Risk It - Harry Styles

Jealous

“Ohh let’s go in here!” you smile, dragging Harry’s hand into yet another shop. The two of you had been shopping for almost 3 hours now and Harry was over it. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, too much attention, too many fans and paparazzi and he had no interest in watching you try on dresses all day, he just liked to see the end product at the event. Plus, all he had wanted to do today was lay around on the couch and watch yet another movie. You, however needed a dress for the dinner party Harry was taking you to next week and so you had convinced him to come and help. After trying on nearly 20 dresses that did not work, his hopes of finding one for you were ending and he was just going through the motions at this point, hie eyes rolling as you opened the door and walked in.

“Hey welcome, if there’s anything I can help you with just give a shout, my name is Jordan.” The boy smiled and gave you a wink. He was cute. Blonde hair, styled back in a wave similar to Harry’s. Bright blue eyes watching you move throughout the store, his toned arms lifting boxes of clothes that needed to be hung and organized. Harry groaned at his welcome, and you lightly smacked his arm in response. 

“Thanks, we will!” you smiled moving to the section where the dresses were hanging. 

You moved through the rack, handing Harry all of the options you wanted to try on. After Harry’s arms contained almost 10 dresses, you moved to the fitting room. Harry was hunched over in a chair across from your fitting room scrolling through his phone without a glance in your direction. You tried on the first dress, it was a short and very tight black cocktail dress. You walked out and did a spin, finding Jordan at the entrance of the fitting rooms putting away the clothes people had chosen not to get after they tried them on. “Well?” you asked Harry with a smile. 

“Yeah, it’s nice, you look beautiful.”

“Harry you didnt even look.” you sighed, annoyed with his behavior. You were about to walk back in to change but Jordan stopped you.

“What’s the occasion, may I ask?” He smiled, his blue eyes slowly making their way up your body with a smile.

“Uh a dinner party.” You smiled back. “What do you think?”

“I love it, your boy is right, you look beautiful….” That got Harry’s attention. He glanced up, sitting straighter in his chair and looking over at the dress you had on. “I would say that’s more for like a clubbing atmosphere rather than a sit down dinner party.”

You grinned and nodded, “That’s crazy. I was thinking the same thing.”

“Yeah me too.” Harry mumbled. “Definitely not a dinner party option babe but you can for sure pull it off in a club…”

You gave Harry a weird look and slight laugh before walking back in and trying on another option. The next dress was a tight, floor length red gown with a high slit up the side. You walked out and modeled it with a smile. “I like this one.” you grinned.

Jordan, still watching nodded. “That might just be the one….I mean wow-”

Harry stood up, walking over to you and grabbed your hand, softly spinning you in a circle. “(y/n)…you look incredible.” He bit his lip and looked up and down your body slowly. “I don’t even have words.”

“You know what though?” Jordan walked over as well, shifting through a rack of dresses in the corner. “While that is definitely the style I would go with….maybe try it in more of a classy evening color.”

“I don’t know…” Harry said with a frown. “I really love this one…you look absolutely stunning.” He glared over at Jordan and you laughed at the reaction.

“You know, there’s another style I think you would look amazing in…and it’s all black, floor length, perfect for any upscale dinner event. ”

You nodded and smiled at Jordan, “That would be great thanks.” He nodded, walking away to grab the dress.

“Ugh.” Harry groaned giving you a look.

“What’s that about?” you were looking at the dress you had on in the floor length mirror. 

“I think you would look amazing in this other dress…let me just go get it for you.” Harry mocked. You turned around laughing and shook your head. “Seriously I mean come on he’s totally flirting with you.”

“Harry don’t be-”

“Here you are.” Jordan walked in, carrying a beautiful shiny black dress.

“Ohh I love that.”

“I knew you would.” He smiled and handed it over. “You’re going to look beautiful in it, you have the body…and eyes. This color really compliments your eye color.”

