“Cuddling”
💌 Harry Potter x Reader
💭 MDNI: A lot of dirty talk and praise, thigh riding, cock riding, Harry being ✨freaky✨, actual cuddling and cock warming (i think) at the end.
—
You were curled up in his lap, arms slung around his neck, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder. Harry’s hands were splayed gently over your back, thumb brushing up and down in slow strokes. The dormitory was quiet. Everyone else had gone to bed.
Just you and him. Just warmth and wool and the soft scent of him. You shift to get comfortable.
One roll of your hips—completely innocent. You were just trying to sit better, honest.
But Harry goes still.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just quietly adjusts his legs, like he’s trying very hard not to react. You bite your lip, cheeks hot, and then—
—you do it again.
Slightly slower this time. A little firmer. His thigh presses right where you wanted it.
“Thought you wanted to cuddle,” he murmurs, voice low and a bit too smug, “not hump my thigh.”
You freeze. And then, you feel him smirk against your skin. His hands slide down to your hips, fingers curling.
“Not that I’m complaining…” he says, lips brushing your cheek now. “But if you wanted something else—love—you could’ve just asked.”
Harry—” you mumbled, squirming a little in his lap, like maybe you could backtrack. Like you could pretend you weren’t just grinding on his leg like it felt that good.
He hummed, chin tilting down to catch your eye. “You are humping my thigh, yeah?”
You buried your face in his neck.
“Thought so.” He was grinning now. You could hear it in his voice. “All shy about it, too. That’s adorable.”
“I wasn’t—” You tried. Failed. “I just moved.”
“Twice,” he pointed out, shifting his leg just a little so it pressed more firmly between your thighs. The pressure made you suck in a breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Your nails dug into his shirt, but you didn’t move away. Couldn’t.
Harry’s hands were slow as they slid back to your hips. Gentle. Coaxing.
“You like it?” he asked, a little softer now. “Rubbing on me like that?”
You nodded. Barely.
“Yeah?” His thumb traced circles at your waist. “Then go on, sweetheart. Use me.”
Your breath caught.
“You wanna be good for me, yeah? Show me how needy you are? S’just us here.” He kissed your jaw. “C’mon, ride my thigh like you mean it.”
And gods—you did.
You rocked forward, slowly, thighs trembling as your clothed cunt rubbed against the firm muscle of his quidditch toned thigh. Harry tightened his grip on your hips, helping just a little—guiding, lifting.
“That’s it,” he murmured, breath warm against your ear. “So pretty like this.“
Your pace stuttered.
“You gonna come like this?” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Grind that pretty pussy against my thigh until you’re shaking for it?”
You whined.
“I’ll take care of you after, love. Promise.” His voice was steady. Sure. “But I wanna watch you fall apart first.”
And all the while—he didn’t stop touching. Didn’t stop talking. Just held you, close and steady, whispering how good you looked fucking yourself on him.
“Fuck. That’s it, love. Make a mess on me, yeah? Be as loud as you want. No one’s gonna hear. Just me. Just you.”
It was too much — but not enough. The pressure building low in your stomach coiled tighter with every slow grind of your hips, your panties dragging over the strong line of Harry’s thigh, slick soaking through the cotton and onto his skin.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, forehead pressed to his shoulder as your body started to tremble. It was happening too fast — too intense, too much — and Harry knew. Of course he knew.
“Oh,” you gasped, a soft, desperate sound.
Harry’s grip tightened on your waist, anchoring you, guiding your hips in a steady rhythm. He kissed your temple, so soft and sweet — in contrast to how completely wrecked you were.
“There it is,” he whispered, voice like warm honey. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let it happen. Let go for me.”
You tried — gods, you tried — but the tension was unbearable, your thighs quivering as you chased it, jaw slack, lips parted in a silent moan.
Harry’s lips brushed your ear. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “Making the prettiest little noises. Bet you don’t even realize.”
“Harry,” you whined, the pressure cresting — legs tightening around his, spine bowing. “I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he murmured, voice reverent. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just let go. You’re safe, yeah? I’ve got you.”
That did it. Your whole body seized with a quiet sob of a moan, hips grinding down one last time as the orgasm hit — soft and shattering. You came like a wave breaking, trembling through it, breath catching in your throat as the heat rolled through you.
Harry held you through it. Kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear — so good for me, baby, look at you, fuck, you’re perfect — as you slumped forward, all soft and limp in his arms.
He was grinning. Absolutely beaming. Like Christmas had come early and you were the gift.
When you finally looked up, dazed and flushed and still shaking, he kissed your forehead and tucked your hair behind your ear with the gentlest fingers in the world.
“Was that what you needed?” he asked, smug and stupidly fond.
You couldn’t answer — just nodded, boneless in his lap.
Harry laughed softly, kissing your cheek. “You came on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, sounding positively delighted. “You gonna be able to look me in the eye after that?”
You groaned and buried your face in his neck again.
Your breath had finally begun to slow, your trembling thighs relaxing bit by bit as Harry held you close — one hand stroking your back lazily, the other still resting on your hip like he didn’t want to let go.
“You okay?” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.
