#harry i lobe you harry

[indigogirled]

i miss fine line era so bad ... knowing eroda promo was him immediately. haylor theories swarming. tiny desk. lights up mv never beating orgy allegations. tpwk surprise drop ten years after the album came out. all he had was a pearl necklace some trumpets and a dream …

[insidekatmind]

Mason can say goodbye to you- Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut,betrayal, english is not my first language

It was an important evening, one of those that marked the start of a crucial week for Mason and the English national team. The party organized to celebrate the beginning of the Euros was elegant yet relaxed, an opportunity for the players to unwind a bit before the challenges ahead. You, as always, were by Mason’s side, impeccable in your tight black dress that seemed tailor-made for you. Every detail spoke of you: your enveloping coconut and vanilla scent, your well-groomed hair, your natural grace that didn’t go unnoticed.

But inside, something was wrong. Lately, Mason had made you feel invisible. A couple of weeks ago, you had tried to talk to him about how his behavior hurt you. They were things that, for him, were “childish,” but to you, they were important. Every time you explained it, he shrugged it off, minimizing your feelings with superficial comments.

That evening, your disappointment was masked by a perfect smile. Mason seemed absorbed in a conversation with Harry Kane, laughing and joking as if nothing in the world could disturb him. And you, well, you could do nothing but try to distract yourself, holding a glass of white wine as you observed the room.

And that’s when you noticed him.

Levi Colwill was leaning against the bar, a barely noticeable smile on his full lips. The tattoos peeking from under his rolled-up shirt sleeves gave him an irresistibly confident aura. And the earring in his left lobe? A signature of his unmistakable style.

When your eyes met, you felt your heart race. Levi raised his glass in a barely perceptible gesture, a silent invitation. You weren’t sure why, but your feet moved toward him before you could even rationalize it.

“You’re too beautiful for a party this boring,” he said, his deep, velvety voice seeming to caress you.

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Maybe I’m just trying to raise the level.”

“You’re succeeding,” he replied, tilting his head slightly as he watched you. “Mason is a lucky man. But he doesn’t seem to realize it.”

Those words hit you harder than you wanted to admit. Levi had picked up on what Mason had ignored for weeks. You bit your lip, trying not to let too much show.

“I don’t think this is the right time for that kind of conversation,” you responded, trying to steer things away.

But Levi wasn’t discouraged. He took a step closer, closing the gap between you. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just… it’s hard not to notice you.”

His scent, fresh and masculine, enveloped you. You felt your cheeks warm and your heart beat faster. That’s when Mason turned around, still deep in conversation with Kane, not noticing what was happening just a few feet away.

���Don’t worry,” Levi continued, lowering his voice as if he were about to share a secret. “I won’t say anything, if you don’t want me to.”

“Levi, you’re... you’re straightforward, aren’t you?” You tried to keep your tone light, but the tension between you was palpable.

“I’m not here to lie,” he said, his smile becoming more intimate. “And you? Will you pretend that I didn’t affect you, even a little?”

You lost your breath for a moment. His confidence was disarming, but there was nothing arrogant about him. He was just a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and in that moment, that something was you.

The problem? You wanted him too.

And here you are in a random room kissing.

You lost your breath for a moment, your heart pounding faster as Levi looked at you, his dark eyes full of an intensity you had never seen. A part of you tried to maintain control, but another part, the one that could no longer ignore the desire burning inside you, pushed you to get even closer to him.

Levi smiled, his gaze locked onto yours as if he could read every thought running through your mind. "You know," he said in a low voice, "I'm not usually one for these kinds of games. But when a woman is this... captivating, it's hard to resist."

You couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking too much, you moved closer, feeling his warm breath on your skin as you looked at him with a mixture of desire and curiosity. And so, without a word, you found yourself with your hands gliding over his taut muscles as he pulled you even closer, until his soft, yet firm lips pressed against yours in a kiss that made you lose track of time.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Every movement, every touch, every single exchange of breath felt more intense, more enveloping. Levi’s kisses were... a thousand times better than those you had ever shared with Mason. There was something overwhelming about him, a passion that warmed you like a fire and made you forget everything else.

His hands, warm and sure, explored you with tenderness, but also with a strength you hadn’t expected. And you responded, letting desire take over. Every kiss was an explosion of emotions that swept over you, a connection that felt like it went beyond the body, as if every part of you were in sync with every one of his moves.

"I don’t want this to end," Levi murmured, his voice a whisper that made you shiver. His gaze deepened, as if he were trying to read every fragment of your soul.

You looked at him, your mind confused but also incredibly clear in that moment, aware that everything happening felt so different, so new, yet you felt more alive than ever. "Neither do I," you replied, the words feeling like an admission more than you wanted, but it was too late to turn back.

And so, in that dark and silent room, your bodies drew closer together, and the kisses became more intense, more wild, while the world outside seemed to fade away. Every beat of your heart mixed with his, and there was no space for regret or the disappointment you had felt with Mason. In that moment, there was only Levi, and his touch that made you feel desired like never before.

You were completely enraptured by his kisses, every movement seemed a spell that enveloped you, making everything else disappear. His breath mixed with yours, and the intensity of each touch sent you into ecstasy. You felt his hands exploring you, but it was never enough; you wanted more, you wanted more than all that warmth, that closeness.

With a natural movement, your hands lifted, looking for her curly hair. As soon as your fingers grabbed them, you pulled him closer, feeling his head bend under your touch as your lips met hers again. You couldn’t stop yourself, the desire grew and made you forget everything else. Each of his kisses seemed deeper, more intense, and you couldn’t help but respond with the same passion, as if it was all you ever wanted.

Levi seemed to feel your every movement, every breath, and he responded with the same strength, with the same desire. His hands moved on your back, drawing warm lines under the dress as his body came closer and closer to yours, as if he could not help touching you.

His mouth came off of yours for a moment, leaving you breathless, but not for long. "You’re having fun, aren’t you?" said, his rough and sensual voice, the smile that was seen on his lips made you tremble.

You nod without words, seeking once again her lips, hungry for her kiss. Every gesture, every caress seemed to increase the desire to feel more of him, to feel every part of his body in close contact with yours. You felt alive, more than ever, as if it was the only thing that mattered, its touch that made you forget everything, as if the outside world no longer existed.

His hands rose slowly, caressing your neck, raising desire like a wave that could not stop. It was as if your body were following him, wanting him, and could not help but respond to his every impulse. And at that moment, you realized that not only were you forgetting Mason, but you were abandoning all thought to let Levi go completely without reservation.

Levi gently laid you on the bed as he lifted your dress and moved your panties to the side and licked your pussy. You moaned as you looked up at the pleasure Levi was giving you.

He had a skillful tongue and was licking your pussy like a hungry man and you were enjoying every moment.

"Levi" you moaned as you lowered your head and saw how she was sucking your pussy and licking it. You were so wet for him you could feel it.

Levi looked up and moaned at your fucking face. You tightened your thighs on her face wanting more and more of her face in your pussy, it looked so good in the middle of your thighs.

You put your hand in his hair and pull it making him groan and his moaning vibrates on your pussy making you come in his mouth and his face.

Before he completely broke away from your pussy, he gave him a last kiss and then stood up as he licked his lips and you groaned at his sight.

"Fuck Mason is so stupid, you’re fucking perfect" he said as he stuck his lips on yours and you moaned feeling your taste in his mouth.

When you broke off the kiss, you helped him take his belt and jeans off and he took off his boxer shorts and moaned at his cock. It was three times the size of Mason’s. He saw your reaction and smiled as he rubbed his cock at your wet entrance making you moan.

"Now I’ll get you to fuck properly," he said as he shoved his cock into you, making you scream and bow your back.

He groans and you looked at him, seeing his lost expression of pleasure as he grunted and pushed himself inside you. "so fucking tight, it seems like you’ve never been fucked" you moaned as you felt Levi pushing harder inside you.

Levi lowered the cups of your dress and your bra to suck your nipples and you were screaming like a crazy for the pleasure he was giving you. At that moment you didn’t care if anyone could get in or even if Mason could find out what you were doing, Levi was making you feel so good it felt like you were on another planet.

His thrusts became stronger and stronger as you were hammering inside and you were beginning to see the stars as you said his name like a prayer and song.

"You’re taking it so well, keep going baby" he muttered and then lowered his head on the neck biting and branding you.

You couldn’t care less that he was leaving stains on your neck, he could do what he wanted and you would let him do it.

Levi could hear how excited you were about this and he smiled. "I bet Mason never fucked you so well, huh?" he said putting his hand on your neck and holding it as you looked at each other. You moaned more for contact and as confirmation of what he had told you.

He smiled and gave more taps faster and you scratched his back making him moan.

"Open your mouth" he said in a whisper and you immediately did what he told you to do and he spat his saliva into your mouth and you immediately swallowed.

He smiled as he pushed harder. "What a good girl, I don’t even have to tell you what to do because you do it of your own free will" Levi whispered and then again attack his lips with yours.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth while you were moaning and sucking his tongue making him moan and as you were kissing he pushed his cock ever more strongly always on your g point and you came on his dick.

Levi was coming too and he watched you as he nibbled on your horseradish. "Where do you want me to come?" he murmured in your crotch as he groaned. "Inside me, please Levi come inside me" you prayed to him and he smiled while boobing and spilling inside you covering all the walls of your pussy with his sperm.

You never let Mason come inside you and you never let him fuck without a condom but with Levi it was different. He had awakened a part of you that you didn’t know existed.

He still buried inside you kissed you again while you made the rubbing on his neck. "You’re mine now, Mason can say goodbye to you," he whispered near your lips and you nodded as you moaned because he was biting your lip.

[hsdiaries]

after show adrenaline.

famous!harry x y/n

quick little blurb, about 1.7k

sir kink, praise kink, oral m receiving, p in v.

I ran to the back of the stage, the roar of the crowd was still going behind me, echoing through building. It only added to the adrenaline rush I was feeling after tonight's show.

I felt good.

Truth was, I wanted to feel even better. I slowed my run to a quick walk, making my way to where I knew the car would be waiting for me. As I turned the final corner at the end of the hall, I saw the car, but what my eyes landed on was even better.

My sweet Y/N.

Just the sight of her made my cock twitch in my pants. She was wearing those damn black jeans I loved. They hugged her waist just right, holding her ass up, accentuating it's plumpness. A dainty button up top sat on her body, barely covering her tits that sat so perfectly on her frame.

When I finally reached her, she pushed up from the car, her hands wrapping around my neck. She never cared if I was sweaty after shows; a part of me thought it turned her on secretly, though she never admitted it.

"Best show ever, baby. I swear that was the best performance you've ever given." She said, her praising me only fueling my adrenaline.

"Yeah? The best?" I asked, smirking at her causing her to chuckle. She leaned forward and bit my lip, pulling it towards her before letting it go.

"The best." She smiled that sexy smile that she only ever gave me. I had seen every smile on her, and this one, the one that went slightly more to the left cheek than her right, it was just for me.

"Y/N, I need to show you something in the dressing room baby." I said, and she raised her eyebrows softly.

"Oh, really? What exactly?" She said and I laughed, kissing her forehead.

"You'll see." I said, kissing her softly before taking her hand in mine and leading her towards the dressing rooms. We had about fifteen minutes before they came to clean out the rooms, that was more than enough time.

We reached my dressing room and I quickly pulled her in, closing and locking the door behind us. I pushed her body against it, my hands gripping at her waist. The tip of my nose moving along the length of her neck.

"Y/N, I need some attention." I said, my lips meeting her neck, sucking softly against her skin. I heard her giggle, as her hands moved down the front of my body, my chest exposed through the jacket I was wearing tonight. She moved her hand over my cock, palming at it sweetly.

I bit at her neck, a soft moan escaping her, "You didn't get enough tonight?"

"It wasn't the type of attention you can give me baby, and you know it." I whispered against her neck, my tongue running up it to her ear. I bit at her ear lobe and her hand gripped on my hardening cocked.

"Because no one can tell you how good you are like I can, right sir?" She said, too sweetly for her own good. She palmed over my cock, and it only got harder under her touch, blood rushing without any control.

"No one can do a lot of things the way you do, Y/N." I said, moving my gaze to her and soon we were kissing, our lips loving harshly against one another. Her hands began fiddling with the button on my pants, moving the zipper down quickly, and pushing my pants and briefs down my legs. I felt the relief of my hard cock not being contained by my tight pants anymore, and groaned against our kiss.

She chuckled, moving down my body, trailing kisses until she was down on her knees. I watched as she grabbed hold of me, moving her tongue up my length, wrapping it around my tip until she finally took me in her mouth completely. She moved her mouth up and down my length so skillfully, her hand moving on the places her mouth couldn't, her other hand palming against my balls.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're an angel with those lips, baby, uhh..."I groaned, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pushing her further down on me, my hips bucking towards her. She always took me so well, never a complain from her. I felt as my length curved down her throat, her saliva dripping down my cock and dribbling out of her mouth as I continued to fuck her mouth.

I felt as she used her hands on my thighs to push away from me, she peeked up at me through her long lashes, licking her lips. Her hands both on my length, moving up and down me, slick from how wet her mouth left me.

"I want you to fuck me, H. Fuck me baby, cause that's just something else your so good at. Driving yourself in and out of me. Making me come the way no one else ever has." She said, my core tightening at her words, abs contracting. She had this sweet way of saying the dirtiest things that just drove me insane.

I quickly retightened my grip on her hair, pulling her straight up on her feet. I brought her to my lips, kissing her desperately as I reached down to undo her jeans. Her hands wrapping around her neck, fingers crawling and wrapping themselves into my hair, tugging on it.

I quickly worked on pushing her jeans and underwear off her lower body, down her legs far enough she could step out of them. Once she did, I picked her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. She kept kissing me, her tongue finding mine, her hands moving to my shoulders as she began to grind her middle against my stomach. I could feel how slick she already was; her wetness coating my stomach with every movement and it caused a groan to escape my lips.

"Harry, I'm so wet for you." She said into our kiss, tugging at my hair as I walked us over to the couch in the room, quickly placing her down.

"I know baby, so good for me, so ready." I bit at her lip as I sat down with her on me, "Slip me in baby, ride me please."

She nodded, lifting her body slightly as I reached up and unbuttoned her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. I loved that she never wore a bra, I loved that I could immediately take in her perfect tits, my hands palming at them; my fingers pulling at her nipples, teasing them between my fingers. I felt her take my cock in her hand, rubbing my tip against her opening, "Oh god." She moaned, beginning to slowly slip me inside her.

She was so tight, so warm and the slow circles she was drawing on me as she took me in further caused my head to fall back, "Fuck Y/N, god baby you feel so good." I wrapped my arms around her, pressing my face into her chest, placing kisses everywhere, moving my mouth over her nipples, sucking and licking them as she began bouncing on me more.

She would squeeze me, pulling me deeper inside her as she did. Her movements so confident, her moans so freely filling the dressing room.

"Oh Harry, oh god. Do I feel good sir? Does all this feel so good for you baby." She moaned, my lips still on her breasts. She knew what she was doing with her words, my grip tightening around her waist so my hips could move up, pushing my self deeper into her.

"So fucking good, Y/N, oh sweet girl. So fucking good." I said, my hips bucking up and meeting hers. She gripped onto my shoulder and I pushed back slightly so I could move my hand, placing my thumb on her clit. I rolled it in circles against it, causing her head to fall back. Her movements turned into slow circles, her hips grinding on my cock as she pushed herself against my finger. I was coated in her wetness and I didn't care.

"Haa...oh fuck, Harry, please don't fucking stop." She moaned, whimpers coating her heavy breathing. I grabbed onto her hip with my free hand, not wanting her movements to falter, keeping her hips moving on me.

"Come for me sweet angel, come on me baby, let me feel every bit of you." I said, her head coming back straight, our eyes locking as she nodded. She bit her lower lip, her eyes fluttering closed. She looked so sexy, every bit of her body like this, riding me, was pushing close to my undoing. I could feel my core tightening, and I groaned at how good she felt.

"I'm going to come...oh god like that...Harr..." she stopped moving, her body trembling as I kept moving my thumb on her clit, driving hard deep thrusts into her. She came, her moans rolling off her lips with profanities mixed in.

Her body, went slightly limp in my arms, and I used every bit of strength I had to pick her up so I could flip her over. I kept myself inside her the entire time. I placed her on the couch and brought her legs to my shoulders, pushing them against her body as I began thrusting in her. They were long, slow thrust as I used every last bit of energy I had to keep on going.

"Come for me, sir, please. God, you deserve it, please." She begged, her hands reaching up and pulling me to her. Our lips met messily, I felt my arm buckle slightly, and I reinforced my weight on it, driving my cock in her faster now, letting her slick guide me. She kept squeezing me, pulling me deeper inside with each thrust until finally I felt my release.

"Fuck." I groaned out, her lips peppering kisses on my chin and jawline. My breathing was heavy, both of us sweaty. I bit my lip, swallowing breaths that got caught in my throat.

She ran her fingers softly through my hair, she knew this always helped me come to after I came. Helped me relax.

"I'll fuck you like that after every show if you want." She whispered teasingly and I chuckled.

"How about you do it again at home first?" I said pulling out of her slowly, before moving to kiss her lips.

She bit at my lower lip and nodded, "All night of you please."

[1800titz]

HI. HELLO. Here is my Valentine’s Day contribution. POTTERYINSTRUCTOR!HARRY!! POTTERY MAN! WOOO. Basically almost 7K of clay sexualization and sexually charged fluff (ish). Enjoy! :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: ridiculous sexualization of clay (I think I’ve managed to fetishize clay in this one??? OOPS), overly suggestive usage of pottery terms, a red-hot, hands-on tutorial for wheel throwing, and embarassingly long descriptions of Harry’s fingers coated in wet clay.

