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this is the actual best picture, there is simply not a better image

Repeating Days

Her brows furrowed as she felt around the bed. The space beside her which once coveted another body, now empty and had long since gone cold. She sat up and looked around the room in a blind panic. None of his stuff, which was littered around the room the previous night, was there. She scrambled to get out of bed, tripping over the covers. The same ones that wrapped her and him up so blissfully just a few hours prior. She needed to calm down. There could be a number of reasons why he left without a trace. None currently came to mind, but she didn’t like to assume. Slowly, she panned the parameter of the house, heart sinking as she found each room void of his presence. Panic set in as she snatched her phone off the charger and scrolled through her contacts, clicking his name. Her heart beat louder than the dial tone in her ear. She called one, two, three times in a row with no response. She gently lowered the phone from her ear to her side in a state of disbelief.

Questions and answers to those questions and more questions sped through her brain like notes from Flight of the Bumblebee. She tried him one more time, knee bouncing up and down as the ringing sound blared through her ear. All she received was his voicemail, but she decided to leave a message. “Harry?” she asked with extreme hesitance, even though nobody was actually on the other side of the line. “Hi, um, I, um, I woke up, and you weren’t— you weren’t here. And, you’re not answering my calls. And, all of your stuff is gone. And, I don’t know what’s happening. Please call me back. Please. Okay, bye.”

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I've always thought about making H eat his own cum out of Y/N

What an Attacc™..,.,.,

He would do it at times. Right after he’s fucked her real nice and raw and she’s laying there before him, splayed out across the damp sheets, breathing rattling as her hair matts across her sweaty neck and chest. He’s sitting back on his heels, staring at her fondly with a slightly arrogant smirk on his face because he knows only he could do this to her. Only his cock could reduce her to such a primal and emotionally bare state.

Harry has his hands on Y/N’s thighs, thumbing over the heated skin with care and comfort, trying to help her reign back down into reality. He glances down between her legs, digging his two front teeth against his bottom lip as he sees himself spilling out of her, staining the sheets milky white and as well as tainting him with newfound desire.

So he leans down, pulling her wide hips towards his face, suckling the plush flesh of her inner thighs lightly as he makes his way towards her dripping heat, rubbing his nose gently across the simmering skin to take in the scent of utter sex she exudes, swimming in the way her knees begin to quake in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, pet. Jus’ gonna lick into you, s'all. Nothing too extreme…yet.”

He laps his tongue slowly over Y/N’s slick folds, toying the tip against the sensitive bud for only a second, smiling against her when he hears a sharp whine in response. And then he’s nose deep in her cunt, wetting his cheeks with a mixture of his release as well as her own, savoring his saltiness across his tastebuds along with tinges of her sweetness. His eyes roll into the back of his head, soft little moans and hums of appreciation vibrating into her core.

Harry can feel all the juices collecting at the corners of his mouth and running down his chin, which only pushes him to go in deeper, tongue wriggling it’s way into her tight hole to get every last drop out. He moves his face from side to side slowly, button nose knocking against the thick of her clit, which in return causes her to grab at his hair, tugging harshly in overstimulation.

He pulls back, wiping his face down messily with the palm of his hand, suckling his lips into his mouth as his irises twinkle with a narcissistic form of satisfaction.

“Fuck’s sake, babe. We taste so bloody good together.”

can you please do a harry imagine where he's constantly touching your bum in public and stuff? that would be nice, thankyou :)

I….haven’t proofread this cause it’s really late and I have to be up in like 3 hours, oops. So pardon any mistakes <3 Oh and if you missed my previous post about this, this is heavily influenced by Nicki Minaj’s ‘Anaconda’ so if you haven’t heard the song you should at least go read the lyrics so things make more sense :)

OKAY ENJOY MY THIRSTY BIG BOOTY FRIENDS

“By the way, what he say? He could tell I ain’t missin’ no meals…”  You continue to sing along and dance in the passenger seat of Harry’s very nice car as he drives through sunny LA, the addictive song making you feel particularly naughty. You had jumped at the chance to accompany him on a few errands, excited to be doing even the most mundane things with him now that he had a break from constant touring. It was also an opportunity to showcase your full, round ass in front of him in your new short shorts.

