?” Joseph asked, and you sent him a tight smile.
“Everything’s fine! Just catching up with Harry while grabbing a refill,” you told him before turning around to grab a bottle of wine.
You and Harry agreed at the beginning of everything that you wouldn’t tell your friends about your relationship. None of them knew that either of you participated in that type of lifestyle, and you both wanted to avoid having to explain it.
After pouring yourself a glass, you turned around to see Harry still standing there as Joseph fixed himself another cocktail.
“It was nice talking to you again, Harry,” you slipped past him, and you felt him brush the tips of his fingers along the inside of your wrist as you did so.
It angered you how the smallest touch from him still had goosebumps coating your skin.
⌑⌑⌑⌑
It had been a week since Joseph’s party, and like always, you hadn’t left Harry’s mind. It wasn’t that he had stopped thinking about you since everything happened, but seeing you again made his mind wander to you more than usual. It was back to how often he thought of you when things first ended.
He had to stop himself from showing up at your apartment again - begging for you to please sit down and talk to him. He just wanted you to let him explain completely, so that you could see he really meant that he loved you.
But it was obvious that’s not what you wanted.
He just didn’t know how he had read the signs so wrong. There were instances throughout your time together where he thought he could see a gleam in your eyes that was showing him that you were feeling the same.
Harry didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but it was about four months in when he found it inevitable. He became completely captivated by you.
This was only supposed to be him showing you how a proper relationship between a dominant and a submissive was supposed to be. The both of you obviously let it go on for longer than just that because you worked well together. 
You were the most perfect submissive for him.
He remembered the night when he found out you were open to that kind of relationship. The circumstances surrounding it were rather unfortunate. You didn’t want anyone in your friend group knowing what you did on your personal time, but Harry ultimately found out, and the way he did was beyond your control.
You both were out with your friends for the night. Harry hadn’t seen you out in a while, and you weren’t close enough at the time for him to really ask why. Tonight however, you were letting loose, and he was enjoying watching you.
The two of you had held a few conversations here and there since being introduced to each other, but you were never really ones to go out of your way to do so. They just happened on their own. You were quiet most of the time, and Harry was too.
Him keeping his eyes on you all night worked out in your favor, however. He noticed that you were no longer on the dance floor with Cassidy, and his eyes began to look among the crowd of the club you were in - to see if he could spot you.
Eventually he located you by the back hallway, and he saw you speaking with a gentleman. He looked like he was in his late thirties, and Harry was sure he had never seen him before.
With the way the gentleman was talking with his hands, Harry could tell that he was clearly angry about something, and you looked equally upset. It wasn’t until Harry saw him grab your elbow, leading you out the back exit, that he went into action.
He followed you both, but you had been pulled around the corner of the building.
“Do you think this is cute behavior, Y/N?” The man was berating you, and it made his blood boil. “What did you think? That this was going to earn you some fun punishment? I don’t even want to punish you. I can’t stand the fucking sight of you.”
Harry’s mouth gaped at the words being thrown your way, but still, he didn’t wish to intervene. He wouldn’t until he knew the situation he was dealing with.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” he heard you sniff. “I hadn’t been out with my friends in so long, and I didn’t think you would care. I haven’t heard from you all week.”
“I told you I needed space until the weekend, and this is what you up and do when you knew that I could call you up and ask you to come over. And let me guess, you’re using my card for your tab?”
“No, no, I’m not!” The pleading in your voice crushed Harry’s heart, and he knew he couldn’t listen to this much longer. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave with you right now. I’ll go in, and I’ll pay, and then we can-”
“You’re not leaving here with me, Y/N. This is over. Give me my card.”
Harry came around the corner as he heard you sob, and he watched as you handed the man a credit card. 
The moment the man spit at your feet, Harry sprung into action.
“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” He yelled, pushing the man’s shoulders to get him to step away from you. “Spitting at a woman? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
“She’s not a woman, she’s a fucking child,” the man bit. “She’s made that clear these last couple of weeks with her choices, and now the consequences are staring her right in the face.”
“Sir, please,” you went to reach forward for the man, but Harry was the one to stop you. He took your small hands and stood in front of you - blocking the other man from your view as he placed your hands against his chest.
“Y/N, darling, look at me,” Harry said softly, and you let your eyes flicker to meet his. “You’re going to let him leave, you understand? He’s a piece of shit, and he’s not treating you well. You’re going to let him leave.”
“She’s the piece of shit,” Harry quickly snapped his head to look over his shoulder at the man again out of the corner of his eye.
“I suggest you leave right now if you like your teeth remaining in your skull. I’m about two seconds from knocking over half of them out onto this sidewalk.”
You had never heard Harry’s voice have such anger, but you were grateful for it when you heard retreating footsteps - leaving just the two of you outside now.
Harry had been looking at you again this whole time, and you felt him lift a hand to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’re alright now. He’s gone.”
Without even thinking, you nuzzled your face against his fingers as your eyes slipped shut for a moment. You felt so calm around him already even though you had just been so worked up.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and if I’m overstepping, please let me know, but was that man your dominant, Y/N?”
Blinking your eyes open, you struggled with how to respond. Was he asking because he knew of that lifestyle himself, or was he asking to judge you?
“Yes,” you whispered, giving him a small nod. “For the past few months.”
“How many have you had, darling?”
“He was my third,” you were being honest. You hadn’t engaged in this lifestyle for too long. 
“And did they all speak to you like that? In that manner?”
Looking down to your feet, you nodded again - suddenly feeling so small, and almost embarrassed that you were revealing this part of yourself to Harry when the two of you really didn’t know each other all that well.
“Y/N, look at me, please.”
You shook your head, your bottom lip wobbling.
“Y/N,” he repeated himself, and he hooked his finger underneath your chin - forcing you to look up at him. Once you held his eyes again, he continued to speak. “That is not the way they should be speaking to you, ever. There’s a difference between punishment, and someone just being inappropriate and nasty when speaking to you. Do you understand?”
With your big doe eyes and your plump lips, Harry felt something new wash over him when it came to you. He had always seen you, sure, but tonight he was seeing you. This pretty, precious woman in front of him. You were being vulnerable, and he just wanted to hide you away from the evil that had presented itself to you already.
You shook your head as you took in his words. “I…I don’t know any different.”
Harry was doing his best to stay calm in front of you, but inside, he was actually fuming. These men had taken advantage of you, and disrespected you by disguising it as a normal part of that kind of relationship.
“How far do you live from here, love? How about I go inside and settle our tabs, and then I’ll take you home. We can talk more there.”
You agreed without hesitation, and the next thing you knew you were climbing out of a taxi with Harry - leading him into your apartment.
“Sit,” he instructed, and you obeyed him by taking a seat on your couch.
You could hear him moving around your kitchen, and he eventually returned with a glass of water - extending it to you.
“Drink this.”
You took the glass of water from him, drinking half of it before lowering it down into your lap - holding it with both of your hands. Harry reached out to glide his thumb under your bottom lip to collect the excess water that had started to drip.
“Good girl,” he praised you, and it caused a fluttering in your lower stomach. “Now, I have a proposition for you, Y/N.”
“I’m listening,” you responded, lifting the glass to your lips again to have a couple more sips. 
“How would you feel about me showing you what a proper dominant is supposed to look like?”
Your eyes widened, and you gave yourself time to properly swallow your water before responding. “You…you would do that with me?”
“Why are you saying it like that, darling?” Harry chuckled, tilting his head to the side.
“I guess I’m just a little shocked that you’d want something like that with someone like me, that’s all,” you shrugged, beginning to nibble on your bottom lip.
“Someone like you? You mean polite, sweet, well-spoken and beautiful? Why wouldn’t I want to do something like that with someone like you?”
You were blown away by his compliments. You didn’t think Harry had seen you in that way at all. His offer intrigued you, but you couldn’t help but be a little hesitant.
“I don’t know, Harry,” you sighed, tapping the tips of your fingers against your glass. “You don’t think that could end up being weird?”
“What do you mean? I don’t tell my friends about partaking in this lifestyle, if that’s what you mean. They wouldn’t have to know we’re involved in anything further than what they see when we’re all together.”
When he explained it in that way, it did feel like some of the pressure had been taken off.
“Okay, then yes.”
Harry smiled as he reached out, taking the glass of water from you to set it on your coffee table. “Perfect,” he whispered as he now cupped your face in his palm. “Can I kiss you, love?”
You nodded, and his lips were on yours quicker than you thought they would be. After a few seconds of processing that this was actually happening, you hummed at the way his lips molded against yours - reaching out to grasp onto the sides of his jacket.
His tongue snuck out to glide along your lower lip, and you parted your mouth to allow it to roll inside. Your tongues tangled together, and you heard a groan rattle in his throat just before he pulled away.
“You have such a sweet mouth, Y/N,” he placed another quick peck to your lips before pulling away further. “I’m interested to see what other talents it may possess.”
You giggled, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip - having it be just slightly swollen from kissing. “I can’t wait to show you. I hope they meet your expectations.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Harry winked as he stood from your couch. “I have your number from when we planned Katherine’s surprise party over the summer. I’ll text you, and we’ll plan a day for me to come over. We’ll finalize all the details, and then we’ll get started. How does that sound?”
You pressed your thighs together when you realized the next time you saw him, that more than likely meant that you’d be sleeping together, and you honestly couldn’t wait.
You had always found Harry to be attractive, who wouldn’t, but you hadn’t thought of him in that way until tonight. 
And now you couldn’t stop.
Harry was currently sitting at the desk in his office at his house, staring at his computer screen as he opened the locked folder he had of your videos together, as well as pictures you had sent him throughout the last few months during your time as his submissive.
He double clicked on the video that was the longest, knowing this was the one he couldn’t get off his mind.
Taking in a deep breath, he pressed play, but he skipped until there was only about fifteen minutes left of the video - willing away the blood that wanted to rush to his cock at some of the images that flashed across the screen as he went. It didn’t feel right viewing that when you were no longer together, but the part of the video he wished to see was something he needed.
You both had forgotten about the camera being set up as you laid back down in your bed after cleaning up. This was only a couple months into your relationship, and you hadn’t started to sleep naked with each other yet. He knew the sleep set you had on in this video was one of your favorites, and it was one you had told him that you bought specifically for him.
A little pink camisole and shorts set - silky and frilled at the hems.
On the screen, you were smiling up at Harry as he crawled into bed beside you, and you were instantly curling into his side. He cuddled you, and praised you - telling you how good you had just been during your time in bed together only minutes before. His large hands massaged and caressed your body while he pressed his kisses to your forehead.
That was all it usually took for you to fall asleep, your giggles dying off as he continued to watch, and he eventually saw your body slouch against his. It was then that his eyes connected with the camera, and he realized he had left it on this entire time.
The video ended with Harry carefully getting out of bed, making sure not to disturb you, before he approached the camera - stopping the recording.
Tears burned in his eyes as he rewound the video to show you looking up at him and smiling again. He paused it to hold that particular frame, and he blinked - the tears streaming down his cheeks now.
He grabbed his phone, not being able to stop himself, and scrolled through until he got to your contact. He pressed the call button before holding the device up to his ear.
“Hello?”
He was honestly shocked that you answered, but he was grateful nonetheless.
“Y/N,” he choked out, trying to keep it together, but just saying your name made him even more emotional. “Please let me see you. Can we please talk this out? I can’t…I can’t keep doing this.”
It was silent for a few moments, and he waited - pulling the phone away from his ear to check the screen as he was sure you had hung up. When he saw the time on the call still going, he let out a shaky breath before putting the phone back to its previous position.
“Okay,” you whispered, and Harry felt his heart palpitate.
“Okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
⌑⌑⌑⌑
As you sat and waited for Harry on your couch, a cup of hot tea in your hands, you stared at the wall. You too had been reminiscing on your relationship almost all night, and you couldn’t get him out of your head no matter how hard you tried.
You were stuck on the beginnings of your relationship as well. Your mind dwelling on the first night you slept together.
You had never been taken care of in the way he took care of that night. No one has ever taken the time to give you proper aftercare, and it was shocking for you to see that he enjoyed doing it for you. 
He had run you a hot bath, and he coaxed you into it - making sure you were situated before going back into your bedroom to change your sheets, and grab you a pair of pajamas. When he returned, he slipped into the bath behind you, and you were able to relax as he did all the work when it came to getting you clean.
Throughout the course of your relationship, you couldn’t help but wonder when his facade was going to diminish. Eventually he would speak to you the way your previous dominants had, you were sure of it.
But it never happened.
Harry was the perfect dominant. He punished you appropriately when you had a certain tone when speaking with him, or when you did something he asked you not to do. He knew most of the time you acted out because you wanted him to punish you, and he enjoyed doing it. 
He enjoyed it because you enjoyed it, and you knew that.
In your past relationships, you dominants always went by ‘sir’, and you had tried that a few times with Harry, but it didn’t feel right. He told you that you both would figure it out in time, and you remember the first time you called him ‘daddy’ vividly. 
Your hips were pinned down to the bed in one of Harry’s large hands while the other pressed a bullet vibrator to your clit. He was overstimulating you, putting you on the verge of your fifth orgasm, and you felt yourself slipping. When your fifth, and final orgasm hit you, the title, 'daddy', left you without even thinking about it.
Harry had every intention of still fucking you that night, but when he heard what you said with such a whiny tone, he ended up coming all over your stomach - unable to stop himself. From that night forward, the title of ‘daddy’ just stuck.
There were times when you felt yourself falling for him, but you pushed it away. It was too scary to think of your relationship turning into that because it wasn’t what you agreed upon. 
So you had swallowed your feelings down, forgetting about your want for more until Harry spoke those three words almost two months ago now. 
Now - you were angry at yourself for fleeing the way that you did, but you couldn’t help it. Hearing him say what you had felt in your heart for a while was too much. 
The list of possibilities you had on how your relationship could change were endless. And the worst outcome of them all was Harry realizing he made a mistake by changing your dynamic, that he didn’t actually love you, and then the whole thing would end in a mess.
You felt it was easier just for you to end it when the dynamic was still the same to make it less to clean up. 
A knock on the door drew you out of your thoughts, and you took another quick sip of your tea before setting it down. Licking over your bottom lip, you tugged your sleep shorts down as you walked over to the door - undoing the locks before opening it.
Your breath was stolen from you as you saw Harry standing there with a bouquet of pink tulips in his hand, and you could see the nervousness practically radiating off of him.
“I got these for you. I know you said tulips were your favorite,” he stated, extending them out to you.
You took them from him with a small ‘thank you’ before expecting them closer. “I mentioned liking tulips like…once,” you laughed softly as you met his eyes again.
“I know,” he nodded, and you swallowed harshly when you realized he probably remembered a lot of things about you that you wouldn’t expect him to.
You both stood there for a few more seconds before it registered that you were just letting him stand out in the hallway. “Oh my god, I’m sorry,” you shook your head as you moved out of the doorway. “Please come in.”
Harry stepped inside as you made your way into the kitchen to find a vase, and you peeked at him over your shoulder. “I had just made myself a cup of hot tea before you came. Did you want me to put the kettle back on and make you one as well?”
“No, I’m okay, Y/N, thank you though,” Harry said as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your armchair before plopping down in it.
You located a vase and filled it with water before placing the tulips in it. Once you had them situated the way you liked, you walked the vase over to your shorter bookshelf in the living room - placing them on top.
Making your way back over towards Harry, you sat down on the couch again, and pulled a blanket over your lap as you reached back out to grab your cup of tea.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Harry spoke after a moment, and you watched his chest swell as he took in a deep breath. “Tonight, I watched a video of us and-”
“Harry,” you grimaced slightly, thinking that he meant he watched the sexual acts that those videos consisted of.
“No, no, no,” he rushed out, shaking his head frantically. “I skipped through it. This one particular video…we had forgotten to turn the camera off. And it showed us settling into bed, and you falling asleep against me.
“I know that I’ve been missing you terribly, and I’m sure that was obvious at the party the other night, but watching that video again stirred something up in me. I’m devastated without you, darling. I don’t want to have to handle you not being by my side anymore.”
You contemplated your next words carefully. You knew he was upset, and you didn’t want to cause that to grow.
“I haven’t been handling things well either - even though I’ve tried to make you think differently,” you confessed, your cup beginning to shake due to your trembling hands. “I’ve missed you as well. I tried to forget about it. I tried to forget about you, and about everything, but of course, that’s impossible.”
Taking a minute, you attempted to lift your cup to your mouth to take a sip, and Harry quickly caught on to just how bad you were shaking. He was up before you could fully comprehend his movements, and you felt him take the cup from you as he sat down.
“Open.”
You parted your lips as he brought the tea up to your mouth, and he tilted the cup just enough to give you a proper sip before he was setting it back down onto the coffee table. 
“Thank you,” you spoke softly after you swallowed the warm liquid.
Harry’s hand came up, and you could tell he was reluctant at first, but eventually he cupped the side of your neck - running his thumb up and down the column of your throat. “I’ve missed touching you.”
You slowly moved the blanket off your body, and you shuffled yourself closer to him. You delicately placed your hands on his chest - instantly feeling the hammering of his heart.
“I missed touching you too,” you whispered as you ran the tip of your nose along his jawline. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I was just scared.”
“I know, honey. I know,” he reassured you as he wrapped his other arm around your waist to pull you even further into him. “Please just tell me that you invited me here so we could work this out. That we don’t have to fight this any longer.”
“I asked you over here so I could tell you,” you started before resting your cheek against his so that your lips met his ear. “That I love you too.”
Harry pulled his face away from yours, looking down into your eyes. You could see the emotion swirling behind them as his fingers tightened into the back of the shirt you had on. “Don’t play with me, Y/N.”
“I’m not playing, Harry,” you shuffled around again to sit up on your knees, taking his face in both of your hands - tilting his head back to look up at you since you were towering over him slightly now. “I love you.”
Leaning down, you pressed your lips against Harry’s molding them together slowly, and you heard him inhale sharply through his nose. You had only initiated kisses a few times within your time together, and most of the time it was when you were both teetering on the line of your dynamic. 
Harry’s hand was still loosely against your back from before, but now he moved his hand down and underneath your shirt so that his palm was flush with your skin. His other hand slipped into your shorts, and he pulled away quickly when he was met with your bare ass cheek against his hand - not the cloth of your underwear.
“Are you not wearing underwear?” Harry questioned, staring at you with furrowed brows.
Your cheeks flushed pink as you shook your head, biting down on your bottom lip. “I took them off before you came over.”
You watched as Harry’s pupils dilated, and soon both hands were grasping to your thighs as he maneuvered the two of you around the couch. You straddled his waist only for a moment before he was standing off the couch, cradling the globes of your ass in his hands as he started towards your bedroom.
“What did I tell you about not wearing underwear when I’m not around?” He breathed into your ear - teeth tugging at the lobe. 
You yelped as Harry sat down at the end of your bed, and you were soon thrown over the tops of his thighs, your cheek resting against your comforter as you stared at the wall. You knew that he was looking for an answer from you, that the question wasn’t rhetorical, but you were feeling a bit disobedient.
“Y/N,” Harry’s tone caused a clenching in your abdomen, and squirmed in his lap as you rubbed your thighs together. He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth as you felt his hand push between your thighs - separating them. “You’re being extremely naughty this evening. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll spank it out of you.” 
Gasping, your body jolted as Harry tugged your shorts down and off of your body. You hummed, slipping your eyes shut when you felt his large hand caressing over one of your ass cheeks.
“But I know that won’t be enough, hm?” Harry nipped at your jawline. “I’ll make sure I fuck it out of you too.”
The sound of Harry’s hand coming down against one of the rounds of your ass echoed off the walls, and you moaned - nuzzling your face into the mattress.
“Count, Y/N.”
“One,” you whimpered as you lifted your head enough to speak.
“Good girl,” Harry smoothed his hand over the area he had just spanked before alternating to your other cheek. “You’re getting ten.”
Harry’s hand came down again, and you swallowed down the lewd moan that wanted to escape you. “Two.”
He continued, and by the last one, you were dripping. 
“Ten,” you gasped, and you then felt both of Harry’s hands on your cheeks - massaging them gently. You bit down on your lip in sensitivity, whining softly.
“Color?” Harry whispered in your ear as he pressed a kiss right underneath it.
“Green,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a moment to gather yourself.
It had been so long since the two of you had been like this, and your body wasn’t quite used to it again yet, but it still felt good - that part you couldn’t deny.
Harry quickly flipped you over, and soon your shirt was removed from your body as well. Your back was slightly arched due to the angle, and the fact that you were still over thighs. Biting down on his bottom lip, he ghosted his fingertips over your pert nipples. You couldn’t help but wiggle in his lap again - craving his touch deeply.
“Daddy,” you looked up at him with slightly wide eyes. “Please.”
He shushed you gently as he kept a hand cupping one of your breasts while the other dipped between your legs. You squirmed as he smeared your arousal over your needy clit, and he began to rub tantalizing circles against it.
“Don’t you want daddy to take his time with you? It’s been so long, darling.”
“Maybe later,” you tangled your fingers into the sides of your hair, lifting your hips to meet Harry’s fingers more. “I need you now, please.”
Harry hummed softly, and you were flipped onto all fours before you knew it. “You know what to do,” he told you as you heard the buckle of his belt being undone.
Much like earlier when you were over his lap, you lowered your torso so your cheek was to the mattress, and you wrapped your hands around each of your ankles. It was only a few minutes later that you felt Harry kneeling on the bed behind you, and your waist soon became supported in his hands.
“I promise that I’m only asking this to make sure that we’re both safe, but have you been with anyone since the last time we were together?” Harry asked, and you felt him beginning to slide his cock through your glistening folds.
“No, daddy, nobody since you last had me,” you told him honestly. “I promise.”
“And I haven’t had anyone but you, honey,” he leaned down - pressing a tender kiss to the middle of your spine. “You sure you want me?”
You knew that he was teasing now, and you wiggled your hips back against him. It caused his tip to nudge against your clit, and you both moaned out at the sensation.
“Use your words, Y/N,” Harry gripped to your hip slightly. “Tell me.”
“Yes, I want you. I want you so bad, daddy. I missed you so much,” you were begging now, but you knew that he liked it when you did.
The next thing you felt was Harry’s head nudged at your entrance, and he only gave you a minute to comprehend it before he was dipping himself inside of you. You tightened your hold on your ankles as you squeezed your eyes shut tight - feeling the familiar burn of him entering you completely.
“Can’t believe I even fit. ‘Y so tight,” Harry muttered behind you, and you soon felt the tip of his index finger grazing around where his length filled you. You felt pressure as he pushed his finger between your cunt and his shaft - having his knuckle slide against one of your walls.
The whine you were letting go caught in your throat, and your body shuddered as you felt his finger enter you completely to the point where the tip of it grazed your g-spot. “Fuck, and you can fit my finger too, darling? You’ll just stretch out for whatever I give you, yeah?”
You audibly exhaled as Harry’s fingers left you, and he soon began to rock his hips back and forth to get you even more wet, as well as to make sure he was properly slicked up for you. Your nails began to dig into your skin as Harry quickened his pace - the sound of your skin slapping together being the only thing either of you could hear except for your small whimpers.
