Dec 22, 2024
they can't die god won't let them
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they can't die god won't let them
Harry on SNL
show you how
Summary: When habit compels you to get on top, Harry drops everything to show you what you really deserve.
Warnings: new relationship, first time together, steamy make-out sesh, mentions of a past relationship, oral (f!receiving), protected sex, this is very intimate and sweet, aftercare and pillow talk
Based on: this ask!
A/N: thanks again anon for requesting this, hope i've done it justice. my inbox is always open! enjoy lovelies x
Word Count: 3,088
...
The flat is quiet except for the pitter-patter of rain against the windows and the soft crackle of the candle on the coffee table. Harry's place always smells faintly of freshly done laundry and whatever tea he's brewed; tonight it's chamomile, untouched in two mugs because you're both too comfortable to disrupt the peace.
Your legs are draped over his thighs, his hand splayed wide at the small of your back under your sweater. The kiss started slow when you first walked in, but has deepened into something hungrier, tongues lazy but deliberate. His other hand traces slow, absent circles over the bare skin of your upper arm where your sweater has slipped down.
He hums against your lips, pleased, and tilts your head with his palm so he can lick into your mouth slow and thorough. His hand slides up your side, thumb grazing the underside of your breast through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch instinctively, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating where your chests touch. When he breaks the kiss to leisurely trail his lips along your jaw, you tilt your head to give him more room. His teeth graze your pulse point, light, teasing, then his tongue soothes the spot, and heat coils low in your belly.
He nips gently at your earlobe, voice rougher now. ''You're a little tense, baby. You okay?''
''Cold,'' you lie, even as your fingers tighten in his hair.
He chuckles, breath hot against your skin. ''Liar.''
You turn to catch his mouth again, and his hand slips higher under your sweater, palm flat and warm against your bare back.
When you finally need air, you pull back just enough to rest your forehead against his. Your breathing is uneven, lips swollen and tingling.
He studies you for a beat, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. ''Really, though, you're unusually quiet.''
You bite your lip, suddenly shy despite the way your body is still pressed flush to his. ''Just remembering something I said before.''
He tilts his head, curious but patient. ''Yeah?''
You trace the collar of his shirt with one fingertip, following the line of ink that disappears under the fabric. ''Remember that movie night at my place, when you had your hand up my shirt while we were kissing on my bed, and I pulled back because I said I get tired after... you know.''
Harry's hand stills on your back. He nods slowly, eyes never leaving yours. ''I remember.''
Your cheeks heat. 'It's been that way since my first time. I only dated one guy before you, y'know. We were together for almost three years. He was my first... everything. And sex was always the same. I'd always end up sore the next day, like my body had run a marathon.''
He exhales through his nose, thumb resuming its slow stroke along your back. His expression is soft, but there's a flicker of frustration in his eyes.
''Three years,'' he repeats, almost to himself, brows lifting. ''And he never once made it feel good enough that you weren't sore after?''
You laugh, short and a little self-conscious. ''I guess not. Maybe I'm just sensitive. Or bad at it.''
Harry's mouth quirks like the idea is ridiculous, but his eyes stay serious. ''That's not how it's supposed to be, love.'' He leans in, brushes the tip of his nose against yours. ''At the risk of sounding conceited, I'm sure I could make you actually feel good, if you'd like.''
''I'd like that,'' you whisper. ''With you.''
He studies you for a moment, then leans in and kisses you, deep, unhurried, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes heat pool low in your belly. ''Then let me show you how it's supposed to feel.''
He stands first, offering his hand. You take it, fingers lacing together as he leads you down the short hallway.
The lamps in the bedroom are on low, warm gold spilling across the navy sheets and the dark wood floor. The rain sounds softer here, muffled by the heavier curtains. He turns to face you at the foot of the bed and cups your neck with both hands. His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth before he kisses you, and you feel the shift in him, the restraint giving way to something much more urgent.
His hands slide down to the hem of your sweater, gathering the fabric inch by inch until he pulls it over your head. Your hair tumbles free; he smooths it back with one palm, eyes tracing the lace of your bra.
You reach for the buttons of his shirt in return. One by one they slip free, revealing warm, flushed skin adorned with ink. When the shirt falls open, you push it off his shoulders, letting your palms glide over the firm lines of his chest, down the ridges of his abdomen. He shivers under your touch, a quiet groan catching in his throat.