You smiled and Harry coughed, rolling his eyes. He was annoyed and getting antsy, moving around the dressing room in circles. You gave him a warning look and walked back in the dressing room to change. You had the dress on but the zipper was stuck so you came shuffling out looking for Harry’s help. Instead you found his chair empty. Frowning you called out, “Harry?”

“Oh, he went to the bathroom, can I help you with something?” Jordan come over with a grin, his perfectly white teeth sparkling in the light.

“The zipper is stuck….I can’t see to get it all the way up.” you mumbled turning around.

“Let me see what I can do.” Jordan walked up behind you, placing one hand lightly on your back, the other on the zipper. He moved your hair out of the way and tugged it all the way up. You turned with a smile, your eyes locking onto two very jealous and frustrated eyes walking back from the bathroom. “There ya go, you look amazing.” he smiled, making you blush a little.

“Thanks…” you smile back, walking towards the mirror. Jordan nods and returns to his work, while Harry stalks by with a sideways glance. You’re looking at the back when he walks over, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you think?” you smile presenting the dress with your arms out to the side.

“What the hell was that?” he growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the small dressing room.

“What are you talking about?” 

“That guy- he had his hands all over you, he-”

“He was helping get the zipper that was stuck.” you answered laughing.

“You could’ve asked me. I would’ve done it. There’s no reason that he had to do it.” Harry was whining.

“You were in the bathroom. He was there and asked to help. He was a complete gentleman to by the way.” you noted.

“You could’ve waited for me to come back and help.”

“Babe-”

“No. You’re not taking this seriously. The whole time we’ve been in here, he’s been all fucking over you and I’m not okay with it.” Harry was jealous. His eyes burning a brighter shade of green, his cheeks red from frustration. His arms were locked across his chest and the dimples you loved nowhere in sight due to the frown formed by his lips. “I don’t care what the reason was, there’s no fucking reason to have his hands on your back. There’s no reason for him to compliment you the way he was, I mean come on-”

“Harry.” you interrupted with a laugh. You walked over, placing a soft kiss against his lips. HE remained unyielding, turning his head and groaning.

“You’re not getting it.”

“There’s absolutely no reason to be jealous…”

“I-”

“No. Listen. I love you. You are the one I’m even looking here for. Nothing happened.”

“I know but still. Why can’t he keep his hands to himself.”

You just shake your head. “Well good news. This is definitely the one so we are good to go now. No more trying on any others. I love this one.”

Harry didn’t say anything just grumbled comments to himself as he left the dressing room so you could change out of the dress. You walked out, carrying the dress in your arms over to the counter. Jordan helped check you out. “I knew this was going to be the one.”

“Yeah so did I.” Harry growled. 

Jordan just smiled and nodded. “She looks beautiful in it.”

“Yeah I know.” Harry wrapped his arm around your neck and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “She looks beautiful in anything she wears.”

Normally, you would’ve been embarrassed by Harry’s outburst and obnoxious behavior but today it was cute. You liked that he cared enough to be jealous. He  had nothing to worry about considering Jordan was most definitely gay, but he clearly hadn’t picked up on that. Harry took the bag and turned with a grin, kissing you hard on the lips. “Thanks for the help with my girl’s dress.” Harry said too sweetly as he pulled you to the door. 

Outside he took a breath and you shook youre head. “You just had to be extra back at the check out didn’t you?” you asked laughing as he tugged your hand to the car.

“I needed him to know exactly who’s girl he was playing with.”

“Harry.” you laugh climbing into the seat he had just opened the door too. “You know he was gay right?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like no doubt.”

“Oh.” Harry stood there, mouth tugging into a smile.

“Does that make you feel better?” you laugh.

“Much.” he grinned. 

—

A short request. I actually have another story based on jealousy that will be coming out soon so I tried switching up the vibe in this. Hope it works!

xoxo

could u guys write something where H loves y/n big boobs... im kinda feeling insecure rn :(

*nicki voice* BIG BOOBs?