“Such a good girl,” Harry’s chest met your back, and you felt his fingers playing with your clit again. “Is this what you wanted?”
Nodding, you opened your mouth to answer him, but he was giving it to you so hard that your brain couldn’t even figure out how to piece the words together.
Harry’s hand slapped down against one of your ass cheeks, causing you to lose the grip on your ankles as you lurched forward. You were now flat against the bed with Harry still inside you as you wiggled your legs underneath him. Panting, you felt Harry kissing over the back of your neck as he reached forward to grab one of your hands -  lacing your fingers together. His other hand was propped up beside your head to make sure he wasn’t putting his weight on you.
“Talk to me, “ he said softly as he continued to place delicate kisses across your neck. “Are you okay, love? Do we need to stop?”
You shook your head as you gave his hand a squeeze. “No, daddy. Can I turn over though? I want to see you.”
“Of course, baby,” Harry cooed, and without him slipping out of you, he carefully turned you over onto your back.
The sight of you had his heart swooning. Your face was flushed, and your eyes were slightly teary from your spankings - as well as him overstimulating you a bit. You were so beautiful to him. You were everything he ever wanted, and he didn’t know how fate had the two of you cross paths the way you did, but he wouldn’t change it for anything.
“I love you,” you whispered, lifting your hands to run them over his shoulders, and then down his chest. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Y/N. I’m sorry for keeping it from you like I did, and I was being a little selfish by having what we agreed upon mean a little more to me, but I need you to know-”
You lifted your finger to place it against his lips, and you shook your head. “Let’s not talk about that, okay? We’re here, and we’re with each other. And now, I’m going to ask you to please make love to me, Harry.”
A fire ignited in Harry’s chest at your words, and he grabbed both of your legs to have you wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands cupped your rib cage, right underneath your breasts as he began to start up his thrusts again.
Leaning down, he pressed his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, and you moved your hands to cradle the sides of his neck. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, earning a whine from you, and he began to give it to you even harder.
You were in absolute bliss. This was the first time where you were having sex with that wall down - outside of your dynamic. This was you and Harry having sex, not a dominant and a submissive.
From the angle he had you at, his shaft rubbed along your clit with every movement, and your toes began to curl as you were already on the brink of your orgasm. “I-I’m gonna come,” you pulled away from Harry’s mouth as you arched further into him - head back with your breast pressed against his chest.
“Already, love?” Harry said as he kissed over your jawline. You began to clench down around him, and you felt as Harry’s hips stuttered at the feeling. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come so quick if you do that again.”
His words were lost as you felt your orgasm taking over, and the noise of pleasure that left you had Harry’s prick twitching inside of you. Once you came back down, you heard Harry’s shallow breaths above you, and you fluttered your eyes open to see him still staring down at you.
With his jaw slightly slack, and his chain with the cross pendant dangling over your chest, you weren’t sure if you had ever seen something so captivating in your life. He was so gorgeous, and he was yours.
He wanted you.
“Come for me, Harry,” you took his face into your hands, tapping the tip of your nose against his. “I need you to fill me up.”
“Is that what you want?” Harry grunted as he picked up his pace. “Want me to fill you all up with my come? Have you home my babies inside your round tummy? Is that what you want, mama?”
You couldn’t help but feel your walls flutter around him again when he spoke those words. “Yes, yes, please. Fuck it up into me, Harry. Make it stick.”
You had never introduced the breeding kink before, but god did it make you both so feral.
Sliding your hands down his torso and around to his back, you unhooked your ankles from where they rested against his lower spine so that you could venture your hands down to cup his ass. Kneading the tissue in your hands, you began to pull him further into you, and you let out a loud ‘uh’ as you felt him brushing against your cervix.
“Fuck, Y/N. ‘M coming,” Harry moaned as he dropped his forehead against yours.
You continued to rock him through his sloppy thrusts until he was spent, and he collapsed on top of you. Your sweaty bodies stuck together, but neither of you cared. This was all either of you wanted after weeks of being apart, and you were so happy that you decided to answer his call tonight.
“Please, never leave me again,” Harry whispered as he pressed kisses on the swells of each of your breasts before connecting your lips in a delicate kiss. “I can’t be without you, darling.”
“I won’t, Harry, I promise. I couldn’t ever be without you either.”
778 notes · View notes
shawnxstyles · 8 months
Text
personal
DATE: JULY 24, 2023
summary: you and harry are best friends who tell each other everything. or so you thought. when harry finds out you’ve barely done anything sexual, he offers to change that. and then things get a little… personal.
song: Glitch- taylor swift (this song seems fitting)
words: 6.5k
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [rubbing, fingering, nipple play, praise kink], mirror sex, cum tasting??, dirty talk), and language.
note: i literally wrote this in a few days i think. this idea is so basic, but who doesn’t love a cliché concept? PART 2
bestfriend!fratrry x inexperienced!reader (because i literally write no one else and fratrry is the love of my life)
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Harry had a lot of friends. People that he grew up with and some that he met along the way that just stayed. But you were his number one overall, and he told you everything. You told him everything too.
Well, almost everything.
It never really caught his attention that you guys never talked about sex. You guys have been friends for 15 years, since you were five, so you’d think it would have been brought up at least once. But now that Harry thinks about it, he can’t think of one time you’ve talked about the act.
He didn’t think it would be like this. And he didn’t think you’d answer like that.
You and Harry were casually hanging out on a free school day, just like you always do. And then you start talking about this date you went on and how the guy was great. Harry was happy for you, he really was. All he wanted was to see his best friend happier than happy. However, being the best friend he was, he was nagging and joking with you.
“Think he’s the one, eh?” Harry jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully on your couch.
“Oh, stop it. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” You roll your eyes and cross your arms. Yeah, Mike seemed like a decent guy and maybe you could have a relationship for a short time, but he was nowhere near “the one.”
You weren’t too desperate for a relationship, you liked whatever came to you. This cute guy asked you on a date a week ago and you weren’t going to say no. Because what if he was the one? He wasn’t, but what if?
“Imagine it, Doll,” Harry started. He began calling you Doll when you two were just kids. You loved to collect dolls of all sorts, but you never dared to take them out of the box. Harry thought it was silly, but also cool. “picket white fence, beautiful lake house. Kids runnin’ ‘round—”
He saw your face cringe at the word kids. He tilted his head in confusion, arm moving to rest behind you on the couch. He scoots closer to you and waits for you to respond.
“No kids for me,” You awkwardly chuckle. It seemed almost sad the way you sounded.
“What? Thought you wanted to be a mum?”
“Not anymore,” You breathed out with an awkward smile, “need a husband to do that.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout getting a husband. Shouldn’t stop you from wanting ‘em,” Harry smiled sincerely at you and you nodded while looking down.
“Plus, you could always just go out on the street and ask some good-lookin’ lad to be the father of your kids!” You socked Harry hard in the shoulder. He lets out a hearty laugh because he always ruins a sweet moment with a stupid joke. That’s just how you like it though.
“I’m not a prostitute!”
“Never said tha’.”
“Can we just watch some TV? You’re annoying me,” You roll your eyes as you reach for the remote. Harry continues to laugh as you switch the television on.
When you’re indecisive, you toss the remote to Harry and he shuffles through the stations. He lands on a random one, also indecisive. You guys were too similar sometimes.
“Look on your phone for somethin’ and then I’ll find it. I’m done searching.”
“You looked for like two seconds!” You laughed at his laziness. He shrugs with a smile, leaning into the couch. Again, you roll your eyes playfully before doing a bit of research on your phone.
Suddenly, a moan echoes throughout your living room and your whole body stiffens up. Harry notices and tears his eyes away from the screen, which was portraying the sexy noises. You don’t look at him even though you can feel his eyes burning into you.
“Alright?” he asked out of concern, peering at your rigidness. He’s only ever seen you get like that when you were anxious or scared, but nothing happened. Maybe you saw something scary on your phone?
“Uh, yeah,” You squeaked as the TV moaned again. Your face cringes and you force yourself to keep your eyes on your phone.
“Y/N, seriously,” Harry stares between you and the screen when she noisily moans again. The woman was being eaten out by the man and was being overly loud. Her back was arching and her breasts were on display. The movie was inappropriate, 18+ for sure, but it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. Right? You were both 21 years old.
“This… just makes me a tad uncomfortable is all,” You answered honestly, voice quiet as your legs tightened together. Harry’s eyebrows pursed together.
“Uncomfortable? Why?” he couldn’t help the question that slipped out of his mouth. He was too curious to know why a little movie made you stiff yet fidgety.
Unless… you were feeling something different than uncomfortable.
“No,” You shook your head and attempted to push yourself off the couch. Harry didn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and pull you back. He didn’t want you to run away and for you to feel like you couldn’t tell him something.
“Just tell me.”
“No,” You stood your ground, way too embarrassed to say something. Way too embarrassed to admit that you’ve never had sex before. Way too embarrassed to admit you’ve never done anything more than rub your own clit. Once. And it didn’t even feel that good.
Your skin was fiery and… tingly. Harry was much closer to you than he previously was because he pulled you closer to him. Your bare thighs were touching, warm on warm with a sudden spark. You didn’t know you weren’t breathing until you inhaled deeply at Harry’s hooking stare.
“Doll, you tell me everything, but you can’t tell me why a little porn makes you uncomfortable? Because I know it’s tha’.”
“Ugh,” You groaned between clenched teeth. You threw your head back until it hit the top of the couch. Harry’s grip on your wrist never left you. He squeezed it reassuringly, letting you know that he supports you in whatever you’re going to say.
Are you really about to say it?
“Y/N, just—”
“No.”
“I thought we were best friends—”
“Do not pull that card!”
“But—”
“I’ve never had sex before, okay?” You shouted over Harry’s pleading voice and the echoing moans from the television. You’d think by the time you had a whole argument they’d be done having sex, but nope.
Harry was cut off, so his mouth was slacked open. Once he realizes his jaw is on the floor, he blinks a few times to really process what you’ve said. If you had told anyone else, they would have harshly judged you. Harry wasn’t necessarily too different, but he was your best friend, and he was going to try his hardest not too. Harry was just more shocked if anything. He had a handful of different bodies, enough to give him a good amount of experience. So when he finds out you’ve done nothing, he’s beyond surprised to his core.
“But you’ve had so many dates,” Harry looks over at your face, which was looking down at your lap. Your wrist was still trapped in his hand, but you were twiddling your thumbs like you were in trouble. He starts rubbing reassuring circles with his thumb over your knuckle. Your skin was so hot, and Harry’s theory of you being turned on continued in his mind.
Did you even know what that meant? You were naive, right?
“So? That doesn’t mean anything,” Your attitude was shining through. But deep down, you were more embarrassed than anything. This was just your coping mechanism. And of course, Harry knew that.
“Surely you’ve done something else,” Harry suggests. You pin him with a knowing look and a long blink.
“I haven’t,” You answered before even hearing his question. He clearly doesn’t care about your reply because he’s asking you a series of interrogation questions.
“Have you had someone eat you out—” Harry points to the screen, but it was on a commercial break now. You got the point, but Harry clearly didn’t.
“No,” You grumbled.
“What about fingering—”
“No.”
“A toy?”
“Where would I even buy that?”
“Or—”
“No, Harry. Nothing.”
“Not even rubbing?” he asks. You stay quiet, unsure if you want to admit the one-time experiment you did.
Why does it even matter? You tried it and you realized you don’t like it, so you never have to do it again right?
“Not… really,” You hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion while your skin burned at boiling temperature.
“Humping?”
“No—I tried to…” You couldn’t get the words out. Not ever you’d think. But especially not with Harry so close to you. His body was warm, not as warm as yours, but it was eliciting something inside of you that you couldn’t comprehend. The way he nonchalantly said so many dirty things made you dizzy.
“Tried to what?” Harry was thinking of so many things you could say. He wanted to finish your sentence, just like how he wanted to finish you until you were crying his name and soaking him. But he wanted to hear you say it. He’s never thought of you in such an explicit way, but with the words and tension floating in the air it was hard not to.
“…do it myself.”
“And how did that work out, Doll?”
“Um,” You didn’t expect him to ask. Your neck and cheeks light up in small flames. Where did this come from? “I…”
“What? I thought you could tell me anything?” When your eyes flickered up to his, they were a dark, swirling green you’ve never seen on his face before. Your heart skipped a dangerous beat, frightened with anticipation.
“I know, I can. But this… it’s different.”
“How so?”
“It’s personal—”
“Best friends are personal.”
“But not like this. Best friends don’t do this,” You tried to get up again, nearly ripping yourself away from his grip. But you were in too deep now. Harry wasn’t going to let this one slide. His mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only.
You.
He yanks you back and twirls you around, releasing your wrist in the process. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to his lap. You couldn’t contain the slight gasp you let out at the feeling of his strong legs beneath you. Your legs were on either side of him, tempting to squeeze shut. Every movement you made Harry would feel in this position.
“Best friends can say anything. They can do anything too,” Harry’s hands caress your thighs. They’re comforting and inviting, but are also sending a field of goosebumps along your skin warning you to flee. It’s hard to focus on anything but his touch and the vibration of his words through the air. “Now, tell me, did you rub yourself?”
“Yes,” You stutter, trying to stop your hips from squirming on his lap. He notices and grips one side of your body to steady you. It only makes you want to shift more. His touch was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more of it.
Was it wrong to want more of your best friend’s touch?
“Did it feel good?”
“No,” A part inside of you was a bit disappointed that it felt so bland. You thought masturbation was this great thing, and that’s why people did it so frequently. You heard it was also a stress-reliever, but for you, it was just a stress-inducer. Harry could tell by your tone that you weren’t lying.
“Well, you probably weren’t doing it right,” Harry replies and you look up at him with a slightly startled expression and a scoff. You didn’t expect his response to be so straightforward, like he was a doctor diagnosing you with some disease.
“How could I do it wrong? Don’t I just rub…?”
“Baby, it’s much more than that,” Harry said sincerely. He’s never called you baby before, but the nickname had your heart jumping. “Were you even wet?”
“What? I—probably? I don’t remember…”
“You would remember.”
“The experience wasn’t very memorable,” You grumble with an eye roll.
“Do you want me to show you?”
His question had your head spiraling. He wanted to what? There is no way. There is no way those words just left Harry, your best friend’s, mouth.
“W-what? That’s way too personal!” Your eyes were wide and your skin was burning. You were nearly dizzy with this whole conversation and your stomach was tight. You thought you might need to lie down for a while.
Maybe you were sick. Yeah, that’s it.
“Best friends are personal, Doll. Just let me show you, yeah? And then we never have to talk about it again. If y’don’t want. Please,” Harry’s charm was convincing you. Everything about him was luring you in, completely different than ever before. The way his eyes was dark and his touch was warm made you feel wanted and needed, which was contrary to your past dates. They didn’t look at you this way, nearly beg for you this way. They didn’t show you anything. They wanted you because they wanted to get their dick wet, but they hated the idea of a virgin.
And Harry’s familiar. He’s safe. You don’t have to be afraid when you’re with him. But then why are you so nervous?
Harry was willing to teach you how to do the one thing you’ve been curious about your whole life, and you’re going to pass up the opportunity, why? Because he’s your best friend?
Isn’t that supposed to make it better?
“Okay, fine,” You inhaled as your hands gripped onto his T-shirt on his shoulders. You had convinced yourself to let the words slip out. “Show me.”
You were agreeing almost as if this wasn’t a big deal for you. But to Harry, it was. He would take your firsts, and something about that filled him with pride. A smirk slowly rides up on his lips, “Now?”
A blush cascades through your body. Of course he didn’t mean right now!
“I-I thought you meant—”
“Shh, relax, Doll. I was just makin’ sure,” he smirks again, pulling you closer to him. He loved watching you get all squirmy and flustered more than he thought. You could feel his body heat more than ever now, and you’re surprised you lasted this long on his lap without dying. “I’m going to give you a few options, okay?”
With anxiousness, you nodded and swallowed.
“When we do this, you have to talk. So use your words, Y/N,” You knew he was being serious when he said your name, so you replied with yes and then he was giving you your options.
“So, I can lay you down right here on the couch and show you how to rub your little clit,” his explicit words were making your privates ache, but it wasn’t painful. It kind of felt… good? You felt a foreign liquid dampen your underwear, and you can only assume that’s the wetness Harry was talking about. “Or, you can do it yourself on m’thigh with my help. Which one sounds like something y’want to do?”
“The first one,” You answered, painfully desperate to squeeze your legs together to stop this ache. “But how will I see what you’re doing?”
Harry thought for a moment. You made a good point. How were you supposed to learn simply from feeling? Harry knew you were a bit of a visual learner, so he wanted to make sure you saw how to pleasure yourself correctly. And he knew the perfect way to do that.
“I actually have a third option. But s’not really a choice anymore,” Harry doesn’t say anything after, he just lifts himself and you off the couch without warning. You wrap your arms and legs around his body like a koala, making sure you don’t fall. His warmth encompasses you back and you wish you could just stay there forever.
Familiar. Safe.
When your head peers up from his shoulder, you’re in his bathroom. Your eyebrows pinch together, curious as to what his third choice was.
He sets you down on the floor until your feet are planted. You unwrap your arms from him, still confused.
“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were still dark, and you wondered if they would ever go back to the strong, emerald green they used to be.
“Yes, of course,” You didn’t hesitate to answer. There was no one that you trusted more than Harry that wasn’t in your bloodline.
“Okay,” Harry breathes, “Strip f’me. Keep your bra and underwear on.”
You nearly questioned him in shock. But then you remembered what the whole goal of this was. He was going to show you how and you were going to listen, right? So you did.
Carefully, you stripped yourself of your clothes. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, and some were revealing, so this can’t be as bad, right? Harry didn’t peel his eyes away although you wanted him to. He hasn’t seen you naked since you two were little kids, and even though you weren’t naked, it felt like you were with his burning gaze. Obviously, there were some changes too. Like height, hair, breasts, ass… the whole thing. Harry doesn’t say anything until you’re in your undergarments.
A swimsuit is definitely different.
“Good. Now, c’mere,” Harry sits down on the floor, a few feet away from his full-body mirror. His body was up against the bathtub wall to keep himself steady. You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, wondering what was going on through his head.
He pulls you between his legs until you’re pressed against his body. His warmth radiated through you far better with less clothes on and your body ached some more. Your legs closed to squeeze it away.
“Nuh uh,” he declines. Harry grips your thighs with his ringed fingers and yanks them apart. You gasp at the extreme vulnerability and the coolness that waves over your privates. He throws your legs over his and bends them slightly, making you unable to move at all. “Keep them open, yeah?”
You nodded, but that’s not what he told you to do.
“Words.”
“Yes. Keep them open.”
“Good girl. You’re learning,” Harry smiled and looked towards the mirror. His eyes instantly zoomed in on the growing wet patch on the front of your cotton panties, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He saw and felt your body squirming similarly like how you were on his lap. He’s had a rock-hard cock since this conversation started, so he’s not surprised if you can feel his hard-on poking your back through his shorts.
His hands rested on your knees as you watched him in the mirror. The entirety of it all was extremely erotic, like something that would be on TV.
“If you like something, tell me. If you hate something, tell me. It’s important that you do so, okay? It helps both of us learn.”
“Okay,” You were nearly shaking with anticipation. You were so nervous, but why? It’s just Harry. It’s just Harry. “I kind of like when you say I’m doing a good job. Makes me feel… nice.”
“Yeah?” Harry tried to conceal the smirk that threatened to rise on his lips. Of course his best friend, who happened to be the most innocent person in the world, had a praise kink. It just made too much sense. “Like when I call you a good girl?”
You sighed and nodded, but Harry didn’t say anything this time. He just kept going.
One of his hands rested on your knee, tracing delicate circles. He stayed in the same spot, for god knows how long, and you wondered when he would do something. He seemed to be in a trance. He was hyper-focusing on every centimeter with those circles, and although you were getting impatient, you felt cared for.
One of his hands snakes to your chest and rubs your nipple through your bra. Just when you were about to protest, his fingers moved a tad lower. The roughness of his pads tickled your skin just right and caused your thighs to squirm. It was entertaining for Harry to watch you get all squirrely from such a simple touch.
He’s going to have fun with you.
“It… tickles,” You observe as your eyes look down at his fingers, very gradually moving closer to that ache in between your legs. You felt like a kid exploring a new world for the first time; naive and curious.
“What does?”
“Your fingers,” You stare at him in the mirror almost as if he’s stupid. What else would tickle?
“Does this tickle?” Harry’s knuckle brushes the inside of your thighs, lower than he’s been. You inhale at the subtle sensitivity.
“Not much,” You answer, and his knuckle continues to sway leisurely. Your breath picks up, rising faster at his hand’s proximity.
“What about this?” His index finger traces the hem of your panties with purpose. You gasp when he gets deep in between your legs, outlining your cunt with ease. Your legs attempt to shut with a shake, shying away from the vulnerability, but it’s impossible with his strong legs prying you open.
“A-a little.”
“And this?”
As if his touch could be anymore teasing, he finally dances along your clothed cunt, tracing your lips with curiosity of how you’d react. A mix of a sigh and a moan wavers out of you unintentionally, hips pushing closer towards his finger. Your mind blanks, light and fuzzy. Your face immediately falls to gaze at his movements, attracted to the air-headed feeling.
“Eyes on the mirror,” Harry demands while delicately caressing you. It was ironic, really. His voice was so rough and stoic while his touch was ever so gentle. With a few blinks, you're focusing in on the mirror, obeying his command. “How does this feel? Does it tickle?”
“Good, and yes,” You swallow your moan as his finger keeps petting you lightly. You were almost getting used to it, but you wanted more. “Is this what I was supposed to do?”
“Sort of. This is called foreplay. Heard of tha’?”
“I think so?” You were breathless.
“S’basically where I get you all wet and ready f’me. You like that?”
“L-love and hate relationship right now,” You pant as his finger rises away from your weeping, covered hole and travels up to your clit. You choke out a gasp as he strokes it nonchalantly.
“Oh,” Your hand drops to his thigh, gripping it strongly as your body begins to tingle. You strain your neck to keep your eyes on the mirror ahead of you, trying to watch how he does it.
His familiar smirk never fades from his face, cheeks a tad rosy from the heat waving between you two. His wrist is probably sore from the tedious, repeated movements he does. His thick fingers delicately circle your covered clit, applying generous pressure until you’re panting.
“More. I think I need more,” You suggest when his pace stays a consistent speed. You needed to feel his fingers on your bare skin. If he was going to touch you, you wanted him to just do it already.
“Y’think?” Harry’s tone was taunting yet serious. He wanted you to be firm with what you wanted. He didn’t want you to second-guess your own pleasure. If you needed more, you needed to tell him that. The best way for that to happen was for him to train you. “Beg for it.”
As your head becomes floaty with the stimulation, you don’t even hesitate to throw out pleads.
“Please, Harry. I-I need it, need more,” Your head slowly falls back onto his shoulder before his touch is gone. “Wha—”
Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see you. All of you. He needed to see what he did to you, and if you were really as desperate as you seemed. As shocking as this all may be to you, it was just as shocking to Harry. He couldn’t believe he was this turned on from his best friend’s inexperience. He’s always liked when a girl knew what she was doing and knew how to reciprocate. But something about Harry teaching you and showing you the ropes just fills him with a kind of power and pride that he can’t get from anywhere else. And he’s feasting off of it.