He walks you backward until the backs of your knees meet the edge of the mattress. He follows, crawling over you, caging you with his arms but keeping most of his weight on his elbows. His mouth finds your neck first, trailing open kisses along the column of your throat, then lower, lips pressing to the fluttering pulse just below your jaw. You tilt your head, offering more, and he gladly takes it, tongue flicking out to taste your skin, teeth grazing lightly enough to make you gasp.
He lifts your hand, turns it palm-up, and kisses the delicate skin where your pulse races. His tongue traces the vein there, slow and deliberate, before he sucks gently. The sensation shoots straight between your legs, and you have to press your thighs together, already aching.
''Harry,'' you breathe.
He hums against your wrist, then lowers your arm and moves over your body. He kisses the inside of your knee, first one, then the other, nosing the soft skin and letting his breath fan hot over it. When his mouth drifts to the inside of your thigh, you tense, anticipation curling tight in your belly. He doesn't rush. He kisses higher, higher, lips brushing the crease where thigh meets hip, then finally settling between your legs.
But he doesn't touch you where you need it most.
Instead he crawls back up, hands sliding to the clasp of your bra. It falls away, and he tosses it aside without looking. His mouth closes over one breast, tongue circling the peak until it tightens under his attention. His hand cups the other, thumb rolling maddening circles over the nipple, pinching just enough to make you arch. You thread your fingers into his hair, holding him there, hips lifting instinctively.
He switches sides, giving the neglected breast the same thorough worship, sucking harder now, teeth grazing the sensitive tip, then soothing with his tongue. Your breathing turns ragged; every pull of his mouth sends sparks straight to your clit. You're wet already, embarrassingly so, the ache between your thighs building.
When he finally trails kisses down your stomach again, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugs them down your legs. You lift your hips to help as he kisses every inch of skin the drag of fabric reveals: hip bone, your lower belly, the tops of your thighs. Then he settles between your legs, shoulders spreading you open, eyes dark and focused as he looks up at you.
''Can I taste you?'' he asks, voice rough, lips glistening from earlier kisses.
You nod, heart hammering. ''Please.''
He lowers his head, and the first drag of his tongue is flat and warm, exploring your folds. You jolt, hips lifting off the bed. He groans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat.
Harry slides one finger inside you, curling it just right while his mouth stays on your clit. The combination is overwhelming, pleasure coiling tight and fast. He adds a second finger, thrusting in time with the rhythm of his tongue. You're trembling, thighs shaking around his head, moans spilling freely. He doesn't stop until you shatter, back arching, vision blurring, his name torn from your throat on a broken cry.
He works you through it, then kisses your inner thighs, your hip bones, your stomach as he crawls back up. His mouth is wet, lips swollen, and he kisses you so deep you can taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into him, hands roaming his back, tugging him closer.
He reaches for the nightstand, rolls the condom on with steady hands, then settles between your legs again. He kisses you once more before lining himself up, the head of him nudging your entrance.
You move on instinct.
Pushing at his shoulders, you roll so you're straddling him, knees bracketing his hips. Harry freezes beneath you. His hands are still on your waist, his eyes wide with confusion.
''Hey,'' he says softly, thumbs stroking your sides. ''Baby, what are you doing?''
You blink down at him, suddenly uncertain. ''This... this is how I've always done it. I get on top. That's... that's how it works.''
His brow furrows deeper. ''Who told you that?''
You swallow. ''My ex. He said it was easier for him. Better view, or... I don't know. He just always wanted it like this. So I thought...''
Harry's jaw tightens, frustration flickering in his eyes. Not at you, of course not, but at the years you spent thinking this was the only way. At the way your body was used instead of worshipped.
''Baby,'' he says firmly, voice rough with emotion. ''That's not how it should be.''
He sits up slowly, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you close. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, breathing steadying.
''Let me show you how you should've been treated,'' he murmurs. ''Let me take care of you properly. Please.''
You search his face: earnest, tender, determined.
Then you nod.
He kisses you once more, soft and promising, then gently maneuvers you back down onto the sheets. The navy fabric is cool against your overheated skin as he settles between your thighs again, the thick head of him nudging your entrance. His eyes lock on yours, searching.
''Still okay?'' he whispers.
You nod, breathless. ''Please, Harry.''