Absolutely. We love big boobs here. We love all boobs. And so does h

If anyone would also like one with small boobs, let us know! But here we go!

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

——

Harry loved boobs.

All boobs. All sizes. But he especially loved Y/N’s.

They were big, full, and he couldn’t fucking get enough. Every day he had to try and restrain himself, especially at the beginning of their relationship. All he wanted to do was bury his face in them. Hold them. Grasp, play, suck, knead, anything he could do to them, he wanted to.

Y/N hadn’t met a man who was as obsessed with her tits as Harry was and that said a lot. Men loved breasts- but Harry was other level. He couldn’t keep his hands or eyes off of it. He was always seemingly in awe of her chest and honestly? As much as it could be perceived as Pervy, it was flattering.

He paid so much attention to her in general, she couldn’t help but let him indulge in his wants with her chest. Sitting with him on the couch, she would grab his hands when she sat between his legs and lead them under her shirt. Let his hands simply cup the lace clad breasts while they watched TV.

There wasn’t enough praise he could give them. In her ear, whispering his thanks and how much he loved them. How he dreamed about them and wouldn’t ever get enough of her and her body.

“Fuckin’ perfect, Y’know that baby?” He murmured, thumb brushing over her nipple under the delicate lace of her bralette. “Need to go out n’buy my pretty baby some more of these things. S’so nice.” He got her a few in pastels and now was wondering if he could have them replace some of her other lingerie. “So much easier to touch. No padding…” he kissed under her ear gently.

God, he was fucked.

“Mhm, we know. Down boy.” She giggled, turning and stealing a peck on his jaw before settling back down. “You just like that you can suck on them through the lace. Admit it.” Her teasing made him chuckle, shaking his head into her neck.

“Alright. Y’caught me, sweetheart.” His fingers gently tugged into the lace and pulled it down, getting his hands inside of it. The hot skin burned his so deliciously, moaning in satisfaction as he carefully kneaded the flesh in his palms. It was relaxing and arousing for him. She could feel the throbbing of his cock against the small of her back, but he made no move to do anything about it. “But can you blame me? I’ve got the most gorgeous breasts, all to myself. You’re so lovely n’generous to me. Let me play with them whenever I ask…” he sighed, pulling each breast out of the lace with his hands so they could be free.

“So big and pretty. Plenty to play with… to kiss, to love on. Makes me so happy.” He added. Harry truly couldn’t stop himself, pulling her shirt up quickly and revealing her chest to him. His groan was right in her ear, making her shiver. So raspy and full, she loved that she was able to get him like this.

“Look at them, darling.” He gently moved his hands, watching them bounce. His large hands held them well, but he was in love with how they looked in them. “And you wonder why I love having you on top. Get them in my face. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pressed a wet kiss to her neck, inhaling her scent while he took both of his thumbs and ran them over her nipples. That got a reaction out of her, her breathing catching as her head lulled back on her his shoulders.

“Swear, I’d let you kill me with them. Suffocate me. I love them. Love you even more, but I can’t get enough.” He gently pinched each nipple in between his fingers and shook his hands, cock pulsing harder at the rippling skin. “Prettiest nipples. Love to suck on ‘em. Love seeing them bounce and move… love seeing how sexy they make you feel too.”

“No, M’not gonna kill you, silly boy.” She laughed breathily. His hands were warm and his rings cool on the skin, the contrasting sensations making her want to arch her chest into his hands. Harry didn’t even truly know how much it affected her when he went on to worship her body like this. How good it felt to know he truly loved her and every inch of her body. “Then you’d never be able to touch them again. I don’t want anyone else to, and you know they like attention.” Her giggled continued when he playfully bit down on her ear, though it did shoot a bit of arousal into her stomach.