“M’gonna take these off, alright?”
“Everything? O-okay,” He unclipped your bra as you slowly slid down your panties. The tile beneath you was colder than before, but Harry’s warm body behind you kept you comforted.
“Have you heard of the traffic light system?” he asks, hands resting gently on your bare shoulders. He gets straight into the safety part first. It also distracts him from ogling your naked figure against him. He could feel his cock twitch in his briefs at your fluttering pussy and peaked nipples.
“I assume you don’t mean the ones used for driving?” You both chuckle and break some of the swollen tension in the room. It was a nice little reminder that it’s just Harry.
“No, Doll. The one for safety and consent,” he chuckled.
“Yeah, no, I’ve never heard of it.”
“If you say red, I’ll stop instantly and ask what made y’red. Communication is key. If y’say yellow, I’ll slow down and ask you again. And then we can either continue or stop, whatever y’want. But if your color is green, I’ll keep going. Understand, love?”
There was a lot of information, but you were able to keep up. It was actually similar to the traffic light system, which makes the name very fitting. You reply with a firm yes to note that you understand.
All while he was talking and explaining everything, you were getting used to looking at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t always confident in your body, but staring at it in between Harry’s made you feel safe and sexy somehow.
Before your mind can wander too far, Harry’s hands are falling down until they’re at your nipples. His rough fingers lightly pinch the already-hard buds until you’re pushing up into his touch. The warmth and the nakedness made you overly flushed all over. He gropes your breasts with care, slyly sliding another hand down lower.
Throughout this entire process, you’ve been soaking; in your underwear, in your shorts, and now on his bathroom tile. Your lower body has been throbbing in desire to be aided, and Harry seems to know just what you need.
His fingers hover right above your mound that’s screaming for him to go lower. Your heart rams against your chest in anticipation of his bare hands on your bare body, on your most sacred and vulnerable parts. No one has ever touched you beside yourself. A small part inside of you was glad that the first person was Harry because you knew you wouldn’t regret it.
Right?
“Stop thinking s’much,” he says, rubbing a warm palm over your belly. His face moves your head, so his lips can kiss your temple reassuringly. You slightly arch your back, so maybe he could see how desperate you are. Your legs were still spread by his, so you know he can see your wetness. If you can see it, so can he. “Just let me show you how it’s done.”
“Okay, Mr. Cocky,” You roll your eyes as he shifts your hair behind your ear, “What if I don’t even like it?”
“The name is very fitting. But that’s for a different day,” he says with a cocky smirk on his face. Now that sounds like something Harry would say. But your entire face gets warm and your head gets a little fuzzy when you actually imagine it. “and you will. Trust me.”
You take a deep breath. You weren’t sure how far you guys were going to go, but you’ve never felt more ready and more safe. With the system Harry told you about and all his reassurance, it was clear that even if he was teaching you, you were the one that had all the control.
“Now watch me.”
With those words his hand turns into just one finger and resumes on your clit. You gasp into the air as your body jolts. The roughness of his thumb paints your arousal over and over on your skin.
“This little thing is important. Don’t neglect it.”
His rhythm is slow and tedious as he circles the nub. You see and feel him dip down to collect some more of your wetness as he continues stroking you.
“How’s this? Color?” he gruffs in your ear while staring at you darkly in the mirror. You could barely understand him because you were panting embarrassingly and trying your hardest to focus on the reflecting glass in front of you.
“Good! Wait—green,” You corrected yourself as a moan elicited from you, his touch feeling even better each second.
“Good girl.”
“Fuck,” You feel yourself clench around nothing but your own wetness at his words. You both watch as the liquid quenches out of your dripping hole, making Harry groan from behind you.
“Do y’think you can handle one finger? Hm?” his voice rolls perfectly into your ear as he twists your peaked nipple. You couldn’t control your moans at the pleasure. His voice sounded just as good as the feeling of his hands.
“Yes, yes. Harry, please,” You nearly cried from how bad you needed it. You didn’t even know you needed it this bad. You thought you were going to hate this feeling, but you’re far from it.
“So submissive, so responsive,” Harry’s middle finger pushes against your hole, teasing the opening. You hold your breath as he makes you wait. “Breathe, Doll. Relax.”
Your eyes close for a moment. You breathe deep and feel your limbs lose their sudden tenseness. Before you can open them again, Harry’s finger is slotting inside of you easily. A gasp falls from your mouth as your hand grips on his meaty thigh for support.
“O-oh.” The feeling was insane. Intense. Nearly overwhelming. You clenched around his digit, consuming and caging it like it would fade away.
You’re so tight around him, he swears his finger might fall off. Harry’s cock is pulsing and pleading behind your back, but you don’t seem to notice. He’s making sure he doesn’t rut into you, but it’s so difficult when you’re all spread out and submissive for him.
He’s never thought of you like this, but fuck, now he can’t think of you any other way.
“Color, Doll?” Harry grumbles in your ear, voice low and breathy as it fans over your skin warmly.
“Green. What’s more than green? B-blue? Just–don’t stop–God,” Your squeaky voice rambled as his finger pumped in and out slowly. You can hear his smile behind your screwed eyes. The pad of his thumb rubbed delicate circles over your throbbing clit to escalate the pleasure.
Your chest was beating fast when your legs started to shake. Your hips bucked closer to his hands, needing more as you chase the glorious feeling.
“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Harry praises, subtly curling his finger as your back arches. You know that one finger isn’t a lot, barely anything, but you were melting at the praise that Harry gave you. His constant encouragement is what made you putty in his hands. Literally.
“Harry,” You moaned into the heated air, causing Harry to groan desperately behind you. And you’re not too stupid to deflect that Harry might be turned on from the scene unfolding. If you knew more, if you knew better, you would have offered to help him after. But you were inexperienced, and you assumed he wouldn’t want someone to give him head who could possibly bite his dick off.
“Are you close, baby? Hm? Gonna come for the first time on my hand?”
“Y-yes! Please,” You begged as you climbed your high, wondering what the top would feel like if the chase was this blissful.
Your head falls restlessly on his shoulder while his right hand keeps focusing on your cunt. It was covered in your arousal as his pace picked up. The stimulation was almost too much, your body wanted to push away. But your mind was pleading to feel a release you know your body needed.
“Is it gonna h-hurt?” You groaned as your cunt clenched around him again, stomach tensing. A strong rush you assumed could only be an orgasm was approaching you all too fast.
“No, Doll. It’s gonna feel real good,” He twisted your nipple again, pushing you over the edge. You felt his thumb and index pinch your clit, causing you to scream his name against his chest. “Look in the mirror. Watch yourself fall apart f’me. Watch and make sure this time is memorable.”
You always thought Harry had a way with words. You never thought that about dirty talking though. His hands were as skillful as can be, and maybe one day you’ll be able to make yourself feel as good as he made you feel. But his words are something that you’ll never be able to treat yourself with. You don’t think you’ll ever meet another person whose voice is as fitting as Harry’s.
With his demanding tone, you came right over the edge. An overwhelming ripple of pleasure ceased through your body, shaking your legs to the max. Soundless moans and clawing nails were all you were capable of as you came on his large hand. Although you were straining, you never took your eyes off of the mirror. He told you to look at yourself as you came, but you were only staring at the glaring green eyes reflecting back at you. He rubbed all of your orgasm until you were trembling from overstimulation.
Just when you thought he was done, he raised his ringed hand to his mouth and tasted you. You thought that was something that they only did porn or movies. You swallowed intensely as his hum vibrated through you.
“Do you always… taste it?”
“If I think it’ll taste good,” he smirked as you scooted forward to grab your shirt. As you throw it over your head, you just had to ask.
“Did mine taste any good?” You slightly cringed as you asked the question. Does cum usually taste good? What does it even taste like?
His smirk widens, a hint of evilness rising, “do you want to find out?”
Your skin flushes even against the chilling tile. Your heart skips a beat at trying yourself. You hadn’t ever thought of it before. But you’ve come (literally) this far tonight, so why not just take it a little further?
“O-okay,” You slowly lift up your shirt, revealing your fucked-out cunt to him again. “So I just…?”
“May I?” he suggests.
“Yes.”
Two of Harry’s fingers swipe over your cunt, which was still covered in a mix of your arousal and cum. You jolted from the stimulation, tensing quickly before his touch was gone.
“Open,” and without thinking, you do. Your mouth falls open as his fingers lay flat on your tongue. Salty and creamy, it spreads over your tastebuds. You hummed around his fingers just like he did because it tasted good. Yeah, it was a bit odd, but once you got past that, you realized how erotic and sexy it was. “How’s it taste?”
After a bit of suckling on his digits, he puts them out way too soon for your liking. “Good, actually.” You creak from your dry throat.
“I think so too. Let’s clean you up real quick.”
Still sitting on the floor, a warm, wet towel soothes your sensitiveness as he wipes away all of your liquids. A smile broke out on his face when he finished before his hand landed on top of your head. He shook your hair like crazy until it was already wilder than it was. The action was childlike and friendly, almost as if everything between you guys never happened and you were back to square one. It was better that way, though. Right? To just go back to how everything used to be?
Harry grabs the small hand towel and exits his bathroom. You assume he went to discard it and add it to his laundry, but you just sat there in oblivion. You already missed his touch, longing for something you should’ve never even had in the first place. He was the one that offered himself to teach you, but now you’ve been taught, so where do you guys go now? Are you really supposed to just go back to the way it was?
He saw you in ways that no one else has before. You always thought that you would be intimate and have your groups of firsts with someone that you were dating, someone that you loved. Because of this, you realized that Harry was the safe option. Doing this with Harry changed your views on everything, and your body, heart, and mind couldn’t keep up with the rapid reversal.
You knew that Harry had a few notches in his belt. But were they all from relationships or just one-night stands? You didn’t know because you two rarely ever discussed the topic. Was it easy for Harry to go from girl to girl? Or did he get attached like you?
If there was one thing you always feared from sex and sexual doings, it was the intense attachment. You had heard about the infamous addiction intimacy laces within your veins that makes you crave a person. Now that you’ve been with Harry, that won’t happen to you, right?
You’ve known Harry forever, yet you’ve never craved him. He’s your best friend, and you’ve never seen him as more than that. If it was anyone else, you’d probably lose all control because you have no significant relationship with them. It would be easy to latch onto anybody because it would be easy to lose them too. Harry, on the other hand, was not easy to lose.
The last thing you want is to convince yourself of anything. You don’t want to “crave” Harry just because you saw something about an article online about “sexual chemicals fusing.” You couldn’t. No, it was too risky.
You’ve known Harry forever, so you couldn’t lose him forever too.
“I think I found a good movie to watch!” Harry’s voice echoes from his living room and all the way into the bathroom where you haven’t moved a muscle. Your overthinking was louder than it’s ever been. With a shaky breath, you rise from the tiles and stare at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. The same mirror you watched Harry finger fuck you with.
“Be out there in a second!” You shout back as your heart beats rapidly from his heartwarming voice laughing loudly at something. You clutched your chest, wondering why the fuck you were feeling the organ lurch for him in a way that wasn’t meant for him.
You knew that it was way too fucking personal.
thanks for reading angels 😙 part 2
taglist: @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @raajali3
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freedomfireflies · 20 days
Text
Overdrive*
Summary: The one where it's 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, exhibitionism, very brief daddy kink
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Five.
The sound of revving engines echoes between the tall, city buildings. Loud enough to startle a nearby flock of birds on a telephone wire as they take off into the dark night to escape the lurid noise. 
Four.
The smell of burning rubber is everywhere. Tires screech against the pavement as the smoke dissipates into the warm summer air and the drivers prepare for that familiar white flag.
Three.
There’s a murmur amongst the crowd. The bets have been placed and the anticipation has set in. They pick their favorite driver, and they hope that somehow, they’ll be able to beat the unbeatable. 
Him.
Two.
You can see your little speed demon just up ahead as he waits patiently in front of the makeshift starting line. He seems relaxed. Confident. One hand is settled on the steering while the other is flipping the bird to the driver beside him. 
One.
The flag waves and the drivers take off. A streak of color flashes across the street as each of the five cars attempt to take their place ahead of the rest. But nobody can seem to get an edge on the black Lamborghini Miura already skidding around the first curve, effortlessly leaving them all behind.
You grin. It’s harder to see the cars now that they’re on the other side of the buildings, but you can hear them. You can hear his engine, specifically. You’d know the sound anywhere. After all, he spent weeks introducing you to the ins and outs of his favorite toy. Showing you exactly how to care for it, with those rough, practiced hands that also happen to care for you, too. 
You catch a glimpse of his vehicle just before it disappears past the drugstore. He shifts gears and accelerates, just before the blue Stingray to his right can gain on him. You hold your breath as both cars drift around the corner onto the next road and the crowd begins to cheer. 
Harry hasn’t lost a race in weeks. You don’t imagine he could lose if he tried. In fact, he could be blindfolded with no brake pedal and a faulty transmission and somehow, he’d still be miles ahead of the competition. 
It’s one of the things you love most about him. The way his eyes light up when he gets behind the wheel. The way the engine purrs in his hands and the way he can bend the road to his will. 
The Stingray veers to the right in order to get ahead of him, but Harry seems to anticipate this attempt. He cuts the other driver off just before he can speed up and your heart jumps into your throat. The only thing you don’t like about his racing is how careless he can be at times.
If you’re in the car, he takes the utmost care to make sure you’re safe. That you’re never put in harm’s way.
But when he’s alone, he’s in a whole other world of his making. He doesn’t consider the consequences or the repercussions. He doesn’t consider you. The way you’d feel if you lost him. 
And you trust his instincts, you do. But you can’t always say you enjoy the show. 
The Stingray slams on his brakes as Harry takes off and slides around the second to last corner. Tire marks are painted across the cement in his wake and the crowd cheers. 
Your stomach twists. He seems to be doing all right, although one of his fatal flaws is that it’s nearly imposable to tell how he’s feeling. He’s eerily stoic when he’s under pressure and perhaps that’s a good thing. 
But that doesn’t exactly help you now as he zigs and zags across the road before finally reaching the last turn that leads into the final stretch.
This is it. You hold your breath as you watch from the edge of the sidewalk, hands twisting in front of your chest as he races across the last few hundred feet. It’ll be close—the Stingray is gaining on him with each passing second—but Harry’s undeterred. He switches into a lower gear and the engine comes alive. Giving the car torque for those last few inches as he flies across the finish line. And the race is over.
The rest of the cars follow shortly after and the growing crowd of onlookers all swarm the street. They cheer and they holler, and they flock to the handsome driver now stepping out of his vehicle, desperate to congratulate him. But those soft green eyes only search for you. 
When he finally finds you squished between the horde of admirers, he grins, and begins to push his way through to you.
The moment you meet, he picks you up, hugs you to his chest, and spins you around. And you squeal giddily, happy to be back in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.
“My little lucky clover,” he whispers proudly. “What did I tell you, hm?”
The nickname makes your insides grow warm. He’s called you his lucky clover ever since that first race when the two of you met. He claimed he only won because he saw you standing there watching and was desperate to impress you. And that every race he’s won since has been because of you and your charming presence. 
You aren’t so sure you believe him, but you have to admit it sounds pretty on his tongue.
You laugh as he puts you back down. “I know, I know,” you finally concede. “You were right.”
“Mhm.” He smirks—cocky—before he’s surging forward to kiss you. Soft and slow and with a desire that almost feels scandalous for such a public place. “I always am.”
His tongue brushes against yours while his hand splays across your lower back to tug your body to his and the crowd cheers as you giggle. But you don’t fight the way he loves you. Instead, you cling to his shirt and allow him to take what he wants.
When he finally allows you a moment to breathe, you gaze at him curiously. “How fast were you going?”
“120 on the main stretch. 80 on the curves,” he says, then chuckles at the way you frown. “M’fine, Clover. I promise.”
“You agreed nothing over 100,” you remind him.
“Yeah, but I needed to win.”
“No, you don’t need to win. You need to stay alive.”
“Well, why can’t I do both?”
Unamused, you huff, and lightly slap at his stomach. “Not funny, H.”
However, he merely laughs aagain and pulls you back between his arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You know I’d never die on you. I’d miss you too much.”
“Let’s hope so.” You push up onto your toes to bring your lips to his once more. “Cause if you die on me…I’ll kill you.”
His smile is smug as he kisses you hard before he leads you back to his car. The large mass follows, anxious to ask him questions or offer their praise. And he listens to dutifully, perching himself on his hood while pulling you between his legs. 
It’s the same after every race. The other drivers try to tease him while his growing group of fans are desperate to be noticed by him. He might not be inherently famous, but he is to this crowd. They love a lot of things about him. His skill, his confidence, his looks. 
And you can’t exactly blame them.
It’s impossible to tell if you want to be him or be with him. You imagine for most people, it’s both. He has a sort of relaxed assurance that seems to make everyone else around him comfortable. And there’s a mystery about him. An intrigue to know more about the man behind the wheel. About who he is outside of these races. What he’s really like. 
He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into his chest. He talks to the driver of the Stingray and they exchange comments about the almost collision that makes your stomach turn. But when he notices, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and changes the subject. 
However, the rowdy celebration is cut rather short by the sound of sirens as two police cars come slinging around the side of a building with their lights flashing and their microphones on.
Everybody scatters, a collection of wild cheers and hollering voices as the officers step out of their vehicles in order to round up the crowd and instruct everyone to return home.
But Harry is unfazed as he pats your hip and nods his chin up. He’s rather good at his getaway now. After all, you imagine he’d have to be with all the times the police have broken up these races. 
And he’s only been caught once.
You slip inside just as he starts the engine. The radio comes alive, the sound of Jimi Hendrix enough to rival the roar of the motor as places one hand on the back of your seat in order to look behind him before he speeds away from the scene, hangs a sharp left, and takes off down the adjoining road. 
The sound of sirens follow. There’s a cop car on the next street over, attempting to chase after him as Harry weaves in and out between the scarce traffic. He’s good—incredibly good—but they haven’t given up yet. 
They cross over and skid behind him. They’re getting closer and the red and blue lights are bright in the rearview mirror. Still, Harry is calm. Simply shifting gears with ease as the car accelerates and offers a bit more distance before he takes a last-minute right in order to shake them.
The force of the turn slings you against the side of the door and you huff as Harry shoots you a cheeky grin.
“Sorry, baby,” he calls over the music. “You all right?”
With a grimace, you nod and say, “Mhm. Just great.”
He winks before he’s blowing through one red light and then another. Somehow missing the few cars currently crossing the street while the police are forced to slam on their brakes as somebody passes. And once they lose sight of him, he veers into an old, abandoned alley to hide.
Seconds pass before they finally fly by. Oblivious to his plan as they head further into town while Harry takes another right and disappears from the city.
He cheers victoriously and rolls down the windows and you laugh as you gaze at him. Entranced by the way he nods his head to the music as a gentle, summer breeze blows through his curls. 
Freedom tastes better with him. Life is better with him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing, while he sings along to Jimi Hendrix and grins at the open stretch of road ahead of him.
You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he seems to bask in your admiration before he finally looks over.
“What do you say, Clover?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Wanna see what a hundred feels like?”
A bit hesitant, yet wildly curious, you nod. 
He reaches for your hand in order to help you across the car, and you crawl over the console until you can settle onto his lap. Once you’re snug over his thighs, his arms slip beside your middle to keep you safe while he holds onto the steering wheel, and you scoot back into his chest for support. 
And it feels good. Comfortable. Even though the car is going faster and faster with each passing second, you feel protected. You know he’d never let anything happen to you. And there’s hardly any danger out here, along the old, backroads away from the city and traffic.  
The needle on the dash rises higher and higher. 70…80…90. Harry’s grinning against your cheek as the wind dances across your skin. The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the road even without headlights and it’s exhilarating. Limitless.
“How’s that, hm?” he whispers. He kisses your jaw before dropping his foot against the gas. “You sure you’re ready, sweetheart?”
You nod quickly and brace yourself in his hold. “Mhm.”
The car reaches 100 and it feels like flying. You laugh, giddy, and he grins. The straight stretch of empty street might as well be a runway and the faster you go, the lighter you feel. As though the tires will simply lift off the ground and carry you into the sky. 
He shifts gears and the car jolts forward as the needle jumps to 110. You gasp and squirm excitedly over his lap before he suddenly groans. The sound is low and strained and you recognize the lustful cadence almost immediately.
Amused, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You okay, H?”
He takes one hand from the wheel and places it on your thigh. Squeezing it once. Pointedly. “Don’t stop.”
You don’t. You squirm again, settling into the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your ass and he makes another noise that goes straight to your cunt.
Your lashes flutter. The world blurs and your heart races. Perhaps you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re going so fast but Harry is calm. He trusts himself and you trust him.
The needle rises.
“Harry,” you whisper and his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. “Harry, please—”
“What?” His mouth rests against your cheek and you whine. “What, Clover? What do you need?”
He wants to make you say it. Wants to hear the words on your tongue and you swallow thickly as you intertwine your fingers with his. “H…”
“What, baby girl?” He nips at your skin with his teeth. “M’I making you nervous?”
You nod and he chuckles. A dark, sadistic sound.
“Do you want me to stop?”
There’s a quiet moment of hesitation before you eventually shake your head. Of course you don’t. How could you?
“No?” He squeezes your leg, touch slowly slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. “Good girl.”
The car begins to go faster. 115…118…120. The same speed he reached during the race and even if you knew it was fast, this feels infinitely faster.  
You gasp and clutch his hand. Terrified and enthralled all in the same moment. And even if you shouldn’t be, you feel insanely aroused. Legs squeezing together as he subtly bucks up into you.
The music is loud and the wind is loud and the sound of your heart pulsing in your ears is loud. 
And then…the needle drops. The car slows. The speedometer goes from 120 to 50 in only a few seconds, and you blink curiously before glancing back at him.
He says nothing. His expression is firm but stoic and it’s not until he pulls off the road and into the dirt that you understand.
He turns the car off, then pats your hip. “Get out.”
You swallow again and swing the door open. Crawling off his lap before obediently trailing your way to the front of the vehicle while he follows.
“Bend over.”
You do. The hood is warm but not hot and it’s almost inviting as you place your hands against the covering to brace yourself in wait.
“Let me see.”
Your breath catches as you move your fingers to the delicate panties beneath your skirt. You pull them down your quivering thighs and the summer air makes you shiver. You feel nervous under his gaze. Under the way he owns you. But it’s thrilling. Addictive. And it leaves no room for questioning as you drop your underwear to your ankles in the middle of the open desert. 
You hear him step closer. Feel his hand on your hip as he pulls the fabric of your outfit up in order to get a proper look. But he’s quiet. Almost too quiet, and you feel a touch warm as you wait for his remark.
“Have you been this wet all night, Clover?” he finally asks.
You nod once. “…yes.”
“Mm.” Another pause while his other hand begins to trail up the back of your leg, slowly pulling it open. “And when were you planning to tell me?”
“I…I figured you already knew.”