You nodded, flushed and warm and boneless, cheeks pressed to his neck. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”
Harry chuckled — that low, raspy kind of laugh that let you feel it in your chest. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. Not rushing you.”
You stayed curled in his lap for a moment, breathing him in. Then—
“You did just ride my thigh so sweetly,” he added, voice a little lighter now, teasing. “Couldn’t help thinking…”
You lifted your head slowly, narrowing your eyes at the look on his face.
That grin.
That infuriating, soft, adoring grin.
“What?” you asked warily.
Harry’s hands smoothed down your sides, featherlight. “Just thinking…” he said again, dragging it out. “You rode my thigh like it was the best thing you’d ever felt.”
You flushed hard.
“So,” he went on, a little more smug now, “what about riding something better?”
He shifted his hips just slightly, and you felt him — hard beneath you, warm and pressed right up against the soaked fabric of your shorts.
Your breath hitched.
Harry tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “C’mon, love,” he murmured, coaxing. “You’ve already made a mess. Might as well make another.”
He leaned up, kissed the corner of your mouth. “Wanna take your time with me?” he whispered, hand sliding between your thighs to stroke you gently through your shorts, soaked through. “Go slow… ride me nice and sweet?”
You whimpered.
Harry grinned wider — like he already knew you were going to say yes.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice low and fond. “Think you can be a good girl and take it at your own pace?”
You nodded — a little shy, a little eager — and Harry kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s get these off, then. And you can show me just how good you feel.”
Your fingers fumbled a little as you shimmied out of your shorts, legs still wobbly from earlier. Harry leaned back just enough to push his own pants down, not even bothering to take them off completely — just far enough for you to sink down into his lap.
And oh, you do sink.
Nice and slow. The stretch makes your jaw go slack, a shaky little breath catching in your throat as he fills you inch by inch easily, coating him in your slick.
Harry’s breath stutters too, head falling back against the pillows for a second. “Fuck, love—”
But you don’t move.
You just stay there — warm and full and still — hands braced on his chest, breathing heavy.
Harry cracks one eye open. “You alright?”
You nod, lips parted, flushed and dazed. “Mhm.”
He gives you a moment.
Another.
You don’t move.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he says, grin tugging at his lips, “but I thought you wanted to ride me.”
“I did,” you mumble, breathless. “I am. I just—need a second.”
He snorts. “You’re literally just sitting on my cock.”
“Exactly.” You blink at him, completely serious. “Your thigh was a lot, okay? That was like… cardio.”
Harry loses it — full-body laugh, head tossed back, hands coming up to cradle your hips.
“Merlin’s sake,” he wheezes, grinning. “My poor girl.”
He shifts under you a little, and you whine, the movement making him slide even deeper.
“You’re adorable,” he murmurs, kissing the underside of your jaw. “But if you’re too tired—”
“I’m not too tired,” you argue, a little pout in your voice. “I just need help.”
Harry raises an eyebrow. “Help, huh?”
You nod again, shameless now. “You do the work. I’ll just… sit pretty.”
He huffs a laugh, hands gripping your hips tighter. “Sit pretty. Right.”
Then he rolls his hips up — slow and deliberate — and your eyes flutter.
“Alright then, sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping. “I’ll take care of you.”
And oh, does he.
He rocks into you again — deeper this time, a little firmer — and your breath hitches, hands curling tighter in the fabric of his shirt. You’re still trembling from earlier, flushed and overwhelmed, but all you can do is sit there and take it while he moves beneath you.
“You feel so good,” you whisper, dazed.
Harry groans, hands gripping your hips tighter. “Yeah? That right?”
You nod, eyes fluttering. “S’so deep…”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, dragging his cock out slowly, only to push right back in, making you whimper.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “Let me do it, yeah? Just sit there, pretty thing. Let me fuck you nice and slow.”
You whine, chest rising and falling against his, your arms sliding around his neck as he keeps thrusting up into you, steady and sure. One of his hands leaves your waist to cradle the back of your head, thumb brushing soothingly behind your ear even as his hips move with filthy intent.
“God,” he groans, like he can’t help it, “you’re so tight like this.”
Your head falls forward, forehead pressed to his. “Harry—feels so good. You feel so good.”
He swears under his breath, hips snapping up a little harder now — not rough, but hungry. Needy.
“I can feel you clenching,” he pants. “Just from me talking to you, huh? You like when I do all the work, don’t you?”
You nod, helpless. “Mhm.”
“Course you do,” he whispers, breath ghosting your cheek. “My perfect girl. Just wanna get fucked stupid and say I feel good.”
“You do,” you moan. “You feel so good.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice breaking. “You’re gonna make me come like that.”
You whimper, thighs shaking around him.
He kisses you — messy and desperate — still rocking up into you, his cock sliding so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.
“You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” he whispers, voice thick with heat. “Just like this? Letting me do everything?”
You can barely nod, so you mumble it into his neck: “Please—want to.”
Harry’s grip tightens, a guttural noise escaping his throat. “Yeah. Gonna make you come again. My sweet girl—fuck, just keep telling me how good I feel.”