“No fuckin’ way. No one else is touching these.” He grumbled, pouting to himself. “Theyre mine. I’m the only one who gets to play with them. I know people look… s’rude but, no one else gets to touch.”

love on tour: the rival

if the moon smiled, she would resemble you – Sylvia Plath, ‘The Rival’

part one

harry and you are no longer together and it’s complicated.

read part one here

She felt inadequate.

She felt guilty, ashamed that she’d just up and left without any explanation. He deserved one, an explanation of what was going on in her head that she felt the need to leave. Though, she thought herself to be a coward when it came to that; communication. So now, standing in front of him, looking into his eyes, she still feels inadequate, almost like a cheater– like she’s just wasting his time.

She shakes her head, trying not to notice the defeat on his face. “I– we shouldn’t talk about this tonight. I’m here to support you–”

“–Bullshit,” he spits, fingers running through his damp hair. “You’re fucking me over. Coming here, showing up here… you’re fucking with my head.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m here because I know this is important to you.”

“Yeah? Well, you fucked with my head, again. Like you always do… like you did the last time you left. I mean– fuck. I should hate you. You knew I’d get all pathetic and beg for you to come back to me because when have I ever stood a chance when it comes to you?”

“Harry…” she tries. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking– I only wanted to show some support. I’ll–” she looks around at the empty room, trying to locate her bag. No luck. “I’ll go.”

She turns around. Harry follows.

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Go,” he says, nodding. “You do a fantastic job at that.”

Keep reading

This crazy thing called love. || 4

Authors Note: Hey!! Here is part 4 of this crazy thing called love. I hope you all enjooy it. The other parts can be found here.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

You can find my blurb Master list HERE

                                                    || Harry || “What can I say about love? It can be one of the immeasurable experiences and it can be one of the gravest, it all depends on who you ask. I’ve spent my time in my office attempting to write this article with tear-stained cheeks and a bit of a broken heart myself. Many people have investigated the same question over and over again, ‘what is love?’ And here I am, to tell anyone reading. Love is something that takes you by surprise, it isn’t always easily perceived, it is sometimes concealed behind a sheer coat of denial. It awakens your soul and annihilates the demons inside you, it makes your head spin in an astonishing way, it makes you feel on top of the world, even if you’re at the bottom. Love is peering into someone’s eyes and recognizing nothing but contentment. Their eyes aren’t just a shade, they’re something so indescribable that you just want to fall into them with every breath you take. Love is being able to take a piece of his cake without him whining or moaning that you’re cramping his style, it’s being able to stumble across the pavement while a little bit tipsy and not having to worry about anything besides the fact the two of you are blissfully making fools of yourselves.

Love is seeing someone at their most vulnerable, weakest stage and still only seeing the strong individual they are. It is looking past the insecurities and the flaws and still loving the person and loving each and every imperfection.

Love is being contented with forever changing when you meet the one, the one that will take your world by storm and turn it upside down in the most beautiful way possible. Love is giving someone the opportunity to possess your heart in their steady hands and trusting them enough not to pulverize it with every fibre of their body. It is gratifying their hands to act like the ribcage outlining your most vital and vulnerable organ, the heart. Conceding someone’s hands to wholeheartedly seize you at your every weakness and breach your every defence and not having to worry that those same hands will turn from their pure gold form to crisp black weapons of destruct. Love is granting the other person everything, entrusting them with your secrets, your life, your insecurities, and your apprehensions in hope they won’t use them against you but cherish them and hold them close.

Love is two souls that are correlated on a level as if they are one, they’re two peas in a pod, two best friends that want nothing but the best for each other, two souls that feel the same spark, flame, and connection, two souls that will always stand by each other through the good times and the bad.