He hums and you can only imagine his smirk. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you were waiting for, then? For me to do something about it?”
“…yes.”
The tip of his finger drags its way through your folds and the sudden sensation makes you whimper.
“Then why didn’t you ask, sweetheart?” His tone is soft but condescending and you make another noise as you attempt to glance back at him. “Uh-uh. Eyes down, Clove.”
With a huff, you drop your chin to your chest and anxiously wait for more.
“Why didn’t you ask?” he repeats. “Thought I taught you better than that.”
 When your only answer is a needy mewl, he lands his palm against your ass in a sharp smack.
“Speak,” he murmurs. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words and answer me. Is that understood?”
“Yes…yes, I’m sorry.”
“So why didn’t you ask?”
“Was…nervous,” you admit, glancing off into the dark night to hide the shame in your expression. “Didn’t want to bother you.”
He steps closer and his touch becomes gentler. “You were nervous, baby girl?”
“Mm. Knew you were busy and…and didn’t wanna be greedy.”
“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales before he’s grabbing onto the cheeks of your ass to pull you open. Allowing him an even better view of the way you drip. “Can always be greedy with me, you know that? Don’t have to be nervous. All I wanna do is take care of you. My time is yours.”
You release a stuttered breath before your eyes fall shut. You love the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. The way he humiliates you, even out here where nobody can see. 
“Look at you,” he whispers and you feel yourself clench around nothing. “Look at how pretty your little hole is when it’s so empty.”
The pad of his thumb brushes through your folds and he ignores the way you gasp his name.
“Think I should fix that?” he asks. “Think I should fill you up? Make it better?”
“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please—”
“D’you need me to stretch you open? Hm? Play with your little cunny till you’re coming all over my cock?”
The dirty words inside his gentle voice feel criminal. Your mind turns to mush and you can do nothing more than press your chest into the hood as you excitedly wiggle our ass further into his hand.
He laughs, amused by your desperation in a way that only pushes you further toward the endless edge. “Is that a yes, Clover?”
You nod quickly. Your cheek rubbing against the car until you finally—finally—hear the sound of his belt flicking undone. 
The metal clink is music to your ears and you release a deep moan at the thought of the leather against your skin. Of his cock as it brushes against your clit, mindlessly teasing you past the point of no return.
“Easy,” he says. “Give me your hands, sweetheart.”
Slowly, you pull your arms behind you until he captures them in his hand. He wraps the length of the belt around your wrists until he can securely bind them to the small of your back, and once your mobility is gone, you simper.
“There you go,” he coos. “You okay, honey?”
Another nod. “Yes.”
“Gonna tell me if it’s too much, yeah? If I hurt you?”
“Yes…”
“Know it’s a tight fit, baby, but m’gonna make it work. Promise.”
And this vow makes your heart thumb against the inside of your chest before you feel him disappear from behind you.
And then…his tongue.
He’s dropped into a crouch in order to taste you, fingers locked around your wrists to keep you still while his lips suck on your pussy. 
“H,” you inhale, already undone by his technique. “I…”
He says nothing but the noise of wet licking echoes between your ears. His other hand pushes your leg away, creating more room for his head as he mouths at you. He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you steel yourself against the hood, almost as though to get away.
“Careful,” he warns again. He smacks your thigh. “M’having so much fun. Don’t ruin it.”
And you try to be good. Try to stay still so he can do with you as he pleases. But it becomes increasingly harder when he nips at your cunt like he means to feast on you. 
Your fingers wiggle about the air, desperate to grab him. To clutch onto his curls or yank on his arm. But he keeps you restrained, keeps you compliant. And you are nothing but a toy for him to play with now.
You hear the sounds of the world around you. The crickets, the owls, the flock of birds flying overhead. You’re reminded yet again that anybody could drive by, even out here in the middle of nowhere. They could find you, bent over the hood of a Lamborghini as you get tongue fucked by the handsome man on his knees.
And yet…you don’t care. In fact, you almost hope somebody does pass. Because you know Harry wouldn’t stop even if they did. He’d keep going until you were unraveling in his hands as you whimpered his name.
As if to prove this, he adds a finger in beside his devious lips. “Gotta make sure you can take me,” he says in a low grunt. “S’too tight in here, Clove. Don’t think I’ll fit.”
You whine louder and angle your ass closer. Desperate to get his finger in as far as it’ll go. “I’ll take it,” you promise. “I will. Always do.”
“Always do,” he repeats in a soft chuckle. “That’s right, you do. Treat my cock right, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Nearly purring, you allow the subtle thrust of his hand to drag you closer to that blinding pleasure. 
“Do anything I ask. Even have my babies, wouldn’t you?”
The thought nearly does you in. Your tummy all swollen and full of him. Tits leaking milk that he’d eagerly lap up. The way he’d still treat your body like a temple. A prize to behold. Because you were carrying what he gave you. He fucked you so hard and so deep that you became a vessel for him. 
And even past that, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always wanted to start a family with him because you know he’d be a wonderful father. He’d take them to races and hold them on his shoulders so they could watch. He’d kiss all over their little cheeks and tuck them into bed. And your kids would know nothing but love. Because they’d look up to the two of you.
It makes you smile.
“What do you say, hm?” he whispers between kitten licks to your pussy. “You wanna have my babies? Wanna make me a daddy?”
He adds a second finger and begins to scissor them almost immediately until you cry out. Loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby branch and this proves to be answer enough for him.
“Okay,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll fuck your little pussy and get it all nice and full. Give you all I’ve got. And you’ll take it, won’t you? Hold it in your little belly like a good mama.”
You cum. Suddenly and without warning as the intensity of the orgasm explodes behind your eyelids like stars in the sky. You cum and you don’t get a chance to warn him or prepare or even hold off as you feel yourself drip down his hand. 
“God, H,” you moan. You sound pitiful. Voice hoarse from the way you’ve been wailing and arms sore from the way he keeps them behind you. Still, you don’t mind. The pain is pleasure in and of itself. “I…m’so…”
“Yeah.” He stands up and tugs his pants down. “I know, baby. I am, too.”
The tip of his cock drags through your soaked and sensitive pussy before he pushes in. He’s right, it is a tight fit. Even with the way you attempt to relax your muscles and draw him in. But it’s always snug with him and truth be told, you almost prefer it this way.
“There you go,” he breathes, dipping down to kiss your shoulder before drawing back his hips. “Just like that. Fucking hell, Clove, I wish you could see. Wish you could fucking see the way you look taking me right now.”
You wish you could, too. As it is, the feeling is enough to make your eyes roll back and send sparks of electricity up the length of your spine.
He keeps your wrists in his hand as he fucks into you. Sharp thrusts that sound sloppy and uncoordinated but feel like heaven. And there’s an urgency here. A desolate need to feel you unravel. He cares for you and he uses you all with the same technique. 
He grabs your leg and forces it up onto the hood. Giving him more room and a deeper angle just to hear you moan. And you hate that you can’t see him. Because you know how pretty he looks when he’s in control. His adrenaline high and his eyes alive with the possibilities of what he could do to you.
Instead, you choose to imagine. The way a few rogue curls must be sweeping across his forehead, unable to stay constrained beneath the sticky gel he likes to put in his hair. His chest is probably heaving, offering peeks of his tattoos beneath the white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso. His thighs will be flexing with each thrust. The muscles rippling in such a way that would surely make you drool. 
You understand why every woman you pass on the street tends to fawn over him. You know they’d do anything to take him home. Cook for him, clean for him, be good for him. Anything to earn his affection.
But you also know, his affection belongs to you. You’ve seen it, time and time again. He doesn’t even glance their way. He doesn’t notice when they giggle over him or when they try to call to him with their eyes. 
Because his eyes are always on you.
“You’re beautiful,” you hear him whisper. It’s soft—restrained. Almost as though he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. But you do and you nearly sink into the car in bliss. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”
A fervent heat rushes through your body from his praise and subsequently has you clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan and you’re proud of the way you can still care for him. Even if you can’t see him. Even if he’s the one with all the power.
“This sweet little pussy takes such good care of me,” he says and reaches around your tummy in order to press his palm against the subtle bulge there. “Every…fucking…time.”
You careen forward, cheek squished into the hood, skin dewy from the way your body shakes with pleasure. It’s always this close and somehow, he keeps you there. As though reminding you not to cum until he says so.
The hand on your stomach moves down until his fingers find your sensitive clit. He rubs and he plucks and he plays with your body with the same precision and skill he uses when he drives. Because no matter how much he loves to race, he loves you more. And winning you will always be infinitely better than winning some goddamn race.
“What do you say, hm?” he mumbles from behind you, rubbing the swollen nerves while pistoning his hips to yours. Dragging you closer and closer and closer. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it?”
You nod and when you start to waver over that edge, he chuckles.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, baby, cum.”
You do. Again. Harder this time. Louder. It’s almost cruel how easily your body breaks beneath him but before you can indulge in the feel of the way he follows…he’s pulling out. 
He guides you away from the hood and turns you both around. He sits in the spot you once were and he lets you see him. Because this is what you needed. The intimacy, the eye-contact. The beautiful look on his face.
He guides you closer with his hold on your bound wrists before pulling you onto his lap as best he can. He helps you place one leg back on the hood while his other hand moves to guide his cock between your overstimulated folds. Then, he brushes his swollen tip through, just to tease himself, before he’s pushing in.
And you can see him now. Can see the fucked-out expression on his face. The way his vision becomes hazy and his teeth grit together in ecstasy. 
You whimper, whine, cry out. You want to hold him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and curl yourself into his beautiful, broad chest. 
But you can’t this time. In fact, he uses his grip on the belt to help roll you over his cock. A soft smile on his face as he whispers, “Just one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”
He’s insatiable and greedy and you love it. Because you’d fuck yourself on his cock for the rest of time if you could. Even out here in the open.
“Wanna watch,” he whispers, then slips his other hand around the back of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. “Wanna watch the way I fill you all full of my babies.”
You make a rather pitiful noise against his mouth and he smirks. 
“You want that, too, don’t you, Clove?”
You nod, although you imagine it should be obvious. You’d do anything for him. 
“This little pussy was made to have my babies, wasn’t it?” he says and kisses the corner of your lips before moving down your neck. “Just made to be fucked by me. Perfect tummy to carry my kids. You’ll be so good, mama. Know you will.”
Your lashes flutter shut. The nickname breeds something new in your chest, a blossoming sort of urgency that almost makes it hard to breathe.
“Harry,” you plead. You nudge your nose against his temple. “Harry, please—”
“Shh.” His voice is soft. Still mischievous but kind. “I’ve got you. Yeah? M’right here. Just let me take care of you.”
And he does. He moves his hand from your neck to your shirt, slipping underneath until he can find your tits and give them a squeeze. 
“There you go,” he coos. “Oh, baby girl. Do anything for you, you know that? Just to keep you.”
He moves from your chest to your clit, and you know the second his fingers make contact, you’ll be gone. You squirm in anticipation, and he grins against your cheek before kissing you hard. Tongues and teeth colliding as he sucks on your lip and murmurs, “Can I cum in your pretty pussy, mama? Will you let me? Please?”
You nod so quick and so hard, your head aches. But it doesn’t matter because nothing else will ever compare to the feel of his hand on your body and his cock in your cunt. Releasing the warm, sticky offering that means infinitely more now than it did before.
He thrusts up into you a time or two, milking himself with your pussy before he drops back down and pulls you with him.
You’re both panting. Heavy, hard. Depleted of all energy as he holds you as close to his heart as he can.
Eventually, he frees you, tugging on the belt with one, easy pull as it comes loose from around your wrists. And the moment your arms are returned to you, you use them to grab onto his shoulders and bury yourself in his embrace.
He laughs. A delicate sound that makes you feel just as warm as his cock does. And you stay there for as long as you can until he finally nips at your earlobe and says, “Need to get you home, Clove. Don’t want you to get cold out here.”
“M’not cold,” you pout. “And we can’t leave until it works.”
“Until what works?”
You look down and he looks, too.
Then, he grins. A big, giddy grin that’s all teeth and dimples. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Can’t leave until you’re pregnant, huh?”
“Mhm.”
“I see.” He squeezes your hips and kisses your neck. “Gonna have to hold me in there, aren’t you? Keep me all snug?”
“Mhm.”
“All right, mama,” he says and you giggle. “We’ll stay until you’re all nice and pregnant. And then I’m gonna take you home and fuck you again. Just to make sure.”
Your stomach flips.
“S’that sound good, Clover?” he asks, and you bring your eyes to his in order to see him fully.
You smile.
“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”
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For a more immersive experience, feel free to play All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix during the chase hehe
Beautiful 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 @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat
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1800titz · 21 days
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HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D
CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics
WC: 8.6K
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“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes. 
It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there. 
Harry blinks. 
It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look. 
In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout. 
The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte. 
She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera. 
There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.
Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe. 
I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back. 
Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting. 
“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification. 
Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte. 
“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...” 
That barista is definitely fucking peering over.
“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito. 
For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink. 
“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe. 
The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera. 
There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this. 
“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”
Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused. 
“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.” 
“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.” 
Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth. 
“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.” 
The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face. 
“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.” 
Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture. 
She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal. 
He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm. 
That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now. 
Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty. 
Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with. 
It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen. 
The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”
Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together. 
“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head. 
She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan. 
She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed. 
“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline. 
He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.
“Yeah. It does.” 
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Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down. 
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When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too. 
“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing. 
Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits. 
“Very nice.”
It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge. 
“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.” 
He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock. 
“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.” 
He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green. 
Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?” 
“F’course.” 
The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.” 
His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.
“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?” 
“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it. 
“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new homage from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”
Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting. 
Yeah. He can work with that. 
“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows. 
Tiger is much more subdued in this setting. 
“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.” 
The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”
Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.” 
Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.  
“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“
The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods. 
“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him. 
Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad. 
“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”
Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more. 
“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.” 
Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.
“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“
Her thighs press together.
“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”
She swallows. 
“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.” 
Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way. 
“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?” 
His strawberry mouth curls a little. 
“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.” 
It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom. 
It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording. 
There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier. 
“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 
Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 
“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.
And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 
“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 
Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 
“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 
“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 
The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 
“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 
The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 
A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 
He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.” 
Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up. 
This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out. 
Authenticity. 
Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out. 
“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles. 
His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates. 
“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash. 
“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens. 
Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly. 
“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out. 
Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags. 
“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?” 
When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.” 
It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart. 
“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself. 
The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits. 
It’s kind of game over from there. 
There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement. 
“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh. 
The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug. 
And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?” 
Gameovergameovergameovergameover.
Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.
Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing. 
Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe. 
And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”
Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose. 
That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy. 
Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”
A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth
“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip. 
“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.” 
Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train. 
It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur. 
She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands. 
It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”
The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead. 
“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?” 
Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.
“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.
“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.” 
Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even. 
“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow. 
He bites. 
At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused. 
“You want my cum painting your pretty face?” 
“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 
“Yeah? That’s what you want?” 
His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands. 
And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”
Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic.  It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording. 
His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera. 
“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof. 
And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals. 
Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.  
“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment. 
He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds. 
“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”
She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums. 
“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.” 
The words coax her to clench over the plug. 
“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim. 
Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss. 
“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible. 
“Hm?” 
“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s. 
Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?” 
The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.” 
And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering. 
“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?” 
And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs. 
“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“ 
His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth. 
“Good girl.”
Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle. 
Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?” 
“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”
Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego. 
“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”  
A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?” 
And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.” 
That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words. 
“Christ.”
Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.” 
When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash. 
“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance. 
Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks. 
“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”
Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips. 
“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.” 
She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs. 
“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.” 
He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off. 
Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.
“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”
Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“
And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.  
“Get that mouth back on my cock.” 
Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut. 
“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”
And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur. 
Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.” 
Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.
“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.” 
Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly. 
“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”
His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages, 
Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans. 
The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down. 
A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.” 
Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?” 
His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”  
She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased. 
“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit. 
She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters. 
“…Hm?”
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cherryjuiceblues · 2 months
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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟏
➯ Y/N SPENDS TOO MUCH TIME IN HER OWN HEAD WITHOUT HER DOMINANT AND HARRY’S WORRIED HE MIGHT SCARE HER OFF IF HE PROFESSES WHAT HE’S SO DYING TO SAY. ✰ dom!harry relationship wobbles. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. daddy kink. tickling kink. squirting. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 9.7k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist
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Harry’s slacks are being fiddled with. Threads starting to fray from the incessant tugging of nervous fingertips.
And normally—normally—Harry wouldn’t have a problem with Y/N needing to keep her hands busy, or attempting to enmesh herself into his side. But today is different. And today, Harry’s patience is wearing thin.
He almost feels guilty. He knows Y/N doesn’t enjoy these situations, this atmosphere. He knows she was being kind when she said she’d like to come with him. He knows she’s been anxious since he asked her. 
But the frustration is winning tonight—the silent wish that she’d just stayed at home bouncing around the inside of his skull. It makes him feel mean; intolerant. And Harry is neither mean nor intolerant. Ever.
He doesn’t like to think it but… something isn’t working. Something is slowly turning into everything—and it sits heavy in his gut—heavy and foreign.
“Darlin’, hands in your lap, please.” His breath dances across Y/N’s temple and she shivers slightly; only enough for Harry to notice. It’s quiet, his voice, and she nods to herself—the tiniest jerk of her head—a silent apology as she smooths her clammy palms down her own thighs.
The dinner is boring—he’ll admit. But Harry isn’t one to let apathy show on his face when it matters and… right now, it matters. The business partners sitting before him, a husband and his wife, are perhaps two of the most important people Harry has had the displeasure of dealing with during his time as CEO. They’re more passionate than him, and loud when it matters—they’re determined and distinguished in the financial scene—and can have their voices be the only ones heard when they want them to be.
But regardless of how much his eyes are rolling on the inside, Harry’s face presents complete and utter professionalism besides his less than enthusiastic partner, who—bless her—had tried. She had. She’d been polite smiles, and firm handshakes, and straightened posture. She’d been silently engaged, and spoke when addressed. She’d been perfect. But that was an hour and a half ago—and if Harry had been feeling any other way, he’d be much more forgiving than he is right now. 
Because Y/N’s face is starting to lose its civility, and her eyes are starting to gloss over, and her posture is starting to slump, and her composure is starting to slip. And that’s okay. It is. It should be. But Harry’s anxious too; he’s worried, he’ll admit. He’s choosing his every word with precision, he’s using words and phrases not in his everyday vocabulary in an attempt to write himself into Mr. and Mrs. Pierson’s good books.
So the nerves are getting the better of him. And it’s an ugly feeling. He hates feeling the control slip from his hands, hates feeling as though he is not the one in charge of his emotions, hates letting the anxiety treat Y/N as his asset as opposed to his other half.
And Harry doesn’t like to disrespect the ones he loves. 
Such a thought may seem sudden. But he’s loved her for a while now—it doesn’t scare him. But if Y/N were anyone else, he wouldn’t even have to question whether she returns his feelings. Because it should be obvious by this point.
But this is Y/N. The woman he loves, sure, but also the woman who has required Harry to adopt a new way of communication—for the better—without a doubt. Yet still, what he doesn’t know is how the fuck he’s going to tell her. How he’s going to say anything without overwhelming her. He likes to think that, by now, he’s got a pretty good understanding of how Y/N’s brain works—which is why (and it feels cruel to even venture down this neural pathway but) he’s nearly one-hundred-percent sure that she has convinced herself that he could never love her.
Which is absurd. It’s so absurd that Harry would be more likely to believe the Earth is flat than to encourage the notion that Y/N is unloveable. He would rather voluntarily get an intrusive operation or lose all of his personal belongings. But how does one convince another that they are worthy of love? If they don’t believe it themself. 
And, undoubtedly, her behaviour is still off. Despite their recent conversation—despite Y/N’s tears and Harry’s reassurance—she’s still fighting the submission. And it’s draining her. Harry can see it. She wants nothing more than to give in but she just won’t let herself and it’s weighing heavier and heavier on Harry’s heart. As though she’s scared, or creating enough distance to build a wall—brick by brick—Y/N hesitates, Y/N ignores, Y/N diverts.
The dominant in him thinks she should be punished. For countlessly testing his patience. But it doesn’t feel right—the possibility that Harry might make her cry for any reason that is not good makes his bones ache—and Y/N is on the brink of tears a lot these days. Harry doesn’t know what to do. How to approach what’s going on—when they’ve already had some kind of conversation surrounding Y/N’s difficulties with accepting his care—and seeing that nothing has changed. He understands that he needs to ask her to make a decision—to stop working or to stop trying to maintain his home, as well as her own; she cannot continue to do both and preserve any sort of mental stability.
But he suspects that she may not choose the thing they both want the most.
And when Harry is letting his impatience overpower him then how can she be blamed at all?
She’s tired when they get in the car—back moulding into the seat as she gives a relieved sigh. And relief—relief is something that releases countless endorphins, something that can have Y/N do a complete one-eighty in personality and demeanour. Relief makes her chatty, and it makes her fidgety. 
“They were a bit uppity.” The words are carried in a manic sort of lilt.
“Mhm,” Harry hums, paying attention to the road as he pulls out of the car park and into the throng of vehicles. The headlights pierce right into his eye sockets as they speed past. Spending an evening with The Pierson’s has inflicted the most terrible of headaches—but he’s relieved too—at the prospect of not having to deal with them again for a long while.
Y/N scratches at her knuckles for a second too long—Harry has to ignore the urge to cover her hands with his own—as she admits, “I don’t think they liked me very much.”
And maybe his first port of call should’ve been reassurance, but he says, “Who cares what they think?” The line of irritation might start to blur in his voice, Harry can’t tell. 
“Me, obviously.”
He spares her a glance out of the corner of his eye to see she’s already looking at him, shy but cheeky smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She does that sometimes. When she says something bratty but wants to stay in his good books. It usually works.
Harry says nothing, turning his attention back to the blinding road before he can see that smile disappearing. Y/N shuffles in her seat next to him, looking out of her window with a little sigh. It’s times like these that she worries. Worries about being too much to handle. And right now her anxieties manifest quickly—insecurities bubbling to the surface and lodging themselves in her throat. One tiny action, or a handful of even smaller ones, changing the course of her pattern of thinking.
It feels rude to ask, each syllable falling off her tongue with a clatter. She almost wants to flinch. “Can you take me home, please? As in… my home.”
This has Harry attentive, granting her more than a single peek from the corner of his eye. He looks over for a second or two, asking, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she nods, and the confession comes easily now, anxiety and relief coalescing into a chaotic swirl, “I’m tired,” harsh knuckles nudge at eye sockets. “It was really loud in there… and those lights were awful… and… I just need a night alone, I think.” She doesn’t say what she’s really believing—I think you need a night alone from me.
But Harry doesn’t argue. Harry never argues. He never usually has to; things just go his way. He’s resigned as he sighs, before nodding quickly, tersely, eyes fixated on the road. “Okay, darling, if you’re sure.”
“Sorry,” Y/N finds herself saying, guilt swarming in her gut despite believing it’s for the best. But it seems nothing she says ever feels right. 