WC: 6.6K

slip: small bits of dry clay mixed with water to create a thick, creamy consistency

Clay is innately erotic. 

Wheel throwing is, arguably, the most pornographic art form, its only competing opponent being, maybe, literal body-painting. And that latter one still falls as a close second. Close, but second. 

Y/N decides that when she wanders into a little ceramics shop tucked away in a busy plaza downtown. There’s no method to her exploration, but the broad glass windows are adorned with dripping, colorful graffiti and its innards call to her. GLAZED, reads the large sign over the awning in blocky, white lettering, stippled with un-glowing light bulbs that she’s sure light alive in the night. 

It’s a cute shop. 

Upon entrance, the young woman discovers tables, as if set up for arts and crafts, crackling, clay covered wheels with shorter stools, and long, tall rows of shelving brimmed with colorless sculptures lining the walls. Despite its packed interior, the studio seems empty of people and quiet besides the soft notes of RÜFÜS DU SOL leaking from the overhead speakers. She roams beside the line of wheels over to a shelf by the door, admiring the myriad of statues there, some obviously crafted with expertise and elegant artistry, and others lopsided efforts that probably deserve a pitied gold star for effort. 

Her eyes are caught on an unpainted little ashtray that’s got a crooked sort of bee in the center when her gaze breaks away to the sound of footsteps. Maybe the shop isn’t as abandoned as she’d previously believed — a man appears from behind a row of white shelving stacked with more unfinished pottery. 

He’s a pretty man, that much she can decide from the downturned slope of his nose and his distracted lash line, focused on twisting the navy rag in his left hand over the tip of his right index finger. A dark baseball cap shrouds his hair, but little brunette tufts sneak out in curled bunches around his ears. That’s where Y/N finds a fun, little red-tinted pearl dangling from one lobe. He’s tatted in patchwork art — a mermaid with its tits out peeks at her from his forearm, soaked over and shining. She assumes he must have just been rinsing clay from that forearm, from his hands, no longer visible over his skin. However, streaks of dried gray stain over his white tee in crackling lines, like an old lamination on a well-loved t-shirt that’s been cycled through the washer one too many times. When he pulls the rag away, she discovers a shade of bright red that’s been painted over his nails.

Almost as if he can sense her presence without looking, his sneakers pause on the tile and he steals a peer up. Yes, he’s quite a pretty man, even when his features shape something caught off guard.

“Hello.”

His voice is rich — this smooth, bass-deep sort of sound driving a foreign lilt, and Y/N thinks that if it weren’t for his lengthy fingers and his cherry polished nails, if it weren’t for his handsomely sculpted face, if it weren’t for his seemingly innate effortless demeanor and style, that voice alone could make her fold.  

“Hello,” she returns, aware that a nervous note plucks at her cadence, unlike his own casual greeting. I promise I’m not shoplifting clay pots in silence, she nearly tells him. 

Thank fuck for the ability to physically bite your tongue. 

“What can I help you with?” the man asks, sauntering forward a bit. It’s probably sort of a polite manner to say what the fuck are you doing here, and the longer the young woman stands in the middle of the empty shop the more out of place she feels, almost like this a private, little haven and she shouldn’t be in here right now.

The song shifts into its choral bass drop of electric keys. That fills the void of the silence as she swallows and fixes a little smile onto her face, fingers tightening over the strap of her tote. 

“Oh, I’m just looking.” 

The man purses his mouth and walks over to the counter, where the register is littered with paperwork and an eclectic collection of faux plants. He sets the rag down beside a floppy one with its green tendrils dangling over the edge. 

“See anything you like?” his hand pinches over his nose, like he’s scratching an itch, before he sniffs and pivots to apparently decrease their proximity, “We’ve got loads — you can make something yourself, or,” another step, and Y/N’s eye bounce from his shorts to his tattooed knees to the hems of his white socks. “…If you know sculpting isn’t your craft, we’ve got ready-to-paint-one's on that shelf there.”

Her gaze follows the direction of his finger, where pasty ceramic bunnies, and angels, and cars line the shelving in multiples. 

“I think—“ the young woman’s tongue peeks out to swipe over her mouth, words growing drier the longer she captures his stare. She focuses back on a lopsided rendition of strawberry, its leaves cradling over as a disconnected lid and its stem a crooked handle. “I like these. They’ve got so much character.” 

She blinks back over to him and watches a soft smile shape over the cushiony pink of his mouth.

It only takes a moment — one where her sight draws back to the strawberry jar for a smidge of a second, before he’s so close that she can smell his cologne, spiced and clean. She ogles his arm, his hand, the way he reaches out between them to cull the piece, mildly appalled by the way he palms the sculpture and dwarfs it in his easy grasp. It’s such a casual maneuver, made almost as if he’s not fondling over something it’d take anyone else two hands to hold. Y/N imagines the dimpled form of clay coated over to match the color of his nails.

“They do, don’t they? I like this one, too. S’a little …ugly, but, s’in, like, a…” the man’s features twist into something silly and pinched, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth to avoid exposing her amusement at the brutal candor. His words catch in his throat and bubble as a short laugh, “I dunno. It’s art.” 

He sets it back onto the shelf with a light clink, and turns to face her, posturing against a post in the shelving where the tiers have a break. An exhale becomes paired with his nonchalant lean, arms crossing over his pecs, and Y/N tries intensely not to stare like a hawk at the muscle there. 

“I’m afraid people are coming back for these, though. This row came out of the kiln…” forest green skids to the assortment and then bounds up to the ceiling like he’s in thought, before he casts his gaze back onto her, “…yesterday. And there’s a month-and-a-half window for someone to come back and glaze before we toss or sell them to be painted.” 

He’s chewing gum. Y/N realizes it when she admires the soft stubble coating his jaw, his cheeks — that’s when she notices the work of his jawline over the minty piece. He tips his head. “Did you want to try sculpting something?” 

The edges of her lips break bashfully. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.” 

One corner of the man’s mouth curls up lopsidedly, and the beginnings of a dimple nudge into place. He blinks and chews a little slower, “Have you ever worked with clay before?” 

Her delayed, little no is met with the lopsided beam growing even. He nudges with his chin, deliciously bulging arms still tucked over his chest, his playfully raised eyebrows like a wordless notion of have more faith in yourself, “Then you may just be the next Magdalene Odundo. We’ll make a pro sculptor out of you, yet.” 

Magdalene Odundo. Somehow, the name isn’t familiar, but simultaneously, somehow, it feels like a compliment. 

Y/N inhales as his digits shift over his tri’s. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” plush pink shapes a handsome smile, bordering bright white teeth in straight lines. The man tips his head towards the curved berry vase, and then looks back at her, “Did you want to do something like this? All these over here were made on the wheel.” 

Y/N muzzles telling him that she’s no inkling of an idea how someone can morph a lump of clay into a vase, nevermind on a big, spinning platform that moves faster than her eyes can keep up with. The man seems to pick up on the hesitation in her silence. 

“S’easy, I promise. I’ll show you how to throw.” 

Show her. Okay. At least she’s not going to head into vase-sculpting or wheel-throwing or …whatever he’d called it blindly, fumbling over a block of clay on a twirling tray like a slapstick skit personified. At least it means she’s going to stay in his presence. After a moment of thought, though, (and the way she notes that his eyes make unwavering, relaxed contact with her face the entirety of the silent pause), Y/N decides she’s not sure whether that last bit is actually a good thing, considering she’s probably milliseconds away from, like, bracing a hand onto a the shelf to match his level of coolness, or something. And then subsequently sending ceramic pots spilling and shattering over the tile.

She blinks. Her shoulders rise on her nervous inhale, and he makes one of those playful faces, like he’s waiting for her to agree. The young woman’s eyes wander to the line of chairs pressed to its counterparts of wheels. 

“I don’t wanna, like, trouble you—“ 

“You’re not. S’my job,” he tells her, crimson fingertips drumming. She catches sight of his fabric-clad pectorals flexing when he leans forward a little to tack on, “…And to be honest, it’d give me something to do besides fucking around with clay, which is what I’ve been doing for the last hour.” 

Her mouth purses and then settles. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” he says again, and then winds around through a row of little tables that resemble the set up of an art classroom, like the kind she’d have in school. She’s ashamed that her gaze wanders down the back of his arm to ogle the rest of his ink. 

“You can have a seat at one of those wheels,” he tosses over his shoulder as he heads, she assumes, to wind back around the same shelf he’d surfaced from behind, “Just give me a mo’, and I’ll be right back with some clay.” 

It takes Y/N a moment — mostly because she admires the view of his stature from behind as he migrates to a back hallway, irises roaming down the projection of muscles in his back showcased through his tee. They skim down his legs, down the backs of his knees, rest on toned calves. He’s gone far too quickly for her viewing pleasure. The young woman takes another glance at the uneven strawberry-esque vase, and then she pivots to step around the crowded assortment of wheels to crouch into one of those little roll-y stools, feet crossing and uncrossing in the cramped space. 

He’s a sexy man, Y/N decides. That’s the word she’d been looking for all along, although pretty would match the descriptors of his long lashes and his pouty pink mouth. He’s sexy, though, in his baseball cap and his little six-inch-inseam shorts (which show off the sculpt of his tanned thighs and the ink over his kneecaps). He’s sexy when he comes out from the back over to her wheel, a gunmetal gray ball of clay cradled in his palm like it’s not the size of two of her own. He’s sexy in the green eye contact he makes when he settles into a stool similar to her own, right across, when his thighs splay because he doesn’t have enough room to sit otherwise, when he rests his elbows over his knees and stretches one arm out to pass off the clay. That’s when their digits brush, because it’s sort of unavoidable. He manages to make eye contact through that, too. Sexy. 

“Okay. Clay,” the chilled ball the man hands off weighs her hand down, and Y/N’s gaze flickers up to meet his own when he instructs, “Toss it onto the wheel. Aim for the center.” 

The young woman pauses like she’s calculating her aim, gearing up without visibly gearing up, and a little smile tugs at the instructor’s mouth as he waits. The clay lands with a thud onto the plate. 

“Great,” he tells her, monitoring the centering, and then jade bounces back up to her face as he coaxes, “Smack for good luck.” 

Y/N curbs the corners of her mouth out of mirth, hesitating for a moment before her palm lands over the smooth, gray lump in a halfhearted pat. She blinks up, hoping for assurance. The handsome man’s mouth purses like he’s restraining a grin. 

“Harder,” he encourages after a second, the corners of his muted raspberry mouth seeping up a smidge, more openly, “S’not gonna cry. You can go a little harder than that.” 

The young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, raises her hand, and follows his request, molding it flatter under the solid thud of her palm. Evidently, it’s a better attempt, because she earns a, “Very good,” in response from him.

She casts her gaze up to find him dipping his hands into the pot of murky water beside the wheel before a fist knocks lightly at the pedal-resembling lever on the opposite side, sending the wheel into a speeding twirl. And to add to her list of shame, the liquid that coats his fingers — that’s. 

Yeah. 

Y/N swallows and watches those wet hands cup over the clay, partly mesmerized by the way he coaxes the priorly deformed lump into a symmetrical cylinder, stroking up from the base up and back down, and partly mesmerized by the way the cherry polish becomes daubed with slicked clay. 

“I’m just gonna get it nice and easy for you, and then you can get to the fun bits,” the man tells her as if he isn’t currently awakening some deep, deviously sexual desires in her by fondling clay. Jade flickers up. “M’Harry, by the way.” 

“Y/N,” the young woman tells him in response, unsure whether to focus on his searing eye contact or the gentle press of his hands over … oddly erotic artistry in motion.

Harry unwittingly makes the decision for her by breaking the eye contact and glancing down at his work. 

“Y/N,” he says, as if testing the taste of her name on his tongue. 

Y/N takes a breath, smoothing her hands down her thighs. 

“Y/N,” his strawberry mouth parts a tad for a soft breath in, honey smooth cadence glazed in concentration as he presses a flat palm over the top of the clay, keeping his other hand cupped over the length. 

She watches the cylinder mold under his grip into something shorter, and then back up. She watches the way his arms flex, anchored to his body as he presses with the heels of his palms to sculpt. 

“This is called coning. Makes the clay centered so your grip stays nice and even when it spins. Otherwise, s’gonna wobble, and you’ll feel it when you’re trying to work with it.”

Sure enough, after a few moments, when the man takes his clay-sullied palms away, what’d priorly been a lopsided hunk twirling over the platform stands symmetrically, shining post his wet grip. When he balls his hand into a fist and punches over the lever a handful of times, the plate slows to a stop. He blows out a breath and the music shifts to the next track in the background.

“Take your bracelet off for me.” 

The comment is made totally innocuously. Its purpose is solely to preserve the condition of her jewelry — she knows that when his eyes go to meet hers again and he mentions, “Otherwise, it could get covered with clay, or break. Wouldn’t wanna ruin such a pretty piece.”

But it’s the way he says it, right? Two little words, so easy off his tongue. So nonchalant, so purely intended with no ulterior motive. For me. For me, for me, for me. 

It’s shameful — she’s ashamed. She’s no better than a man, Y/N decides, as she peers to the silver bangle with the sliver of warmth slithering through her chest and snaking to her tummy. She’s no better than a man, objectifying this poor, effortlessly sexy ceramics instructor and his casual commentary on a Wednesday. She swallows. 

“Right. Thanks— thank you,” the young woman tells him, her tone garbled with nervous enthusiasm as the fingers of her opposite hand wriggle under the clasp to pop the piece off. 

She’s still feeling dubious about the morality of her thoughts once she’s slipped the bracelet into her tote by her feet and sat back up. 

“Alright,” Harry starts again, elbows braced to his sturdy thighs, “We’re gonna go over what this little thing over here does, because it’s good to know. It sets your speed. We’ve got options—“

Y/N watches the way his arm stretches, she eyes the tail of the mermaid, the lines of scales etched into his skin. His eyes meet her own again. 

“…Fast,” Harry knocks over the lever again with the butt of a vertical fist, a couple more nudges rocketing the wheel into a motion that dissolves priorly visible remnants of clay rings into fast-moving swirls with no decipherable borders. 

Another few nudges has the wheel skidding to a full-stop, and then stuttering back up into a spin when he taps over the pad once more. 

“…Slow,” Harry fixes his gaze back onto her face and watches the curious concentration there. The man sits back up a tad, elbows bracing over his splayed thighs and fingers crooked and lax, coated with slippery wetness and clay. “Find what feels good for you. S’different for everyone.”

Despite the way the directions are made so innocently, so obviously stated as a tutorial that’s not intended to be taken as something suggestive, Y/N finds a heat teeming over her cheekbones. 

“But, I recommend—“ her teeth lodge into the inside of her cheek with subtlety as the instructor hunches a little again, just a tad, to rap over the lever in a pair. The wheel speeds. “—Sticking to something around this.”

The pace of the wheel settles into an easy spin — something that’s still too quick for her eyes to keep up with, but apparently not the fastest setting, judging by the higher speeds he’d displayed moments prior. 

“Alright. Here’s where you come in with your undiscovered ceramic talents,” the instructor tells her, the edges of his mouth so obviously restrained, like he’s amused with his own playful banter. His eyes glinting softly under the buttery light cast by the overhanging lanterns,”M’gonna show you how to drill, but you’ll need to get your hands wet first.”

Harry sits back, elbows still braced to his thighs, hands now coated with slippery clay as he waits for the young woman to douse her own into the bucket. The liquid greets her palms with a welcome chill, and when she lightly cups over the cylinder, it slips under her hands with ease. The man clears his throat, and their digits graze again when he touches over her fingers to guide her grasp. Y/N tries not to focus on the way his hands make her own look as if they belong to a child. 

“You’re gonna take your thumbs—” Harry coaxes, all concentrated seriousness now, and the pad of his own brushes against the knuckle of her left, “—and press over the top, here. Right in the middle, just like that.” 

He takes his hands away and the clay rolls under her fingertips, a divot forming from the pressure of her thumbs. 

“Good. Now what you’ve done is you’ve indicated where you’re going to make the opening. And to do that—“ his hands return, unintentionally persuading her own to fall away and sort of hover stagnantly mid-air, in sullied awe, as he dips the tip of his index into the cleft they’d created together. 

As if hungry for the finger, the clay parts to swallow the pad of the digit. It broadens its starving mouth, and Harry steadies the spread with his thumb, his pointer delving against the inside of the deepening wall. His opposite hand cups over the body as he molds the opening wider. 

Anyways, what Y/N manages to learn from the impressive showcase, before Harry steals a glance to make sure she’s been observing (which she has, very focused, actually), is that clay-working is a dirty, dirty, lustrous art form. Especially under his fingertips. This is all very educational stuff. Perhaps the most impressive step of his tutorial, thus far, is the way that, in mere moments, he cups and strokes and caresses over the clay, drawing the opening tighter. It shrinks until it disappears, and when he smooths his hands over the rounded edges a few more times, the vessel that’s left is an entirely clean slate. Almost as if she hadn’t just spent the last few seconds ogling a weirdly pornographic display of a clay cavern opening in response to the touch of his long finger. This was a horrible mistake, Y/N thinks pitifully — she’s getting aroused by clay working. If there was ever a blaring red indicator that she needed to get laid, this is it. 

“I want you to try now,” Harry directs, totally nonchalant. This is just a casual Wednesday for him, Y/N realizes. He casually fingers clay with his sexy, long fingers, and thinks nothing of it. Maybe she’s just a horribly wound-up pervert. 

