#i cant even fucking breathe properly rn i need to lay down for a bit NOT start a new fic

[blueflipflops]

Urghhhhhh the urge to write ANOTHER star wars fic ughhhhhhh when will it enddddd????? I have a headache and I'm coughing my fucking lungs out why can't inspiration come when I'm not SICKKKK

[hrina]

Hi cass! I know ur busy rn with exams and work but i realllly want to read a blurb where youre giving harry a blow job and making him lose his fucking minddd where hes moaning so much and writhing and cant think straight UGH god please i havent been able to find one oddly enough

i technically finished this on thursday but i edited it tonight and i gotta say, im pretty happy with the finished result! i hope u are too, love :’) here’s my inbox (if u wanna leave me some feedback, it means the absolute world) and if u like this, here’s my masterlist ! 

also, this is considered a blurb even tho it’s actually 2.8k words but...the more the merrier! pure smut and a tiny bit of fluff bc who doesn’t love that. enjoy!

You’re in a mood. 

It’s not a bad mood, per say. 

It’s the kind of mood where you’re feeling overwhelmed. Where you’ve been thinking about Harry, and how sexy and mysterious and dumb and goofy he is, and you’ve been hit by the urge to love on him. The kind of mood where your heart is just so full of affection, and you know that you’re not able to use words to properly convey the sentiment.

You don’t know what Harry’s doing right now. Probably downing the last of the holiday eggnog, if your guess is correct. Your finger hovers over the call button on the screen of your phone as you debate whether or not this excuse is tangible enough to get him over to your place. Eventually, the ache in your chest (and between your legs) wins out.

“Hello, darlin’,” he picks up on the third ring. You smile unthinkingly–you could listen to the slow drawl of his voice for eons. 

“Hi,” you say, “Are you busy?”

“Jus’ finishin’ up some leftovers,” he replies, and you chuckle quietly. You know him well.

“Do you wanna come over?” you ask, holding your breath. 

“Sure,” he says immediately, and your cheeks hurt because of the size of your grin. You play with the hem of the pink knit sweater adorning your body (it’s a size too big, and Harry loves the way the sleeves of the fabric drape down your arms. “Y’got little sweater paws!” he usually coos before kissing you sweetly.)

“Why?” Harry’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, “I’m just…in a mood.”

“Oh?” his voice rises an octave, and you can nearly feel his cheeky smirk through the phone. You roll your eyes, even though his assumption–as naughty as it is–is entirely correct.

But he doesn’t know that.

“Shut up, you pervert,” you shoot him down, and he lets out an affronted squawk. The sound makes you laugh, and you sit your phone a bit more securely against your ear before speaking again. “Okay. So I’ll see you in twenty?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he quips happily. You bid your goodbyes before hanging up. As soon as the call is over, you’re rushing into the nearest washroom to make sure that there’s nothing in your teeth and that every hair on your head is set perfectly in place. 

When Harry knocks on your door twenty minutes later, you have to remind yourself not to rush towards the sound. You wait a whopping five seconds before your hand is closing around the knob and you’re welcoming him inside.

He looks really fucking cute. He’s wearing those Vans that he’s been enjoying as of late, and a pair of grey sweatpants. Your eyes drift up to his torso, taking in the black sweater with pink print over the breast, and you have to stifle a giggle–of course he’d be wearing his own merchandise.

“Hello, darlin’,” he smiles at you, cheekily repeating the same greeting that he had uttered over the phone. You step closer to him as he toes off his sneakers, leaning up and trying to sneak in a kiss. Except he’s not anticipating the action, so your lips end up bumping against his chin instead.

“Sorry,” you snort, and he chuckles quietly. His right hand curves around the nape of your neck, and he guides you up for a proper kiss. 

“So,” he mumbles against your mouth, smirking at you when you finally pull away, “Why did yeh need me to come over, hmm?” 

You correct him. “I didn’t need you to come over. I just asked if you wanted to hang out.”

“Please,” Harry says, rolling his eyes teasingly, “Practically begged me, you did. ‘Harry, can you come keep me company? I’m so lonely without you!’”

His voice rises an octave as he mimics you, and you shove gently at his chest, your jaw dropping. “You know what, I changed my mind. You can leave.”

“Fine,” he shrugs, grinning devilishly. A moment later, he’s slipping his feet back into his shoes and beginning to turn back towards the door. He’s stopped when you reach for the sleeve of his sweater, tugging on the fabric lightly and ushering him closer to you.

“No,” you say, a coy smile playing on your lips. You’ve abandoned your little performance, because seeing his devious smile is enough to remind you of why you’d called him over in the first place. “C’mon. Stay. Like I said: I’m in a mood.”

“I dunno, love,” Harry pretends to think about his options and tries to conceal a smirk, “Y’were awfully rude.”