Harry reaches over to squeeze her thigh, warm and encompassing, a silent reassurance that she needn’t apologise. And then he verbally reassures her too, “Don’t be silly, you’re allowed to miss home comforts,” he squeezes again, and flits his eyes over with a small smile, “especially when you’ve got such a cute bedroom.”
Y/N can’t help but mirror his expression, a giddy giggle bubbling out of her throat. “It is pretty cute.” Cuter with her beautifully broad dominant decorating her frilly bedspread, but she doesn’t have the confidence to specify so.
Harry keeps the weight of his hand on her thigh for as long as he possibly can, lifting it only when crucial to the safety of his driving. When he pulls up outside Y/N’s building and turns off the ignition, neither of the pair move. She asked to go home but she doesn’t want to be here. She wants Harry to turn the car back on and take her to his home whether she may pretend to protest or not.
But all she does is angle her body towards Harry’s and peek up at him from under her lashes. He’s already looking at her, of course, a tired smile on his handsome face.
“Come here,” he brings his hand up and threads his fingers through her hair, scratching soothingly. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut, unable to resist the way she gravitates towards him. She doesn’t see the worry in Harry’s eyes.
He kisses her. And she kisses him back. A soft sponging of lips warmed by the gentle exhalations from their noses. It’s nothing indecent, but any passerby would be sure to read the signs; there’s no other way to interpret such a kiss other than with deeply rooted affection. More than just a brief goodbye between casual lovers.
Harry pulls away first, letting his lips tingle against Y/N’s cupid’s bow. “I—” I love you. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” Her eyes stay shut, frozen in Harry’s hold, wishing to stay in his car indefinitely.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, slowly untangling his fingers and swiping down the bridge of her nose with his knuckle to make her smile, “go and get some rest.”
As soon as she’s disappeared behind her front door, turning around to give Harry a little wave to send him off with one final pretty picture, he lets his posture slump. He lets the worry carve lines along his face, and he lets his lungs heave a tired sigh.
Harry doesn’t much like his house anymore—not without Y/N in it—it feels double its already gargantuan size and the hues she’s painted across every surface fade back to white. But, when he gets home, the remnants of her follow him from room to room. An almost painful reminder. And Harry has to shake some sense into himself; she’s not dead. She’s fine, she’s asleep in her bed, safe in her house, but… it’s not that he’s worried about.
He sits in his kitchen alone, stabbing pitifully at his fruit for one. He’s not hungry, but Y/N never turns down a fresh bowlful at any time of the day, so it seems his brain insists that now would be the best occasion. And it’s not like they’ve never spent nights apart but this one feels different, this one feels forced—tense—unravelling. 
Mugs scatter the draining board, vibrant in colour and pattern; one small example of Harry seeing something—anything—and feeling compelled to buy it for Y/N. To watch her face light up over whichever cutesy thing he’s presented her with. They fill his cupboards (the mugs) pushing his old, plain, white ones to the back where they gather dust. He should put the clean ones away but he doesn’t. Instead his viridescent eyes trail across to the fridge, lettered magnets untouched from their formation that Y/N had ordered them in earlier that day. 
PRUNE
Harry can’t help but smile despite how heavy his face feels—unable to ignore the idiosyncrasies of Y/N. There was nothing inherently funny about the word but for her to deem it a bizarre enough move to play as her hand… that’s what makes him smile. That in their silent, little game of who can spell out the most peculiar of words with their limited letters, her brain will always go somewhere he never expects.
He feels an immense weight swirling around in his gut; for not being with her now, for not making sure she’s okay. Regardless of her wish to be alone, Harry should know when to overrule her decisions if he believes he knows best. He’s become responsible for Y/N’s wellbeing—a true joy in his life but it doesn’t come without its challenges. It’s difficult to remind himself that she coped on her own for a long time, but he doesn’t think it's unfair to describe her attempts at self care as poor. And just because she survived on her own, that doesn’t mean she was okay—Harry has a pretty clear picture of that now.
Moping doesn’t tend to be an attractive look but… it doesn’t matter much, Harry considers, when he’s on his own. He mopes—from the kitchen and up the stairs, to his bedroom that he frowns at upon entering. Full of Y/N. He misses her so potently and he doesn’t understand why. 
The guilt gnaws away at him as he gets ready for bed, alone. As he strips from his uncomfortable suit, alone. As he brushes his teeth, alone, staring dismally at his tired face. Y/N’s products scatter the counter, unmoved from where she left them this morning. Her exfoliator narrows its beady eyes at him as he splashes his face with water, patting himself dry, alone—trudging back to his bed, alone. Cold and empty, bigger than it’s ever been before and dull without the mound of his lover curled within, sheets unloving as they lay leaden on his lone body.
He can smell her, he can see her things, her clothes, her personality—everywhere. So potent and yet so hollow, so ghostly. Harry groans, smothering his face into his pillow, but the force in which his head presses in only expels more of what he’s trying not to inhale.
Sleep doesn’t introduce itself; Harry doesn’t even let it. He’s up and out of bed before he can let his thoughts drift further, and out into his garden where he lets the midnight chill kiss his cheeks, nursing a caffeinated tea—sure to paint the sullen unders of his eyes a dusty mauve in the morning.
Y/N sleeps surprisingly well. And it is surprising, because before the unconsciousness had taken over, she’d tossed and turned for at least an hour. She’d even cried for a while when unable to stop her mind from wandering into dark hallways and even darker prison cells.
But then again, a good headache inducing cry always was the best medicine.
She turns down Harry when he phones her at eleven fifty-two the next morning. To go and get breakfast at The Little Snail Café, a usual occasion for them on a Saturday. 
I don’t really feel like going out—I’m sorry. No… no, thank you. I’m still a little out of it from last night. …No, I’m okay. Really, ‘m okay. Yes, I promise. Okay… Okay, bye.
It feels wrong, it itches somewhere she cannot reach—it lines her bones and aches and aches. She spends most of that day sitting and staring, at nothing in particular. A whole chunk of her day just zoned out in the direction of her wall. But it wouldn’t have mattered had her vision been aimed at white plaster or a menagerie of the world’s most exotic animals—her eyes still would have glossed over, blurred by a sheen of vacancy.
By the time the sun sets and the moon casts its chilling glow, Y/N can recount eating one full meal and going to the bathroom twice, maybe three times—the rest of the hours lost in a haze.
It doesn’t feel particularly good to get out of the house—and face Sunday morning head on—but Y/N forces herself to regardless. Whether she has or has not run out of milk is entirely unrelated. There were no plans to stop for anything else, to become waylaid or distracted by bookstores, or the smells of deliciously fatty breakfast foods frying, or even to bump into her dear friend. Her dear friend who she has neglected for so long that, embarrassingly, Y/N will admit, she’s been avoiding out of shame.
And Niall is feeling neglected. Which Y/N knows, not from assumption but because he tells her as such.
“Never see you anymore, do I?” He nurses the steaming mug between his palms, the searing ceramic bringing feeling back into his iced fingertips. “Have to bump into you at the bleedin’ shops, beg you to get a coffee, and you still won’t tell me how you are,” he swallows. “And you hate going shopping alone!” His jewellery clatters against the mug as he gesticulates wildly. “We always did that together,” pausing to take a sip, sighing when Y/N doesn’t take the opportunity to fill his silence. “You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N.”
The two friends work in the same building—and that is the fact that is silently ignored by either party. It’s awkward, and it’s sad, to admit out loud that they don’t even cross paths at work.
She sighs, hoping the swirling, spiralling liquid of her latte might just hypnotise her. “I’m sorry.”
Another resigned exhale, “Yes, well. I know y’are. You’re always bloody sorry. Too bloody sorry, if y’ask me.”
“You’re being mean,” she frowns, unused to the lack of frivolity coming from the usually maddeningly overjoyed half of their duo.
“Mean?” He’s incredulous. “I’m grumpy, aren’t I! Because I miss my best friend and she’s gone radio silent on me.”
Yeah. She can’t deny that—already admitted it, in fact. “I didn’t mean to, I— I forget. I—”
“You forgot about me.” His voice is perfectly steady. Nearly disbelieving but still and stoic.
“I did not! I…” she swallows around a scratch in her throat, trying so hard to ignore the uncomfortable wash of heat over her forehead. “I’ve never had more than one person to focus on before. And I’ve been so busy, I just— I get overwhelmed, and I panic, and I… You never even texted me.”
Niall huffs, grumbling, “Was waiting for you to text me.”
“Well,” Y/N exhales, tempted to laugh, all of a sudden, “it’s just as much your fault then. You know I’m not good at it. Texting and whatever.”
And then a telling vibration rumbles through her bag, loud enough for both bickering friends to stop and catch one another’s eyes. Y/N tries to play it off, tries to ignore it but Niall rolls his eyes.
“Answer him.”
She scoffs, “It could be anyone.”
“Oh, give over. Answer him.”
She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth nervously, a murky guilt swimming around her insides as she pulls out her phone.
Harry Hi darling, missed you yesterday. Hope you’re having a nice day. X
And suddenly the remorse is filling her lungs like water. Her heart dips inside her ribs, pounding alarmingly, lips pulling down into a frown she doesn’t realise is visible. She types out a reply automatically, autopilot taking over—declaring she’s out with Niall and that she misses him too—maybe a tad overeager with the exclamation marks.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes stay locked onto the little keyboard at the bottom of her screen. “Hm? Nothing.”
“Right,” Niall mutters, unconvinced. When she puts the phone down, he catches her off guard, and Y/N hadn’t adequately prepared for her day to go this way at all. She’d just needed some bloody milk! 
“We’re going out. T’dinner or something—”
The telltale signs of a migraine tease the backs of her eye sockets. “Oh—Niall, no—”
“—Mhm, yes we are. Bring Harry,” he nods, “I’ll bring… m’self, invite some guys from work.”
“Niall—”
“—Y/N.”
They stare at one another, Niall’s gaze firm and Y/N’s pleading. There’s nothing she hates more than social gatherings, let alone awkwardly unfamiliar ones with coworkers she only speaks to when they absolutely demand her attention, for Christ’s sake. But her friend doesn’t give—and Y/N can’t really blame him. She’s been a shoddy friend, after all, the least she can do is spend an evening with him. 
“Boyfriend can hold your hand,” he teases and Y/N frowns exaggeratedly, a warmth seeping out over her face.
“Shut up,” her bottom lip protrudes and she brings her steaming mug up to her face to distract from her incessant embarrassment. She doesn’t want to correct him about the boyfriend thing. Y/N comes across juvenile enough without having the ‘I don’t know what we are’ conversation. Besides, Niall would only dismiss her queries—quite rightly too. Of course, they’re dating; what else would it be? Harry had specified anyway. She was his, and he was hers.
“Please no dinner.”
Niall says nothing. And then he nods, “Okay, fine. No dinner. A long weekend, me and you, somewhere with wifi.”
“That sounds nice,” Y/N smiles. It’s small, a little nervous, but it’s genuine. She hasn’t spent proper time with her friend in so long that she’s worried she might have forgotten how. But it’s Niall, and she knows those anxieties will melt away near instantaneously.
“But just to remind you, if I hadn’t taken you out all those months ago, you never would’ve met Harry so maybe you should reconsider your stance on socialising.”
“That’s not fair—Wait, that’s not even true, you set us up on a bloody date, you arse. Surprise attacked me.”
He smiles. “Semantics.”
Y/N goes home on her own to wallow without Harry—knowing too well she could be in his bed instead of hers. And she spends the rest of her day similarly to the one before it—only now she’s got the dread of Sunday blues setting in. She starts to think, and overthink, and overthink her overthinking. She analyses everything about her relationship with Harry.
Their routine is—was—ordinary. Harry worked, Y/N worked, they met back at Harry’s home in which Y/N spent more time than her own, they ate dinner, they went to sleep. Rinse and repeat. It felt solid despite previous teething problems. But slowly, slowly but surely, things changed. So gradually that you wouldn’t notice straight away.
Now, Harry works, Y/N works, Harry texts Y/N to make sure she’s still coming over, Y/N says yes most of the time, she defies him more than she ever has done before, they play it off as bratty behaviour and the rest remains the same. Neither of them particularly like this fact, but Y/N is convinced of her own self-sabotage and Harry is practically terrified he’ll scare her off. So they stay at this impasse, waiting for what won’t come. 
And Y/N only reaches her breaking point quicker, and quicker. It’s why she lies to him the next day. She regrets it as soon as the decision is made because Y/N has never been a good liar, but it turns out she’s practically incapable of it when Harry is involved. If it weren’t for the fact his voice crackled down the phone line and he wasn’t staring into her anxious eyes, then she’s certain she wouldn’t have even tried to fib in the first place.
She’d glanced around an empty reception and moused over the five unread emails in her inbox as she informed Harry she was just too swamped to go out for lunch. The phones are ringing off the hooks, she’d said, staring at the empty chair behind her shared desk that was hardly ever preoccupied by two receptionists at once. Y/N had always been grateful for her shifts, but in that moment she’d almost wished there were fifty of them behind the bloody desk—phones ringing and keyboards clicking—just to compensate for the deceit.
And her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest as she lied to him, clenching her eyes shut as if it wouldn’t just amplify the disappointment funnelling into her ear. With no vision, her mind could only wander from room to room, happening upon an easel and starting to paint the perfect depiction of personified emotions. Harry with frown lines and sad eyes, clutching at his heart as though someone had tried to forcibly remove it. 
The piece would hang in the Louvre, titled something like The Fatal Lie or She Who Breaks Hearts or He Does Everything for Her and She Fucking Lies to Him What A Fucking Bitc—
She didn’t open her eyes until the line went dead.
In truth, Y/N can’t exactly explain why she thinks this is necessary. If someone were to ask her to be logical about it all; to present her ideas as though they were a brand new theory or hypothesis, she would be entirely stumped.
Because there is no logic to it—but she fears she’s spiralling a little bit and she’s never known how to stop. Like one big DNA strand, Y/N can spiral forever. She feels as though she’s stuck inside her own personalised riddle. Why won’t the submissive let her dominant take care of her? And the answer is staring her right in the face but she can’t figure it out. Everyone is screaming at her inside of their heads but Y/N remains clueless.
It seems karma has a lovely big handful in store for her, however. And from an outsider’s perspective, Y/N might be more relieved that she is immediately punished for lying to Harry. But as it all happens, justice is the last thing on her mind.
Y/N has had more bad days than she’s had hot dinners. (Considering her eating habits are hardly healthy, that makes such an idiom somewhat disturbing.) Most days, she rolls out of bed expecting the following twelve hours to pour litre upon litre into her stress bucket—one so butchered and beaten that there are holes in the tin, leaking droplets steadily, and its contents are sloshed about with no poise.
As a result, she’s become fairly skilled at hiding her bubbling emotions under the surface; putting a lid on them until she’s somewhere safe to implode. To let them tip over the edge and sear the ground beneath her.
So what on Earth was compelling her eyes to start filling with no regard for her current environment? A professional setting, Y/N. Your workplace. Impatient men demanding things she cannot help them with may as well be included in the job description; Y/N knows how to deal with them—recites the sickeningly polite script memorised within the overwhelmed organ inside her skull. Tells them that this week is fully booked, Sir… and would they like to hear next week’s availability? 
She knows what to do. So why is it so hard today? Why do their bitter tones and probing questions drill so pointedly into her temples? She knows the answers to those riddles but a stubborn refusal to accept them makes her all the more frustrated.
It is so sorely reminiscent of the first time Harry had shown up at her door, faced with Y/N’s smeared mascara and crinkled work clothes. He’d bought her flowers, and he cooked her dinner, and he made her forget all about her day. Since then, Y/N thinks she’s forced his hand on too many occasions to be able to forgive herself. How many more times can she come home crying before he decides he’s had enough? The thought only makes her sniffle louder.
By the time her workday comes to a close, Y/N is ready to crawl into the nearest gutter and start her decomposing process sixty decades early. She takes herself to her preferred bathroom stall—the one with the wall on her right hand side—and dials Harry’s number before she has the chance to change her mind. If this is the last time he can handle her then so be it.
He picks up too quickly for Y/N to figure out what she’s going to say, his name in a frail whimper the only thing that comes out. “Harry?” She does try to school her tone but to no avail. Her voice totters about all over the place.
Immediately, Y/N hears shuffling on Harry’s end. A hasty sit-up, or a scattering of papers, the scraping of a chair pushing back from his desk in a panic. “Baby? What’s th’matter?”
And really, it’s Harry’s own fault for the clumsy sniffle that perforates his ears—how could Y/N not cry harder to the sound of his worried timbre? He calls her baby and she turns into one; helpless and desperate for care.
“Nothing, ‘m—I’m okay.”
Harry gives an exasperated huff, “Darlin’, I can hear you crying,” he smiles slightly through the phone but he’s not happy. “What’s wrong—?”
“—Sorry.”
Their voices overlap and there’s a pregnant pause. “Y/N.”
“Can—Can I come over?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart, why are you asking me?” She hears the scratching of stubble and it tickles her ears as if Harry is right next to her. “Never have to ask.”
“Okay,” she lets out a relieved sigh. He doesn’t sound annoyed, or exhausted, or fed up; it starts to thaw at the tensions in her body already. “Sorry.”
“S’okay, come home, alright?” Another pause where, presumably, he checks his watch, “Your shift’s over.”
“Mhm.” She hums so she doesn’t speak in wails. Shame slicks up and down her arms. It’s unbearably hot. It pecks at her skin and boils her from the inside out.
“I’ll see you in a bit, yeah, darlin’? Working from home today, I’ll put the kettle on f’ya.”
“Okay…” there’s a pause where a certain phrase feels appropriate, and then, “bye.”
Y/N dabs pathetically at her sodden cheeks, and blows her nose into a tissue. She tries to take slow, deep breaths but her airways are all congested and it must make for a sorry sight. 
But her shift is over. And Harry is waiting for her at home.
“There she is,” his voice practically carries her over the threshold of the front door. Harry’s holding a hot cup of tea and rubbing a socked foot along his calf to soothe an itch. He leans so effortlessly against the kitchen door frame.
He walks over, practically cooing, “Oh, Y/N. What are we g’na do with you, hm?” It’s almost patronising—if not for Y/N’s fondness for submission. For Harry’s dominance. She nuzzles her nose into his chest, soothed by every warm, heavy stroke of his palm up and down her back (he makes good heed to hold the steaming mug away from their embrace).
Y/N must look a mess—all sticky faced and wet eyes. Harry doesn’t say a thing—simply ushers her into the living room with a guiding palm melting into her lower back.
She exclaims suddenly, “My shoes—!” and it doesn’t matter how comfortable Y/N may be in Harry’s home, she’ll never feel polite wandering around in outdoor footwear. But he shushes her, forces her gently onto the sofa with a nudge and places her drink on the side table. He kneels down, taking care of her bothersome loafers that still rub against her heels no matter how broken in they may be. Nurturing digits squeeze and knead the sensitive flesh, almost eliciting a peal of shrieks and writhing, before they smooth up the backs of her calves—nylon course against soft palms.
The shaggy rug that Y/N over-familiarised herself with, all those months ago, cradles her feet—her socks, however cute they may be with frills around the ankles, prohibiting her from burying her toes despite her best attempts. Harry looks up at her from the floor, worry still ever present in his expression. He’d hidden it well, greeting her with a smile, as he always tends to do, but now she’s sat in front of him, sofa swallowing her up, and he lets the fuss tug at his brows.
“Wanna talk to me?”
It’s soft and unassuming, but Y/N still looks upset to be asked. She sniffs, “Just another bad day,” weak smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. Her voice is all thick and sluggish; Harry wishes he could personally caress her larynx, however disturbed that may be. He doesn’t care.
He won’t nag about quitting her job—he won’t. Not out loud anyway. But it’s hard when there’s an absolute certainty of someone’s happiness increasing tenfold… but they won’t allow it. Harry can’t bear seeing her like this so often—not when he’s sure it could all be fixed. 
Especially after the plate debacle.
I’m not happy—her words echo around his skull like a reverberating clang to the head. The words escaped during a moment of vulnerability, an admission never likely to be reiterated under more controlled circumstances. But Y/N had reached the end of her tether, her ability to cope tested beyond its capabilities, and Harry has become aware that she’s never really, truly comfortable within her own skin; living, working, existing the way she does. 
They’d half discussed it, a few weeks ago, and Y/N had been better immediately afterwards but then… as time passed and her insecurities remained festering, their conversation may as well have never happened.
“I’m sorry,” he presses a kiss to her knee, “wish I could make it all better.” Wish you would let me. 
“You do.” It makes her smile—albeit, sadly—to see Harry so dedicated to the way he sponges his mouth against her body. Over her knee, up her thigh, along the wrist that sits heavily in her lap. 
“Let me take proper care of you tonight.” A verbal switch that turns Y/N’s brain to mush the moment Harry flicks it. “Get you out of that cruel head of yours.” As he dots kisses across the palm of her hand and he whispers against the sensitive skin. “Pretty, but cruel.” 
“Mm,” Y/N quivers against his touch, overwhelmed by the heat that flushes her cheeks. “Need you.” It almost comes out as a sob, eyes filling with desperation as Harry’s kisses send lightning strikes down her spine, standing the hairs of her arms on end.
He pushes up a little, gaining enough height to look into her eyes as he shushes her gently. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” The sofa cushions give way as Harry takes Y/N’s spot, manoeuvring her onto his lap and coaxing her face into his neck. “You’ve got me.” Feeling the slope of her nose press so solidly makes Harry feel incomplete without it—like her weight is always meant to be glued to him this way.
He gives her a moment, a cuddle that he knows she’s needed, whispering promises of a good, good night. “Make you feel light as a feather, yeah?” But when it’s time to pry her away from the security of his hold, she grumbles and whines—unable to see the whole picture when life is so warm and cosy like this.
Harry’s not harsh with her; it’s not the time, but he still knows best. “Come on, baby, you know how this goes,” cupping his hands underneath her armpits as though she’s a big toddler and guiding her down to the floor—to the rug she loves so much. 
“That’s it—kneel down, f’me.” His thumb brushes the apple of her cheek, smoothing over the skin with adoration. “Such a good girl,” he smiles, lips stretching softly. Y/N leans into his palm, gentle breaths funnelling through her nostrils and into his lap. Her body relaxes, slumping unconsciously to lean against Harry’s knees as the weight of her head begs to be supported by his thighs.
“You trust me, don’t you?” The words dance their way into Y/N’s ears, slowly; unhurried. She takes a moment to register, but when she does, she nods—movements lagging and heavy.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, unaware of her own volition—seemingly out of control but content to cling onto the feeling. 
Harry’s lips quirk, top teeth rolling his bottom lip into his mouth to curb a grin. He’s missed her—this submission; the ease in which their hearts settle into when they both fulfil their respective roles. He’s unsure, right now, why Y/N is giving in tonight—when she’s been hellbent on pretending Harry’s control doesn’t smooth every worry line from her pretty face—when she’s been denying it to herself despite the truth lingering murkily between them; unacknowledged. He supposes her day really must have been bad.
But he won’t question it yet, not when the opportunity lies so openly in front of him. To make her happy again, if just for an evening. To prove to himself that the issue doesn’t lie within a place he’s found himself worrying about recently—a more vain, shallow insecurity that he’s admittedly never pondered upon before. 