He rocks forward in one smooth glide, patiently letting your body open for him inch by inch. The stretch is full and perfect, your walls fluttering around him as he sinks deeper, deeper, until his hips press flush to yours and he's buried to the hilt. A low groan rumbles from his chest. You feel every ridge, every pulse of him inside you, and for the first time it doesn't feel like a chore. It feels intimate, romantic.
He stays still for a long moment, letting you adjust, forehead resting against yours while your breaths mingle. Then he starts to move.
His hips roll in long, fluid waves, pulling back until only the tip remains, then sliding home again with a slow grind that drags his pubic bone perfectly against your clit. Every thrust presses that sensitive bundle of nerves exactly right, sending sparks shooting up your spine. The rhythm is steady, unhurried, but deep enough that each stroke fills you completely. Your thighs tremble around his waist, and you couldn't stop the quiet, needy sounds spilling from your lips if you wanted to.
Harry laces his fingers with yours and lifts your joined hands above your head, pressing them into the pillow. His palm is warm and slightly calloused, the pads of his fingers sliding between yours until they slot together perfectly. He squeezes once, using the grip as leverage to rock deeper. Your knuckles brush the headboard as his thumb strokes the back of your hand in time with every roll of his hips, a constant, grounding point of contact that makes you feel even more connected.
His free hand is everywhere else, stroking, worshipping. It cups your breast, thumb circling the stiff peak before pinching gently. It trails down your side, fingers splaying wide over your ribs, then lower to grip the supple flesh of your hip, guiding you into his rhythm. It slides between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing tight, slick circles. The sensation of his cock dragging inside you while his fingers work your clit has you arching off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat.
Harry watches your face the entire time, studying your reactions. When your lashes flutter and your lips part on a gasp, he angles his hips a fraction higher, grinding harder against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. When your brows draw together and a whimper escapes, he slows just enough to draw it out, making the pleasure crest and crest without crashing. When you moan his name, long and needy, he curses softly under his breath, voice wrecked.
''Fuck, that sound,'' he rasps. ''Say it again, love.''
''Harry—'' It comes out desperate, almost sobbed.
He rewards you instantly with a deeper thrust, fingers pressing just right on your clit. Your walls clench around him; he feels it and groans, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours.
''That's it,'' he murmurs, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth. ''Let me hear everything. You're doing so well, love.''
The pressure builds fast, coiling tighter with every smooth roll of his hips, every stroke of his fingers, every squeeze of his hand laced with yours. Your free hand clutches at his shoulder, nails digging into the muscle. His name falls from your lips over and over, mixed with breathless pleas you don't even realize you're making.
He feels the way your thighs tense and your breathing turns ragged. His pace stays exactly the same, steady, relentless, but his voice drops lower. ''Come for me, baby. I've got you. Let go.''
You shatter. Pleasure crashes through you in waves so intense your vision whites out at the edges. Your back arches hard off the bed, walls pulsing around him in rhythmic spasms. A cry rips from your throat, his name, broken and raw. He keeps moving through it, grinding against your clit to draw every last pulse from you, hand still laced tight with yours, fingers never loosening their grip.
Only when you start to come down, limbs trembling, chest heaving, does he let himself follow. Three more deep rolls of his hips and he buries his face in your neck, groaning your name like it's the only word he knows. You feel every throb, every pulse inside you as he spills into the condom, his hand squeezing yours tightly.
For a long moment he stays exactly where he is, still buried deep, body covering yours, breaths hot against your neck. Then he lifts his head, eyes soft and glassy, and presses the gentlest kiss to your lips.
''You okay?'' he whispers, voice hoarse.
You nod, too blissed out to speak yet. He smiles, small, proud, a little awed, then carefully pulls out. He disposes of the condom with quick, efficient movements, retrieves a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom, and cleans you with tender strokes between your legs. When he's done, he climbs back into bed and pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you. His fingers trace along your spine, the same hand that was laced with yours the entire time now stroking circles over your skin.
The rain is still falling outside. Inside, the only sounds are your slowing breaths and the quiet beat of his heart under your cheek.
You're tucked against Harry's chest, one leg slung over his thigh, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. one hand resting over yours on his stomach, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist where your pulse has finally started to calm.
Neither of you speaks for a long minute, just relishing the warmth of skin on skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek. The sheets are tangled around your hips. He kisses the top of your head, then your temple, then the corner of your mouth.
''You alright?'' he asks quietly, voice rough from everything that just happened.
You nod against him. ''More than alright.''
He exhales a soft laugh, relieved. ''Good. Because that was... fuck, love. It was incredible.''