In response, you simply lean up and reattach your lips, catching his bottom one between your teeth and nipping on it softly. Harry makes a surprised rumble in the back of his throat, but the sound eventually melts into something similar to a sigh. Your hands find their way to his chest, balling up the material of his crewneck and holding him close to you. Once you’re sure that you’ve successfully kissed the banter out of him, you pull back with tinted lips and a sultry expression on your face.

Harry’s mouth is still puckered slightly, his eyes clouded with awe. You take a step back, and he follows you with a step forward, his hand shooting out reflexively to clamp around your waist and keep you close. The action makes you giggle. 

“You’re–,” Harry’s breathless from the kiss, his lips parting as he finally understands the reason you’d called him over, “–You’re in a mood.”

“Mm-hm,” you nod, your fingers finding the nape of his neck and playing with the small curls that are trying their best to grow out. You give him an innocent flick of your eyes, and before you can register what’s happening, he’s got one hand in your hair and another down your pants. 

“Jesus!” You gasp when his fingers find your budding clit with little to no preamble. Harry knows your body quite well, considering that the pair of you have only been together for a few months (five months and sixteen days, actually, but you’re not keeping track).

Harry shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that he can lick and kiss at the skin of your throat. “’S not my name, love.”

“Shut up,” you choke out, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs tight circles against your clit through your underwear. Your knees are quivering, and you feel as though they’ll give out on you any second now, but Harry’s got you pinned to the wall with his hips, and you can feel a slight bulge in his jeans pressing against your upper thigh. The sensation reminds you of why you wanted him here in the first place.

“No,” you mumble, your hands finding his shoulders and giving him a light push. Harry makes a noise of surprise, stepping back and gazing at you with confused eyes.

“Wanna suck you,” you tell him before he has the chance to question you. His breath hitches in his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut as a pained groan falls from his lips. You swear he would have doubled over if not for your arms snaking around his waist.

“Fuck…really?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair and tugging at the roots. You whimper in affirmation.

You don’t suck him off too often. His cock is quite big, and you can only go a few minutes before your jaw starts to ache. Tears always end up spilling from your eyes, and your voice is always guttural and hoarse the next day. Because of this, blowjobs are an activity that is reserved only for special occasions. Harry doesn’t really mind, though. If he’s being honest with himself, he much prefers being between your legs instead.

“Okay,” Harry opens his eyes, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, “Couch?”

“Yeah,” you agree, your stomach churning with glee.

Seconds later, you’ve got him sprawled out on the sofa, his legs spread wide and his sweatpants pooling at his ankles. You can see the defined outline of his cock curving to the side in his boxers, and his sweater is rucked up a bit to show the ferns inked into his hips. You press a kiss to the matching tattoos, peeking up at him and reveling in the way he gulps.

“Wanted you since I woke up,” you mumble, and Harry’s pupils seem to dilate even further than they already had.

“Yeah?” he grunts. His right hand reaches out to cup your cheek, stroking your face gently as he gazes at you with adoration and lust swirling in his eyes. “Wanted me t’stretch those pretty lips?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, shuddering at his words. Harry smirks down at you, opening his mouth again.

“Y’like it when I talk to you like that, hmm? Like t’be dirty.”

“A bit, yeah,” you say meekly, hooking your fingers into the elastic waistband of his briefs. Harry hisses when you slowly pull them down, exposing his cock to the cool air of the room. You wrestle with the fabric for a few seconds, satisfied only once his underwear have finally joined his sweatpants. You then look back up at where his cock is laying against the exposed skin of his stomach. Harry sighs when you run your fingers along the sensitive parts of his inner thighs.

“Can I?” you ask, even though you know the answer that he’s going to give.

“Fuck,” Harry curses, because the way you ask for permission never fails to make him throb, “Yeah, yeah, love. Go on an’ get it.”

That’s enough for you to grasp his cock daintily, angling the tip so that you can dip your head down and give a long, broad lick over the head. Harry’s hands fly to your hair, a strangled groan falling from his lips as the first taste of precum bursts onto your tongue. 

The sound only encourages you, and you wrap your lips around his tip, running your tongue over the tight, red skin. Harry sighs, his fists clenching in your hair as you move down and steadily take more into your mouth. You haven’t been able to take him all the way yet (at least, not without gagging), but it’s something that you’ve vowed to work on whenever you decide to treat him. 

(And in your weaker moments, you may or may not have practiced on a banana a few times, but honestly, that’s something that he doesn’t need to know.)

And honestly…how could you not? He looks so damn cute, with his sweater laying crookedly across his abdomen and his cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink. His lips are parted in awe as he watches you hollow your cheeks and give a few gentle sucks, easing your way into far more intense territory.

“Fuckin’ love this mouth, y’know that?” Harry whines, a hand slipping down from your hair and cupping your jaw. “Always so good t’me, pet...always do me over so well.” 