He hums, thumb dipping lower to tease across her plush bottom lip, back up to her cheek, and down again. Y/N wants to open her mouth, tongue lingering just behind her lips evidently. She’s waiting to be told, waiting to be allowed—it stirs up something thick in Harry’s abdomen. He dips his digit past her eager mouth, pressing down on her tongue with intention. Her breath hits him heavily, a sigh of relief and of placidity.
“Just need something to suck on, I think.” 
It’s a connection he’s made—like handing a lollipop to a child to make them smile—that if Y/N could permanently have him in her mouth… she probably would. Not too dissimilar to a candied treat, in her eyes. Something to concentrate on, to feel fill her mouth, to be forced to focus on her breathing and forget about the world around her.
She nods into his hand, smaller fingers trying to burrow into the skin just above his knees. He’s wearing loose athletic shorts—comfortably manspreading—the feel of his little hairs and the warmth of his body keeping Y/N tethered to the ground.
Harry covers one of her hands with his free one, squeezing gently to convey an unspoken semblance of priority. Of his desire to only do what will make her feel better. And of his appreciation of her trust; believing so deeply in him to do what’s best for her.
It’s why he feels happy to pull his thumb from Y/N’s mouth and tug the elastic waistband of his shorts down. To let his hardening cock fatten up for her, eager to guide it past her awaiting lips as he smooths over her brow.
“Precious doll. Stop thinking, yeah? Let Daddy keep you safe.”
Her breaths hit his velvety skin, warm through her nostrils as she sighs an exhale of relief. Harry’s lashes flutter when she rolls her tongue along the underside of him, making all the effort to not twitch his hips up and into her mouth. He smooths a hand over her crown, heavy lids fighting to stay open as he admires the softness of her own as they rest shut. 
Y/N’s movements are sluggish—minimal—as her cheek smushes into the meat of Harry’s thigh, still half-concealed by his shorts. A light hand wraps around his cock, smaller digits and tired state of mind failing to provide much pressure but Harry doesn’t care. Harry thinks Y/N could blow streams of air on him and he’d still be besotted.
She’s falling asleep—usually nothing to be proud of—but the lax of her limbs is precisely her dominant’s greatest achievement. “Are you tired, baby?” Y/N shakes her head but Harry exhales a laugh. “Yes, you are,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, you can sleep,” lips forming around the permissions gently, large palm flattening over the top of her head, sending tiny sparks down her spine. She wants to nuzzle into him like a dog receiving scratches, being loved on and handled with care.
“You wanna stay down there?” Not for his own pleasure but for hers. Her contentment. Y/N nods, lips wet and swollen around him. “S’it comfy for you? Okay on your knees?”
“Mhm,” she hums, shuffling in even closer, free hand looping around the back of his calf. Harry finds himself swallowing a yawn at the sight of her so peaceful below him, finger dancing across her hairline and rubbing along the shell of her earlobe. 
Eventually his eyes close too, his hands comfortable in her hair, as they give their consciousness up for a moment of rest.
It’s no more than an hour later when Harry lets the responsibility wake him back up. He tucks himself away from where he’s slipped from Y/N’s pouty mouth; her back is slumped so dreadfully that Harry immediately curses himself for letting her stay on the wretched floor.
It disturbs Y/N, hauling her into his arms, but Harry rubs magical circles into her back—wondrous enough to elicit purrs out of her if she were capable of making such sounds. But she’s hardly opened her eyes before Harry decides to blow cool air across her face, completely unprovoked in his mischief.
“Hey!” It comes out as a girlish grunt, a discombobulated huff. Harry’s grinning at the sight of her chin trying to crawl into her neck. And it only entertains him further to curl his fingers into her sides and squeeze mercilessly.
“Ah–ah! Ha—Harry!” Cartoonishly, her eyes bulge out of her head, any last traces of sleep dispersing completely as Y/N’s body goes into flight mode—or attempts to, at least. Harry’s got her firmly stuck atop his lap, wriggling digits for his squirming girl. “St—op!”
“Ahh,” the bastard sounds reminiscent, ceasing his movements to bask in the glow of her giggles, “missed my smiley girl.”
But the smile disappears… and a frown replaces it, suddenly aimed towards his lap.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry dips down, index finger resting beneath her chin to coax it up and level with his own.
Y/N’s eyes are dull in colour, lacking their usual charm. “I’m sorry for being miserable all the time.”
“Oh—no, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, darling. Don’t apologise for having emotions, that’s silly,” and he squeezes her again, perhaps somewhat cruelly, just to see her teeth behind her lips as she yelps involuntarily.
It is silly, but Y/N forever holds an awareness of how much she may be burdening a person. “Just like making you smile… s’my job.” He bites his lip to hide his own smile, and it has the desired effect—Y/N’s own face copying him perfectly—only far cuter, in Harry’s eyes.
Then he dances his fingers up her side with pretend innocence, “Didn’t get to fuck you proper ‘cause you fell asleep on me.”
Her smile vanishes again but for a much better reason. And, yeah, she would like that—she really would—despite her demeanour suggesting she might rather be mauled to death by wild cats. Still so shy, Harry must think.
“Think I’d like to spread you out on the rug, hm? How’s that sound?”
It sounds like bliss. It sounds like her cunt cries out in pleasure, completely untouched, just from the idea. “Yeah,” she breathes, nodding.
Lips curl like devil’s horns, “Yeah? Wha’s that mean, dummy?”
“Dummy?!” It comes out squeaky, and a little petulant, if the way she thuds her fists against Harry’s chest is anything to go by. He raises his eyebrows at her, somewhat surprised, if not slightly impassive, at the way she talks back to him.
“Yeah, dummy,” taking her wrists and decorating them with his fingers as they curl all the way around. He pulls them off of his body and holds them by her shoulders. “Dumb for my cock and I haven’t even put it in you yet.”
Her hips grind down without her permission—the slightest rut fuelled by habit—one she never wishes to kick. “Harry—”
“—Nope,” he cuts off her whine, pulling her arms behind her back like he’s done it a thousand times before—he has.
“Sir,” it falls too quietly from her lips, and it’s not really the word he wanted but he’ll let it slide. 
“What? What could my darling possibly want? Hm?”
He’s being mean now. He was so sweet earlier but now he’s just mean. It makes her feel deliciously delirious but still Y/N wants to act out just on principle. But she doesn’t, because she’s a good girl, and she’s been bad enough as of late. “Please, make it better. Need you to make it better, Sir.”
“Yeah, you do. Need me,” his voice is gruff, a terse exhale as he stands up with Y/N’s thighs wrapped around his waist and lowers them both down onto the shaggy rug. It brushes against her clothes, all soft and fluffy—he can’t wait to see it swallow her naked skin. All they’re missing is a roaring fireplace.
“Need you,” she nods, agreeing, echoing his words. The heat that started to bubble up before their spontaneous nap roils fervently in her abdomen once more, crashing wave after wave against her cunt—her clit, where she’s sure she can feel her heart beating.
Harry grunts, voice deep with anticipation, “Let’s get these clothes off,” murmuring more to himself than anyone else, deft fingers already undoing the buttons of Y/N’s blouse—faster than she ever can. Her body feels heavy with fatigue, the cushioning of the rug coaxing her up and away into that fuzzy space alarmingly fast, as she watches the beautiful man above her take care over the state of her undress. He doesn’t rip and tear, he smooths and folds, kind enough to rub her arms and legs as he goes.
Y/N almost wishes he’d run ladders through her tights—though she’d be grateful he doesn’t the next day—to speed the process up and get him all pretty leaning over her. Her bare shoulders are stroked by the rug; closing her eyes almost lets her imagine she’s laying in a meadow, grass kissing her skin. And when her legs are made bare too, that’s when she remembers where she really is, and knocks her knees together like something bashful. Harry folds her tights, and her socks, and Y/N wishes she could push herself up and kiss him for it.
But then he rests his palms atop the curving joints, pulling them back open slowly to admire the sit of her knickers, pressing tight against her pussy, lips so clearly soft and swollen even through the cotton. He pushes her knees up and his grip slips down to the underside, simply looking at her for a moment or two. Y/N whines, lying there in her bra and panties and being ogled at.
“Needy, needy,” Harry tuts, dropping his hands on either side of her head and letting her knees sling over his shoulders. “Needy girl with a fussy pussy, is that right?” She stares at him dumbly, only really able to process how pretty he looks. His words pass straight through her. So he dances a hand down her chest, her stomach, palm pressing into her mound as his thumb swipes over her covered clit.
“I said, is that right?” he goads over Y/N’s gasp.
“Ye—yes. Always right, y’always right,” she babbles, cheek turning into the rug. The weight of his thumb and that tiny flick is enough to make her clit throb.
“Mm, Daddy’s always right, you’re so smart, baby.” He taps so lightly, so mockingly, with the pad of his thumb—simply feeling. It makes her jolt anyhow, so pent up—at Harry’s complete disposal like his mere presence turns her into one of Pavlov’s dogs… and it’s not her mouth that drools.
“Let me have a good look at you,” his tone doesn’t leave room for interpretation. He will have a good look at her. “Fuckin’ missed you, gorgeous’,” as he tugs the gusset of her panties to the side—hardly patient enough to remove her legs from his shoulders and spend all that time wriggling the material down. Y/N isn’t sure if he’s talking to her or her cunt. “Been hiding from me.” Harry’s eyes flit up to hers and despite the thick layer of fog that floats around her brain, Y/N still has the mind to avert her gaze—embarrassed.
She’s not been hiding. That would be childish.
“I want you to come for me, okay?” Head dipping lower and lower until Y/N can feel his breaths tickling her bare skin. “I don’t want you to stop coming.” And then he meets her cunt, tongue laving over her drippy hole but not dipping inside, dragging her arousal up and over her clit one long, big swipe. Y/N makes a much louder noise than she’d be happy about in any other circumstance, with any sense of control over her actions. But she has no power over her mouth as it cries out, legs tightening around Harry’s head already and he’s barely started a thing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks it unwise to come quickly, considering Harry’s insatiable humming against her cunt, and his unlikely proclivity to want to stop. But he’s always unravelled her overwhelmingly fast—always managed to pull an orgasm out of her without even trying.
Sweat beads at the base of her spine, hands struggling to know what to do with themselves. She rests them either side of her head, and then they flinch up and off the floor when Harry sucks her clit into his mouth, the crude sounds making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She wants to bury her digits into his soft hair and tug for stability, but she sobs out at the suction, and the pressure of a finger circling her hole, and her arms fall heavy above her head.
Her back arches, body writhing far too much for Harry to focus as his forearm falls heavily over her stomach, fingertips mindlessly rooting under the wire of her bra. He pushes the cups up and over her tits, squeezing a palmful as he goes. His right hand concentrates where it matters, middle and ring fingers nestling inside of her easily and curling just right.
Y/N sobs, hand clambering to thud over Harry’s own that plays with her breasts. She squeezes him, mouth lagging behind her brain as her orgasm races towards her. “Harry!” Head thrown back against the rug, cushioned by the soft strands. He hums, and Y/N can’t see his face but she knows he looks smug. He hums and it tips her over the edge, vibrations sizzling off of his tongue and through her clit that he sucks and drools over as his fingers pump steadily. 
And he doesn’t stop—not that Y/N had expected him to but it’s suddenly a lot harder to deal with as her cunt clenches and throbs, resigned already under his intense ministrations. “Oh my god!” Too weak to lift her head up but she tries, only to be met with Harry’s devastating, smiling eyes tracking her every movement. She falls back again, frantic hands pushing at his forehead. “Please.”
He lifts up, chin glistening and mouth a pretty pink, “Mm.” Even gulping down oxygen looks sexy when he does it. Perfectly composed, lips curled up in satisfaction. “Not done, baby. W’na make you fucking gush,” and Y/N’s face curls up in a preemptive cry as Harry hauls himself up to her and smears a dismantling kiss. Her noises are muffled, turned into new ones with the feel of his mouth on hers, the taste on his tongue that he so generously shares, rubbing against hers like it might make her orgasm again.
A creeping hand wraps around her throat, the other still dedicated to the slick place between her thighs and the pressure makes Y/N’s lashes flutter, brows tugging towards the centre of her face. Harry smiles above her, serious about his word—he wants to make her gush around him, his index finger teasing the side of his middle that rubs so deliciously against the front of Y/N’s walls—pinky slapping lewdly in the crease of her thigh with every thrust in and out.
“I can’t,” she swallows, tough to talk with the weight of Harry’s palm against her neck.
“Yeahhh, you can,” he’s sure of it. Too cocky but Y/N’s cunt doesn’t seem to mind, clenching as though it wants to keep Harry’s fingers inside of her forever. “My good girl, yeah? Gonna get me all wet, aren’t ya.” Her jaw slackens, trembling fingers curling around his wrist as he digs into the sides of her neck and his fingers work tirelessly. 
“Daddy! Pl—ple—oh!” Nothing very intelligible tumbles from her lips, mouth wide with eyes to match, rendered statuesquely still with the pleasure that overwhelms. And then she starts trembling, every curl of Harry’s fingers making her abdomen coil tighter and tighter. “Ah—I—” Every pulse makes him all the more confident, unfurling his hand from around her neck to trail southwards and rub disrespectfully across her clit.
Y/N doesn’t know what to do—the pressure builds—it’s all consuming and overpowering, she wants to thrash and scream and run from the feeling. But she also wants to dive head first into it and spend the rest of her days there.
“Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart—good girl,” their eyes lock and it makes it so much worse. He pushes into her button with tantalising precision, circling and pinching, leaning over to spit a filthy string of saliva onto the mess she’s already made. “Come, baby. Make a mess all over me,” his green eyes are so void of iris, black pupils large enough to reflect Y/N’s own image as he groans, “You can do that, can’t you?”
Everything’s upside down, she shakes her head when she should be nodding because it’s all too much and she’s crying as it happens, a tiny gush pushing out from around Harry’s fingers as he fucks her through it, moaning alongside her sobs. She soaks his shorts and drips down the insides of her thighs—shaking with enough force to displace Harry’s hand as her orgasm lingers for longer than she’s ever known.
Harry dips down and mouths over her empty hole, desperate to make her even wetter, lapping at her arousal like he may never get the chance to do so again. “Atta—fucking—girl,” not moving back for a second, words muffled. “Did so well. I knew you would.”
And he doesn’t fucking stop.
Y/N’s body aches lusciously when she gets up. She feels heavy and thick like honeycomb, and waking up with Harry’s thick biceps caging her in—the rise and fall of his chest against her back serving as the perfect metronome—had been so sorely missed she could’ve cried tears of relief.
In her delirium of the night previous, she’d failed to process the sounds of Harry on the phone, making the executive decision that she was too sick to come in. He only reminded her when she tried to wriggle out of his immovable grip to get ready. But then Harry’s own alarm had gone off and she was trailing behind him to the bathroom anyway, eyes shaped like hearts and her invisible tail curling around his legs.
Despite her best attempts, he hadn’t let her wrap her silky palms around him whilst they showered—endeared smile making her flush irregardless of their bare skin brushing against one another. 
She watches him get dressed, and watches each chew and swallow of his breakfast, resting her head in the palm of her hand like a true renaissance vision. And then she remembers something she’s been meaning to let him know, foggy head stumbling over a few words as she tries to piece them together.
“Um, Harry?”
He smiles to himself at the sound of her ambivalence. She sits next to him at the kitchen island with the most adorable crinkle in her nose. “Yes?”
“Uhh…” apparently her fingers are suddenly extremely fascinating. “I’m going on a long weekend trip with Niall on Friday. Is… is that okay?”
“Yeah, yes, of course that’s okay.” He frowns, “Have I ever made you feel like it wasn’t?”
She jumps, twitching on her stool like a fretful mouse. “No! No, I’m sorry, no you haven’t. I don’t know why—”
“You’re alright,” he knocks his knuckle under her chin affectionately. “You want some help packing?”
God, yes. “Would you mind?” She hates packing.
Harry could already make that assumption for himself—starting to imagine a scene of her sitting pretty on her bed, cross-legged, whilst he does it all for her. “Not at all,” tipping his head back to swig the rest of his coffee before leaning over to press a wet kiss to her cheek. 
Y/N can’t help but giggle. “Thanks,” and then she starts twitching again, with giddiness this time, hands coming out in front of her as she gestures. “I’ll make you that curry you like for dinner. Ready for you when you walk through the door, I promise!” She grins all beautifully and it makes Harry’s heart stutter in his chest—the elation on her face, the excitement. He kisses her again, pasting a few pecks to the corner of her mouth. “I promise,” as she turns to catch his lips with a smile, hands clenching into happy fists against his warm chest.
“Have a good day, sweetheart. No tears, yeah?”
She nods bashfully, following him to the front door. “No tears.”
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haileybeehappy · 8 months
Text
Movie Nights
Summary : Movie night with your best friend turns when your long time crush, and her brother, invites you to watch the titanic with him instead of the horror movie she is forcing you to watch. Gets steamier than the car scene.
Warnings : there's a lot in this one. Oral, both female and male receiving. she grinds on his abs, because, a girl can dream. dom harry. spanking. pussy slapping, choking, slapping, calling him sir. Oh and daddy. p in v sex. protected. ummm.
Word Count : 5.3k (longest fic I have ever written I'm pretty sure)
Authors note : unedited, wrote it out while my best friend packed. took fucking hours 😂
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You and your childhood best friend sat on her basement couch watching horror movies with your hands alternating in the popcorn bucket. You had just gotten home from college a few days before and had your first sleepover on the first weekend that the two of you were both back in town. A short standing tradition after the last three years of school.
“What are we watching?” You whine as you hide behind your hands. Peeking at the screen between the slits of your fingers.
“A shitty horror movie with a shitty budget and shitty actors,” she laughs as she continues to munch at the popcorn. You might as well be shaking from fear.
“I hate this! Why can’t we just watch the princess bride? Or ten things I hate about you?” You ask as you stuff a handful of popcorn into your mouth.
“Because those are shitty cheesy movies. You always fall asleep anyways so,” she shrugs her eyes not leaving the screen. The movie continues as you watch through your hands. Peeking occasionally to see someone being murdered or tortured. You didn’t mind the ghost movies or the monster horror but the guts and gore really got to you.
“Whatcha watchin?” Is whispered into your ear, your whole body tending and jumping clear off the cushion.
“Oh fuck Harry!” Gem screams as she throws a piece of popcorn at him. He skillfully catches it in him mouth and smiles.
“You guys make it to easy,” he laughs as he makes his way to the refrigerator in the kitchenette of the basement.
“You’re an ass,” you throw at him before turning back to the tv and placing your slotted fingers over your eyes.
“Why do you watch these if you don’t even watch them?” He questions you. His body gliding over back to the couch. His forearms resting on the back of the couch. His body so close to you that you can feel his body heat.
“Cause your sisters mean and won’t let me watch the notebook?” You state, more so a question.
“Why not? She makes me watch it all the time?” He scoffs. Gem looks at him with pursed lips and sunken eyebrows.
“Whatever Harry, you always pick that movie. I have nothing to do with it,” his face reddens slightly and he coughs.
“Whatever, I’m gonna go upstairs and watch the titanic. Your ears perk up as you hear him say that.
“Really?” You ask all too quickly.
“I even popped more popcorn,” he smiles down at you. You look to Gemma and she shrugs.
“You can go watch cheesy romance movies but I’m gonna watch real movies down here,” she smile. She’s always known of the attraction you have to her brother but neither of you say anything.
“You sure?” She asks. As if asking permission.
“All you’re doing down here is complaining anyways,” she jokes. You nod and then proceed to follow Harry up the stairs. His cologne filling your nose as you trail behind him. You breathe in his smell before realizing that’s definitely a little weird. You plop yourself down on the couch in your designated spot and he begins to dig through the cupboards that holds their DVD’s.
“DVD?” You ask.
“Yeah, of course,” he scoffs jokingly. Then in a much more serious time. “We gotta watch all the specials and extras too,” a smile stretches across your lips and you grab at the very large bowl of popcorn in front of you.
“Oh of course what was I thinking,” you laugh and shove a handful into your mouth. His head snaps at you as he hears the crunch of air puffed corn.
“Hey!” He whines. “Don’t eat all of it before the movie starts. Or you’re making more,” his eyebrow raised daringly.
“Fine. Whatever,” you plop the bowl into the coffee table. Your mouth still full of popcorn. Very buttery perfectly cooked popcorn. Harry has always had a knack for movie snacks. He finally finds the DVD and raises from his hunched position and inserts it into the DVD player. Snatching the remote from next to the tv and eventually finding the spot next to you on the sofa a comfortable place to be. He is close enough that he can reach the popcorn which he has now placed in between the two of you but far enough it’s not weird.
As the movie starts you can't seem to pay attention to the people on the screen. Mostly focused on the feeling of your lifelong crush sitting next to you. The body heat radiating off of him is all you can feel. You keep fidgeting around and moving around trying to get comfortable. His hand then finds its place on your knee.
"Would you stop moving so much," he whispers. His hand not moving from your leg as his attention moves back to the movie. His hand so warm it feels like it is burning a hole through your leggings. His thumb slowly moving back and forth the black fabric. You find your eyes drifting away from the tv and looking to Harry. A small smile resting on his lips as he watches the movie. Reaching over you grab a small handful of popcorn, his eyes darting to you and his mouth opens wide. You let out a small laugh and bring a few pieces of popcorn to his mouth. He smiles widely at you then crunches the popcorn between his teeth. You force your eyes back to the screen but keep looking to Harry in your peripheral. His hand still resting on your thigh.
He readjusts himself scootching slightly closer to you, his hand falling further up your thigh, a small gasp leaves your lips.
"Sorry," he whispers, sliding it back to the place before. You wrap your fingers around his moving it back up your thigh.
"It's okay,"
"You sure?" His head turning to look at you. You nod.
"I trust you," his face close to yours. If you both leaned forward just a bit his nose would bump yours.
"Probably a bad idea." his voice barely audible.
"You've never given me a reason not to," you drift closer to him slightly. Just as he began to lean forward Gem comes bursting through the door.
"James is here, we're going to go to a party at Wills do you wanna come?" she asks walking into the room. Her eyes on her phone. You jump back from Harry and look to your friend, heart in your throat.
"No I'm not feeling particularly partyish," you shrug. She looks between you and Harry, a small smile playing at her lips.
"You want me to take you home?" Her eyes mischievously looking to her brother.
"I can take her after the movie is over," his hand still resting on your thigh he begins to move his thumb back and forth again.
"You okay with that?" she asks looking back to you. You just nod. "Okay well than I'm out of here," she looks back to her phone and walks to the door. Your phone buzzes and quickly you glance at the screen. Wrap it before you tap it babe XD is the text notification you get from Gemma. You quickly turn your phone over, harry looking back to the TV screen as Gemma leaves. His hand raises holding the remote and pauses the tv.
"I'm gonna run to the bathroom, I'll be right back," you nod as he stands up. His frame towering over you. You look up to him, his waist at your eye level. As he brushes by you, he looks down to you. Stopping when he is right and front of you. Grasping your chin in his fingers as you look up to him. "Don't go anywhere," he says with a smile. You bite into your bottom lip.