Heat creeps back into your cheeks. You hide your face in the crook of his neck for a second, breathing him in: sweat, remnants of cologne, that familiar smell that's just Harry, before lifting your head enough to meet his eyes in the low lamplight.
''I've never... come like that before,'' you admit, voice small but steady.
His expression softens, something tender and almost pained flickering across his face. He lifts your joined hands to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one by one.
''I'm glad it was with me,'' he murmurs. ''But I'm sorry it took this long for you to feel it.''
You swallow, throat suddenly tight. ''I just thought that was normal. Being on top, doing all the work, feeling tired and sore after. He never really asked what I liked. Never went down on me. Never even tried to make it last for me. It was always quick, always the same position because that's what he wanted. And I let it be that way because I didn't know it could be different.''
He shifts so he can look at you properly, rolling onto his side so you're face-to-face. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you didn't realise had slipped free.
''That's not your fault,'' he says firmly, voice firm yet gentle. ''He just didn't know how to take care of you. Or he didn't care enough to try. Either way, that's on him. Not you.''
He kisses the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then your lips, soft, lingering. When he pulls back his eyes are serious again. ''I want this to be different for you. We figure it out together. What you like, what feels good, what makes you come so hard you forget your own name.''
A small laugh escapes you, and you nod, throat too full to speak right away. Instead you curl closer, tucking your face into his neck again. His arms tighten around you instinctively.
You close your eyes, listening to the rain and the steady thump of his heart. For the first time in years, you drift off feeling safe, satisfied, and utterly wanted.
...
thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕
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...
he will protect his baby girl
after harry and his gf break up, there’s only one person who he’d call. who he’d been waiting to call.
based on -> this request
CW: emotionally disloyal harry, AGE GAP, oral sex (fem), p in v penetration (unprotected), heavy dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, and all things sexy! little plot mostly smut CURRENT 2026 HARRY
likes and reblogs sooo appreciated!
WC: 5k
You can’t say you were too surprised reading the headlines that morning.
It was a warm Saturday morning when you saw them. You were perched on the thick rim of your window, body melded into the corner as you looked out to the city that surrounded you. A glass of lemon water in one hand and your phone in the other—content.
Harry Styles Splits With Girlfriend After Year Long Relationship.
A Messy Break Between Two Global Superstars—Who is at Fault?
You couldn’t have been more unphased. It’s not like the two had a groundbreakingly amazing relationship. You knew they couldn’t. Not after you and him.
This was a matter of time, in your eyes. Before her, there was you. And you? You were all Harry had been looking for. And you knew it. So much so that at the start of his new relationship, you didn’t feel threatened in the slightest.
You went through your day as normal that Saturday, running some errands, grabbing a bite for lunch. Ignoring the string of texts from some friends asking if you’ve seen the news. Even a text from your own mother, only causing a large eye roll and a swipe left to dismiss it.
So when your phone rang at 10 at night with an endearingly familiar name, you decided it’d be the first notification you responded to that day.
“Hey,” you answer calmly and levelheaded, now resting on your mattress with a wide smile. Your stomach was pressed into your comforter as your feet swung back and forth behind you, rubbing into one another in smooth passing. You were adorned in sleep shorts a little too short for your own good and a matching cotton tank top that fell loose on your skin.
“Hi,” his voice rasped on the other line, “how are you?”
You have to hide your chuckle at his attempt at kind conversation. You’d rather he skip to the good part.
“I’m good, just in bed,” you sigh, “are you holding up okay? Saw the news.”
An empty ask that was fully forced out of you.
“I’d like to see you,” he says, and now you’re intrigued.
“Yeah?”
“I miss you, y/n,” and it wasn’t winsome, it was desperate.
“I know you do,” you nod, keeping your voice to a sensual whisper as you continue the quiet sway of your feet above you.
“Let me see you,” he pleads, “I need to see you.”
It was a naughty thing, him begging over the phone for you like this. He was wise beyond your years, big and strong and tall. You were his perfect little thing, young and perky and small enough to melt into his hold. You shuddered at the thought.
“You can come see me,” you nod slow, “if that’s what you really want.”
You knew it was. He knew that you knew it was.
“Yes, please,” the answer is quick, hopeless.
You honestly felt sorry for him. Listening to him pry for you like he needed you to breathe. You wondered how long he’d missed you, thought about you while fucking his girlfriend. Based on what you’ve heard, you can only assume it’s been a depressing amount of times.