Still sort of stunned, she reaches out and cups over the cylinder, clumsily positioning her thumbs in a replication of the manner he’d shown her, aiming for the center and driving a divot into the top. 

“Mm. That’s good. Keep your elbows closer to your body,” he prompts, eyes flickering from her posture to her hands. “Like this.” 

Following his body language, Y/N mimics, ducking a tad and tucking her arms to her torso. After a few moments, she lifts her thumbs to find a centered indent, one that’s similar to the one they’d created together. 

“Lovely. Now,” the chair makes a little rolling sound over the tile as Harry shifts forward, clay-slicked hands (warm, despite their cool coating) cradling over her own to position, “You’re gonna cup here, and then take this finger and push here. Yep. Jus’ like that.” 

The instructor takes his grip away and encourages, “If you need more water, get your hands wet. You can tell you need it if there’s friction — you want it a little wet.” 

She wants it a little wet. Y/N decides, as she dunks her hands into the bucket and returns to the clay, she in fact does not want anything wet right now. This is the last place she wants something wet. Her thoughts are disturbed by the way he grasps her at her hands again and repositions — twisted by the slippery feel of his own wet fingers. The clay over his palms has begun to dry now, morphing lighter and crackling, but the tips of his digits are still soaked and darker in shade. She’s awed when the cylinder gives under her touch, the same way it had for him to encompass her finger. It’s like magic, sort of. Very slippery, wet, weirdly erotically undertone-d magic. 

“There you go,” Harry tells her, baritone soft, “You’re a pro.” Then, after a moment, “You can go a little harder. Don’t be shy. Open it up.” 

She’s not blushing. She’s not blushing, because that would be silly. She presses harder, and the opening widens until it gapes. 

“How long have you worked here?” the young woman asks, naturally trying to change the subject from wet and hard things. Hopefully in an organic enough manner that doesn’t imply how affected she is by said wet and hard things. 

“I bought this place a few years ago,” Harry responds after a second, tone concentrating as he reaffixes the firmness of her grasp (she tries not to verbally apologize, glancing up), “…Both units. It was a smoke shop before, I think.” 

“Oh!” her hands stutter again in surprise, “Are you the owner?” 

He fixes them again, brows pinched, and when he glances up, his brow bone is smooth and there’s a soft smile playing over his mouth. “Indeed I am.” 

“It’s …beautiful in here,” Y/N tells him, gaze walloping from shelf to shelf for a moment, lantern lined ceilings to vine-coated crown molding, trusting that his hands will keep her own grounded to the piece. 

“Thanks. It’s a little crowded, but if you manage to get lost among the …phallic statues and the clay bongs,” he cocks his head, blatantly bridling a simper as he shrugs. At the response of her snort, jade flickers up and the plush of his mouth curls more obviously, “…You’ll find your way out of the maze soon enough.” 

As the walls of the clay grow thinner, the instructor takes his grip away, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Alright. What are we going for here? A mug? A vase? A bong masquerading as a vase?” 

Y/N takes the lack of his touch as an indication to lighten her own. She purses her lips thoughtfully. “A vase.” 

“A vase,” the instructor parrots, voice low, and then he hunches back over and cups the clay. The young woman returns her hands to meet his own. “I can work with that. We’re gonna build it up. You’re gonna squeeze and lift. Right—“

If his fingers keep brushing hers for the duration of the next …half hour? Hour? (How long does throwing take?), Y/N decides she’ll simply combust. His hands cup lightly over her own, two digits pressed to hers, and hers pinned to the inner wall of the clay in sin. 

“—Here. That’s it. You can be a little aggressive. We’ve gotta get it tall.”

Y/N swallows.

“You said you own both units?” she ponders aloud, “Is there …more?” 

“My place,” Harry tells her nonchalantly, as if it’s the most casual, normal, every day thing to live over a ceramics studio, “S’just over on the next floor.” 

“That’s—“ she realizes her grasp has lightened again, the integrity of the structure mostly only crawling up under the pressure of his own (steady, firm) grip over hers, “…so cool. To have, like, a whole studio right under you.” 

“Mm. I think right now…” Harry cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling, “We’re under my kitchen.” 

A little breath of mirth tumbles from her when he grins and tacks on, “I think this is way cooler, though.” 

This is The Turning Point. 

And if it was a scene title in a play, Y/N thinks it would be capitalized to denote the importance. It’s important, because somewhere along the trail of her perversions, as Harry had guided her hands into the innards of the clay — fittingly describing it as the body — when he’d pressed his hands against her own to widen its base, when he’d shown her the sponge, things had clicked. It had clicked because she realized she wasn’t fucking crazy. Because Harry then said this thing — this one little thing that would have launched her into a frenzied, internal mess of dubious morality on the basis of her perversions���

But then it clicked. 

“Careful with the amount of water you’re using now, yeah?” he’d told her, maneuvering her grip over the sponge as they’d smoothed over the lip together, “S’all about balance. …If you go too hard, you’ll make a wet mess.” 

Y/N had glanced up. That’s when she’d noticed the way the instructor gnawed into his cheek, almost immediately, almost as if he was amused by some sort of devious inside joke. And then his blocky front teeth had dug lightly into the plush of his pink bottom lip. It was nearly unnoticeable — but she had noticed. Clay was innately erotic, and he was doing it on purpose. It was one, or the other, or both. 

For a little while from there, they work in blatantly charged silence. It’s a very short while, all things considered, and she’s willing to clam up altogether and daydream about his digits for the duration of the lesson, but the tone of his next words nearly gives her whiplash. 

“So what are you doing on this lovely Valentine’s day?” Harry breaks the silence, once again, his tone so even and nonchalant that Y/N can’t begin to fathom where his composure comes from. 

The young woman clears her throat, “Oh. Y’know. Trying my hand at ceramics. The yuzh.” 

Jade doesn’t immediately jolt up when he ponders aloud, “Dinner plans?” 

“Not any on the calendar …that I’m aware of.”

His touch doesn’t lighten, but he does glance up, mouth all (apparently) disbelieving mirth, “You’re telling me you’re not being wined and dined tonight?” 

Feigning offense, the young woman sets her mouth into a line and nudges with her chin in a nod, joking, “Thank you for the reminder.” 

Harry laughs softly, one of those little breaths expelled through his nostrils, and he looks back down to the vase-in-progress, gentle grin undeniable. Y/N matches his amusement, faux indignation crackling. 

“You’re too pretty not to have a Valentine,” the instructor tells her, then, decibel low, almost like it was meant to be under his breath but also entirely not, and all Y/N can do is sit there with instant heat seeping to her face. Because that’s flirting. That’s definitely flirting. Her sexy ceramics instructor is helping her craft a vase out of clay on a wheel with his sexy hands, and he’s openly flirting. 

Y/N stuffs down how initially stunned she is to chew into her bottom lip and volley, “I bet you say that to every girl that comes in here.” 

Harry shrugs. It’s still almost an enraging level of cucumber-cool and composed. 

“Just the pretty ones.” He tacks on, after a moment, “And only on Valentine’s day. Don’t think that line would fit well on a random Wednesday.” 

Y/N snorts. She’s still basking in the pleasant warmth of the flattery when the man peers up and tells her, “I do accept tips, by the way, so. Feel free to leave a tip for the friendly service.” 

“I will—“ she snorts, restraining her open amusement at the way his brows crinkle in concentration as he helps her grip, “—definitely do that.” 

“Sick,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over his lips, disappearing back into his mouth as quick as the pink had showcased. Jade flits up, the corners of his mouth curled up in a little pause of silence, almost he wants to make it crystal clear he does not actually want a tip for hitting on her. 

Anyways, this is all a flustered mess. All of it. Y/N, the pot she’s sure will grow off-center and wobble under her shaky grip, all of it. 

“What about you?” the young woman takes a deep breath, hoping some sort of breathing exercise will help slow the buzzy flutter of her heartbeat, “Any wining and dining? For Valentine’s day?” 

“Not on the calendar,” Harry responds, sliding her own words back to her, his gaze still honed on the work ahead of them, now impressively morphed from a lumpy, shapeless ball into the beginnings of a vase, “As for how I’m spending my Valentine’s day, I did just show this one pretty girl how to shape and smooth. And now, …m’gonna show her how to shape some more.”

Y/N bats her lashes, and then she observes the work of his clay caked fingers, the way they curl and press over the vase in different points of the body, some motions widening the rim and some drawing it more narrow. He bids their tutorial a pause shortly after, explaining, “I’m gonna give you some creative freedom now. Figure out what shape you like.” 

Despite the slight disappointment budding at the close of their conversation, for now, the daunting task of unsupervised throwing is what probably surfaces on her face, more. The instructor catches it when he rolls back in the stool and stands, ogling her for a moment, mirthy mouth caving up in a way that suggests she must look like a deer in headlights. 

“It’s intimidating, but I believe in you. I’ll just be in the back for a sec, give me a shout if you need me.”

Y/N shifts her legs, pressing her thighs together when he adds, “Play around with it.” 

All in all, they manage to end the wheel session with (Y/N thinks, impressively) only a couple of hiccups, both being opportunities presented with unsupervised sculpting. When she’d played around with it (his words) a little too much and had coaxed a priorly even shape into something lopsided and petrifying, it’d swung around on the wheel, each turn quickening its slow but sure collapse. She’d called out for the instructor with a frantic note to his name. Of course, both times, Harry had come out from the back and patiently squeezed over the clay, hands and forearms jolting and flexing deliciously as he’d encouraged it back into something centered (yet another opportunity to stare at slick clay glazing over his fingers all over again), reassuring her that it was normal to struggle, especially with her first time. 

Y/N wonders if he’s constantly full of innuendos, or whether a ceramics studio is just innately an opportunity for double entendres. 

She tries not to make it too obvious when she stands on wobbling legs, when she brushes past him and catches soft notes of his cologne, clean and musky. When he directs her to the bathroom where she rinses clay from her hands into one of those artsy, utility sinks. When she sits at one of the tables, waiting for him to bring the vase over to her, torched and ready for additions, when he gives her another colorless lump. She tries not to make it obvious when she ogles more of his arms, the peek of his nipples through the white, clay-stained fabric of his tee shamelessly. She fears it’s utterly obvious how affected he’s made her, though, when she blinks up at his face, when he shows her what the different little tools in the cup do for sculpting. Y/N doesn’t even look away from him at the introduction of the first tool. She thinks that’s the one that must cross-hatch, driving little lines into the clay. 

“This is called slip,” Harry explains, dipping the tips of his index and middle fingers into the cup near the brushes with no hesitation. The consistency over his fingers, when he pulls them out, is like a wetter, creamier, sloppier variation of the same clay she’d worked with. 

Christ. 

“You put it over the lines you’ve carved to make more clay stick,” the instructor expands. 

Y/N swallows when he smears the consistency coating his fingers onto the lines he’d drawn, his gaze bouncing from his touch to her face. 

“Like, if you wanted to add a handle to a mug, you’d use this method. Or, alternatively,” the young woman focuses on the way the pads of the digits rub over the lines. They fade away. “It’s like an eraser. Careful with erasing, though. …Wet mess.” 

The latter is tacked on as a reminder, and it wonderfully reminds her of the heat coiling in the pit of her tummy. Wonderfully. She swallows again. 

“You can probably use that brush to apply the slip, though, if you don’t want to get your hands dirty again.” 

Flowers. She sculpts flowers with a searing heat between her thighs, because his added little comment of, “I don’t mind,” as he glances to the slip still glazing his fingers, implying that he doesn’t mind to get his hands dirty, does that to her. Y/N sculpts flowers and they settle into a comfortable sort of silence. It’s one where the only sounds are the soft music playing over the speakers and the occasional noise of pages turning from behind the counter as he leans over it and works through some kind of paperwork. She draws lines into the vase, and brushes on the slip, and presses creased flowers to decorate the bulbous body, concentration etching her features. 

She doesn’t notice when she goes over the hours of operation, and Harry doesn’t disturb her, doesn’t tell her that the shop’s been closed for nearly half an hour by the time she peers up and declares, “I’m done.” 

“You’re done,” the man repeats and sets the paperwork down, making his way over to the table where she’d set up, “Let’s have a look.” 

Y/N sits back admiring her artistry. All things considered, it’s sort of an ugly vase. Despite this, a sense of accomplishment buds in her chest as she stares at her creation. 

“I like it,” Harry tells her, nodding like he’s proud of a promising protégé, “It’s quite sweet.” 

“Thank you. What now?” 

“Now—“ the instructor props one hand onto the countertop and the other against his hip, “You wash your hands, you take a picture, and you come back in three weeks to sand it and glaze it.” 

Simple. It’s a simple set of instructions. Y/N brushes crackling, dried clay off of her fingertips against the cloth laid over the table, instinctively reaching for her purse. 

She blinks up at him expectantly, “How much?” 

Dimples wink awake with his soft simper, and he shifts his stance before he asserts, “Don’t worry about it.” 

The young woman’s features shape into something crinkled, something bemused and unwilling of a discount. She shakes her head and glances back down to the tote, “No, I have to pay you. What about your tip?” 

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, pecs flexing with the motion. Flexing, flexing, flexing, when will his muscles stop rippling? He sighs, cushiony mouth still smiling, “I think I’ll live. My tip was that I’ve helped you discover a hidden talent—“

Y/N snorts, eyeing the sloppy attachments to the shapely base, fingers still tucked over her wallet. 

“—It’d defeat the satisfaction and all the pride I’ve got now,” the man declares, shrugging. 

The unconvinced look she gives him coaxes him into a good-natured roll of his eyes, and Harry tuts before he compromises, raising his eyebrows, “But if you must tip me, you can tip me when you come back in three weeks, yeah?” 

Begrudged, the young woman takes her hand from the edges of her wallet. “Fine. Okay.” 

“Okay. Three weeks,” the man reminds her, a little smile playing over the plush of his mouth.

The world of ceramics is oddly pornographic, Y/N decides. But maybe clay isn’t innately erotic. Maybe it’s the way the man’s fingertips mold its shape, the way his digits look soaked in slip, the way his hands cradle over it as a wheel spins under his ducked stature. Maybe it’s the way his jade irises flit to her face when he makes an educational comment that’s obviously suggestive, Maybe it doesn’t have to do with clay, at all. Maybe it’s Harry.  

Maybe it’s the way he tells her, “If I were you, I wouldn’t miss it. Glazing is my favorite part.”

[pleasingforharry]

For Your Eyes Only

college!harry x quiet!yn

SUMMARY: Harry didn’t want Y/N to leave for class as he woke up needy and horny. But she needed to go, so he was left alone wishing she were there to take care of him. Maybe there was a way to persuade her to come back home. A text? A video? Something for her eyes only.

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Uhhhh smut because I was in a smutty mood.

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"Don't go," Harry begged, clutching his girlfriend to his chest. He was sitting on the edge of his bed with Y/N stuck in between his legs. “I need you.” His tone was suggestive. And to make it more obvious, he pushed her naked leg against his clothed cock—hard and throbbing.

Y/N sighed and tangled her hand in his hair. It was beyond messy in the mornings. “I don’t have time, dove. Class starts soon. I’m pretty sure I’ll be late even if I leave now.” 

“So, just stay,” He whispered in her ear. Y/N let him handle her so now she sat on his lap, arms loose around his neck. It may have looked as if she was agreeing to stay as she sat comfortably on him. “I’ll make it worth your while. Take care of you so good, baby. I’ll do anything you want.” His voice was raspy from the early morning, but also dark from desperation.

It was very enticing. Y/N gave her boyfriend a light kiss before pulling back before he deepened it. Then appeared that charming smile. “No, dove. I can’t. But I'll come right back, as fast as I can. Promise.” she told him softly. Her lips pressed against his cheek, nose, brows, and back to his own pair of plush lips.

Harry wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. His hand grabbed Y/N’s hips and moved them so her cunt rubbed against his hard cock. “Feel that?” He gazed at her with hooded eyes. Y/N could moan from how fuckable he looked. He bucked his hips up, causing her to gasp. “Just for you, baby. I can make you feel good. Just stay, okay?”

Y/N dropped her forehead on his shoulder in defeat. 

“I just know you’re wet. I know my baby too well,” Harry turned his head to reach her ear. He gently bit her lobe. “Come on. Let me eat your pretty cunt out. I want to suck on your little clit while you try to push me away. Then I’ll fuck you so hard, baby. I can make you come so many times. And then we can watch a movie while I massage your puffy pussy lips with my fingers. Maybe accidentally let one slip inside.”

Damnit. She moaned. She couldn’t help it. Neither could her hips as she moved them on her own.

“Harry,” she cried.

“I got you, come on. Stay.” His voice traveled through every inch of her insides.

If Y/N wasn’t so worried about missing an important topic in class, she’d keep her ass right in Harry’s room and let him have his way with her. But as much as she loved to be with Harry, she’d never forgive herself if she missed class over something that could wait.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N sighed and kissed his cheek. “But I’m hungry. Can you make me some breakfast?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. He was not expecting to win that battle.

He nodded and flipped them over so Y/N was laid out on the bed. “Stay right here, princess. I’ll bring you up something nice,” He said, smiling widely. Y/N patting his jaw. “Thank you for staying. I love you.” He leaned down to kiss her, which she gladly accepted, before Harry shot out the door and down the stairs.

Y/N only laid there for a minute, debating which guilt would make her feel worse. Was it really a big deal if she missed one class? Was it so bad if she left Harry here for only two hours? She thought about it. And then she decided.