"I wasn't planning on it," you say through a smile.
"Good," he lets go of your chin and makes his way to the bathroom. You take in a big breath and sigh out. Dropping your head to rest on the couch. You move the popcorn bowl to the table. Grabbing your phone you respond to Gemma. Shut up! Be safe, I love you <3. As she responds Harry comes back into the room, you drop your phone into your lap as he plops back beside you. Now close enough that his leg slots itself under your crisscrossed legs. His hand finds residency back on your thigh as he presses play on the movie.
"I'm thirsty," you complain. He slowly turns his head to you looking over your face. He pauses the movie again.
"What do you want?" He asks moving to get up.
"I can get it," you lift yourself from the couch shuffling to the kitchen. You grab yourself a glass, and when you turn to see if Harry wants anything. You yelp when you come face to face with him. "Holy shit you scared me," you laugh out. He smiles down at you.
"Sorry, didn't mean to," His hands find your waist. Your breath catching in your throat. "Didn't want you to get lonely," you can't help the smile that is plastered across your face. You just walk out of his grip and to the fridge.
"I think I would have been okay," You grab the pitcher of lemonade that they have just for you and pour yourself a glass. Harry lets out a sigh.
"You're probably right," as you turn back around, closing the door with your hip. He plucks the glass out of your hands and takes a sip. You gasp in fake annoyance.
"Hey! That's mine!" You push at him as he then sets the glass on the counter. Placing his hand on top of yours as you push against him. Your fingers encased by his. His other hand finds your waist and pulls you to him, your body colliding with his. He releases his hold of your hand on his chest and wraps you completely in his embrace. Usure of what to with your hands you bring your other hand up to rest on his chest. "You're mean," you joke. The smile on his face grows.
"I was thirsty," he shrugs. You just roll your eyes, dropping your head down. Looking down to where your hands rest on his chest. His hand grasps your jaw pulling you to look at him. "Don't you roll your eyes at me," he says jokingly, with some weight behind his words.
"What are you going to do about it?" you ask breathily. His hold on your jaw tightening.
"Don't tempt me," he says, your name escaping his mouth.
"I'm not doing anything," his eyes drop to your lips, then back to your own eyes. You nod, giving him permission. He dips, his nose bumping yours in a playful way. You close your eyes waiting for his lips to press against yours. You open your eyes, and he is just starring at you. When his green irises meet yours, he moves his thumb back and forth against the skin of your chin.
"You're so beautiful," He whispers before he collides with you. His warm lips enveloping yours. Your hands move to grasp at the back of his neck. The hold he has on your hips tightening, he pulls you to him. You deepen the kiss, tasting the Lemonade on his lips. He opens his mouth pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, and accept him, exploring each other his hands drift from your waist to your ass. As you gasp you can feel him smile into your mouth. You pull back and gasp in a breath.
"You okay?" he asks. You nod at him, lips pulled into your mouth. "You wanna go back to the movie?" you shrug. "Or we can go to my room?" you shrug again. "It doesn't have to go further than this?" he offers up again. You pause for a moment before nodding your head. He fights a smile and turns to grab your drink, his hand holding yours in the other. He quickly leans down to grab the remote and clicks off the TV. Before he can pull you upstairs to his room you grab your phone off the couch. You trail behind him, eyes locked on your entwined hands. Trailing up the tattoos on his arms, you cross the threshold into his room. He closes the door behind you and places the glass of lemonade on his side table before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You slot yourself between his legs and drop your hands onto his shoulder. His eyes wide as he looks up to you. His hands sliding from their resting place on your hips and down to the backs of your knees. Pulling you close to him so that he can slide you onto his lap. As your body is jerked into his hold you let out a whine.
"I won't drop you," he jokes as you finally find yourself sitting in his lap. Knees on either side of his waist, feet under your bottom. Arms wrapped around his neck as his are clasped behind your back holding you in place. You lean down and press a chaste kiss on his lips. He pushes you back into him as you try to pull away. You laugh as he begins to place kisses on your jaw, slowly trailing down your neck. Not venturing down further than your collar bones. You lean your head back to give him access to more skin. The light scruff tickles as he pressed light kisses along the tendons poking behind your skin. Finding a soft spot that elicits a gasp from you. Your hands tangle into his hair as his teeth scrape against the lilac mark that now stains your skin. The pull at the base of his neck tilting his head up and you capture his lips in yours once again. As his tongue delves into your mouth his hands find your ass. Fingers kneading into your skin, Fingernails scraping at your fabric covered skin. As you nip at his lip he pulls back.
"Are you okay? With all this?" he asks emphasis on the last few words with a squeeze of your ass. You nod in approval. "Words," he speaks your name.
"Yes, I am very okay with it," you twist his hair in your fingers.
"And going further?" you nod. He gives you a pointed look.
"Yes,"
"How much further?" you answer with a shrug. He gives your ass a sharp slap. "Words, was that, okay?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes, and I mean, whatever happens, happens," you shrug with one shoulder. "I'll let you know if I want to slow down or stop," he nods and drops his back onto the mattress. Your form following his as he presses a kiss into your lips. Another smack is laid on your ass and he quickly spins you around so that you are under him. Your legs unfold from under you, the weight of his body on yours a comforting feeling. Your legs wrapping across his back. Pulling him down closer to you, his clothed cock rubbing across your core. A small growl vibrates within is throat as he grinds down into you.
You disconnect from him and begin kissing down his chin, down his neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. He finds solace in the crease of your neck, face buried in your hair. He breathes deeply as you pull at his hair, your hands venture down from his hair. Running over his neck, down his chest. Ghosting over his abdomen and slipping up under his shirt. Rubbing your fingers sternly over the bones protruding from his hips. Hands skimming over the fern tattoos that you know adorn themselves on his skin. He lets out a shaky breath as your hands continue to explore his body. Your head now dropped onto the mattress, eyes closed and breath shallow.
"Fuck you feel so good against me," he whines into your ear. Pressing himself harder into your center. You let out a wispy moan. He leans up, scootching himself off the floor and stands. Looking down to you, you sit up slowly and snake your hands back under his shirt.
"I wanna see your tattoos," you pout, pulling at the black fabric of his shirt. He smirks and pulls the shirt over his head. Revealing his ink-stained torso. Your hands lay flat against the ferns that poke out from his jeans; The waistband pulled down slightly. His light happy trail thickening as is dives below his waist. Slowly skimming your hands up to the butterfly under his pecks your fingers tracing the lines of the wings, then up the center. continuing with one finger you trace it up the center of his chest and bring your other hand back up. You rub your thumbs over the birds on his chest before slipping the pads of your fingers up and down his collar bones. You look back to his face, his eyes already watching you intently. His hands encapsulate your face, leaning down he places a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it as he pulls away.
"I wanna see you too," his voice husky. You move to take off your shirt, but his hands quickly cover yours and grasp your shirt. Slowly pulling it off your body. As the fabric moves over your face you close your eyes, as he drops the shirt to the ground, he leans back down over you. Your eyes still closed he drops to his knees. He begins placing kisses on your neck, your head falling back. "So fucking beautiful," he whispers as his bottom lip skims across the tops of your breasts. His hands running up your legs, fingers splayed as he travels up. Lightly running them up your sides and waist. Finally grasping at your bra covered chest. The sudden pressure causing you to let out a moan.
"Harry please," you whine out.
"Please what baby?" he asks, pressing soft kisses against your hot skin.
"I don't know I just want to feel you," his hand runs along the band of your bra until he finds the clasp in the back. "Yes, please," you say before he can ask for permission. He smiles against your skin, quickly unclasping the lace clad bra. It falls off your form, he pulls it from your body and adds it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His mouth covers your exposed flesh. Tongue circling your peaked nipple while his hand comes to play with your neglected breast. Kneading at your skin, You lean yourself down to him.
"So fucking needy," he says before he reattaches to the opposite breast. Your now wet exposed skin tingling in the cold air. Little gasps and whines leaving your mouth as he continues to suck at your skin.
"Only for you," you breathe out. He growls as his teeth nip at you. You let out a squeak and jolt back. He pushes against you, having you lay back flat. Mouth finding your neck, adorning you with more marks. His hand drift to the waist of your leggings and he slips just the tips of his fingers into the fabric. Rubbing his hands back and forth, you twitch up into his touch. "You can take them off," you tell him. He sighs into you. Hands bunching the fabric, coming back to a full standing position as he pulls the black fabric fully from your legs. He then drops down to his knees. Fingers skimming down from your ankles, up your calves. Resting at the inter seam of your knee. Holding onto the flesh of your legs as he looks to you. Your hair splayed on the cream sheets behind you.
"Touch me please," you beg. He runs his finger pads along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You grasp at his hair as he begins to place kisses along the edges of your underwear. "Harry please," you whine, lifting your hips from the bed. He responds with a slap to your thigh.
"Let me explore," he nips at the skin of your thigh. You instinctively try to close your legs. He then takes both hands, wrapping them around the back of your thighs and holding you open. You let out a huff as he begins placing soft kisses along your clothes seam. Almost light enough you can't feel him. "Already so wet," he groans out, as if he is speaking to himself. He then licks a flat stripe against you, not quite enough to touch your depraved clit. You moan out, gripping his hair tighter. Pushing his face to you, his nose bumps your clit, and your hips try to push up to grind into him, but he stops you with the grip he has on your hips. He pulls back and slaps against your pussy, which rips a wail from your throat.
"Fuck Harry please,"
"Stop being a needy little whore and let me have fun," he then hooks his fingers into the gusset of your underwear and all but rips them off your body. He dives back into your cunt. Fingers playing at your entrance as he instantly attaches his mouth to your clit. You writhe off the bed.
"Harry, yes, oh my god," you yell out. His smile breaking the suction he had. "Please don't stop, please, please," You pull tightly at his hair. His fingers finally slip knuckle deep into you. Exploring, searching for that spongy spot inside you. Moans and obscenities falling from your mouth. As he finally presses his fingers to the spot deep inside of you drop your head into the mattress and your legs drop to the sides. Arching up off the bed, he continues pumping his finger in and out of you. Mouth still attached to your clit; you can feel yourself approach your climax faster than ever before.
"Fuck Harry please I'm so close," pushing yourself against his face.
"Come for me baby," he says before quickly attaching himself to you. Teeth grazing your clit causing stars to burst behind your eyes. Your fingers and toes curling and clenching so hard it almost hurts. Broken words fall from your mouth as you whimper and moan. Pleasure coursing through your veins, your heart beating a million miles an hour. "Such a good girl," Harry groans as he begins placing kisses on your trembling thighs. You roll your head to the side as he guides himself onto the bed. Pulling you to his chest as you come down from your high. His hand running up and down your back, murmuring into your ear.
"You did such a good job baby," he presses a kiss into your hair. You open your eyes and look to him.
"Thank you," you smile at him. Which causes him to chuckle.
"You're welcome, I've been dying to do that for years," He then pulls you in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, he pulls your bottom lip in between his teeth as he pulls away.
"Years huh?" you ask.
"Years," he confirms before kissing you again. You just smile into his lips.
"Damn," you mumble against him. He looks at you with slight concern. "You're saying I could've had mind blowing orgasms for years but we were too chicken?" he breaks out in laughter.
"I guess so," once your head is finally clear you look down at your tangled bodies. His pants have been undone; zipper flayed open. Exposing is Calvin Clein briefs that clothe a still very hard member. The outline of the head of his cock pressing against the fabric. You run your finger along rim of his cock, and he lets out a broken sigh.
"It was starting to hurt," he breathes out. Eyes watching your hands intently.
"Aww baby," You condescend as you then palm down the length of him.
"You fuckin, ooh," he trails off into a moan.
"Can I kiss it better?" you ask as you slowly glide down his body. He nods in confirmation.
"Fucking please," he groans, his dick pushing up against your hands.
"I can't wait to taste you," you say as you are eye level with his clothed cock. Pulling at his jeans and underwear. His hips lift from the bed so you can gain access to his untouched skin. His dick springs out slapping against his stomach. He lets out a hiss as your hand wraps around his base. Lifting his dick to your lips, you place an opened mouth kiss against the tip of his cock. Tongue poking out to taste him. A hum like moan leaves his mouth at the contact.
"Holy fuck you feel so good already," his hips jerk up. You then take all of his head into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him. Slowly taking a little more at a time, bobbing up and down slightly. Wetting his cock slowly. His grasp finds home in your hair pulling at your roots. You moan at the pleasurable burn that sends tingles through your body. The vibrations on his cock causing him to thrust up into your mouth. "Fuck, sorry, sorry," He groans as you pull off of him.
"It's okay," you gasp. Before diving back in and taking him as far back as you can.
"Fucking shit you're perfect," he groans. Eyes screwing shut and his head dropping onto his pillows. His hand stays at the back of your head as you bob up and down on his dick. Taking what you can't fit down your throat in your hands. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, your mouth salivating, ready to taste him explode across your taste buds. Before he finishes, he pulls you off him and lets out a shaky breath. "I wanna feel you," his dick twitches in your grasp. "If that's okay with you?" you nod.
"Yeah, yes, please," He pulls at your hair, you climb back up onto him. Your exposed core sitting on his abdomen. Connecting at the lips again. His hands gripping your hips slowly guiding you to grind against his abs. You whimper into the kiss, his fingers digging deep enough to bruise in the morning. You can feel your orgasm building as you rub yourself on him. His skin becoming wet with your slick. He pulls back from your lips.
"You getting close?" you let out a whimper as you nod. "Come on baby, you can do it. Cum on my tummy baby," he coaxes you as you grind down harder onto him. He lets go of your waist with one hand and slaps your ass. The sting pushing you over the edge. Legs clenching around his abdomen, shaking and whining. His eyes glued to your face, that's twisted and clenched in pleasure. "Good girl, such a good fuckin girl," he growls as you finish for the second time. Your hands find rest on his chest as you collapse into his arms.
"Fuck Harry you're gonna kill me," you sigh as you nuzzle into his neck. He chuckles. Hands kneading your ass.
"At least you'll die satisfied," you place a kiss against his neck.
"Can I satisfy you now?" you joke.
"Of course," he laughs. Turning over so you are under him he hops off the bed. Quickly shedding himself of his pants he turns and begins digging in his dresser. He comes back to the bed. A small foil packet in his hand. He tosses it on the bed beside you. You stand up on your knees and waddle to the edge of the bed. He pulls you into a deep kiss. Hands on either side of your face. You sigh out into him. As he pulls away his thumb runs across your bottom lip.
"You sure? We don't have to if you don't want to," his thumb resting on your lip. You lean down and press a kiss against it.
"I am beyond sure," you smile at him.
"Thank fuck," he wraps his arms around your thighs and picks you up. tossing you back onto the bed. You land with a laugh. Be stays standing looking down on you, lustful look on his face.
"Are you going to fuck me or just look at me?" he smirks and grabs the condom. Ripping open the wrapping and rolling it onto himself without taking his eyes off of you. You look back and forth between his face and his dick. Mouth practically watering at the sight of him. He guides himself over you. Slowly crawling onto you. As he comes face to face with you, he pecks your lips.
"I want your eyes on mine okay?" he questions you.
"Yes sir," you slip. Eyes widening slightly. He smirks at the comment. He moans as his tip teases your entrance. You lift your hips causing his head to slip inside of you. Both of you gasping at the feeling. His hand then comes around your throat. Squeezing slightly at the sides, asking permission. You nod.
"So fucking needy," he groans as he then sheaths himself fully inside of you. He stays buried inside you unmoving. The moan that leaves your body is unlike any noise you've made before. The sheer fullness of him causing your body to vibrate. "Such a tight little cunt," His eyes still locked on yours. "My tight little cunt huh?" you release a little moan. His hand releasing your throat and tapping at the side of your face. "Words baby," he commands.
"Yes Harry, all yours," he then lighly smacks your face.
"Uh uh, that's not my name," His pupils blown with lust. You moan out to him.
"Sir," you whine out. He begins to slowly pull out. "Yes sir, I'm sorry sir," barely escapes your mouth as he fully thrusts back into you.
"Fuck," he drowns out. Slowly dragging himself across your walls. As he slowly fucks you, your moans grow. His tip bouncing off your cervix in the most deliciously painful way. "Fuckin good girl taking Daddys cock all the way," he groans.
"Like it was made for me," you sigh.
"Just for you baby, only yours," you clench around him. His breath faltering. "You keep doing that I'll fucking come," he scolds. His hand snaking in between your conjoined bodies and finding your clit. As he draws slow circles over the bundle of nerves you gasp. The two prior orgasms making you overly sensitive.
"Oh Daddy please don't stop,"
"Come on baby, come for me, come with me," he whimpers. You can feel him twitching inside of you, on the edge. As his thrusts become sloppy you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge.
"I'm gonna come, Daddy, fuck," His eyes not leaving yours.
"Eyes on me, wanna watch you come," you moan out as he thrusts harder. Your vision cloudy with tears as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes closing as you hit your peak. His hand making harsh contact with your cheek.
"Eyes on me," he releases a frustrated groan. You open your eyes to look at him. His eyes an even darker green than usual. His pupils dilate erasing almost all the color from his irises as he releases into the condom buried balls deep inside you. Gasped breaths escaping his mouth as he struggles to curse out. He collapses onto you. slipping beside you and nuzzling into your neck. You move to wrap your arms around him as his clasp your waist.
You lay together for quite some time before he lifts himself to kiss you. Slow lazy kisses, capturing each other's breaths. As he pulls away and looks back into your eyes, you speak.
"That was pretty good," you shrug. His mouth falls open with offence.
"Pretty good?" he scoffs. "Don't make me fuck you till you can't walk pretty girl. I will fucking destroy you," Before you get a chance to answer he captures your lips in his. You push him off you.
"So sensetive," You laugh, pulling him back in for a kiss. Both of you fighting smiles.
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goldengalore · 1 year
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Intimacy
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An anxious!reader fic.
Summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with someone in a long time, which makes her nervous about having sex with Harry for the first time.
Word count: 6.5k
Warnings: anxiety, smut (featuring soft dom!harry, fingering, thigh riding, oral - m receiving)
A/N: This is one last idea (for now) that I had for the anxious!reader universe. Lots of smut, but it’s very soft and sweet and full of love :)
***
His hands. Y/N can’t stop staring at his hands.
There are a lot of things she finds attractive about Harry. Too many. It’s actually maddening how one person can have so many attractive qualities. Lately, her brain has decided to fixate on his hands. They’re pretty and elegant, strong and masculine.
His long fingers are often decorated with an ornate collection of rings. Sometimes his nails are painted with vibrant colours; other times, they’re unpainted but still clean and neatly trimmed. She can often see the veins that travel up the backs of his hands into his toned arms. He moisturizes them well too, so they rarely look dry.
Y/N would be lying if she said her obsession with Harry’s hands is completely innocent and merely about aesthetics, that she hasn’t imagined how those fingers would feel in her mouth or between her legs and orgasmed to the thought of that while lying alone in bed at night.
It doesn’t help that he’s a highly affectionate person, finding any excuse to place his hands on her whenever she’s within reach. Even now, as they lounge on his couch, he pulls her legs into his lap and begins massaging them. She’s wearing a knee-length dress today, leaving her lower legs exposed. His hands don’t move up past her knees, but that doesn’t stop her imagination from running wild anyway.
“Y/N?” His smooth, commanding voice—another annoyingly attractive feature of his—pulls her from her thoughts.
“Hmm?” Her eyes flick up to his emerald ones staring back at her. She realizes with embarrassment that she hasn’t listened to a thing he’s said in the past minute or so.
“What were you staring at?” He glances down in his lap, where her gaze was just a few seconds ago.
“Oh, just your hands.”
His brows furrow slightly as he starts inspecting his hands, turning his palms up, then down. “Why? Something wrong with them?”
“No! No, they’re just… nice. Nice hands. That’s all. Sorry, what, um, what were you saying?”
A teasing smirk forms on his lips. “Nice hands, huh? Never heard that one before.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “Please. I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.”
“Mmm, not really.”
She narrows her eyes at him, not believing him for a second. His smirk broadens.
“Anyway,” he says, resting his hands back on her legs, “I was just saying that I really missed you last week.”
Now she feels even worse about zoning out on him. He’s been out of town this past week for work. They reunited just this morning after his flight landed back in LA.
“I missed you too, H.”
“This week made me realize something.”
Her heart skips a beat. “What?”
“Made me realize how much I hate being away from you. I know our friendship started over Zoom meetings and phone calls and whatnot since I was on tour, but…” He shrugs. “After spending time with you in person these past couple months, I can’t imagine being away from you for weeks or months at a time. I think I’d go mad.”
His confession feels like being swaddled in a warm blanket. While he was away, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him. His fluffy hair and dimpled smile, his kind eyes and boyish laugh, even his cute nose consumed her thoughts from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she fell asleep at night. She found herself cursing the slow passage of time frequently throughout the week. To hear that her feelings were reciprocated makes her giddy inside.
When she takes a while to respond, he says, “I hope that wasn’t too intense. It’s just been on my mind lately and I had to say it.”
“No, I feel the same way.” I think I’m in love with you, she says in her head but struggles to speak aloud. She has never been the first to say those words in a relationship.
He smiles, relieved. “Okay, good.” He holds her gaze for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her legs still strewn across his lap. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw as he leans in for a kiss, sucking her top lip into his mouth.
She scoots even closer, practically sitting in his lap now. The movement causes her dress to ride up. Harry rests his other hand on her bare thigh, squeezing it lightly. Her heart quickens. His hand inches along her inner thigh, hiking her dress up even further. Suddenly, her whole body tenses up and she shrinks away from his touch.
“Sorry, I—I can’t,” she stammers, quickly removing her legs from his lap and tugging her dress back down.
She sneaks a glance at his face and detects some hurt there. It lasts for a split second, but her brain registers it anyway. She feels awful. This is the second time he has tried to get intimate with her beyond just kissing. The first was the night before he was supposed to fly out of the city. They were cuddling in his bed. She was giving him all the signs that she wanted to take things further—letting her hands roam all over his body, grinding her hips against him—but as soon as he started returning her touches, she pulled away.
It’s frustrating because she fantasizes about it all the time, yet when it finally starts to happen, she freezes up. It’s like her mind and body are on completely different pages.
“I’m sorry, H,” she repeats.
“It’s all right.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “You’re not ready for that. I understand.”
“But I am ready. I just…” She looks up at the ceiling as if the answers to her puzzling emotions will be there. “Ugh! I don’t know.”
A long silence stretches between them, though it probably feels longer in her head than it is in reality.
“I should go,” she finally says, rising to her feet, but he grabs her hand before she can go anywhere.
“Already? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“But I made things awkward!”
“No, you didn’t. Stop that.”
She was trying to avoid his gaze, but he tugs on her hand to make her look at him.
“We’ve been apart for a whole week. You think I’m letting you run off that easily?” He frowns a bit. “Wait, that sounded creepier than I’d intended.”
She giggles, feeling somewhat lighter. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay.”