“Ok, baby,” you bite back your smile, “come in when you get here. It’s unlocked.”
And with that, he hung up, pulling his shit together as quickly as possible to come see you. You just smiled to yourself on the bed, scrolling mindlessly as you waited for him. You were clean and freshly showered, slathered in a sweet smelling lotion and smooth all over.
You felt yourself wettening at the thought of him, of seeing him again after all this time. He was older now, chest littered in straggled hairs and pecs full and wide.
You thought of the photos you’d seen of him for Runner’s World Magazine—his stubbled beard and the ghosted bush of his happy trail. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him just as much as he missed you, you were crying to taste this new version of him. Thick and stocky and strong enough to lift you with a hand.
And when he pushed through your door, disheveled as ever, it was everything you ever wanted and more. A thick black hoodie and a loose pair of pink cotton shorts, fabric ripped and torn at the bottom and hugging his quads perfectly.
Even through your distance—your stomach on the bed and him tall in the doorway—you were drowned in his scent. The heavenly mix of deep vanilla musk and all things manly. His phone was held loose in his left hand, looking interestingly small wrapped between his large fingers.
For a moment, there was silence. His eyes drifting to places they shouldn’t and your eyes watching him do so. He peered to the tight crevice that laid between your two legs as you laid against the mattress, ass up and feet gently kicking. You looked so innocently girlish in your pretty cotton pj’s that he nearly folded right there, watching your round ass move just the slightest with every shift of your feet.
“Hi,” You called to grab his attention. His eyes darted away from your body and up to your pretty face, round and doe eyed and clean.
“Hi,” breathless.
You roll to your back, sitting up straight now and throwing your shiny legs over the edge of the mattress. You pressed the palms of your hands against the bed on either side of you, staring up at him with a small smile.
“You look good,” you say.
“So do you,” he nods, taking slow steps closer to you now. Your heart pounded with every new inch he moved, and now you’ve truly realized how much you miss him. Missed this.
You just watch as he walks closer to you, keeping your eyes wide and locked on his. You suddenly felt small as he towered down at you, taking slow strides until he landed between your legs hung off the bed.
You were close now. Your knees grazing the hairs on his legs as his face drew all the way down to meet you gaze. Your neck was tilted back so far that it ached to hold the contact, but you didn’t mind. Not when he was looking at you the way he was.
“I’ve missed this sweet face of yours,” he whispers so low that you nearly miss it, bringing a finger to drag softly along the frame of your jaw.
Your eyes flutter at the hint of contact, basking in the smooth pass of his finger tip grazing against your face. His voice was low, deeper than it had been when you were together and a twang of something different in his accent.
“You did?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him with those big eyes that had him aching.
“I did,” he nods, bringing his finger to your lips now. He dragged against them, soft and swollen, watching as the pink skin pulled along with his touch and bounced back into place in recoil.
“Such a pretty, pretty little thing. So soft,” he seems to be talking to himself, grazing over new places on your face and neck with just the delicate touch of his finger. You were soaked. So soaked that you knew he’d taunt you once he got a feel.
He hooked his finger under your chin to tilt your head further back, bringing his face down until his lips were hovered against yours. You stayed like that for a moment, breathing hot breaths into one another with stuttering eyes.
“Y/n,” he breathed into you, as if he was setting himself up for his next line. But nothing came after, just desperate exhales and shifts of his finger.
“Hm?” You hum, lips grazing over his in a frustrating tease.
He pulled closer, rubbing his mouth against yours before pulling back with a breath. You leaned up to catch his lips again, failing as he pulled back and parted his lips further apart. He pushed forward again, breathing hot air into you as you waited to follow his lead. It was a wreck, the two of you sorting out how to start something so erotic. And then, through wide mouths and heavy breaths, he closed his lips around yours with a deep, long inhale. His finger released itself from your face and replaced it with the firm grasp of his palm, holding your face upright in a strong handle.
You flutter into the kiss that absorbs you, reeling in the taste of his tongue lapping up and down and around your mouth. You felt electric, trapped into the hold of his strong hands and the aggressive push of his tongue. He tasted delicious, minty fresh with a subtle hint of expensive whiskey that had your head spinning and thighs tightening.
“Need to fuck you,” he groaned into you, “missed this so much. Missed you.”