Love is what I have for my best friend, and I don’t mean the kind of love that is platonic, I mean the character of love that enkindles a burning in my soul, the sort of love that I’d fight heaven and earth just to be able to welcome. Sometimes, it doesn’t hit us in the way we suspect, sometimes it is nonchalant before abruptly hitting us all at once. It hit me while sitting in a coffee shop, his eyes undividedly focused on a row of cakes, I viewed the way his brows knitted together and his lips pursed together into a straight line while he attempted to figure out what he wanted. I never thought the day would come where I’d pay so much attention to the way someone stands and decides on a sweet, but that day I did. When I look at him, I don’t perceive the same man the world sees, I understand a man with a heart of gold, a man that entitles me to steal pieces of his food even though it was intended for him, I perceive a man who takes his coffee strong, but won’t complain if it isn’t made to his perfection; I see a man that will walk four blocks to meet me, just to see me for a few minutes, I notice a man that any woman would be lucky to have as their husband and the father of their children. I see a man that slipped through my fingers while I wasn’t looking.

This crazy thing called love has erupted a raging inferno inside me that has spread through me like wildfire, it has become a blessing and a curse. I feel it in the tips of his fingers when his hands are pressed to me, I feel it between the scent of his cologne and the fabric of his jacket when it graces over me graciously in the cold; I feel it encrypted between every lyric he shows me while biting his bottom lip while awaiting my opinion, most importantly, I feel it when I am around him. I feel it all over me, from the tips of my toes all the way up my body, I feel it when I look into his brilliant eyes and when his smile lights up the darkest of days. This crazy thing called love is a treacherous slope that I would fall down every day if it meant his welcoming arms and smile would be at the bottom ready to help me out.”

I stare at the article she wrote, a piece of work that has somehow managed to revolve itself around me; I don’t need to finish the piece to know that the feelings between the two of us are not platonic or strictly best friends.

I gaze at my car keys in front of me, my foot patting nervously against my floorboards as I contemplate on what I should do. Do I go find her and tell her how I feel? Do I let her go?

Keep reading

Ok well can I suck anthrorry off while he’s eating his take out?

the feminine urge to deepthroat the hot liberal arts phd student with bad vision, a pretty smile, and a bad attitude </3

Y/N sitting beside him on the couch, watching him hunch over a bit as he shovels lo mein into his mouth like he hasn’t had a meal in days, using the end of the chopsticks to push his glasses up his nose as his sharp jaw flexes alluringly with his chewing. Despite the fact that Harry’s attention is glued to the ancient artifacts flickering across the screen of his TV, he can still feel her staring at the side of his head intently, and he lets it go on for a few more seconds before he finally intervenes. He glances over at her with his cheeks puffed out with food, his eyebrows raising curiously as he talks through a full mouth. “Can I help you?”

Y/N’s fingers halt their motions, freezing in place from where they had been playing with a loose thread hanging from the couch pillow cradled in her lap. Her response dismissive and airy. “No, I’m alright.”

Harry swallows the bite he’d been working on, blinking at her in an unconvinced fashion. “Then why are you glaring at me like I shat on your favorite copy of The Crucible?”

Y/N casts her eyes towards the ceiling in mild amusement at his vulgarity, returning her gaze onto him with a flat expression weighing down her features, refusing to let him see even a sliver of the genuine fondness she holds for his antics. “I wasn’t glaring, I was observing.”

“That was some intense observing, then.” He huffs, picking up a vegetable dumpling from the black plastic container snuggled inside the hole between his crossed legs, dipping it in its designated sauce before stretching his arm towards her across the sofa, wiggling the appetizer temptingly. “Dumpling?”

Y/N’s lips twitch with endearment as she glances between Harry and his offering. “I’m good, thank you. Already stuffed myself full of noodles.”

“Your loss.” He shrugs his brows indifferently, shoving the dumpling into his own mouth instead before reaching for his drink. “Golden Palace makes the best. The best Chinese food in general, actually. I’d slut myself out for Mei’s sesame chicken.”

“Isn’t Mei, like, seventy?”

Harry waves his bottle around apathetically. “What’s your point?”

The sincerity behind his demeanor is utterly comical, and Y/N has to purse her lips in order to avoid bursting into laughter. “You’d pimp yourself out to someone’s grandma for a serving of chicken?”