Her movements turned quick because she didn't want Harry to catch her in the act. Y/N dressed herself in sweatpants and a tank top that were left in her boyfriend's room and had never returned to her own dorm. She layered it with Harry's hoodie.

There were a pair of crocs that she left in his closet. They had to do. Her bag was against the desk as she slid it on, before leaving the room. She listened for Harry in the kitchen. He wasn’t alone as numerous voice toppled over his.

Y/N planned to sneak out the front door because it wasn’t in view from the kitchen. She crept down the stairs, listening in on Harry's conversation to ensure he wasn't about to go back up to his room.

“You gotta put that thing away, man!” She heard Isaiah complain.

“Why don’t you take care of it for me? If you’re so worried about it,” Harry snapped back. Niall laughed loudly.

“Poor Y/N, how does she even walk after that?” He sighed. “Don’t you feel guilty, H?” 

“Mind your own business, Niall.”

“Hey, she’s my friend. I have a right to be concerned about her ability to walk after you destroy her with that absolute weapon!”

Y/N rolled her eyes and continued her journey. She successfully made it out, but hesitated closing the door behind her. Her teeth sunk into her lip as she thought about it. She’s already late. Maybe she could just email her professor to sum up the class.

It was tempting. Very. But she still closed the door and started a light jog to the bus stop.

-

dove: you left.

my baby: i did. i have class

dove: i made you breakfast

my baby: i know. i asked you to

dove: you tricked me.

my baby: i love you

dove: i need you

my baby: need me from afar

Harry didn’t respond, which surprised Y/N. But she just shrugged it off and flipped her phone over as her professor continued to teach the class. When she arrived, no one looked at her, but her professor gave her a sidelong glance. Y/N blushed profusely and scurried to her seat. She spread her papers out in front of her and caught up with everyone.

On the other hand, Harry wallowed in his room. He ate the breakfast he made for Y/N and sighed with every bite.

The class was two hours—two hours too many for Harry. He was laid out on his bed, huffing and pouting like a child. He missed his girlfriend. And so did his cock. His hand was softly squeezing over his sweats as his other texted Y/N again.

dove: i’m so hard rn

dove: i think i might have to fuck my hand, i cant wait two hours

Y/N placed her phone under the table, before looking at the screen. And she was thankful she did. She shot her eyes to the people sitting next to her, but they were too busy copying what was written on the board.

Her legs twitched at the message, and she shifted in her spot. She lowered her brightness, before responding.

my baby: i’m in class

dove: then come back. maybe ill forgive you

my baby: busy

dove: i need you.

my baby: i’m sorry

The three dots appeared for a while, but then disappeared. Y/N was a little disappointed. She didn’t think he’d back down. Unless both of his hands were busy. She shifted in her seat again, feeling a sudden damp in her panties.

Y/N began to set her phone down when a video sent from Harry appeared. The thumbnail was black, so Y/N clicked on it with curiosity. And her eyes widened when it started.

Harry’s cock filled up the screen with his thick fingers wrapped around it. The tip was red, twitching, and leaking with come. His voice was gravely as he slurred out a moan. Y/N squealed, lowering the volume completely before more was heard. No one glanced at her as the professor boomed her voice.

Harry’s hand moved up and down his cock at a slow pace. Y/N whole body jumped at the sparks that attacked her. The V line that led to his cock was prominent and so kissable. Harry lifted his hips to meet the thrust of his hand.

“Jesus, Harry,” Y/N mumbled, her eyes memorized on every detail of the video. His thigh muscles had Y/N’s breath uneven. She shot her eyes up when the class got suddenly quiet. The professor had asked a question and everyone’s hand went up. But for the first time, Y/N didn’t bother answering. She looked back down at the video of her boyfriend.

Nothing more happened besides Harry fucking his hand. He would occasionally swipe his tip, and his legs would twitch in response. Y/N was so eager to hear the sound, knowing exactly what noise he’d be making.

dove: for your eyes only, baby

Y/N was wet. It was starting to become uncomfortable. She had replayed the video with her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Damnit,” she groaned. Her clit was now asking for attention. Y/N's free hand innocently rested on her lap before sliding between her thighs. It just looked as though she was simply warming up her hands with her heat. Her sweats were baggy, so nothing appeared off about her appearance.

Y/N watched the video again while running her finger along her cunt. She poked at her clit and flinched at the pleasure. She imagined how Harry’s cock would slide up her cunt to tease her before pushing in slowly, every inch stretching her.

Fuck.

dove: i want to come

dove: my cock needs you, Y/N. please.

Double fuck.

Y/N slapped her phone down and sat correctly, her attention trying to focus back on the class. She wrote what the professor explained and copied the board. Harry’s cock was red and shiny from the saliva he had spat in his hand. Y/N pushed her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. His thighs muscles thickened when he thrusted up, just like he would when she would get tired on top of him. Y/N pinched her nose to ignore the thoughts. His hand moved faster when he felt close, but stopped to tease himself.

Triple fuck!

Y/N gathered her things and stuffed them into her bag. She was quiet but fast, making sure to not disrupt the class—whatever topic they were on. Her phone pinged, and she flipped it over as she expected Harry’s text.

dove: please tell me you're wet. are your thighs clenching together and your pretty fucking clit puffy?

Her grip on her phone tightened. She put it in her pocket before gathering the rest of her belongings. She slug her bag over one shoulder and excused herself out of the classroom.

Y/N walked with speed to the closest bathroom. Fortunately, not many classes were in session in the building, so the few stalls in that smaller bathroom were empty. Y/N took out her phone as she leaned against the counter.

my baby: i’m in the bathroom

my baby: can’t focus anymore. thanks for that

Harry answered right away.

dove: are you wet?

my baby: so wet.

She could imagine Harry moaning at her text.

my baby: did you come yet?

dove: ofc not. its only going to be inside of you

Y/N covered her mouth to gasp. She walked into the farthest stall and locked it shut. She threw her bag to the side and pressed her back against the wall.

dove: what are you doing in the bathroom?

my baby: you know what

Her hand shoved into her sweats. She didn’t waste any time pushing her panties to the side and collecting the juices that instantly coated her fingers.

dove: tell me

my baby: you don’t deserve to know. but i can tell you it feels really good.

Y/N wasn’t lying. Her thumb and index finger pinched her clit, causing her to moan in the echoing, empty room. Her hand holding her phone dropped to the side as she focused on her fingers. She pushed her ring finger inside herself, imaging it was Harry’s. That made her eyes roll back.

Suddenly, her phone started to ring. Y/N looked down and saw Harry’s contact on screen. She smirked through her gasps. “Fuck,” she whined, before declining the call. Her hand dropped again.

dove: answer. let me see you.

Y/N typed with one hand while the other plunged more fingers into her cunt. Her eyes were turning glassy that it was kind of hard to see.

my baby: not yet.

dove: just wait until you come back, baby. i promise I’m going to fuck you dumb

Y/N moaned at the text. Her legs warned to give out, but she didn’t want to sit naked on the bathroom floor. Harry had too much power over her when it should’ve been the other way around. So, she had an idea.

Y/N swiped to the camera app and pressed the video tab. Her phone was between her legs, revealing everything. She started recording, looking down at the screen with a whiny face—eyebrows drawn together, lips parted as she gasped with each thrust of her fingers.

“Yes,” she moaned, touching her sensitive clit. “I want to come so bad. Fuck. I need it, dovie,” She hissed. “I have to do it all by myself.” Her head fell back against the wall, the camera shaking from her wavering hand. Her fingers shot into her cunt and curled, just like Harry would do to earn the most symphonic noises from her.

The video was filled with heavy breathing and wet fingers moving inside of Y/N’s cunt. Her thighs clamped together. 

“I can’t hold this anymore,” Y/N sighed, raising the camera to her face. She stared back at her flushed cheeks and smiled. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Y/N ended the video and boldly sent it to Harry.

A few minutes of silence passed. During that time, Y/N stopped playing with herself and cleaned up with toilet paper. She was desperately horny, and just as needy as her boyfriend, but really didn’t want to come in the bathroom alone.

When she was composed, Y/N walked to the door to leave, but a message from Harry finally went through.

dove: Y/N, come to my dorm right now.

my baby: i have to get back to class.

dove: then im on my way

Y/N chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

Yeah right.

my baby: ill see you later

Y/N left the bathroom and snuck back into her classroom. Maybe she was gone for a suspiciously long amount of time because the classmates that sat besides her gave her an up and down glance. One raised their eyebrows and chuckled.

Y/N wanted to die on the spot.

Another ten minutes passed, and Y/N was able to rejoin the class as if she had never left. She quickly caught up on her notes and answered some of the questions the professor asked. It felt good to be back and focused on what was important. Not her boyfriend, who should be at his dorm pouting and waiting for the time to roll by.

She was wrong.

Her phone pinged, and she was going to ignore it, but after another buzz to her thigh, she looked.

dove: im outside your classroom. come here

dove: i’ll gladly walk in and take care of business on your professor’s desk

Y/N eyes widened as she read the messages. She cursed under her breath, considering what to do. Harry wouldn’t actually do that—storm into her class and cause a scene, but the fact that he was here, in the building, caught her off guard.

Once again, her papers were collected and stuffed back into her bag. Y/N waited until her professor turned away to face the board, before scurrying out. She could feel the heat of eyes on her back, and her hand connecting to Harry’s face when she finds him.

Just like he said he was, Harry leaned against the wall by her classroom door. He looked out into the distance with a smug smile, lost in thought. Y/N puffed out a breath, earning his attention. His smile turned into a devilish smirk.

“Hello, baby,” He said, stalking towards her. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N stepped forward and hit his chest. “Everyone saw me leave twice because of you. I’m so fucking embarrassed. I’ll have to drop the class now. I can’t walk in there ever again. You—”

Y/N was cut off by a hard kiss from Harry. He grasped her neck and held her there, immediately shooting his tongue into her mouth. Y/N moaned within the kiss, holding onto Harry’s wrist. He pulled away an inch to speak. “What bathroom were you in?” He asked in a voice so low, Y/N could barely hear him.

Her head motioned to her right. “Down the hall. It’s the smallest in the building so more likely that I’d be alone,” She explained. The end of Harry’s lips curled up.

“Perfect.” He kissed her roughly again before moving behind her. He pushed his cock against her ass and sighed in relief. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” 

Harry pressed closely to his girlfriend as she walked them to the bathroom she previously occupied. He leaned down to find her ear. “I missed you. And I love you.” Y/N looked up at him.

“I know, and I know,” She giggled, stopping in her tracks to push her ass back against him, before continuing to walk.

The couple made it to the bathroom, and it was empty. Harry thanked the heavens because no one deserved to hear the noises he was soon to yank out of Y/N’s throat.

“Which stall?” He asked. Y/N pointed to the farthest one, and the biggest. “Get in there.”

She turned to face him. “You’re staying here?” He lifted his chin, staring down at her degradingly. 

“When you get inside, you take off this hoodie and bra. Then you get on your knees and wait patiently for my cock. Understand?” Harry instructed. His hand swiftly wrapped around her neck. 

Y/N gulped—nervously and excitedly, she wasn’t sure—before nodding. 

“Finally listening. Good girl.” Harry smacked her ass. “Go.”

Y/N went inside the stall and shut the door behind her, but didn’t lock it. She placed her bag on the wall opposite of her. Harry was quiet on the other side, and it grew nerves inside of her. What was he doing?

Like he told her to do, his hoodie came off, so did her tank top and bra. She stuffed them inside her bag so it wasn’t on the floor. Finally, she sank down to her knees and shuddered. She was facing the door, so whoever opened it would have a full view of everything. 

Y/N’s eyes saw Harry’s feet near the sink, deadly still. He didn’t move for a while, nor made any sound. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to tell him she was ready, but it had to be obvious because it’s been a while.

“I made sure I didn’t come, this morning,” Harry suddenly spoke. Y/N flinched in surprise. “Even after you left, after I texted you, sent that video, watched yours and fucking almost died on the spot, Y/N, I stopped myself. You know why?” Y/N wanted to soak into the floor by the authority of his voice. He sounded mad. Good.

Y/N watched his feet move closer to her stall. They stopped when he was exactly on the other side. 

“You want to know why I made sure I didn’t come after the painful hardon I had?” Harry asked. The door swung open and there he was. Eyes filled with desire, lips panting out harsh breaths. And his cock out of his boxers and sweats. It was slapped up against his chest—thick, veiny, and perfectly fitted for any of Y/N’s holes. 

The girl gasped as she stared straight at his cock. Her mouth dared to water at the sight. 

Harry leaned forward, and Y/N had to tilt her chin up to meet him face to face. His tilted to the side in a teasing manner. It felt degrading with her naked on the floor as he stood, almost clothed, with a shit eating grin.

“Because I promised myself that when I have you, this heavy load that I’ve been carrying is going to fill every inch of you,” Harry finished as he grabbed Y/N’s jaw. He made sure she continued to look at him. “And you will take everything I give you. I almost feel bad about how much you'll leak when I take you back to my room and do it all over again.”

Maybe Y/N shouldn’t have teased him.

She smiled sincerely at him. “Is it too late to apologize?” Harry chuckled and let go of her jaw to stand back up straight. He took his cock into his hand.

“You’re about to apologize right now,” He said. “Now open.”

Y/N was timid to do so, but her mouth widened anyway. Her boyfriend definitely wasn’t small, and it always took some time for him to fit anywhere inside of her. But she was still obsessed with him. He was pretty, and veiny, pink at the tip, and reactive every time she was near. It made her feel special.

Harry sighed at the sight of Y/N. His hand tugged on his cock. Not that he really needed to because he was already as hard as he could get. He’d been waiting for this all morning.

Harry pressed his thumb into Y/N’s lower lip to push it down further. His other hand directed his cock into her mouth. Y/N subconsciously closed around him, hollowing her cheeks. Harry hissed at the warmth around him. He tangled his fingers into her hair for a grip.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” He asked her. Y/N looked up at him with doe eyes and nodded. “I don’t think so,” He teased. 

Harry doesn’t waste another minute stuffing his cock into Y/N’s mouth like he dreamt of since that morning. His body tensed up as he let out a predatory moan. Y/N used her hand to stroke the inches that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

She bobbed her head quickly, feeling Harry twitch inside of her. He could drop on the spot from how weak in the knees he felt. His thighs gladly accepted her sharp nails digging into the flesh. 

He wanted it to leave a mark.

Harry’s cock was finally getting the attention it needed. It was warm inside Y/N’s mouth and was teased by her tongue that petted the veins along the sides. His tip pressed the back of her throat, causing her to gag and back away briefly. But Harry had a hold on her hair to guide himself back inside of her.

Moans were spilling out him. “I’m already about to come, baby. Doing so good for me,” Harry praised her. He looked down to watch Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut as she focused on sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. She fondled his balls to quicken the process. “Gonna let me fuck your face now? Finally adjusted to my cock?” He needed to get control again before he got lost in the pleasure. She did that to him.

Y/N nodded and dropped her hands to his thighs for leverage. Harry drew his eyebrows together as he held her by the hair. He planned to start at a slow pace, but as Y/N tried to move her head closer to suck him in, he knew she was ready for him. Needy thing.

Harry kept Y/N’s head still, before snapped his hips forward. He tested the waters and watched for a reaction. Y/N shut her eyes while a muffled moan strained out of her. Harry took that as the confirmation to keep going.

His thrusts were quick. Each time he went in, he’d hit the back of her throat. It felt like heaven. Y/N moaning around him sent vibrations to every nerve in his cock. She watched his stomach muscles—covered by ferns—react to each thrust. She loved the view.

Her eyes turned glassy from the tears building up. Her jaw was tired and sore, but it was only the beginning. She was ready for it all.

Harry didn’t back down on his speed. His hips were fast and direct, never missing a beat or shifting. He hit the same place each time. “Fucking love your mouth, baby,” He spoke out loud. “The perfect shape. Made for me, I swear.” He groaned as he looked down at Y/N drooling from the corner of her mouth.

There was a puddle dripping in her sweats. Y/N was extremely wet that she dared the thought of taking care of herself right in front of him. But it was a death wish to try. Harry had a plan for her.

His grip in her hair tightened, pulling a moan out of her. He was close. His head threw back again, Y/N getting the perfect view of the underside of his chin. His neck was thick and veiny as he clenched his teeth together. He was letting out hard pants.

“Gonna fill your mouth with my come, baby. You’re gonna swallow it all like my good girl?” Y/N nodded, unintentionally bobbing her head to match his thrust. She shifted on her knees in anticipation. She loved the taste, the saltiness of his come. It spurted in her mouth like a dart from how hard he usually comes. She had pride from being able to make him do that.

Harry stopped his movements as he moaned out a gasp. “Take it all, Y/N. I’m not asking.” Her thighs wanted to squeeze together.

After one last thrust, Harry was shooting down Y/N’s throat. His moaning and heavy breathing got louder as he released. He repeated Y/N’s name under his breath, and it was music to her ears.

Harry pulled out, allowing Y/N to swallow properly. She smiled like an angel as she enjoyed the taste in her mouth. Harry had a hand on the stall door to balance himself. 

“Open,” He said to her through pants. She stuck her tongue out. Every drip was gone and down her throat. “You’re fucking amazing. I don’t think I tell you enough.” Y/N laughed.

“You don’t. You only tell me three times a day. I need more.” Harry winked at his girlfriend and stood back up straight. Y/N wanted to discard her sweats as her panties were destroyed, and soon her sweats.

Harry grabbed Y/N by the armpits and lifted her to her feet.. She had to hold onto his shoulders. Her body was on complete fire, mostly her bruised throat and scalp. But it felt amazing. 