Harry loved every inch of you, a fact that he made a point to convince you of and made you giddy just to think about, but it was very early in your relationship with him that you found that he had a small obsession with your ass. After going through years of doing squats and leg lifts to try to minimize the size of your bum with little to no success, it was very nice and empowering to be with someone who couldn’t keep his hands off of it. He had already manhandled you as much as he could once you pulled the shorts on fresh out of the shower, and you were determined to milk it for all it’s worth.

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if I really think about this scene and his lips in this scene i feel butterflies in my stomach 😭🥺

i love arm

may be the last teaser hand in hand with this and this. stay tuned. 

“Sit with me a mo’,” Harry invites. Splays his legs in overture.

There’s an episode of the Handmaid’s Tale on the television. It’s one they watched last weekend. Probably for a reason.

“Like, between?” she chews on her bottom lip. He trails a palm over a jean clad thigh.

“No,” his legs clasp together like an afterthought, “Take your sweats off. Panties, too.”

Y/N blinks, a pink flush spilling over her cheeks. Dips her fingertips below her waist band.

“Keep your shirt on,” Harry adds, almost absent-mindedly. His eyes stay on the TV as she shimmies out of the attire in bemusement. He pats his lap, “Now sit. Put your legs on either side of mine.”

She edges toward him, reaching behind as she situates. Steadies herself with a grasp on the back of the couch. Outside, there’s siren that wails, loud in the silence. He broadens his legs, forcing hers apart. And Y/N holds stifles a gasp when his palms come up to fondle her breasts.

“What are you doing?”

“Quiet now. Daddy’s watching,” Harry scolds before he fingers the hem of her tee and flips it up to expose to chest. Tugs at her nipples.

“Fuck,” Y/N hums, a heat rushing to her pussy. She squeals when a harsh pinch is delivered.

“Did I not tell you to be quiet? Do I have to gag you?”

She can vaguely hear Serena Joy screaming something at Offred through the speaker.

“Sorry,” she hisses, hips shifting when he rolls the little pebbles between his fingertips, “Do it…harder.”

She can make out the smug twitch of his lips in her peripherals before the caress becomes more earnest, nails denting crescents into her flesh.

“Touch me, please,” she begs. There’s something about having herself so exposed to the air, spread open by him. Christ. It’s as if her lower body’s been dipped into a sex cauldron.

“I am touching you,” he huffs in mirth. Presses his lips against her neck.

“No, touch my…”

“I think I’ll play with your nipples for an episode,” He ruminates aloud, “Then, maybe I’ll pull the recliner out. have you straddle my lap so your little pussy’s in front of me. Just spread it open with my fingers. Take a look to make sure everything’s okay down there.”

She can practically hear the teasing leer at the latter statement, “My little girl’s been so horny lately. Wanna make sure nothing’s off.”

She lets out a high whine that results in the nails digging harder. Incessantly squeezing. Unforgiving and insatiable. The pressure’s like a chase, and she’s riding the edge for it.

“Please. Do it to my…my clit.”

“Your clit? Maybe next episode. Maybe then I’ll pinch your clit a little, or run my thumb over it real light when a commercial comes on,” Harry describes, hushed, mouthing at the shell of her ear hotly, “Do that ‘til you’re begging me to go just a little longer, just a little faster, just enough for you to cum. I’ll say no. Slow down even more. Or maybe I’ll just keep playing with your nipples next episode, too.”

The illustration of his plans leave her breathless.

“What do you think? Maybe I’ll alternate, focus on your nipples during the next episode and give you featherlight touches during commercials. Your nipples would get so sore. How many minutes is that?” There’s a pause, Offred shouts something back. He pinches harder. “An hour and a half, at least. This one’s just started. You’d be begging to cum and for me to stop playing with them. Or maybe my dirty little girl would get off on the pain. You’d want me to push you to the brink of tears before you cum all over my hand.”

She cranes her neck back, paints the back of her eyelids with fireworks of rapture. Smothers a moan with her lips. One hand stops, slinks around to cup her face in hungry aggression.

“But maybe you won’t get to cum at all. Just sit there with your tight, little pussy out, crying for me to let you,” he whispers, scarily calculated. Grips tightly over her jaw, “Or maybe you’ll cum, and then I’ll flip you over and eat you out, focus on your clit right where it’ll hurt until you cum again. You’ll be so sensitive, probably try to push me away. But I’ll keep going, hold your hands down until you finish. And then again, from my cock stretching you open.”