“Not just any serving of chicken,” Harry motions to her correctively with the neck of the glass cup, “Mei’s chicken. I’d whore myself out for the egg drop soup, too.” Harry’s brows suddenly cinch downwards as some unspoken inconvenience, and he sucks at his teeth in disappointment as he brings the beverage up to his mouth. “I should’ve ordered a bowl. Remind me to next time we visit.”

Next time we visit. Y/N doesn’t know why, but the way he’d so casually included her into his narrative— the way he’d nonchalantly suggested that he sees them getting takeout together again sometime soon, as if it should be obvious that they’ll be spending more time with one another for the foreseeable future— makes her stomach knot into a silk bow. She’d love nothing more than to make this type of quality time a regular occurrence; she could watch him moan over egg rolls forever, honestly, as long it’s him. And Chinese food escapades aside, she loves how much she’s learned about him in the past couple of weeks as they’ve gotten closer. She loves noticing new little details about him every time they hang out, because it feels weirdly intimate somehow. From an outside perspective, Harry appears so regal and blasé, and due to this, she initially figured that getting to know him would be a challenge; getting him to open up seemed like it would be as easy as prying an iron door open with her bare hands. But since they’ve met, she’s been proven wrong in the most pleasantly unexpected manner yet.

Y/N has slowly begun to take notice of the little things regarding Harry, which has helped her build a profile on him that she can reference whenever she’s alone and finds herself daydreaming about being in his company instead. One of the first things she’d learned about him is that he doesn’t take sugar in his coffee or tea; he only likes honey, for the added earthy notes it brings to the table, and because it’s how his mother used to make him warm drinks when he was young. His favorite flavor of ice cream is cookie dough, but he’s a strong advocate for mint chocolate chip, as well, despite the controversy that surrounds the flavor (“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste, people just have immature palates. Just admit you have the tastebuds of a two year old and move on.”) He abhors sweaty hands, and sleeping with socks on, and 0.9 mm mechanical lead pencils because, “the lead is way too thick and makes my handwriting look like utter shit. It’s especially hard to write lowercase Es because of that tiny space in the loop. I just use pens, and when I do use pencils, I stick strictly to 0.5 lead. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Harry color coordinates his closet and drawers, he arranges bookshelves in alphabetical order, and he has to take melatonin supplements periodically in order to regulate his sleep schedule, but he despises swallowing pills so he buys the gummies instead. But he doesn’t eat the green ones, he says they taste like sewage. He uses a tea tree oil and rosemary shampoo because he likes the way it makes his scalp tingle, and he types faster on his phone than on his laptop, so he does a lot of his coursework on his device and then edits it on his computer. He opens the balcony door when it rains because he likes smell of the wet trees, and he likes the rumble of thunderstorms as long as they’re distant and nothing extreme. He hates sourdough bread, he loves goat cheese and raspberry marmalade on his toast— not jam, marmalade, because apparently there’s a significant difference— and his favorite comfort food is pho from that restaurant that’s a five minute walk down the street. He can’t sit or sleep in a silent room; the suffocating deafness of it drives him insane, so he always turns his fan on from the second he gets home to the moment he leaves, that way there’s always some background static present to keep him from going mental.

He likes sleeping naked, though he always keeps a pair of clean boxers folded neatly on his nightstand beside his glasses so he can pull them on first thing in the morning. The smell of citrus Lysol makes him physically sick to the point of gagging, courtesy of when he drank some as a child after mistaking the liquid for lemonade. He’d been rushed to the emergency room and had his stomach pumped, which resulted in his distaste for hospitals, as well. His favorite flavor of soda is pineapple, but not the Fanta kind. He likes a brand of Mexican soda called Jarritos, and he’s been buying it from the same small Mexican market for the last four years, since it’s the only place relatively near him that carries it. He frequents the store so often for the same product that the owner— Eduardo— had eventually begun to set aside a box of that specific flavor just for him, for when he comes around to restock at the end of the week. Y/N had called it an unhealthy obsession, but he claims it’s just “customer loyalty.” Leave it to him to come up with the perfect philosophy to weasel himself out of trouble.