“You okay, baby? Too much?” Harry held Y/N by her hips, their bodies close together, as he asked her. He kissed her cheek, before backing his head to look at her.

Y/N smiled drunklike. Her throat was tight, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. So, she did it by grabbing his face and engulfing him in a wild kiss. Harry tasted himself on her tongue. 

“I can take that as a ‘yes’?” He chuckled when she stopped. Y/N nodded and quickly kissed him again. “Okay, good. Stand at the wall and hold onto it,” He instructed, flicking his eyes to the spot he wanted her at.

Y/N did her best to walk over there with a seductive sway of her lips. Harry smiled proudly at her. He leaned down to pull his sweats and boxers down, stepping out of them. Y/N didn’t see as she was facing the wall.

Harry approached her from behind and did the same with her sweats. “Lift your feet, baby. Let me get you out of these.” He helped her slid the rest of her clothes off until they were both naked. “This is a sight I need embroidered in my head,” Harry commented as he unabashedly examined Y/N’s posed body leaning against the wall. She smiled shyly and looked away, facing the wall again.

Harry stood behind Y/N, kissing the back of her neck as his arms wrapped around her body. His cock poked into her ass, and she pushed back against it. She was actually dripping down her thighs now that her panties were gone.

He sucked a mark on her shoulder and another on her shoulder blade. He peppered more kisses down her back, before traveling back up until he found her ear.

“Ready to take me like a good girl, baby?” Harry asked. Y/N arched at the question and nodded. “Say it. I don’t care if your voice is gone. I want to hear you want me.” She whined with her head falling back on his shoulder. Harry grabbed her breasts and squeezed them in response.

She let out a breath, before struggling to properly say, “I’m ready for you. I want your cock in me so bad, dove.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked and kissed her jaw. “You want my cock?” Y/N nodded, pushing into him again to prove her point. She was thinking of just reaching back and doing the work herself. She was over the teasing.

“Yes. Please.”

“Alright, I got you. You’re gonna take me so well. I just know you will,” Harry whispered, dragging his hand down her stomach and around her hip to her ass. He squeezed her cheek, before finding his cock and holding it. “My baby is gonna let me fuck her so hard, yeah? Apologize for leaving me all alone this morning, huh?” Y/N nodded, even though she really wanted to roll her eyes hard enough that her pupils disappeared.

Harry held Y/N by her waist—an arm horizontal across it—while lining himself with her cunt. Y/N waited in anticipation. Her hands holding the wall in front of her. She arched her back and bit her lip.

A gasp was shared between the couple when Harry finally pushed into Y/N completely. His lower abdomen touched her ass. Harry was in complete bliss that he had to stay still for a moment because of the overwhelming pleasure. He placed his hands over Y/N’s against the wall. He curled his fingers between hers.

“Fuck me,” He groaned as Y/N panted. She thought his cock in her mouth took her voice away. No, it was his cock stretching her walls as if it were their first time. He slipped in so easily from her wet cunt inviting him in eagerly. “Good, princess?”

“Yeah. Yes. Fuck, yes,” Y/N nodded rapidly. Her eyes fluttered shut so her senses were directed to Harry leaving her cunt briefly before plunging right back inside. Her hands turned into fist—one of Harry’s held the back of hers, but the other dropped to her hip for leverage. She felt his nails dig into her hip.

He started a slow pace so they could cherish the tightness of Y/N’s walls and Harry’s thick cock filling her up. Y/N choked on her own moans at each thrust. Her ass snapped back in its own. Harry loved it.

“Alright, baby. I’m done being gentle with you,” Harry whispered in her ear. “Ready?” 

“Mhmmm. Yes,” Y/N answered, followed by incoherent noises that added to Harry’s list of his favorite things he’s heard come out of her mouth.

Both of Harry’s hands were on her hips. His grip was rough that it was for sure going to leave marks. For his eyes only, though.

He fastened his thrust, jumping to a brutal speed. The skin slapping sounded of an audience clapping at an award show. Loud, fast, and full of pride. That’s what Harry felt as Y/N took him perfectly.

His head tilted up to the ceiling with his eyes shut. He buried himself in the pleasure of his cock being covered by what it yearned for. Not his hand, but the cunt made for it. His cock was home, and it wasn’t leaving any time soon.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Harry moaned loudly as he felt his legs almost give out. His pace didn’t stop, it actually went faster. Y/N gasped at the fiery of his thrust. He was getting his revenge, and she loved the pain that was included.

“Keep going, dove. I want it,” Y/N panted out. She searched behind her for some part of him. Harry felt her hand on his shoulder and smiled. He let go of her hip to twist her arm behind her back—a new kind of leverage. Y/N whined as she wanted some sort of comfort. But as he squeezed at her wrist, her eyes rolled back.

“You’re so warm and tight, baby. I can stay in you all fucking day. I don’t think I’m ever gonna stop,” Harry spoke over the skin slapping. Y/N had a moment of weakness from his voice. She had to use the wall to stop herself from falling on the floor. “I got you, princess. I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re taking all of this,” Harry chuckled as he watched her struggle in front of him.

Harry barely spoke like that during sex. He was gentle, holding back on the teasing because he was too caught up in the love of their intimacy. But today, he was pissed. And he was going to make sure she felt it.

He switched his thrust again. Snapping his hips hard into her at a slow pace. Y/N yelped each time, feeling him reach deeper than before. She looked down at her stomach.

“What? You feel me in there, princess?” Harry asked. He pushed into her and groaned. “I do too. Reaching so deep inside my baby. Only I can do that, right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. Only you. More.” Her words were wavering, but he still understood. He always knew what do to satisfy his girl. She would turn into a moaning, mumbling mess because of him. He loved that power.

Harry wasn’t stopping anytime soon, but Y/N could feel her release creeping up on her. He noticed because she was squeezing his cock more frequently and writhing in her spot. She was too busy whimpering to tell him. Her ass tried to meet his thrust like before, but she was tired and ready to burst.

Her forehead met the wall. “I’m... dovie, I—”

“I know, babygirl. Doing so fucking good. Gonna lick that pretty little cunt of yours when we get home,” Harry whispered to her. She moaned through heavy breaths. He was trying to kill her.

Harry continued to throw praise and light degradation to tease her. Y/N took it all with whining moans. Her knees bent and wiggled. She was getting close. Harry, on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure as he’d snap into her with a loud, gravely moan, causing her clit to throb, before pulling out slowly and doing the same again.

“Can I hold onto you? I’m close,” Y/N cried out. Harry was still holding her arm down behind her back. His face grew soft at her request.

He briefly stopped his thrust. “Of course, my good girl,” He chuckled. “Turn around.” Y/N did so, and Harry wanted to kiss all over her. She looked spent but not completely satisfied. 

His hands grabbed her legs and picked her up while they wrapped around his waist. He pressed her to the wall, smiling up at her. She returned it and kissed him. Her arms locked around his neck.

Harry slid his cock back into her and continued his fast, furious pace. Y/N cried out every curse she could think of while twisting Harry’s name into the mix. It was getting him close to his own release. Hearing her beg him to bring her to euphoria became his most important mission.

Fuck revenge. He would do anything right now to please his girl.

Harry reached between them to rub at her clit. It was throbbing fast like her heartbeat against his chest. “Mmmm, my baby’s clit is so warm and pretty,” He said, pressing his lips against Y/N’s opened ones. She was trying her best to breathe properly. “It’s all mine. I get to rub it all day, all night. Make my girl feel so fucking good. That’s all I want to do. Make you feel so good. Okay?” 

Y/N suddenly came, gasping loudly and digging her nails into Harry’s back. With a few slow thrust, he was right behind her.

Harry smoothly rode Y/N through her orgasm, whispering more sweet nothings in her ear as his fingers quickened its rubbing on her clit. His cock continued to spurt more come that he stayed deep inside of her.

The couple were panting in sync now, reminiscing the sinful activity they partook in this innocent bathroom.

Harry pushed his cock into her a few more times. “Making sure all my come stays in there. Keep hold of it for me.” Y/N giggled and kissed his neck. It was all just dirty talk. Harry knew Y/N should pee and clean up her legs. 

He pulled out of Y/N, before placing her on the toilet. While she peed, he gathered their clothes from the floor and her bag. He bent down to slip her panties and sweats back on. She put on the rest of her clothes herself so Harry could catch up with his own.

When they were completely dressed, Harry lifted Y/N back in the air and held her against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist again. 

“How ya feel, baby?” He asked her, walking to her bag in the corner. He slipped his arms through the straps so he was wearing it himself.

“Sore. Very fucking sore. It’s not fair,” she pouted. Harry chuckled and kissed her puffed out lip.

“Well, your only break is during the drive back to my room. Use it wisely,” Harry said, nonchalantly. Y/N eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember? We’re doing this all over again.” His smile was wicked. Y/N sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry walked them out the bathroom and to his truck.

Y/N really shouldn’t have teased him.

- 

dont even say it. i know. im ashamed. but fuck, it was kinda good

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

Old School Love | AU

summary: You've been dating Harry for a short time, and he's finally ready to get something off his chest.

word count: 2.1k

read time: 9 min

content warning ⚠️: vampire!harry, fluff, mentions of blood

a/n: reading twilight at such a young age did a number on my frontal lobe...

Old School Love Universe

“That’s not funny Harry.” You chuckle nervously, waiting for him to crack. To let you in on the joke, but he doesn’t. He just looks at you clearing his throat. “Come on. I mean - There’s no way.” you stutter. “You’re joking.” 

Harry shakes his head slowly, reaching for your hand he brings your palm, under his hoodie, to rest over his heart. 

“Feel.” he says quietly, looking into your eyes deeply. This is the best way he figures he can confirm it for you, and it’s the closest he’s ever allowed you to be to him. You’ve held hands, but anything more than that or quick pecks, has always been out of the question. “I just need time.” Harry had said. It was a boundary you respected as you had only been seeing each other for a short time. Harry’s version of intimacy was different than anything you’d experienced before, a huge change of pace from all the men eager to jump in bed with you of the recent past. But what you were ‘missing’ in physical intimacy, Harry made sure to make up for with emotional intimacy. You never felt like you were missing anything. 

But now, with your hand on his chest, being so close to him in his apartment for the first time, and with what he’d just revealed. It’s starting to make sense. You press your hand harder into his chest, searching for it, but you're shocked at what you feel. Or rather don’t feel. 

A heartbeat. 

Not even a slow one, there was nothing. His skin felt warm enough to the touch, maybe a little below average. But you had always chucked it up to him running cold, like you. Anemic perhaps. But there was no mistaking the fact that there wasn't a steady heartbeat where there should be.

You stare at where your hand is beneath his hoodie, eyebrows furrowed. “Say something.” Harry pleads. 

“You’re serious.” your voice is even, but Harry can hear the racing rhythm of your heartbeat, and the shallowness of your breathing. He waits for you to scream, run, something. Instead,  you pull your hands into your lap, leaning back into his couch, tucking a leg under you. . 

“Afraid so,” he says, with a sad smile, “I know it’s unbelievable…for you, but -”  

“You're a vampire.” you whisper, looking up at him. The word feels different rolling off your tongue now more than it ever has. You’ve read books, and seen movies. It was one of your favorite genres. Fantasy. 

But this wasn’t fantasy, this was real. And you didn’t have the words, and your mind was reeling. You had so many questions. 

“Yeah.” Harry confirms. Harry had never told anyone, but he supposes this is as good of a reaction as he could get, and knowing that your first instinct wasn’t to run made him feel more validated in his feelings for you. In his reasoning for telling you. This is the right decision he thought. “I’ve never - really said it. Outloud after all these years.” 

“Why me?” you ask, “I mean, why are you telling me?” 

“Because I care about you. Quite a lot actually.”A vampire ‘perk’ as he begrudgingly called it. Heightened emotion. “I know so much about you but I feel like I’ve been lying to you this whole time. I don’t want to do that anymore.” 

“I see.” you contemplate. You nibble on your bottom lip. 

“Are you disgusted by me now? Or,” he takes a deep breath, chewing on his own lip, “scared?”

At the utterance of the word, you look back over to him reaching for his hands, holding one of his in both of your much smaller, and warmer ones. 

“No!” you rush out, “No Harry, I’m not scared or disgusted, just trying to wrap my head around it all. You’re still you, right? I mean there’s nothing you’ve lied to me about? Besides the obvious.” you ask and he shakes his head. 

“No. Nothing. I’ve been honest the entire time, just kept a few things safe.” 

“Well then we’re okay.” You’re sure you’re still in shock, but your knee jerk reaction wasn’t to run or call Harry crazy. And while you questioned what that said about you, it only made Harry feel even more safe around you than he already did. Safer than he has in decades. There were sure to be things that came up, that you’d need to work through, you two were fully aware, but for now…everything was going to be okay. 

“A lot is making sense now.” you say, moving closer to him on the small loveseat. 

“Like what?” 

“Well you’re a little…old fashioned Harry. Which I love and appreciate but - it’s just different than what I’m used to.” You giggle, and he smiles, nodding his head in agreement, “Can I ask you a question though, well a few,maybe?” 

He leans forward, and you don’t pull away, instead you lean closer too, crossing your legs under you. “Of course, anything. Ask me as many questions as you want. I’m an open book!” Harry urges, earnestly. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m ninety-three technically. Been like this for only sixty-three years though.” 

“Oh.” you say tilting your head to the side, “That's young, right?  For a vampire?” you clarify and Harry chuckles. “I mean, I know my references are just books and movies but - usually their all so-” 

“Old?” Harry laughs, “You worried about dating an old man?” 

“Wha- No! Not at all I just -” 

“It’s okay, Love.” he laughs, “Yes, I’m pretty young still. I’m what we call a Young Blood. Having been…this way for less than 100 years. There were laws made a while back, way before I was ‘born’, about creating more vampires, but laws aren’t always followed, so here I am.” 

There is something in the way he spoke, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Sadness, or maybe anger? Regardless you chose not to pry, instead making a mental note to ask about Vampire Law at a later date. 

“So are you on your own, or are there more of…you?” 

“Like I said, I’m a Young Blood so other vampires tend to be weary of me and younger vampires like me. They think we are reckless…gonna tell the world about our existence.” He smirks, “But I’m not alone, entirely. I’ve got a small group of friends. Most of them are much older than I am, they’re just kind of spread out all over. My friend Oliver lives a few hours away. I see him every now and then.”  

“Your secret is safe with me.” 

“I know. I trust you.” he smiles, “You know, I’ve been on my own for a while and I was going to head back home to England since it’s been long enough. But then I met you, and decided to stay stateside a bit longer.”

 You smile, remembering the memory of the first day you had met Harry. It was a rainy, chilly day. You were having the worst day. Having forgotten your umbrella, wanting to get out of the house for just a moment to write, when Harry ever the gentleman opened the door for you to your favorite cafe. A brief interaction, that turned into the two of you chatting, and ended with an invitation to dinner later in the week. It was a bold move for Harry, talking to anyone let alone someone he thought was as beautiful as you. But there was something about you that made him have to get to know you. And now, months later, here you are. And you both couldn’t be happier. 

“I’m glad you decided to stay.” 

“Me too. Is this too weird now?” he says rubbing the back of his neck, eyes cast down. That makes you chuckle, and it’s music to Harry’s ears. 

“My boyfriend just told me he's a vampire after I admitted to my embarrassing Twilight phase, it’s a little weird, Harry.” You chuckle.

“I saw an opportunity and took it.” he smiles, “It’s just been driving me crazy, not having you know. Not being able to be close to you.” he stops, bringing your hand to his lips, “Physically I mean. I know your a cuddler and it has killed me not being able to hold you, but I was scared you’d notice,”

“The lack of heartbeat.”

 “Yeah.” He sighs, “I figured I could explain away the body temperature, but that’s kind of hard to explain.”

 “Is that also why you’ve not kissed me yet?” You ask with a smirk. 

“We kiss.” Harry defends, and you chuckle. 

“You know what I mean. All I get are little pecks! And I love them, I do. I’ll take any affection your comfortable giving me, but” 

“You want more.”  He finishes.

 “Yeah.” You say cheeks are warming up. “I like when you kiss me, and if you're comfortable with it, I’d really enjoy a make out session every now and then.” Saying it out loud made you feel a little silly, and yes maybe a little childish. “So how much of it is your old fashioned ways, and how much is it, the other thing.” 

If Harry were being honest, he’d been keeping you at arms length, which is part of the reason why he’s decided to let you in on who he really was. And now that you knew, nothing was really stopping him from being more physical with you. Nothing besides his new fear of scaring you off. 

“Less about me being old fashioned.” He confesses, “I want to be closer to you too. And I’d love to make out with you,” he smirks, before looking down again, “but sometimes when vampires get…close to someone in that way, our um…fangs pop. And I just-” 

“Can I see?” 

“What?”

 “Your fangs. Can I see them?” You ask, and Harry’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, because you're completely serious. “I’m not running, Harry. I wanna learn everything I can about you. I'm curious.” You smile. 

“Okay.” Harry sighs. He opens his mouth, lifting his lip just a little, and baring his teeth. You watch as a set of prominent and pointy fangs protrude from his gums. You try to keep your reaction minimal to not embarrass him. You do a decent job, but Harry can hear your heartbeat pick up. Without much thought you reach your hand up, caressing his cold cheek. You rub your thumb over the apples of his cheeks a second, turning your head to the side examining his face, and fangs. Before you have time to stop yourself, you reach up slowly with your other hand touching his left fang, feeling just how sharp it is. 

“Wow.” You whisper, pulling your hands in your lap. Harry retracts his fangs, and closes his mouth, feeling the worst is over.  