REVERIEHS RESTAURANT - THE FIC REC

The menus are simply the my Fic Rec lists. They are in random order but organized by author and with emojis categorizing the stories like a restaurant menu. Enjoy it and reblog to promote these amazing stories :)

NAVIGATION | THE CHEFS | THE CUISINE | THE MENUS | THE KITCHEN

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Busiest I've ever been

Girls will say they busy and be in their bed relaxin or sleep

hi! can i request a blurb where harry’s gf is a surfer and gets attacked by a shark while he’s on tour? idk i’ve just been really into shark videos and harry is <3 so caring so kind

“Where is she? Where—well, which fucking room?”

The sound of the loud, angry, and incredibly British request trickling into the small hospital room brings a flush to your cheeks.

You had anticipated his outrage, but you can’t quite say you’re prepared to face the wrath of Scary Harry.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” is the first thing out of his mouth as his eyes land on where you’re tucked into bed. 

Offering a sheepish smile, you scoot further under the covers, calling a timid, “Don't be mad, okay?”

“Don’t be—” A scoff. Incredulous. He moves further into the room before flinging his incredibly sparkly jacket into one of the tiny chairs near the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Well—" Your smile widens, which only aids in further exaggerating his fury. “Oh, relax. I’m fine—”

“I told you not fucking go,” he reminds you before running a hand through the once perfectly styled curls atop his head. Now, they’re disheveled and falling onto his forehead as he tugs. “I—shit.”

“Harry,” you repeat, straightening up once again as you bite back a laugh. “I am fine. He barely got my arm—”

“Oh, really?” A bitter snort, and soon, he’s reaching his fingers around your wrist to pry your arm from the bed and into the air between you.

Your eyes fall toward the bandage wrapped around your elbow as he thrusts his chin forward.

“They don’t just give out band-aids for no fucking reason unless it’s medically necessary.” He leans back. Point proven.

Your eyes narrow. “Okay, well, it’s not a band-aid. It’s gauze.” You tug your hand free. “And second…it’s a little scratch and it’s gonna leave a bitchin’ scar. So, I don’t really see—”

“Do you know how fucking scary it was to get told you had been taken to the hospital?” His words are sharp. Irate. And you can feel the guilt slowly creeping its way up your neck. “Just coming down for a pee and Jeff says, ‘Oh, hey, by the way. A shark tried to bite her fucking arm off and now she might be dead.’”

The urge to laugh becomes stronger, and as Harry watches you tug your lip between your teeth, his scowl deepens.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you exhale, reaching out to grab his fingers and encourage him to sit on the bed beside you. “But…Jeff is incredibly dramatic. It didn’t try to eat me, it just—”

“I told you not to go,” Harry is quick to remind you, and you reward him with an exasperated huff.

“Yes, I’m aware. But in my defense…you were supposed to be there with me. So I could teach you how to get better—”

“Right, and then I’d get eaten.” His tone is bitter, but his eyes are alive with relief. “I don’t need to get better at surfing. That’s your specialty. My specialty is—”

“Is peeing in buckets under the stage, yes, I know,” you can’t help but tease, mostly in an attempt to smooth out that frown.

However, the only thing you truly succeed in doing is forcing another scoff from his throat as he leans away from you.

Oops.

“Har,” you whine now, extending your hands once more to try and tug him back to your side. “Come on, don’t be such a baby. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m fine. I promise.”

His eyes are focused on the wall adjacent to the bed. Brows pulled together. Jaw clenching as his arms cross in front of his chest.

Like a little child.

And the sight brings a warm feeling to your chest. You scoot a tad closer now, moving onto your knees until you can crawl to his side and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his head turned away.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you whisper, ghosting your lips over his cheek. His breath hitches. You feel his resolve slowly start to crumble beneath your touch. “I promise I’m all right. And I promise I won’t swim there ever again. Ever, ever.”

“And?” He expects more.

You pause, lashes fluttering as you attempt to recall his previous warnings. “Uh…and I promise to wear skimpier bathing suits?”

His eyes roll. “No. I mean…yeah, but no.”

You sink down further into the mattress as you think. “Um…promise let you be Ariel and wear the coconut bra?”

His head turns. “Seriously?”

You set the laugh free as you press a kiss to his tensed shoulder. “M’sorry, baby. Okay, what? What else am I missing?”

A beat. His muscles tighten as he glares at the dingy hospital floor beneath his glittery boots. 

And you wait, fingers rubbing soft circles into his skin until he sighs, and glances back over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking do dangerous shit when I can’t be there to help you.”