You can feel him trembling beneath you — not from effort, but from you. From the way your arms wrap loosely around his neck, how you press your chest to his and kiss him like you’ve got all the time in the world, even as he keeps fucking up into you with lazy, deliberate thrusts.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes him groan into your mouth. The kind that makes his fingers dig into your hips like he needs you to stay right there.
“Merlin,” he mutters against your lips, voice low and frayed. “You’re gonna drive me mad.”
You hum — soft, pleased — and kiss him again. A little deeper this time. A little slower. Like you’re trying to make him feel every bit of how good he makes you feel.
And it breaks him.
His pace falters for half a second, hips stuttering as he lets out a quiet, wrecked laugh.
“Oh, you like this,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours. “Like just sittin’ there, lettin’ me do everything while you kiss me like that.”
You smile, lazy and sweet. “Mhm. S’perfect.”
Harry’s jaw tenses. “You’re unreal.”
His hand slides up your spine, cradling the back of your head, like he can’t bear not to be touching you. His other hand grips your hip tighter, guiding you down onto him as he thrusts up — slow, deep, filthy.
You moan quietly into his mouth, clinging a little tighter.
“I can feel you,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. “All warm and wet and perfect around me.”
Your hips twitch, unintentionally meeting him halfway — and he groans, full-bodied and ragged.
“Fuck, love, don’t do that—m’not gonna last if you—”
You cut him off with another kiss, and Harry swears under his breath, his whole body tensing.
“God, you kiss me like you know what you’re doing,” he mutters against your lips. “Like you know I’m gonna come just from this.”
You smile against his mouth. “Maybe I do.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the look in his eyes — wrecked and adoring and a little wild — nearly finishes you.
You’re breathless, lips swollen from kissing him, arms wrapped tight around his neck like you never want to let go. And maybe you shouldn’t speak—maybe it’s dangerous, given how close he is—but you do anyway, soft and whiny, right against his ear.
“Harry,” you whisper. “Touch me too?”
He freezes.
For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. Then he leans back just enough to look at you, eyes wide, pupils blown.
“Touch you,” he repeats slowly, voice hoarse. “While I’m already inside you.”
You nod, cheeks hot, lips parting like you might apologize for asking—but he doesn’t let you. He laughs. Low and rough and so fond it hurts.
“You’re unreal,” he mutters, kissing you again, all teeth and tongue this time. “So fuckin’ greedy, sitting pretty on my cock, kissing me like that, and now you want more?”
You mewl—soft and needy—and Harry groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rocks up into you harder.
“God, I should say no,” he pants. “Should make you wait. You’ve already got me losing my bloody mind.”
But his hand is already moving, slipping between you, fingers brushing against your clit like he has to give you what you want.
“Can’t say no to you,” he breathes, voice rough. “Not when you ask so sweet.”
You cry out—quiet, but wrecked—as he rubs slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The dual sensation hits hard, sharp and fast, and your nails dig into his back.
“That’s it,” Harry groans, watching you, desperate and glowing. “Feel good, yeah? Getting everything you asked for?”
You nod, whimpering his name—and he nearly loses it right there.
“Greedy little thing,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “But you’re mine. And I’ll give you whatever you want.”
The pressure built fast—too fast—with Harry’s fingers rubbing soft and steady circles on your clit and the thick drag of him inside you, slow but so deep it knocked the breath from your lungs.
Your mouth fell open. A gasp, a sob, a whisper of his name.
Harry groaned, jaw tight, one hand braced on your waist as he rocked up into you, the other still working between your legs. “There you go, sweetheart,” he panted. “Come for me—just like that. Let me feel it.”
You shattered with a soft cry, burying your face in the crook of his neck, trembling as the wave hit—warm and deep and dizzying. Your walls clenched around him, tight and pulsing, and Harry cursed low under his breath.
“Fucking hell,” he rasped. “You feel—Jesus—feel so good when you come.”
You were still clinging to him when he tipped over the edge, hips jerking, burying himself deep with a broken groan. His hand fisted in the sheets beside your head, and he held you there—flush to his chest, still trembling slightly—as he spilled inside you.
He didn’t move right away.
Just breathed against your skin, a little wrecked, a little in awe.
Eventually, you shifted—just enough to wrap your arms tight around his shoulders again. Your body stayed pressed to his, your thighs trembling around his waist, but you made no move to pull away.
Harry blinked, dazed. “Love?”
“Mmm.” Your cheek rested against his. “Stay. Feels nice.”
He huffed a breathless laugh, still buried inside you, and felt the edges of your mouth curl against his neck.
“You mean that?” he murmured. “Want me to just—”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, already sounding half-asleep. “Just… cuddle me.”
Harry smiled, wide and disbelieving and so soft it hurt. He shifted just enough to reach for the blanket tangled at the foot of the bed, pulling it up over both of you before tucking you closer.
You sighed, melting against him.
He was still hard, still inside you, and somehow, somehow, that made it even sweeter.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he whispered into your hair, not quite meaning to say it out loud.
You didn’t answer—but the way you held him tighter said enough.
my big three. holy fucking shit.