His thumb rubs at the corner of your lips tenderly, and you angle his cock in your mouth so that he can feel the tip pressing against your cheek.

“Bloody minx,” he gasps, the muscles in his stomach clenching as though he’s just been shot, “Gonna be the death o’ me.”

You whine at his words, sending vibrations through his dick, and Harry swears that he can feel them resonating across his entire body, seeping into his bones. His toes curl in his socks, and you pop off of his cock, holding it upright and licking a fat stripe up his shaft.

“Jesus,” Harry whispers to himself, trying to keep his eyelids from drifting shut. You smile and gaze up at him with twinkling eyes, your mouth quirking to the side teasingly.

“Not my name,” you quip, repeating his previous words. Harry chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head at your antics. His low laugh quickly melts into a moan, though, when you let your tongue trace over his balls gently. He throws his head back against the couch with a loud thump, and you detach yourself for a moment to check on him.

“You okay?” you ask, genuine concern laced through your voice. Harry groans, nodding his head quickly and peering down at you. The sight that greets him nearly has him in tears.

Your eyes are hooded and hazy, hair falling into your face. Your lips are puffy and darker than normal, and there’s a thin strand of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock. Harry whimpers painfully, and your eyes widen when you feel his cock actually jerk in your grip.

“Fuck, you’re–you really want it, huh?” There’s surprise and awe woven in between your words.

“You’ve no idea,” Harry’s voice is high-pitched and reedy, and he honestly thinks that he’s going to start sobbing if you don’t get back on him soon. “Please, love, please just–’m so hard, need yeh to just–that’s it, there we go…” 

He sighs in relief when the head of his cock disappears past your lips once more. You’re sucking with fervour now, determined to get him to cum. You’ve had a taste of him–of the way his abdomen clenches spasmodically, of the pleading words dripping from his mouth like hot syrup, of the heady and salty liquid that bubbles at the tip of his dick. All of it spurs you on, encourages you to take him further into your mouth until he’s brushing the back of your throat and you’re desperately breathing through your nose to avoid choking. 

“Fuck!” Harry yells the word brokenly, and then you’re nearly gagging when you taste the first spurt of his cum. You stroke a particularly prominent vein with your tongue, feeling it throb lightly as Harry empties his load inside of your mouth. He’s looking down at you, your gazes locked as you take it all (just how he likes it), with watery eyes and a spit-slicked mouth and a sore throat as proof.

You continue to swirl your tongue around his shaft as you feel him begin to soften, before tilting his cock to the side so it rests against the inside of your cheek. Harry watches with wide, fucked-out eyes as your throat bobs, indicating that you’ve swallowed. 

“Fuckin’ amazing, you are,” he babbles out the praise, staring down at you and running his hands over every inch of you that he can reach. His fingers weave through your hair, then rub against your temples, then your cheeks, then the corners of your lips. 

He watches as his cock slowly slides from your mouth. You press a kiss to the shiny head, and Harry sobs from the sensitivity. The sound makes you giggle as you begin to pull his boxers back up his legs, setting his softening cock down against his right thigh.

“C’mon, handsome, help me out,” you murmur when Harry refuses to lift his hips and allow you to slide his underwear back into their rightful place. He lets out a moan of complaint, covering his face with his hands and lethargically shaking his head.

“Can’t move,” he whines, “Sucked the fuckin’ life outta me, pet.”

You snort, abandoning your efforts in favour of scrambling up and straddling his waist. You reach for his wrists, tugging on them gently so that his hands are no longer shielding his eyes. Harry slowly maneuvers your fingers, intertwining them with his and pressing soft, lingering kisses to the back of your hand.

“You’re incredible, y’know that?”

“Am I, now?” you tease, smirking at him. Harry nods, his eyelids fluttering slightly, and you can’t help but to feel a warm flood of pride wash over you. You’d made him lose his damn mind, made him cum so hard that he was about to fall asleep right in front of you.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, snapping you from your thoughts, “Incredible, amazing, unreal…all o’ that stuff.”

“That’s very sweet,” you tell him, stroking his jawline tenderly and beaming down at him. “Thank you.” 

Harry returns your smile (albeit, his is a bit more sleepy) before melting a bit further into the cushions of the sofa. “Can we jus’…stay like this fo’ a bit? Please? I’ll fuck you afterwards. Promise yeh.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing, gnawing on your lip to keep the sound inside. “Sure, Har.”

“You’re the best,” he mumbles, his head tilting to the side as he drifts further and further away from consciousness. You watch him lovingly, pursing your lips as you try to hold back a smile. His eyes are shut, nostrils flaring as his breathing begins to even out. The last thing he mutters to you makes you giggle quietly into your palm and wonder how you ended up with someone who is just so damn cute.

“Tha’ was…was much better than leftovers.”