Harry’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. “You’re observing me again.”

Y/N blinks back into reality, mumbling a gentle apology under her breath as she admires the handsome— yet insufferably smug— grin painting itself across her companion’s face, highlighting his defined cheekbones and the dimples that wink into existence at the corners of his mouth. He looks so pretty, and she gets the sudden overwhelming urge to smother him in kisses until he can’t breathe, just to watch him giggle and scrunch his face at her doting. That wholesome instinct quickly molds into something much more crass, however, when he shifts his legs out from under him, slouching deeper into the couch as he spreads his thick thighs open suggestively. His lean tummy ripples with his actions, his strong chest heaving slightly as he maneuvers himself into a comfortable, exposed position that leaves his intentions open for interpretation.

Harry reaches forward and sets down his container of half-finished food, tossing both of his arms over the backrest of his sofa as his hips burrows into the cushions below, his biceps flexing as he folds one up to bring his drink to his mouth. He tucks the rim past his lips, tilting the bottle up and taking a slow swig of the pineapple beverage, his Adam’s Apple bobbing almost mockingly as the entrancing jade of his eyes twinkles at her sultrily over the end of the glass jug. He removes the spout with a wet pop, using the knuckle of his forefinger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, balancing the bifocals accordingly to get a good look at her through the lens. Y/N can tell her neediness has leaked into her appearance from the way he addresses her next, cracking a sly smirk as he locks gazes with her deeply for a prolonged second, proceeding to then glimpse down at where her thighs are clasped together tightly. His accent comes out low and throaty, just how he knows she likes it. “Wanna come sit on my lap? We can cuddle while we watch the rest of the documentary. Or we can make-out. Your choice.”

In that moment, Y/N decides that playing into his little charade isn’t within the scope of her patience right now. So instead, she decides to drop any act of civility she has left and voices her thoughts in a clear and unapologetic manner, with absolutely no remorse in sight. “What I want is to suck you off.”

Much to her surprise— and irritation— Harry doesn’t seem even the slightest bit fazed by her straightforward crudeness. In fact, the way in which he shrugs one shoulder easily and tilts his head to the side knowingly gives off the impression that he was expecting this type of reaction from her, and that only grates her even further. He knows how much she wants him, and yet he continues to toy with her like she’s a fucking doll set out for his entertainment, making her fold and bend to his will just so she can get a chance to experience whatever it is he promised, which will come after they’re acquainted enough to his liking. And as much as she hates this evil little waiting game he has going, she can’t deny how attractive she finds it, and it’s nearly enough to drive her mad.

Harry rumbles a quiet, concise hum in her direction, batting his lashes at her teasingly as he taps his pinky against the bottle in his large hand, pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I know you do, sweetheart. It’s kinda cute, honestly.”

Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the condescension behind his tone. “That I want to suck you off?”

“How desperate you are to do it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are.”

“Why?” He gives her an artificial pout, oversaturating his words with a sugary lilt just to taunt her emotions. “Because I won’t let you fuck me?”

“Because you’re making me wait as some twisted form of entertainment.”

“It’s a bit fun, though, innit?” Harry motions between them vaguely, his two front teeth digging into his lush bottom lip. “This little back and forth thing with have going? I push, you pull, you push, I pull, so on and so forth. I leave bruises all over your neck with my teeth, but stop when I reach the collar of your shirt. You leave hickeys down my stomach, but have to stop when you reach the waistband of my trousers. I grab your ass while we’re kissing, but refuse to spank it even when you beg me to. You grind against me and feel me get hard between your legs, but you know you won’t be able to do anything about it so you just have to accept whatever you get and handle the rest on your own. It’s good build-up, I think. It’s gonna make it worth the wait.”