They order sushi for dinner and crack open a bottle of wine. The awkwardness she felt earlier fades as Harry starts telling her about a deep conversation he shared with the five-year-old girl sitting next to him on his flight. Y/N is glad she decided to stay because if she had gone home to spend the night by herself, her overthinking mind would have eaten her alive.
After dinner, they transfer back over to the couch with their wineglasses in hand. They sit cross-legged, facing each other. The wine has helped her loosen up some more, granting her the courage to explain why she’s been so reluctant to get intimate with him.
“I’m not a virgin,” she tells him. “I know it probably seems that way because of how I act every time we try to do anything sexual, but I’m not. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one, obviously. I just thought you should know.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Although he doesn’t press any further, his eyes are curious and attentive in a way that makes her want to spill everything, just lay out all her secrets and fears and insecurities in a big, messy pile in front of him.
“I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t had sex in years,” she explains. “And I’ve always had to have a few drinks before doing it. I tried doing it sober once, and it was a total disaster. I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, and the guy didn’t know what to do. I just told him to keep going, so he did until he finished and—”
“Lovie, that’s not okay,” he interjects, brows pinching together in concern. “He should’ve stopped when he realized you were having a panic attack.”
“Well, to be fair, I told him to keep going. It was totally consensual.”
“Still. He should’ve at least stopped to make sure you were all right. Seems like basic human decency to me.”
“I guess....” She shrugs, knowing that he’s right but not wanting to think about it much longer. “Anyway, after he finished, he told me that having sex with me was like fucking a scared baby deer.” She forces a laugh, though the memory still makes her cringe inside. “Needless to say, I was mortified and never saw him again. And that’s the only time I’ve had sex while sober.”
“And all the times you weren’t sober, did you at least enjoy it?”
She hesitates. “Um, define enjoy.”
He appears even more concerned now. “If you’re having to ask that question, I’m afraid the answer is no. If you enjoyed it, you would know.”
“Well, I just asked because if by ‘enjoy,’ you mean ‘did I orgasm during it,’ then it’s a no. But my anxiety was a lot more under control, so I guess that could be considered a form of enjoyment… Right?”
Rather than answering her question, he asks, “You’ve never orgasmed during sex?”
She shakes her head. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but her cheeks still feel like they’re on fire.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“Oh, plenty. When I’m alone, that is.”
“I see.” He rubs his jaw and looks away, sinking deep into thought. She can’t read the expression on his face.
“So, now you know how bad I am at sex,” she jokes to fill the silence.
He looks at her with a raised brow. “I don’t know about that. If anything, it’s the guys you’ve been with who were bad at sex if they couldn’t even make you come once.”
“Oh no, they were all very experienced.” Y/N doesn’t know why she’s defending these men, as if they would do the same for her. Perhaps it’s because she’s spent her whole life thinking she was the problem and this is the first time someone has suggested a different perspective to the one she’s become so accustomed to.
“Experience doesn’t always equate to being good at something.”
“I guess not.” She bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do want to try again… with you. I just don’t know how to stay calm without having a few drinks in my system.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to work on that.”
His use of the word “we” doesn’t go unnoticed by her. We, as in this is our problem, not just yours. We, as in we’ll figure this out together, you don’t have to do it alone. She feels a surge of something in her chest, and the only term she can think of to describe it is love.
“I’m calm right now,” she says with sudden realization, placing her wineglass on the table so quickly that it almost topples over. “So, technically, we could try again—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having sex for the first time while you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk drunk though. Just a bit tipsy. I think we could still—”
“Y/N, it’s not happening,” he states firmly. “Other guys might have been okay with that sort of thing, but I’m not, okay?”
Her shoulders slump. She looks down in her lap. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just want you to know that I want it as much as you do.”
“I know. Hey”—he tilts up her chin—“we’ll get there. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”
He has no idea how much of a relief it is to hear those words. Her biggest fear this whole time has been him losing interest in her because she can’t seem to get over her anxiety around sex. It’s happened before. Guys often expect her anxiety to disappear after the first time. When it doesn’t, they take it as a blow to their ego and react by making her feel like a freak for being anxious at all. The humiliation leads to even worse anxiety the next time she gets intimate with someone. It’s a vicious cycle.
She doesn’t want to get her hopes up or anything, but maybe that cycle finally ends with Harry.
***
When it comes to Y/N, Harry just doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Even before they met in person, he would dream of the day he could finally have her in his arms, how perfectly their bodies would mold together, how electrifying that first contact would be. For months, he’s been dying to touch and feel and kiss every inch of her, but after hearing about her sexual history, it’s no surprise why she’s so hesitant to take that step with him.
Taking things slow is not a problem for Harry. If anything, he feels lucky to be the one who gets to show her how fun and exciting and stress-relieving sex can be when the people involved actually care about each other’s pleasure.
It’s been a few days since that initial conversation. They’ve had several more discussions about it since then, and he thinks they’re ready to try something now.
He stares at Y/N lying on his bed, looking cute and cozy in his forest green Pleasing crewneck. Her lips are swollen from all their making out, her neck and collarbone littered with red spots where he licked and sucked on her skin like an ice cream cone.
“Question for you,” he says, leaning his head on his palm. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
“Hmm… A couple days ago?”
“Would you feel comfortable doing that in front of me?”
Her eyes widen. “Y—you want to watch me touch myself?”
“Only if you’re okay with it.” Her reaction already indicates that she’s not.
“Oh, I… I don’t think I am,” she admits, confirming his thoughts. “I mean, I don’t even like being watched while I cross the street. It’s like I forget how to walk.”
“Okay, different question. How would you feel about getting in a bath with me?”
She thinks about it. “I’d be okay with that.”
He runs them a bath lightly scented with a lavender oil he bought recently, while Y/N leans against the doorway and watches. Once he begins to undress, she follows suit. Starting with his crewneck, she removes her clothes at an extremely slow pace, as if she’s on the verge of changing her mind at any moment. He finishes undressing before she does and pretends not to notice her eyes bulging at the sight of his dick. Instead, he leans over to the tub to test the temperature of the water.
“I’ll get in first,” he says. “Then you can sit between my legs. Sound good?”
She swallows. “Yup.”
He steps into the tub and submerges everything but his head and upper chest into the water. His back rests against one side, his long legs outstretched in front of him.
In the meantime, Y/N finishes undressing. He forces himself not to stare, knowing that it’ll only make her more nervous. She moves quickly now, striding over to the tub and climbing in on wobbly legs. He holds out his hand for support.
“Careful,” he says.
She sits down between his legs with her back facing him. There’s still a lot of space between them.
“Just lean back against me,” he tells her.
She hesitates for a moment, then leans back until she’s flush against his torso.
He smiles. “There you go.”
“Okay, what now?”
“Nothing. Let’s just sit for a minute.”
They enjoy the next few minutes in companionable silence. The warm water seems to dissolve all the tension in her body, which is exactly why he suggested this idea in the first place. Her shoulders relax. She sinks deeper into him.
After a while, he says, “I’m going to try something. If you don’t like what I’m doing or you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. My ego can handle it. Okay?”
She responds with a tiny nod.
“I need you to answer me verbally, lovie,” he says softly in her ear. “Just so I can be sure we’re on the same page.”
“Yes. Got it. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Don’t have to apologize.”
“Sorry,” she says again, automatically. “Fuck! Sorr— Shit! Why do I keep—” She starts to sit up, but he places a hand in the middle of her chest, gently pulling her back against him. He can feel her heart galloping like a racehorse.
“Y/N, relax. You’re okay. You’re doing great. Just breathe.”
She inhales a deep, shaky breath, then releases it.
“That’s good. Keep doing that.”
Her heartrate gradually decreases with each breath she takes. Once she appears to have calmed down, he moves his hand from the centre of her chest to one of her breasts, cupping it tenderly in his palm. His other hand comes to rest on her belly before making its descent between her legs. She squirms a little once the pads of his fingers make contact with her clit.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“Y—yeah.” She takes another deliberate breath.
He rubs her clit in small, tight circles and kneads her breast at the same time. Her hands rest at her sides on top of his thighs. As he pinches her nipple, twisting and pulling it lightly, her fingers dig into his thighs and his cock twitches between their bodies. He wonders if she felt it. His middle finger prods around her slit now and slips inside without resistance. He pumps it in and out a few times before adding a second one, using his thumb to rub her clit.
Y/N is completely silent, but the slick substance coating her pussy and the subtle rocking of her hips is confirmation enough that she’s enjoying this. He peeks at her face to find her eyes closed and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth like she’s afraid of accidentally making a sound.
That is another thing they’ll need to work on. Harry likes being vocal during sex and equally enjoys when his lovers are vocal too. He doesn’t want Y/N to hold anything back around him. But they can work on that another day.
“Does this feel good?” he asks.
She nods, then remembers what he said earlier and answers out loud, “Feels good, yes. Really good.”
Satisfied by her response, he presses a third finger inside and pushes all three of them deep into her with every thrust, turning her into a squirming, quivering mess in his arms. Her back arches off his torso as she comes, the smallest whimper slipping through her self-restraint. He gradually lessens the stimulation on her clit, then removes his fingers completely. She lets her head roll back against his shoulder.
“Wow,” she sighs. “I’ve never… That’s never happened with someone before.”
“Wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No, it was great. Um… thank you?”
He chuckles. “My pleasure.”
Suddenly, she sits up and looks over her shoulder at him. “So… your turn now?”
He waves his hand, splashing some of the water with it. “Don’t worry about that.”
She frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, trying to act cool as if he can’t feel his dick throbbing furiously under the water right now.
He could take her up on the offer, but he wants to focus on her today. Y/N is too nice to admit it, but he has deduced from their recent conversations that her previous partners were too greedy in the bedroom, exploiting her selfless nature for their own benefit. It’s quite unfortunate. Someone like her deserves to be spoiled, not exploited. At least now that she’s with him, he can make sure she gets the treatment she deserves.
After they’ve cleaned up and stepped out of the tub, he grabs one of the towels off the counter and starts handing it to her, then stops.
“Can I dry you off?” he asks.
She seems surprised but not opposed to the idea. “Sure.”
“Okay, just one moment.” He quickly pats himself dry, then grabs the other towel and walks over to her.
Timid eyes gaze up at him. They fall shut as he raises the towel to her face and dabs away all the little water droplets. Next, he moves down to her neck, shoulders, chest, and so on… After he’s done with her upper body, he sinks down to his knees on the mat and works on her lower half, taking his sweet time and humming softly to himself. He glances up to find her smiling at him.
Once her entire body is dry, he leans forward and plants a kiss to her belly before standing up with the towel thrown over his shoulder. Y/N’s eyes follow him as if in a trance.
“All good?”
She just blinks at him.
“Y/N?”
“I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of her like a whoosh of air that had been trapped in a sealed container. “God, it feels weird saying it out loud. It’s been in my head for so long and I didn’t want to say it because that makes it feel more… real.”
“Why’s that a bad thing?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Because you think I don’t feel the same way?”
“Do you?” She winces slightly as if she’s bracing herself for possible rejection, as if the answer to that question could be anything but “absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent yes.”
“Of course I do, Y/N. I thought I’d made that pretty obvious.”
“You should know by now that nothing is obvious with me.”
It’s true. Even when they were just friends and Harry began dropping hints that he wanted to be more than that, they pretty much all went over her head. Y/N is a smart woman; she just happens to be totally oblivious when it comes to love and romance, which he finds deeply endearing about her.
“Well, take this as your confirmation that I am, in fact, very much in love with you,” he states, taking her face in his hands and giving her a big, sloppy smooch on the lips, which she accepts with a laugh.
***
“That’s it, lovie. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.”
Y/N rocks back and forth on Harry’s thigh, her cunt positioned directly over his tiger tattoo. His thick, firm quads provide the perfect amount of friction against her needy clit.
A week ago, the idea of riding his thigh while he watched her would have made her extremely self-conscious. But since then, they’ve spent each night exploring each other’s bodies. He has given her several more orgasms with his fingers and mouth, while she has given him some with her hand. They’ve masturbated in front of each other. One night, he gave her a full-body massage that turned her on so much that he hardly even had to touch her clit to make her come.
She doesn’t mind being watched anymore. Not by Harry, at least. His gaze is never judgemental or critical. She doesn’t need to fret over saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining the moment. This has made her fall even more head over heels for him.
“Look so pretty getting yourself off on my thigh like this,” he says, toying with her breasts.
A moan starts to leave her mouth until she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to trap it in. Harry reaches up and drags her lip back down with his thumb.
“Let me hear you,” he says. “Wanna hear how good this makes you feel.” He grips her chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping her mouth open.
She’s close now, the heat of her orgasm building in her core. Her hips grind faster against him. He lifts up his thigh to heighten the pressure on her clit. The tight knot in her lower abdomen unravels, and she comes with a loud moan, soaking his thigh with her juices.
“You make the sweetest sounds when you come,” he says, releasing her chin.
She pecks him on the lips and, before she’s even recovered from her orgasm, gets on her knees between his legs.
He frowns. “What are you doing?”
She looks at him like it should be obvious. “Returning the favour?” As she begins to reach for his cock, he grabs her wrist.
“Nope,” he says. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you have to pay me back for every orgasm. Sex doesn’t have to be so transactional, you know?” The smirk on his face conveys that he’s joking, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from having the sudden, embarrassing realization that perhaps she does treat sex like it’s transactional and just wasn’t aware of it until now.
“I—I know that,” she fibs a little. “I just want to make you feel good.” That part, at least, is not a lie.
Harry has been spoiling her heavily this past week, which has been delightful. She can tell he’s making every effort to gain her trust in the fact that he doesn’t expect anything in return for how incredible he makes her feel. But Y/N likes making him feel good too. She likes the way he hisses and shudders when she finds his most sensitive spots. She likes watching his usual composure crumble simply from her touch. She lives for it.
“Please?” she adds to her request, giving him her best doe eyes.
“Okay,” he says. “If you really want to.”
“I do.”
He lets go of her wrist, allowing her to reach for his stiff cock again. Nerves make her hands tremble, as she remembers how long it’s been since she gave someone a blowjob. She wants it to be perfect, but realistically, she’ll probably be a bit rusty.
She strokes him in her hand and runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft until, finally, she feels ready to take him in her mouth. Her lips wrap around his tip and slowly move down his length, tongue gliding against him. She considers deep-throating, then decides against it because it’s been way too long since she’s done it and she needs time to work up to it again. Any insecurity she felt about that disappears the moment she glances up at Harry. His eyes are closed and jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
Emboldened by the look of absolute ecstasy on his face, she bobs her head up and down his shaft and massages his balls with her hand. She moans around him, and he releases a low groan at the sensation it produces. Then she lets his entire length slip from her mouth, teasing him by flicking her tongue over his tip and leaving little kisses along his shaft until his fingers are weaving through her hair in desperation.
“Didn’t know you could be such a tease,” he says with a breathy laugh.
She grins innocently, then takes him into her mouth again, determined to suck him to completion this time. His hand feels good in her hair. She imagines him holding her head in place while he fucks her mouth. She never thought she would be into that sort of thing until now.
“I’m gonna come soon, Y/N,” he warns her as he gets close.
She doesn’t pull away. He thinks she didn’t hear him, so he repeats himself. She makes eye contact to convey that she heard him, that she wants him to come in her mouth, which he does moments later. She relishes the taste of it, swallowing every last drop. As she draws back and wipes her mouth clean, he stares at her in amazement.
“You’re really fucking good at that,” he tells her.
“Thanks! I had this boyfriend in college who only wanted blowjobs all the time since that didn’t involve having to make me come, which was basically impossible for him. He was kind of demanding, but he taught me how to give a damn good blowjob.”
Harry grimaces. “You know, the more I learn about your previous partners, the more I want to hit them over the head with something.”
She laughs. “I think I make them seem meaner than they were.”
“No, I think you make them seem nicer than they were.” He pats his thigh. “Get up here.”
She stands up and sits on his thigh with her legs dangling between his this time. His arm wraps around her back.
Locking his eyes on hers, he says, “You are worth so much more than being some guy’s blowjob dispenser, all right?”
“I know, I know,” she says. “I was just young and naive back then, but I know better now.”
“Good. Don’t ever let any man or woman treat you that way. Okay?”
His eyes are so full of care and concern for her that she thinks she might just cry.
“Okay,” she replies.
***
Harry loves writing about the initial euphoria that comes with falling in love. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating and all-consuming. Many of his most successful songs were inspired by this peculiar feeling. It’s no wonder that he keeps heading into the studio lately to harness all this creative energy and inject it into his music.
Today, Tom, Tyler, and Mitch are all in the studio with him. Mitch is riffing on his guitar while Harry adlibs over it when Jeff pokes his head into the room.
“H, Y/N’s here to see you,” he says.
Harry raises his brows. “She is?” She didn’t tell him that she’d be visiting the studio today.
“Yeah, she’s waiting out front.”
“Is she all right? Did she say why she’s here?”
Jeff shrugs. “No clue. She seemed fine.”
Y/N always seems “fine.” She’s quite skilled at pretending everything is okay when it’s not, which can be rather concerning. Harry tells the guys he’ll be back, then heads to the front of the studio where he finds his girlfriend staring at a wall decorated from top to bottom with framed album covers of legendary musicians.
“Hi, darling,” he says as he approaches.
She turns to him, eyes illuminating as soon as they meet his. “Hi! Sorry, I told Jeff not to go get you, but he did anyway.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something. I swear if you were writing your next Grammy-winning single and I just ruined your flow, I’ll be so mad at myself.”
“Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” He steps closer, taking her hands. “Now tell me what brought you here. Are you okay?”
He studies her as she replies, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m not here for any particular reason. I just…” She hesitates. “I needed to see you.” As soon as she says it, her eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, that sounds so needy.”
“That’s okay. We all get needy sometimes. Do you want to sit in the studio with me?”
She bites her lip, giving it some thought before shaking her head.
“Okay.” He brings her hands between their bodies, swinging them apart and together again. “Then tell me what you need.”
“I—I need…” She glances down in the general direction of his crotch.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “You need…?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”
He tilts his head to side, feigning innocence. “Say what?”
“Baby…”
He wanted to make her say it, but the pleading look in her eyes makes him cave. “You need my cock, is that it?”
“Shhh! Not so loud!” Her head spins around to make sure no one heard them.
He laughs. “There’s no one around, lovie.”
“Still!” She sighs and presses her hands against her flaming cheeks. “It’s not fair. You’ve been teasing me with it this whole week, and it’s all I can think about. Couldn’t even focus on my art today because I kept thinking about how…”—she drops her voice to a barely audible whisper—“how you would feel inside me.”
It’s been exactly a week since Y/N first hinted that she’s ready to go all the way with him. Harry was the one who wanted to put it off a little longer. He predicted that if he made her wait long enough, her hunger for it would overpower any anxiety that might crop up during the act.
Smiling, he brings his hand up to her cheek, her skin hot against his cool palm. “Aw, I know, sweetheart. You know the only reason I’ve been teasing is to make sure you’re ready for it.”
“I know. And I’m ready now. I really am.”
“Okay, but we can’t exactly do it here, you know that?”
“Why not? Isn’t there a bathroom in here somewhere?” She pushes up on her toes to look over his shoulder down the hallway where he came from.
“We’re not fucking in the studio bathroom, Y/N.”
She groans and lifts her hands up to his chest, scrunching his shirt between her fingers. “But I can’t wait any longer!”
“Yes, you can.” He wraps his hands around her wrists. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and wait until I pick you up from your flat tonight.”
She pouts and concedes, “Fine.”
He kisses her pout and gives her a hug that lasts for several minutes because she doesn’t want to let go and he never lets go until she does, so they’re in a standoff for who’s going to let go first until finally, Y/N releases him.
After that, the rest of the day moves at a snail-like pace. Harry can hardly focus; he’s too distracted by the thought of what’s to come tonight. Every lyric he comes up with sounds too raunchy to put in an actual song. Even his friends jokingly speculate about why he’s acting so strange��especially Tom, who just loves to make him squirm.
That evening, he has to make a conscious effort not to speed all the way to Y/N’s flat. The plan was to pick her up, take her back to his place, and maybe eat dinner before having their fun, but he thinks he’ll have to skip most of those steps.
Y/N buzzes him into her building. She’s on the second floor, so he doesn’t even bother with the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time. As soon as she lets him in, his mouth is on hers. She kisses him right back, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. They make their way to her bedroom and remove all their clothes, ending up on the bed with him on top of her.
“Naughty girl,” he says between kisses to her neck. “Came all the way to the studio because you were needy for my cock, hm?”
She covers her face with her hands. “H, don’t tease! I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
He gently pulls her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Do you have any idea how sexy it is that you want me that badly? Got me all hot and bothered at the studio. Could barely keep myself together for the rest of the day.”
A mischievous little grin makes its way onto her face. “Really?”
“Yes, really. That’s the effect you have on me.” His hand drifts down between her legs to find that she’s already drenched, so he grabs his cock and runs the tip up and down her slit. When he looks back up at her face, there’s a hint of apprehension that wasn’t there before. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just remembered that I haven’t had something so, uh”—she swallows, glancing down at his cock—“big inside me in a while.”
“Do you want to be on top? That way, you can go at your own pace.”
“What if my pace is too slow and you can’t come?”
“What if I come two seconds after I’m inside you? Would you still love me?”
“Of course!”
“There’s your answer then.”
She squints at him, her lips curving up. “Well played.”
They switch positions so that she’s on top of him, straddling his hips while he leans back against the headboard. She carefully guides his cock up to her entrance, inserting the tip before lowering herself onto him. Her tight walls stretch and expand to accommodate him. She winces from the discomfort. He massages her hips, reminding her to take her time.
It takes her several attempts to get him all the way in, but once he’s there, the feeling is indescribable. He curses under his breath, closing his eyes briefly.
“Is that okay?” she asks.
“Perfect,” he responds in a strained voice. “It’s perfect.”
She seems reassured by his response and starts moving her hips in slow circles, getting used to having him inside her. Then she lifts up and sinks all the way down again. Soon enough, she’s riding him at a steady pace, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts swaying gorgeously in his face, beckoning him to place his hands over them. He has pictured this moment so many times, he can’t believe that it’s finally happening.
He starts thrusting up into her, meeting her halfway. As his thrusts become sharper, her jaw drops open.
“Harry—”
The sound of his name slipping out of her mouth like that, all salacious and full of yearning, is a drug he can see himself getting addicted to.
“Please,” she whines.
He slows down, worried that he might have been too rough. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just— Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
“Feels good, huh? Someone finally fucking you like you deserve?”
She nods, her eyes rolling back as he resumes the movement of his hips.
“This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” he tells her. “Remember this.”
“Oh, I will.” She barely finishes her sentence before he pounds into her again.
He feels himself about to crest and reaches down to rub her clit. A final medley of moans and grunts leave their mouths as they come. Her pussy spasms around his pulsing length. As the waves of pleasure subside, her body goes completely slack in his arms, worn out from the intensity of the experience they just shared. She rests her head against his shoulder, basking in the afterglow while he brushes his fingers through her hair.
Her soft voice breaks through the silence. “I didn’t know it could feel this good. I’ve been missing out.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to catch you up. Don’t you worry.” He kisses the side of her head, earning a contented sigh from her.
***
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