“Yeah.” 

“Does it hurt? When you pop them?” 

“Not at all. They hurt when they first came through. And it was hard to keep them from showing for a while but you get used to them.” 

“Can I ask you a question that may be…sensitive?” 

“Of course.” 

“Are you um…a vegetarian .” 

This is it, Harry thinks. This is when you get too scared, and this is when you run. “No.” He confesses slowly, “No, I’m not. But I don’t hurt people. I live on blood bags I get from the hospital. I used to drink from humans. Just enough to get full, and then send them on their way, but I haven’t since I met you.” 

“Why?” 

Harry took a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Feeding from someone is quite intimate. It’s not quite like sex for me but…I just didn’t feel right doing it, when I have a girlfriend. So I just use the bags now.”  

“You can feed from me. I mean, if you want.” You say nervously, and Harry smiles. 

“I appreciate that Love. But baby steps, yeah?” He smiles. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” 

Harry reaches for your hand pulling you into his lap, “Come here.” You settle placing your hand on his shoulders, resting your forehead on his, “I’m so happy with you. Haven’t been this happy in decades. Thank you.” 

You kiss him softly, “For what?” 

“Not running away. Or calling me crazy. For accepting me, but mainly for making me happy.” 

“You make me happy too.” 

“Good.” Harry smiles, placing a quick peck to your cheek. 

“I have a lot more questions that I intend on asking you, but I already have a lot to process. So can we make out now?” You ask, and Harry squeezes you closer to him, throwing his head back with a laugh. 

“Well since you’ve asked so nicely.” He smiles, pressing your lips to his in a much awaited deep warm kiss. 

a/n: i know there are other things that i have queued that i should be posting but....i'm a sucker for a vampire story! and this idea popped in my head and i just had to. you can def expect more from this universe/more vampire!harry in general haha

✨masterlist✨ ∣ ✨yap & request box✨

[yallthemwitches]

“Do you do this for all your sick mates?” She asks, breaking the silence with a wry smile. He chuckles, hand still sliding against her cheek. “Only the ones who deserve it—only the ones I’m especially fond of.”

Rated T. Read under cut or on AO3

“Evans–now this is getting ridiculous.”

She clenches her eyes even more shut, keeping her body curled into a tight ball in the squashy arm chair. 

“Go away—I’m fine. Just…resting.” The effort to speak makes her head ring. “Shouldn’t you be in class anyway?”

She hears the dampened sound of footsteps and opens her eyes. James stands in front of her, tugging at his tie until it comes loose around his neck, his bag abandoned on the ground. 

“Peter told me you were up here looking like a shriveled up flobberworm,” he says plainly, “Can’t have my friends looking that bad.”

“Well, remind me to tell Peter exactly what I think he looks like next time he comes around,” she huffs, a frown too painful to muster.

It gets a smile out of him and for a moment she can look past the utter embarrassment of probably actually looking like a flobberworm. Through her pounding temples, his use of the word friend rattles around, taunting her in a way that she doesn’t have the energy nor desire to focus on. They are friends— that is a good thing. So why does it feel like a knife to her frontal lobe everytime he says it?

Her eyes blink open again to see him rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, tie now lost and the top buttons undone in a carelessly disheveled look. 

Oh, that’s why. 

“You should at least go to the hospital wing,” he chides. The good advice sounds foreign from his mouth. 

“No hospital wing,” she croaks out. “Honestly, it's just a cold. I need to just sleep it off…”

A sharp chill runs through her chest and she shudders her body closer, burrowing her face into her knees. The fire next to her crackles warmly, but it’s like someone has put a shielding charm on it— all she can feel is the cold hollowness of the castle. 

“Alright, suit yourself.”

Something resembling warmth slides under her and pulls her up out of the chair. Body going into panic mode, she begins to squirm in his arms, trying and failing to push against his chest and back into the chair.

“James, put me down. I’m disgusting–my nose is running.” 

“Nah, you’re not disgusting,” he says with full sincerity, “just sick.” His arms tighten around her and she abandons all hope to be released, taking advantage of the opportunity to be cradled against him. 

“We both know you won’t make it even two steps up to the girls dorm anyhow,” she adds, weakly. Playing a battle of wits with him on a normal day was exhausting enough, but with a fever it seemed downright unfair.

“Good thing I’m not going to the girls' dorm then.”

He turns his body in the other direction and starts climbing the steps to the boys’ dorm, having a far too easy time managing to carry her up such a cramped, spiral staircase. On the landing, he kicks open the door to the dorm room, all the boy’s bed curtains open and vacant besides leftover candy wrappers and bits of parchment. 

“The lads are out in classes until at least dinner,” he sets her down on her feet but she holds onto his arm for balance, woozy from the blood rushing back to her body. “--and even so, I’ll tell them to shove off if they happen to try to skive off a class.”

Still holding onto his arm, he leads her over to his bedside. It’s not a place she hasn’t seen before: since fifth Remus would sometimes invite her up to listen to records and now in more recent months she would come up to join in whatever antics they were up to—but to get in his bed? If her body had the leftover energy to make her cheeks burn, she would have been on fire. 

“You want me to sleep here?” She whispers, eyes darting around his space. None of the boys other than Remus had made their beds and looking down at the pulled back duvet she could imagine him clearly —sitting up with impossibly messy hair and eyes still full of sleep, stretching his arms over his head and yawning with some t-shirt on—or no shirt at all…

Suddenly everything went from freezing to blazing hot. 

James blinks, brow crinkling. “Well, I guess you could sleep in someone else’s bed but I think it would be better to ask–”

Her head jerks up to find his face dangerously close. Too close when she’s probably pale as a ghost and full of mucus and just a friend.

“No–sorry. That’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to be some kind of goldilocks…”

“Goldi—what?”

Suddenly, succumbing to sickness seemed awfully appealing. “Nothing, I’m delirious.”

“Right.” His brow furrows and his eyes scan over her face for a moment. “Is this ok then? It’s just that you said you didn’t want to go to the hospital wing and–”

“It’s fine. Really. It’s honestly too kind of you.” She means it, though she doesn’t have the energy to imbue her words with exactly how much. 

His face softens, a triumphant smile breaking onto his face. “It’s nothing. You can use my bed anytime—now, off you go.”

He leads her to sit and contemplate the most loaded statement she’s ever heard. 

Acting as though offering his sleeping quarters is as natural as sharing a quill, he goes over to his wardrobe and starts pulling out drawers, hands fishing through pieces of fabric.

“So what will it be? Socks I presume? Maybe something more comfortable to sleep in?”

She can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or not. The room starts to go fuzzy again and she wishes she still had his arm to hold onto. 

“Er–I have socks thanks.”

He turns around, holding thick, Gryffindor socks that are three sizes too big for her. 

“Yeah, but do you have quidditch grade, comfy, wool socks?” He tosses them in her direction and she just barely makes the catch. 

“Really, you’re doing too much I’m fine with—”

He pulls out a shirt and holds it up to inspect. She immediately recognizes it as his quidditch jersey from last year, the words quidditch captain not yet emblazoned on the front, but his name still written in gold lettering across the chest. It happens so quick she could have dreamed it, but his eyes shift from the jersey to her, a smattering of red starting to appear on his cheeks. 

“Ah, maybe…something else.” He mutters to himself, quickly stowing it away back into the drawer. Moments later, he pulls out a Montrose Magpie t-shirt and gives it a once over before walking it over to her in outstretched arms. 

“Here you are. Can’t say I have the coziest of things, but it’s better than wearing a bloody tie.”

She takes it with a quiet thanks. The burning feeling of being in his room now gone, the unbearable chill from downstairs starts to creep back into her bones. Wanting desperately to be horizontal and under covers as soon as possible, she starts shucking off her tie and unbuttoning her shirt without care, only one button in before she realizes that James’ eyes are zeroed in on the act, completely blown out and frozen on her fingers. 

“Uhm,” she murmurs and he snaps out of it, turning his body so fast that she would have surely fallen over if their roles were reversed. 

“Ah sorry!” He calls, now facing the wall. “I er–just wasn’t expecting that.” He continues to stare away from her, hands on his hips and leaning forward slightly as though he might be in pain. She continues to change, taking off her uniform and pulling the oversized shirt over her head. It’s long enough to cover down to her upper thigh, but she climbs under the covers anyway before letting him know the coast is clear. When he turns around again, he looks bashful—a full bloom of red covering his cheeks as his eyes naturally fall to the pile of her clothes on the floor.

“Feels better, thanks,” she calls out.

“Yeah…’course.”

With her head on a pillow, her body gets taken over by illness. The aches, the booming feeling in her head, the shivering cold all working together to make her want to disappear from the world entirely. From beyond the screen of her fever, she feels the edge of the bed dip from weight and can just barely make out the sound of his voice, talking low with someone else. 

“Yeah—she’s really unwell ...found her in the common room and she refused to go to Poppy…no, just tell everyone else to give her some space and maybe if you pass by pick up something for her to eat when she wakes—otherwise I’ll go in a bit….”

She hears the garbled responses of another voice, but they sound distant, as though coming from a telephone receiver. 

“...don’t be disgusting mate, she’s sick,” she hears James say, his voice flustered. “I’d do it for you too y’know….”

She misses the final exchanges, feeling the lull of sleep attempting to beat out the frigid feeling that continues to circle her like her own private blizzard. 

The loss of his weight on the bed rouses her again as he gets up. Her body reacts immediately, an endless chant of no no no spiraling through her. 

“Stay,” she calls out. From across the room his movement stalls. 

“It’s so bloody cold—I can’t stand it. Can you please just stay,” she tries again in earnest. There’s no response other than a padding of feet towards the bed, then the press of his weight now next to her. 

“You’re cold?” He murmurs, concerned. “ I have the fire running, but I can get more blankets—just give me…”

“No,” she says harder than before. She must be delirious, completely absolutely mental. There’s no other explanation for it, but the words bubble out anyhow.

“Can you just–come here?”

She scoots herself over on the bed, making just enough room to make her intention clear. She hears him swallow hard and the sound of his glasses landing on the bedside table before feeling something solid and warm press flush against her back. 

“Of course,” he says softly and arms wrap around her. She grabs onto them to hold them even tighter, wishing she could just melt into him where evidently all the warmth in the whole world has been hiding from her. His heart hammers at her back and she hears herself give a soft shhh to it–acting as though he is the one needing the comfort rather than her. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers. His lips are so close to her ear that his breath tickles her skin, but she is already drifting away, the sharp pain of cold subsiding and being filled with a delightful, encompassing warmth. The constant ache in her bones calming to just a dull memory as the room becomes darker and darker.

“Yes–you're perfect.” She thinks she hears a response but it's so far away it gets lost entirely. Pushing herself even closer to him, the calming wave of his breath and the smell of his clothes lull her deeper and deeper, until everything disappears entirely. 

* * * * *

It’s no longer warm—it's burning. Her eyes flutter open and outside the window the sun is ducking behind the mountains, taking the last of the daylight with it. Her t-shirt sticks to her, covered with sweat as she turns her body, only to freeze when something warm and heavy skims across her hip. 

An arm—and not hers. 

“Your fever broke about an hour ago,” a voice says softly behind her, a bit gruff with sleep. “I got you some wet washcloths for your head—you should probably drink something, you’ve been sweating for a while now.”

She twists around to see James’ eyes staring back with concern but not making any further movements to untangle himself. Instead, he reaches an arm behind him onto the bedside table and procures a white fabric that drips slightly onto the comforter. Without her permission, he begins dabbing at her face, eyes following his movements with precision as he softly presses the cloth into her hairline. She settles onto her back, the feel of the cold doing wonders to her skin and he pulls himself up to hover over her slightly, a hand holding at her waist while the other continues to work up and down her face and neck. 

If she lets herself ruminate on it for even a millisecond, it will become too much. 

“Better?” He whispers, hand stalling against her cheek. With the fever gone, she is all too aware of how close he is and has been for the past few hours. His shirt, his socks, his bed, him swallowing her like some James Potter vortex that, if she is being honest, would seem like a pretty spectacular place to be—if they weren’t just friends.

“Lots–thanks,” she murmurs. His hand moves to the other cheek and presses soft circles there. She leans into it, finally able to bask in the feel of his body against hers and the way his breath softly falls over her. 

“Do you do this for all your sick mates?” She asks, breaking the silence with a wry smile. 

He chuckles, hand still working against her skin. “Only the ones who deserve it—only the ones I’m especially fond of.”

Her heart clangs against her chest and she knows he can feel it. He stops again, dropping the rag by her side and going back to cup her chin. 

“What else do you need?”

It’s a far too dangerous question given the circumstances, but her hand moves on its own accord, wrapping around him to hold him there as though he might disappear if she lets go. 

“I don’t want to get you sick,” she musters out, “You’ve already done so much.”

“Then let me do more,” he says simply, eyes searching hers, the hand on her waist giving a soft squeeze.

“I want—” she begins, voice faltering. He hangs on her every word, eyes glittering from above her. There’s a thousand ways she could answer that sentence, each more true and raw than the last, but to say them now—now that they are finally getting along, finally mates— is a gamble she isn’t willing to make. 

“--I want you to stay here.”

His mouth goes into a straight line, then forms into a soft, eager smile. “Of course, Evans. Of course, no problem.” 

He settles back down next to her, a hand still cupping the side of her face and her eyes close, sleep already coming to take her away again. Even falling away, she can feel his eyes on her and pictures them clearly through the fog: gleaming and willing and unmistakably kind. She wonders if he can sense the double meaning in her words or if she is going to wake up again and find him gone, back to being just mates who talk and laugh and do nothing more. 

“Lily?” His voice cuts through the quiet, breath hot at her neck.

“Hm?” 

“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want you to get better?” His voice sounds small but firm. “Is it selfish to say…I like having you here.”

It’s a bright, healing feeling that pulls him closer to her. 

“Not at all,” she whispers. Suddenly, she’s feeling a lot better now–maybe better than she ever has before. 

“It might even be the best thing for us.”

[jarofstyles]

jw what my babies skater boy harry and y/n are up to🤭🤭🤭

OOOO I CAN DO SOME OF THAT MY LOVELY! Here is a little shorty bit

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—-

“Another one?” Y/N smiled as she felt his hands dip under her shirt. The additional piercing to his ear made for 3 holes on the bottom lobe along with his cartilage.

“Can’t you jus’ say it’s pretty, first?” He pouted slightly, tucking the loose hair from her bun back behind her ear. It wasn’t anything similar to her ballerina buns, but the loose ones she wore to sleep. He had gotten home quite late, but that wasn’t exactly on purpose. “I didn’t mean to lose track of time, though. M’sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” She laughed, squeaking when he lifted her on the cool countertop. Harry had intercepted her when she was getting ready for bed, and he always did get a bit handsy with one of his old skating shirts hanging offf her body. Moving into their own place had been very beneficial for their sex life- that was for sure.

“Cause I was gonna go out t’the balcony and show you the constellation you were askin’ about, but it’s a little late now.” He mumbled, tilting her chin up. Thumbing over her bottom lip, he rid the little extra toothpaste from the corner of it with a smile. “Messy girl. Now you’re all ready for bed n’I was a prick who left his watch at home. Dunno what I even went out with the lot of them for, you’re far prettier to look at.”

“Oh, hush.” Y/N beamed at the compliment. “You still need to see friends. I know you’ve got me at home but I’m never going to like… insist you constantly stay in with me. You’re allowed to be your own person, you know.” Her heels hooked on the back of his thighs, pulling in to stand between her parted ones. There was no complaints there. “Besides, you told me you were running behind. I didn’t expect it to be because you got another piercing but, hey. It looks nice.”

Y/N didn’t mind at all. Even more than that, she found the growing ink and piercings to be more than attractive. Especially considering he kept getting ones for her, things adjacent to them. It had been hard to believe a man like Harry could be a one woman sort of man but he was so incredibly dedicated, so perfect for her, she couldn’t ever imagine anything else.

“I know, but I just prefer being with you. The guys are alright but… you smell good. You taste good…”’he tipped her chin further back so he could press a chaste kiss to her lips. “And you bake me nice things.”

“Oh, is that all I’m good for?” Y/N teased, eyes lulling slightly as he held her cheek with his warm, overly big palm.

“No, baby. Course not. You’re good t’cum inside of too.” He saw the kick to the leg before it came, but he hissed as if it hurt to satisfy her ego. “Don’t ask dumb questions if you don’t want dumb answers then, little dancer. It’s time for bed since you’re feelin’ violent.”

[0oolookitsme]

Such an Opportunist

This one was going be a rather sad and angsty one, but it quickly took a turn ...and hopefully, it was for the better. I'll surely write another fic for what I wanted this one to be, but nonetheless – I hope you enjoy this one!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Some new-parental-stress in the beginning.

Harry really needs to sleep, and Y/n is very shocked to learn that he's written songs she'd yet to hear. Also, Harry falls on some Lego bits and what better opportunity to ask for a back massage?

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Harry was in the kitchen, making himself another cup of tea while chewing on some raisins. He could hear Amore playing with her toys around him somewhere and Y/n's humming voice was the only other sound travelling through the house -- apart from the whirring of the washing machine as well that Harry had thought he had broken on his first try.

Andre's wailing had quieted down, some sniffles being the only indication that he was still recovering from the fall. He had fallen from the couch onto the pillow that Y/n had laid on the floor just in case that very thing would happen -- and Harry and her both suspected that the little boy was just shocked.

"Hm, make me one too?" Y/n meekly requested on entering the kitchen, her fingers weaving through her hair to make a braid.