Oh.

Your eyes soften, now understanding his reaction. You’ve had this conversation many times. Perhaps too many, although clearly it didn’t stick very well.

It’s not that he’s upset with your surfing. In fact, he adores it. Every aspect of it. The way your face lights up when you catch the perfect wave. The way you call to him from your board as he waits on the shore. The way you reenact the Baywatch running scene whenever asked.

But there have been times, like tonight, when your tendency to go looking for trouble overlaps with his schedule.

And he’s never felt more helpless than knowing he’s trapped on a stage while you wait for him to save you.

Which, you had argued, wasn’t the case. Because you didn’t need him to save you, but you knew that wasn’t really the point, and had quickly agreed.

And then, apparently, immediately forgot.

“Right,” you murmur, reaching up to stroke your thumbs over his rigid jaw. 

“No more being stupid when I’m on stage,” he repeats. Firm. Yet laced with fear.

Your smirk rematerializes. You nod. “No more being stupid when you’re on stage.”

Another pause, his eyes flicking between yours before he sighs and reaches for your hip to tug you closer.

Teeth and tongues collide as he melts into your embrace, nearly forcing you onto his lap as you chuckle. 

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers after a moment, the request ushered into your bottom lip before he pulls back to bury his face in your neck. “Shit, please…please don’t do that again. Thought I was gonna fucking die.”

The mood has switched on a dime and your fingers fall to the hair at the nape of his neck as you run your palm down his skin. 

“Couldn’t…couldn’t get to you.” His voice is hoarse. Broken. Filled with the guilt of a man carrying the weight of your soul. “Fuck, never been so scared in my life. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You can feel the burn in the back of your throat as the tears crawl their way up. “I know, Har. M’okay, I promise. Won’t do it again.”

“Good.” A soft kiss to the pulse point below your ear. “Cause I’ll feed you to the shark myself if you do.”

With that, you laugh again, slapping at his arm until he pulls back.

"Were you scared?" A hesitant question. One you're sure he's afraid to know the answer to.

You smile as you run your fingers down his cheek, shaking your head softly. "No. Not really. Maybe for a moment, but I knew I'd be okay. Knew you'd be there for me no matter what happened."

You notice the dark storm behind his eyes at this admission, anticipating the way he's already picturing the worst possible scenario.

"Harry," you warn, offering a stern look. "Don't do that. Fear is nothing more than a tool to help keep you alive. If I hadn't been at least a little afraid of losing you, then I wouldn't have found the strength to swim to shore."

"Shit." An angry hiss, his head attempting to turn away again, but you're quick to keep him focused on you. "Don't fucking tell me shit like that."

"I'm sorry." You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lip, despite your smile. "But it's true. Nothing will ever keep me from you. Not even a big, stupid fish."

He grumbles his misgivings into the gentle kiss but does eventually melt into your touch.

And once he does, and the tense moment has subsided, you let your eyes trail down to his outfit. You’d previously seen photos from Lambert, but now…the real thing. Right in front of your eyes.

Sparkly, pink, and incredibly loud.

“Oh…my gosh.” Your palm flies to your mouth, the right words disappearing into thin air.

On stage, it looks incredible. Perfectly tailored for the show, for the atmosphere, for the crazy antics he and the crowd engage in.

But anywhere else…

“What?” His eyes move down to his chest. “Okay, well, you didn’t see it with the hat. The hat ties the whole thing together.”

Your lips roll into your mouth. “Mhm. Oh, I’m sure.”

“And the boa,” he continues, gesturing toward his neck. “Yeah. Adds some dimension.”

“Yeah.”

“Little spice.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, you’ll see,” he tells you, and your brow quirks up. “Lambi let me borrow it so I could cheer you up while you’re stuck here.”

Well…shit.

“Oh, that’s…that’s so great,” you beam, teeth gritting together as Harry’s smug grin widens.

“Isn’t it? Nurse Harry, here to help.”

“Super.”

His hands move to the mattress, digging into the soft blanket beneath his palms as he leans forward, now incredibly close. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him eye your lips like candy. Nose brushing against your own as you breathe him in, desperate for what he might have in store.

“So…what do you say?” he murmurs, head tilting until you can nearly taste him. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

You smile. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

“Sure thing, Ariel.”

“All right, you know what? I changed my fucking mind, the shark can have you.”

“Harry!”

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