Now Y/N is actually doing what he’d accused her of doing earlier: glaring at him. “Bold of you to assume I’ll stick around that long, considering how often you get on my nerves.”

Harry belts out a confident laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not going anywhere, Austen. We both know that.”

She tilts her chin up in a spiteful challenge. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because if you were serious, you would have left ages ago.” Harry spreads his legs even further apart, drawing her attention to his groin, exactly as intended. Even in his briefs, she can’t tell he’s well-endowed, and she can’t stop the way her mouth begins to water on impulse. “S’kinda funny.”

“What is?”

“How you’re dick-whipped when you’ve yet to receive any.”

“Get fucked.”

“We’ll see.”

Omg silly sex with harry 😌😌

i'm on mobile so i'm going to do a wee headcannn bc they do be kinda fun

blowing raspberries against your skin while he's inside you

giggling so hard he has to stop thrusting

he's smiling to himself about your boobies bouncing

dirty talk isn't very successful and you end up sputtering through every sexy thing you can think of

harry places loving kisses to the weirdest parts of your body like your elbow or your belly button

bringing up the most random things like "did you listen to that podcast i sent you about coyotes" or "how does thai sound for dinner" as you're literally going at it

lots of nose budging

a playful nip on the flesh of your ass or the curve of your shoulder

him stopping in the middle to go get a scrunchie to tie his hair back (his little butt wigging as he runs to go get🥰)

:)

updated: 4/21/2021

✰ = smut

☂ = angst

(if there’s nothing next to it, then it’s fluff)

take a look at my fic recs!

here are all my playlists!

24 hour bookstore→part one, part two✰: you meet harry one night while he’s in nyc and then he asks you on a date and things get…dirty

quarantine confessions: harry’s in la and you’re in nyc and he stops calling and you wonder if your kiss screwed everything up

the quarantine couch✰: you’re staying with your parents during quarantine and you have…needs

a trim: harry really needs a haircut

fuck ‘em only we know (light smut): based off of Bank’s song

boardwalk (summer feeling challenge): you and harry have a fun night on the boardwalk in ocean city, md

wallowing: after another one of your relationships end, you pour a large glass of wine and decide it’s time for some wallowing while fine line blasts throughout your apartment and your best friend comes to comfort you

wallowing part two (wip): you and harry have been seeing one another but nothing’s official; you two go out one night and he fucks up so you go home to wallow in your feelings—again.

ungodly hour→ part one, part two✰: request based off of chloe x halle’s song

26 ☂, part two✰: request based off Gracie Abrams’s song 21 

fine line✰:harry plays you fine line for the first time and some things come out

tis the damn season: ✰ based on miss swifts iconic tune

green eyes☂: based on the song green eyes by Joseph, or harry wants to take a break

faking it: (light smut) you fake an orgasm and harry knows

october✰☂: september was filled with heartbreak, but october is offering you better things

house hunting: you and harry are looking for a house in italy

needy✰: you just really need dick

playlist fic challenge masterlist

SOMEBODY ELSE: you and harry are friends who start an arrangement…and then that arrangement ends and you’re left with impossible feelings as you watch him move on.*COMPLETED*

MASTERLIST

EARLY MORNING GLORY (Extended Fic; chaptered): a slow burn, friends to lovers, harry au where he’s just starting out and it takes place in NYC.*ONGOING*

MASTERLIST

IN MY FEELINGS: you and harry hate each other, but that doesn’t stop you from hooking up *COMPLETED*

MASTERLIST

CRUEL SUMMER: a secret relationship in the south of france that breeds nothing but hurt *COMING SOON*

MASTERLIST

Jason | Saturday Night Live (2019)

Was it this video??? https://twitter.com/sugarfemdom/status/1396250288600739843?s=21

OH MY GOD WAIT YES THIS IS IT HOW DID YOU FIND THIS KDJF;KLSDFJ