Harry turned back and automatically his first glance landed on Andre, feeling relief when he saw him playing with Amore on the carpeted floor -- and then, snaked his arms around Y/n's waist.

"Feelin' very sleepy today, thought another bedtime tea would surely be helpful" he chuckled hoarsely, before pecking her lips. "Don't know what I was thinking when I put the kettle on the stove," resting his head in the curve of her neck, he admitted. 

Y/n only sighed in response, swaying the both of them as she wrapped her arms around his slouched frame. She could tell that the sleep deprivation was beginning to mess with him. "Been craving a lot of Earl Grey, recently, haven't you?" She huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss somewhere on his ear lobe.

He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, considering that the pair of twins were teething at the same time, and he was on duty. He and Y/n did all that they could -- from gum massaging to freezing milk popsicles. The silicone teethers and other toys were great help, but only during the day. It was the nighttime, during which Harry and Y/n lived the actual nightmare.

On the night prior to the last one, it was Y/n's turn to look after the babies, and it was one of the worst nights ever. So much so, that Harry was unable to go to sleep because of the loud wails and the fact that his babies were helplessly hurting. So, he was up along with her, although he remained in bed and held onto Amore who had been whimpering with her head nuzzled in his chest – all while looking at Y/n pace around the nursery they'd built out of the room right next to theirs, with a sobbing Andre clung to her chest, bouncing herself in different motions to somehow get him to relax, in the baby monitor

So, it only made sense for him to be tired and sleepy out of his mind.

"I'm glad you came home early tonight. Was hoping you'd sleep in early," Y/n mumbled as she scratched his scalp, something that never failed to soothe him. "I'll take care of tonight. Got to peel some peas, too, you know?" Chuckling, she continued -- "It's been a while."

Harry hummed back, taking a deep breath before rising back to his height. He pressed a chaste kiss on her upper lip, and placed his hands on her love handles, already missing the warmth of her neck and Andre's baby scent that lingered there.

"Only had to do some composing today," he told her. "Pretty happy with the way the song's turning out," he smiled before he moved over to take the kettle off the stove. 

It made Y/n smile, that they were finally talking about something that wasn't in regards to their children or about how tired they were. Because those two topics seemed to be the only thing that they ever talked about these past few days, and she was beginning to anticipate a fight brewing somewhere in a dark corner, away from sight.

Sliding her bottom on the kitchen island, she sat cross legged on it and -- "Oh really? I'm so happy!" She chirped. "Tell me more!"

She heard him laugh lightly, and she felt as if she were glowing because of how happy she'd gotten. "C'mon! I wanna know!" She urged him to hurry as he waited for the tea to leave its flavour in their cups.

Harry laughed again, as if her happiness was contagious.

"You know the song I told you about, the day before yesterday? The one which I described as silently and shyly explicit?" He asked her, turning around with a cup in each hand. He was holding the body of her cup so that she could hook her fingers through its handle and wouldn't burn herself with how hot the cup was, and Y/n's heart felt like it was merely a puddle in her chest cavity.

She hummed in response, motioning him to sit and giving him a look when he only leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter, and crossed his feet at the ankles in front of her.

"Well, I named it 'Keep Diving'," he gleamed. "I can't wait for you to hear it! I think we just have to give it some touch-ups tomorrow," slurping on his tea just to annoy her, he grinned proudly.

"So... am I going to hear it tomorrow, or when the whole album is ready?" She asked him with narrowed eyes, pointing a finger gun at him.

Harry laughed out loud and immediately held his cup a little farther from his chest so he wouldn't spill the tea on himself. "You've heard every song I've made so far! Music For A Sushi Restaurant, Late Night Talking, Satellite, As It Was, and Grapejuice," he recapped the song titles for her.

"And, Keep Driving, of course," he said. "Which I think I'll let you hear once the album is ready, along with a few other ones," a smirk pulled one corner of his lips upside and dug a dimple in his cheek. He was growing a stubble.

Y/n gasped loudly; mouth wide open and eyes stilled at him in shock. "There are multiple songs you're hiding from me?" She exclaimed, placing her cup beside her before she could drop it.

Harry pretended to run, looking anywhere but in her eyes. "You are the first person to listen to anything I write! I'm just planning to surprise you with ...a few," he accepted sheepishly.

Her eyes had now fallen in suspicious slits that glared at him. "How many?" She asked, swinging her legs off of the island.

"I mean, there are songs I still need to write but... I've got 3, I think, that you don't know about," he emphasised as if that'd save him from her hands that seemed to be ready to attack him with pinches and tickles. So, he quickly chugged the last few sips of his tea that had gone cold by now, and slid the cup on the counter before taking off from the kitchen.

He ran carefully so he wouldn't slip in his socks, but that wasn't helping because she was running after him without a care in the world. Although, it was when she began laughing and shrieking behind him that Harry couldn't help but turn to see what had caught her attention that was funnier to her than them being grown-up adults, running after each other like they were kids again.

And the sight amused Harry to the level that he had to stop to laugh at it, which caused Y/n to slam into him because she was looking behind her instead of looking ahead.

Hary went tumbling down on the Lego bits the kids had built and he cried out loudly in pain, the pieces digging into his back as Y/n fell over him. She was laughing at him but her eyes showed concern for him, and before she would've gotten up to help him, the two little bodies that were running behind her came and halted at her feet.

She sighed in relief, slightly proud that they already held that certain maturity but then Andre bent his knees, and made a big jump on her back as if she were playing horses with him and Amore followed soon behind him, crawling up Y/n's leg and stopping once she was sitting behind Andre.

"Oh my -- god," Harry gritted through his teeth, wrapping his arms around Y/n so the kids atop of her wouldn't fall in case his groaning body tilted to the side in pain.

"Oh my god," Y/n also hissed, mainly for Harry but also because of the attack on her poor back. Her face still showed amusement as she tried to reach for the kids' hands above her and get them off of her. "Get up, Andre, Amore – get up," she urged them and sighed when they did.

She exhaled in relief on her back, but then Harry groaned again beneath her.

"Get up, Y/n," Harry gritted once more and Y/n stilled in realisation before rolling over, onto the floor on her back, spewing apologies.

His eyes were tightly shut when Y/n got up and offered him her hand. “H, give me your hand,” she asked of him, feeling warm inside that the kids were each on his sides and pressing their little hands on his biceps, shaking him thinking he was asleep.

Harry took in a ragged breath before opening his eyes, wincing when the kids shouted in delightment that they had woken him up. But, nevertheless, he set a pointed look on Y/n at once.

“I’m not letting you get away with this so easily, woman.” He said in a strained voice. “You better get you oils ready to rub ‘em in my back.”

That made Y/n gasp once again and she placed her hand on her hip while pointing a finger at him with the other one. “You’re such an opportunist! Taking advantage of the situation!” She called him out with an accusatory tone to her voice, and only shook her head when he shrugged with a menacing smile on his mouth, grasping at her withheld hand.

[harrycore]

NEED YOUR HAND

18+ ONLY — y/n wants to cum and harry knows exactly what she needs to get her to the finish line (choking kink)

reblogs & feedback are appreciated :)

Their skin was hot and sweaty, Harry’s muscles burning with each thrust and y/ns head thrown back from the ecstatic pleasure she was receiving as he plunged in and out of her warm walls. He was reaching spots deep within her, spots that made her toes curl and her fingers pull his hair harder.

Harry readjusted, holding more of his weight on his knees, cocooning y/ns body close to him. His face was next to hers and he slowed down, taking in the sight of y/n so blissed out and buzzing with pure pleasure. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth in a perfect “o” shape. Harry tilted his head, licking a bold strip from her neck all the way to her ear before nibbling on her lobe. “Looking so sexy like this, pet. Spread open and taking me like a good girl” he growled, making y/n let out a satisfied sigh.

“P-please, ma-make me cum” she spoke with urgency, her eyes rolling back repeatedly as Harry picked up his pace, he was panting above her, his back muscles glistening in the darkness of the room. Y/n was laid on the back, begging for Harry, she was beneath him, completely at his mercy and that fact made his green eyes glisten with a newly found hunger. He smirked, biting her lip teasingly.

“Want me to make you cum?” Harry asked, his eyes scanning her body, y/ns boobs were right in front of him and he couldn't resist the urge to suck on one of her erect nipples even if he tried so he ducked down, taking one of her them into his mouth, sucking and licking at the skin. He let go with a pop, “hm? Want to cum?” He asked, urging y/n for an answer.

“Y-yes” she replied her voice weak and blurred with pleasure, “please, I need it”

“my dirty girl” Harry groaned, his hand sliding up her body teasingly, laying a quick harsh slap against her boob before slowly clasping around her throat. He gives an experimental squeeze and earns a moan from the beautiful woman beneath him. “You like that, don’t you?” His voice came out laboured and hoarse as y/n tried to calm her racing heart, her body suddenly feeling impossibly hotter.

She panted beneath him and desperately nodded her head, urging Harry to squeeze down tighter. He complies, his thumb pressing down slightly harder, slowly constricting y/ns breathing. Her hands come to grab at his wrists as he presses down onto her, his hips picking up in pace, slamming against hers with purpose.

Y/n lets out strangled moans, her eyes rolling back, her hips pushing upwards to meet with Harry’s thrusts. It was outrageous, the way she was so out of it, so lost in the pleasure Harry was giving her. “Fuckin minx” Harry near shouts as he feels y/n squeeze down on him, his cock twitching deep within her in agony. He was so close, the ball of pleasure slowly unravelling in his stomach, his heavy balls tightening as they slap up against y/ns ass.

Harry had one arm thrown above y/ns head, helping it give himself leverage as well as his legs. He was putting his all into the thrusts, the pace of his hips being cruel and unwavering. His hand let go of her throat and came to slap one of her boobs again before returning to her neck, he squeezes down again, her neck fitting into his palm. “Fuck” he panted, “look at you” he punctured each word with a thrust, driving y/n crazy. “Looking so good with my hand wrapped around your neck. Such a slut” Harry admired his lover, it truly was a scene straight out of a porno and he loved it.

“I’m so close” y/n shrieked, feeling Harry’s hand loosen around her neck.

He burrows his head onto her neck with a groan, “‘m close too” his lips find her neck, the warm skin feeling silky against him. He lays soft sounds onto her, a complete contrast to how brutal his thrusts were and how he was choking her.

“N-need your hand around me when I come” she pants out, her eyes slowly blinking open to look into Harry’s green ones. Her body was still rocking against his heavy cock, her clit getting pleasured due to the rocking motion and how close Harry was to her.

“Whatever my girl wants” Harry rasped, his hand finding its way back to her throat as he nibbled and teased her ear, “she gets” he clasped his palm around her, pulling an involuntary gasp from her. Within seconds she’s squirming beneath him, her body shaking and her eyes rolling, she throws her head back, giving Harry more access to her neck, and cums.

That’s all it takes. It leaves Harry dumbfounded but also, incredibly, incredibly horny. He picks up his pace, his own moans and groans picking up in volume as he works on getting himself to the finish line, he was overwhelmed by the adoration he had for y/n and how she trusted him especially when it came to the bedroom.

Y/n swallowed hard, grabbing into Harry’s back, as she saw him shaking on top of her. His thrusts were uneven, his balls feeling heavy and full against her. He shudders and with two hard sloppy thrusts, he lets go, coming with a growl, burrowing his head into her neck. He slowly lets go of her, now resting on top of her as he comes down from his high. Y/n entangles her hands into his hair and kisses his sweaty forehead.

“I liked that” she rasps, a lazy smile adorning her beautiful face. Harry smiles back at her, slowly pulling out, earning a hiss from his lover, before plopping onto the bed next to her. He pulls her closer to his own sweaty skin.

“I’m glad you did” he spoke, leaning down to press a kiss into her hair. “Next time you can choke me if you want”

“I’d love that” y/n hums, kissing his bare chest softly, groaning when Harry decides to get off the bed.

“Up you get” he speaks, he would be lying if he said his legs weren’t a little shaky. He beckons y/n towards him and lifts her up bridal style, taking her to the ensuite to love up on her some more.

[sp1rit-realm]

༻¨*:· 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ you hate remus lupin, and he hates you. what happens when you get stuck in a lift together?

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 IOU!!!!! 𖦹 enemies to ?? 𖦹 fem!reader 𖦹 guys srry this is so short :< 𖦹 BUT biiiiig progress is about to be made in the next chapter 𖦹 also thank you all for waiting so so long for this. lobe u all <33 𖦹 i did not proofread this bc i'm lazy ⎝(ˊᗜˋ)⎠

𖦹 taglist form!!! (hopefully this one works ToT)

༻¨*:· word count ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 613

masterlist / breather << pt. 10 -- IOU >> wedding

༻¨*:· 𝐈𝐎𝐔 ·:*¨༺

"Happy one-month anniversary!" Remus walks up to you, and you look at him with a puzzled expression.

"Anniversary?"

"We've been friends for a month!" In his stretched-out hand is a flower. Your favorite kind.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"They're my favorite flower," You sighed dreamily, staring at the vase in the hotel lobby.

"Yeah?" He asks with a flushed face—he's had a couple too many drinks.

"Yeah. There's something so beautiful about them. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"There doesn't need to be a reason," He slurs, "You can just love them because they're lovely." 

"I suppose I can," You shrug.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"I remember you said they were your favorite," He rubs the back of his neck, "And I wanted to celebrate."

"Thank you, Remus." You smile, and he blushes when your fingertips brush as you grab the flower.

"You see those two?" Sirius whispers to Harry, who intently watches him with big, green eyes, "They're friends now. For the past month, they've been friends. They even hung out once by themselves." Harry smiles and claps, squealing with joy. It catches your attention, and you walk over to the young baby.

"Oh, someone's happy," You coo, ruffing up his hair, "So smiley!" You pinch his cheeks.

"Stop trying to steal him from me!" Sirius whines. 

"I'm not stealing him from you," You turn back to Harry, "I'm just showing him all the love he deserves," You tear up when he stares into your eyes. Just such a precious baby born from love and care. You hope it will be the same way when you have a baby. And then you realize that you're still young, and you have nobody to have a baby with, and you shouldn't be having these thoughts right now!

But then you look back into his eyes, and he giggles and reaches in your direction. He wants to be held. Sirius swoops him up before you can, "That's enough of that!" He sneers, "Harry is mine, not yours."

"He's actually mine." Lily smiles as she walks up to her boy. "Hello," She coos, "Who's the cutest in the world?" She asks, taking her child from Sirius's hands, "You are!" She boops him on the nose, and Harry giggles.

"You find that funny?" She asks, tapping his nose again. He giggles harder, and you swear he's the happiest baby in the entire world.

"He's cute, isn't he?" 

The voice sends a shiver down your spine, "You scared me!" You playfully hit Remus on his shoulder.

"Sorry," He laughs, "Promise I didn't mean to."

"You're cruel, Lupin."

And he fears he's right back at the start. You're calling him Lupin—you haven't called him Lupin since… since your feud.

But then you smile at him, and he swears it's like the sun is shining in his face; he is blinded by your beauty, and he knows you're joking.

"Got you a little scared there, did I, Remus?"

"You say my name so nice." He breathes out.

"Remus," You test, and he sighs, "I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"I'm going to use my 'IOU,' okay?"

Remus nods, "Lay it on me."

"Will you be my date to Marly and Cas's wedding?"

"Uh..." Remus's hand goes to the back of his head, and as he scratches, he feels his heart explode. Yes, he will be your date for a wedding. He will be your date anywhere, anytime.

"It's okay if not," You scramble out, "I understand."

"No! No, I'll be your date," He smiles gently, "I'd love to be your date."

"Really?" You smile, and Remus swears you've illuminated the room.

"Of course."

"They are in love," Lily whispers to Harry, who nods importantly.

EEEEEKKKKKK

again, sorry this is so short, but i promise next one is going to have some big stuff!!!!!!!!!!!!!

taglist: @djlance-rock

[thisisanomdeplume]

Hermione sat at the edge of her bed, it was still early morning, pitch black save the small candle burning on her bedside.

Her nose was numb, but she hadn’t had the wherewithal to cast a warming charm. 

It didn’t matter anyway, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not yet.  

There was a crack of apparition, then the hard landing of feet on the wooden floor. 

He didn’t move as she rose, raising her wand to his throat in one quick motion. 

Draco Malfoy stood in black robes, a worn look on his face. Every mask, literally and figuratively, off. 

There was snow on his shoulders.

“What did you say to me at the Quidditch World Cup as they were attacking the muggles?”

Draco blinked. “I was warning you to get out of—-“

“What did you say, ” she repeated through gritted teeth. 

His lip curled. She dug her wand deeper into his flesh. 

Draco’s eyes bore into hers as he quoted himself from years before: “Do you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air?” 

Hermione lowered her wand, tossing it somewhere on the bed as she collapsed back on it.

“They can’t get in here, Hermione. The wards are strong.”

“Maybe I just like to taunt you,” she ran her fingers through her hair, gathering it up and wrapping a hair tie around; pulling it up into a high ponytail. She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides, “I’m owed a few, you know.”

Malfoy swallowed, he could still feel the shadow of the tip of her wand on his throat. He’d check for a bruise tomorrow when he took account of the other injuries and marks he no doubt received earlier tonight. 

“What’d they have you do this time?” Hermione asked.

He didn’t bother to respond. She always asked, he never told her. Instead, he unclasped his cloak and let it fall to the floor, toed off his boots, and lifted the blankets off her bed. 

The couple slid underneath the covers, legs and arms tangling, foreheads pressed together.

“Weird way to ask to see my knickers,” she murmured, voice becoming heavy. 

“I was a sick fuck.” His voice lowered, his thumb brushed the lobe of her ear as he dug his fingers into her hair.

“Was,” Hermione said, sarcasm dripping. She rolled to her other side but held onto his arm, wrapping it around her. He pulled her into his chest tightly, tucking his chin into her shoulder. 

His hands were cold. His hands were always cold. 

“Happy Christmas, Draco.”

He hummed against her and kissed the side of her jaw.

She rubbed her hand along his arm, and down to lace her fingers in his, willing warmth in them, hoping it would relax him.

Their breath became tandem, deeper. 

They slept.

FIN

[takeariskao3]

Who’s the dirty talker when doing the deed, Ginny or Harry? Everyone claims it’s Ginny but it’s such an obvious choice that in my head canon it’s Harry because it would be hilarious. He’s such a nice humble guy but when he’s doing the deed with her he’s got a filthy cocky mouth and Ginny loves every second or it.

i honestly think i agree with you, but more in the sense of harry losing himself in her to the point that he has no idea what he's saying. like i can't see him being a big talker or actively choosing (or premeditating) what he's going to say. it's more like he gets so caught up in the moment, and in ginny, that he can't help but tell her what she's doing to him.

and since it's smut sunday, why the hell shouldn't he?

under the cut because nsfw

"This one," Harry muttered, ghosting his thumb over her collarbone. "This freckle right here is my favorite."

"Mmm?" The corner of Ginny's mouth stretched into a smirk as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Kissing the aforementioned favorite, he trailed his lips down her body until he found another cluster on the underside of her breast. "Or this one."

Her breath hitched as he licked and sucked his new choice.

Nosing his way even further down, he found another constellation dusting the space above her hip bone.

"Or maybe it's these–"

The muscles beneath her navel squirmed and jumped as his breath tickled her skin.

Harry skimmed a featherlight palm up her thigh, testing and teasing until his hand settled at her center. Using the pads of fingers, he swirled his way up and down her opening, feeling the heat spread and drip.

"You're so wet," he whispered in reverence.

Ginny's breath quivered. "You tend to do that to me."

As much as he wanted a taste, he waited, propped up over top of her so he could keep seeing the look on her face. He slipped one digit halfway inside and Ginny's mouth fell open, her brows furrowed in surrender.

His restraint was well worth it.

He felt her softness stretch and yield to his ministrations. He added another finger and a raspy moan escaped between her lips.

"And tight." He groaned, his eyes fluttering as he imagined the feel of her wrapped around his steadily growing erection, instead of his fingers. "Fuck, Ginny. You're so tight."

"Faster," she keened in reply.

He didn't need to be told twice. Harry enlisted his thumb in the undertaking as well, circling and pressing her clit as his index and middle fingers plunged in as deep as they could go.

Ginny's hands moved from his elbows, to his shoulders, then to his neck. Her heavy lidded eyes caught his. Harry only had a split second warning before she pulled his face down and captured his lips in a frantic kiss.

Harry felt every sharp inhale, every shuddering exhale, every tremor that fluttered around his fingers.

"Come for me, Ginny," he murmured against her mouth. "Please, you're so pretty when you come..."

She whimpered, and her entire body tensed.

God, she was so close.

Quirking his fingers, and dragging them along her walls, he spent the next four seconds pulling every ounce of bliss he could from her until all of her muscles went taut.

Then with his name on her lips, she snapped.

Harry kissed her through it, muffling every cry and gasp with his mouth as he stroked in time with her shudders.

He kept going until she hauled his hand away with a whine.

"I could do that forever," he said in between kisses to her jaw.

Ginny huffed, halfway between laughing and gulping down air. "I'd let you."

He hummed, taking her ear lobe between his teeth.

Her hands shoved his shoulder and Harry gave in easily, falling sideways onto his back.

"But right now," Ginny breathed through a grin. She tossed one leg over his hips to straddle him. "It's my turn."

[cantcompetewhereudontcompare]

These are the tags I mentioned in my other post.

1. I don’t think you understand the meaning of “spiritual.” What on earth are you talking about? (It’s a rhetorical question. I'm gonna block you, so don't bother answering).

2. “Teen girls didn’t care about Harry’s work ethic." Good thing I didn't even imply they did. I think his EMPLOYERS cared, though. You know, the ones I said were pushing him to the front? I know you have to turn off your frontal lobe in order to become a Larrie, but Jesus Christ. String two concepts together, I beg.

3. “Teen girls didn’t care about Harry’s stage presence.” Wow, we're struggling with every basic concept here, huh? Teen girls don't care about stage presence? They don't??? Are you very sure???

There’s a whole ass series about Harry’s stage presence on YouTube called “King of entertaining the crowd" with MILLIONS of views.

There was a whole genre of YouTube videos of girls going to 1D shows and recording Harry for entire songs because of his stage presence. I think you may not know what stage presence is, if I'm being perfectly honest.

4. “Teen girls wrote about Harry having a bad boy persona so that proves that his personality didn’t really matter.” Good lord. No it doesn’t. It’s fan fiction. Sure, some fans will have a hard time separating fan fiction from reality and will project whatever they read on fan fiction to the celeb, but that’s a very small number of people in a normal fandom. The vast majority of fans actually do care about his personality and support him partly because of it.

It’s harder for you to understand it because you are a Larrie, and as such, you don’t really care about reality but about your perception of it. And the Larrie version of reality stems 100% from fan fiction. The average Harry Styles fan doesn't think he's the bad boy from After or Duplicity. They think he's a goober and love him for it.

5. “He was the second most attractive member.” This is flat out wrong.

Harry wasn't "the second most attractive member." Why? Because how attractive someone is or isn't is entirely subjective. All five of them were conventionally attractive young men. Skinny, average height, and a conventionally attractive facial bone structure. Then you get into the minutia of who's more this and who's more that, and that will absolutely be subjective. Harry is the second most attractive member TO YOU.

TO ME, he's the most attractive member (I like my men tall and well built). To someone else Niall will be the most attractive member, and so forth.

Of course Zayn not being white would affect things, but plenty of non-white artists have become hugely successful (the biggest artist of all time was a black man). And Zayn's career, and this goes beyond being the fan favorite or not, failed to take off for a myriad of reasons that had nothing to do with the color of his skin or his religious background. That's a cop out. Those same reasons were present while they were in the band.

[welurklate]

In defence of Ron Weasley - or: why Weasley is our King!

I have noticed that in the last decade so-called Ron-bashing has almost become a sport in the Harry Potter fandom, or at least in certain corners of the fandom. And that makes me quite sad, because in my eyes it is unjustified and a product of circumstances that have nothing to do with the canon character. People depict Ron as a laughing stock, a truly incompetent wizard who is nothing but jealous and petty. Even in fanfics where Ron is an adult he rarely outgrows his teenage character. I believe this has to do with a few thing I will get into here.

First and foremost, we have to take a stance and decide if we believe that redemption is possible or not. If you think that once a fruit shows signs of rot it is better to throw out than to salvage it, stop reading here. If you think there are parts that can be saved and possibly restored, you are probably a Draco fan as well 😉 and you're welcome to read on.

So first of all, everything we see the characters do in the books they do as children and teenagers. Adolesence is a time of great changes, physically and psychologically. The prefrontal lobe of our brain still develops until our mid-twenties. It is a time to experiment and to make decisions, even if they are objectively the wrong ones, and to learn from that and to evolve into well-adjusted, open-minded and self-reflecting adults. So it isn’t even necessary to ‘redeem’ oneself for what you did growing up, it is just imperative to evolve. I have been working with teenagers my whole professional life and I am always amazed by what happens between the ages of 10 and 20/25.

So Ron is a child in the first books and an adolescent in the final parts and we actually see him grow and evolve. Not everyone is as perfect as Hermione and we sometimes forget that people can be flawed in small ways (not only in big ways such as ‘oops, I’ve taken the dark mark and commit war crimes’). I think people tend to hate on Ron because of this. He is so normal in his jealousy and his envy. We see a lot of ourselves in him and that is uncomfortable. We turn to fiction to experience the extraordinary in both good and bad, but we rarely want to see our very common shortcomings reflected in the characters. Because then we could just read self-help books and do something about it. But we don’t. We just want to escape reality and enter into worlds where everything is starker in contrast, emotions are deeper and stakes are higher.

And Ron is not such a character. He is a mild grey. He is not the hero, but he is also not the villain. Ambiguity and nuance have very little place in fantasy. But I think that is exactly what makes Ron such a great character and the books (despite JKR’s bigotism) so fascinating.

So what I see people do in fanfiction is to push his character to the extremes – mostly make him an antagonist. Interestingly, this usually occurs in in Dramione or Harmony fics. In Drarry fics or others where Hermione and Ron stay together, he usually gets to grow up into a reasonable and well-adjusted adult. And I get it. I love Hermione and I get what she sees in Ron (stability, a deep understanding, loyalty, common values, a wise mind that complements her academic one etc.). But in stories where we pair Hermione with other people we need to get Ron out of the way. Because we cannot, for the love of Merlin, make Hermione be the problematic one in the relationship (she is the queen of the books - she cannot be touched). So of course we have to make sure that Ron is the reason why their relationship fails. And to make their breakup believable, we antagonize Ron so that there is no chance for them to get back together. From a storytelling viewpoint this makes absolute sense. But it does not do Ron’s character justice. Canon Ron is a truly amazing character. The movies did him dirty and depicted him as the slightly stupid one with the punch lines and this has often clouded our image of him. Book Ron holds much more power in the trio's friendship. He is the one who introduces Hermione and Harry to all things in the Wizarding World. He is smart – even though he is not as zealous as Hermione, he is a good student and a brilliant wizard’s chess player. He is genuine, kind and loyal. I won’t reiterate all the smart things people have said about his character before. If you are interested you can check some good arguments here:

here, here or here

Everything he is and everything he goes through makes him a hero in his own way. He is the character with the biggest development and the biggest potential. He overcomes his own shortcomings again and again to stay by Harry's side. Especially in the last books he struggles, makes decisions he deeply regrets and faces his insecurities.

I could go on and on about this… but leave it at this for now. I hope this makes you see Ron in a better light! Fight me in the comments or sing along my praise of Ron!

tl;dr: Ron is a truly interesting character but the movies and fanon have skewed his image in a negative way.

[cinemastyles-backup]

Spill or Fill Part 3

Summary: final part to the mini Spill or Fill series

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, pregnancy talk, squirting with fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, oral (f rec), choking, rough actions, general filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

DUNKIRK HARRY

"Do you think we can just sneak out? I don't really feel finished with you just yet." I slide my hands down Harry's semi open white shirt.

He smirks, "We'll say you aren't feeling well." He pulls me in and kisses me, "I'm not finished with you either."

I bite my lip and walk with him as he grabs my hand and leads me down the hall way into the room where the party is.

Jimmy loves us. He threw us another surprise party a few weeks after the last one when we were on his show, but even still, Harry and I continue to jump each other when we get the chance, and now it’s even worse now the longer you’re engaged.

"There you guys are!" Jimmy yells, dancing to the music, "Thought you left."

"We're going to head out, y/n isn't feeling well, so I'm going to take her home." Harry yells, "Thank you so, so much for this, Jimmy, again."

He look at me and winks, "Feel better."

I laugh as Harry and I quickly make our way out of the club.

"He so knew what we are up to." I wrap my arm around Harry's and he laughs, "Oh yeah."

He opens the car door for me and tells the driver we're heading home.

He gets in and I'm immediately on him, "I don't know if I can wait until we're home, Harry."

He bites his lip and shakes his hand up my dress, "Let me help you until we're there." He slips his fingers inside my pussy, slowly curling his fingers.

"You're so unbelievably sexy with a pussy full of my cum." He whispers as he nips my ear lobe, "Fuck you make my cock so hard."

I moan and grip his shirt, popping open a few of the buttons, "Fucking shit, baby." I gasp as his thumb rubs circles on my clit.

"I can't wait to have my face buried in between your legs when we get home."

I moan at his words and arch my back off the seat. I grind my hips down onto his hand, whimpering as he edges me closer.

"Use my hand, baby. Fuck your self on it." His lips attach to my neck, definitely leaving a deep purple mark or two.

"Fuck. You're soaked." He groans, "Shit."

I reach over and lay a hand on his cock, palming him through his pants. He groans lowly, pushing his hips up, desperately trying to get more.

"H-How much longer?" I ask between pants, "I-I'm gonna cum."

"Almost there baby." He moves his fingers in and out at a steady rate, drawing me closer and closer until I cum on his fingers.

"You made your dress wet, darling." Harry moans, "Fuck, that's so hot."

I whimper and move my hips as I come down from my high, panting as I continue to palm him.

He takes his hand away and lays it on mine, "You can play with it all you want when we get inside, baby. Okay? Come on."

As soon as the car comes to a stop, Harry's out the door and pulling me with him, "Thank you." He yells as we basically run to the door.

He unlocks it as I push myself on him, "Harry." I whine lowly.

"Hold on, sweetheart. Almost.." the door opens and he wraps an arm around my waist, "There."

He pulls me in and shuts the door with a slam, "That dress needs to come off." He takes his shirt off the rest of the way and undoes his belt, groaning as he finally frees his aching cock.

I slip my dress off and kick my heels off as Harry stands there watching me intently. I drop my dress, revealing my naked body to him and he bites his lip and shakes his head.

He walks over to me and walks be backwards until I'm on the couch. He drops to his knees and pushes my knees apart and up. I grab my thighs, holding my legs up for him as he rubs my clit and licks my folds with his tongue.

I gasp and let out a loud moan, "Harry."

He moans against me, sending vibrations through my skin. He switches and sucks my clit as his fingers slide in and out of my soaked cunt.

I turn into a mess, whining and moaning as I dig my nails into the back of my thighs. My eyes roll back and my back rises off the couch, "Fuck fuck I-"

I feel myself cum and he moans as he licks it off of me, "I fucking love when you squirt for me, baby. Shit."

He moves me so my back is against the arm rest and puts one knee on the couch. He brings my one leg up and lays it up his chest and over his shoulder and holds the other one over.

He slides his cock into me and I bring my arms up and grip the arm rest, "Harry." I gasp as my eyes roll back.

"Shit baby. Your pussy gets better and better each time I'm in it." He pulls out and his grip on my leg gets harder before he thrusts back in.

His pace is hard and fast, and it feels so fucking good.

I turn my head and push my forehead against my arm, letting out a scream, "Yes, yes. Harry, fuck."

He moans loudly and reaches down to grip my throat. I smile up at him and my lips part as I moan. His grip tightens and my eyes roll back.

My boobs bounce up with each thrusts and I can feel myself being brought to yet another, mind blowing, orgasm.

I clench around his cock and moan as loud as his hand around my throat will allow me.

Not long after, Harry is pushing his cock deep inside of me and pumping out his cum.

He lets go of my throat slowly, "Are you okay?" I nod, "I'm great." I smile up at him and he pulls out and gently sets my legs down.

"You need time to relax. I'll go start a bath then I'll come down for you. Okay?" He leans down and kisses me, "I love you."

I nod and lay a hand on his cheek, "I love you."

——

A few months later

"I now pronounce you, man and wife."

I smile at Harry and he smiles at me.

"You may kiss the bride."

Harry swoops me up and bends me back, planting his lips on mine. I wrap an arm around his neck and the audience cheers for us.

"My beautiful wife." Harry whispers before standing me up. I smile and take his hand as we turn forward the crowd of our close friends and family clapping, crying, and cheering for us.

We walk down the isle and it's nothing but pure happiness.

"We have a little before the reception." Harry whispers pulling me closer. "you wa-"

"Yes." I immediately say without letting him finish.

He smirks and helps hold up my dress so I don't trip as we run upstairs. We find and empty room and quickly shut and lock the door.

"First time having sex with my wife." He says pulling me in for a kiss, “My pregnant wife.” He smiles and kisses me again. The kiss is heated and passionate and I bite his lower lip, earning a moan from him.

"First time being fucked by my husband." I pull my dress up and bunch it up under me as I bend over the bed. He smacks my ass and squeezes where he hit, "You're more beautiful than you were yesterday."

I smile and look over my shoulder at him as he pushes his pants down. He spits down into his hand and pumps his cock a few times as he rubs my pussy with the other hand.

I'm already wet. I was wet as soon as I seen him in his suit.

"Harry." I whine, "Please."

He rubs the head of his cock against me and pushes in, "Fuck."

I grip the sheets and push my hips back to meet his, pushing him all the way in.

We share moans and he grips my hips, groaning as he starts to move his cock slowly building up to a rough pace, "Fucking hell" he moans, "Y/N. Baby."

I moan and tilt my head back, clenching around him, "H-Harry."

"Cum on my cock baby. I want to fill you completely full." He digs his fingers into my hips and pulls me to him, "Fuck."

My body tenses as my orgasm rips through me. Harry and I decided not to have sex for a week before the wedding, and as hard as it was to keep our hands off each other, it was totally worth it.

"You're going to be so full." He moans as he slowly pushes his cock in and out. I can feel him twitching, unloading his cum deep inside of me.

I lay there panting for a few minutes before he fixes my dress and helps me stand up, "We should do that more often." He chuckles, "That felt so good."

I shrug, "Maybe in a few months. That was us just getting started." I lean up and kiss his cheek, "Do I looked like I just got fucked?"

He fixes my hair and smiles, "You look amazing."

I walk over to the mirror to do one last look over and Harry walks up behind me, "Let's go join the party, I know it's going to get wild when we tell them the news."

Harry lays a hand on my stomach and I smile and lay a hand on his, "Let's go tell them we're having a baby."

——

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