“Mm,” you hum in agreement, allowing your hands to find their place on his chest in front of you. You tug at the thick cotton of his hoodie and yearn for what’s below it, trying your hardest to take your time and follow his lead. You wanted him satisfied, to get everything he wanted from you and use you how he pleased. That would be pleasurable enough for you.
“You can take it off, baby girl,” he whispered into you, immediately pressing his lips back onto the moment he finished his sentence.
Your chest tightened and twisted into itself at his words and the familiar pet name that he’d used so tastefully when the two of you were together. You pulled the black sweatshirt up and over his head, allowing the fabric to pass through your kiss for just a moment before tossing it on the floor of your bedroom.
You were more than pleased to find that he hadn’t worn anything under, now exposed to his bare chest and chiseled muscles. It was even better than what you’d imagined; strong and buff and so so hard. Your nails trickled over the hills and valleys of his abs, feeling them squirm and tense beneath your touch. It was heavenly, the smooth surface that coated the swelling muscles.
He slowly pushed the two of you back through your disgustingly sloppy kiss, letting you fall to your back softly against your pretty pink comforter. You peaked an eye open through the kiss to glance at his shoulders as he did so, watching his traps swell and his shoulders round out in a gorgeously fit shine.
You let your legs wrap around his waist as he hovered over you, pushing his hips down into your center greedily. You both shuddered at the covered contact, the feeling so distant yet so familiar all the same.
He breaks his wet suction to your lips and shifts lower to your jaw, kissing down the sweet sensation of your perfume and down to your collarbone.
He was ridiculously needy, slopping his tongue around your smooth skin desperately as he failed to stabilize his breathing. He kissed every inch he could find, slowing his pace the lower he reached. Your skin was slick with his saliva by the time he reached the waist of your shorts, slowing down to nothing as he pressed slow deep kisses onto the skin.
You quivered as you watched him beneath you, green eyes staring up at you in challenge. His lips were soft and wet, kissing sweetly onto your sharp hip bones as his wide hands grasped your sides.
You started to wonder how you got here, Harry inches away from your pussy as your hand tangled through his hair. Yesterday, he was taken by a beautiful woman known worldwide by millions. Today, he’s falling undone for a woman a bit too young for his own good.
His fingers hook into the cotton of your tiny sleep shorts, tugging them down to reveal your wet slit. You hadn’t worn any underwear—having not expected him—and he growled low at the sight in front of him.
He laid a hot breath on the center of your tight, dripping wet pussy, sending goosebumps up and down your legs and tensing the muscles surrounding it. You were buzzing, high on the feeling of his lips back down where they belonged. You knew he missed your pussy, the way it gushed for him and swelled a pretty bright pink.
The second his tongue pressed flat against your slit, he moaned, loud and shameless at the sweet taste of you. He’d missed you dearly, dreaming of sugary sensation of your arousal coating his tongue for months on end. You were a honeyed petal for his lips to suckle on, framed by the precious scent of your cashmere lotioned thighs. He was on a cloud, lapping you up as your back arched in the beautiful way he remembered.
“Fuck, Harry,” you moaned, light and airy as your fingers twirled his curls harshly. His tongue worked miracles on your hot core, painting you up and down masterfully and you felt like you could cry at how much you missed him. No man has ever pleased you in the way he could, he knew your body like it was his own and was more generous than any man could dream of being.
“My baby tastes so sweet,” he groaned, pressing his tongue in and out of you and nudging his nose against your wet clit.
“Yeah?” You rasp out, “Daddy missed my pussy?”
His hands gripped your hips tighter at the line, shoving his mouth so deep into you that he had to be suffocating. Your back was arched up so high that it ached, your mind distracted in the pleasure that coursing through your blood on fire.
You quivered and gushed on his tongue, gentle moans rolling through you as his mouth moved to work your clit. He sucked hard and flicked your bud simultaneously, sending an aggressive vibration through your legs that locked Harry’s head in place. He was humming slow and steady against you, the mix of feelings comparing to nothing you’ve had before.
Your stomach felt hot and swarmed within itself, your head spinning against the mattress as your hair sprawled up and out. You were drunk on the man between your legs, opening your eyes every couple moments to watch the sensual sight of his face lodged between your thighs.
“You’re gonna cum,” he says, “cum on my tongue, baby, please.”
You clenched and tensed and squirmed, groaning at his words as he brought you up the latter and to your peak. You came fast and hard, soaking his tongue with your arousal as you clamped your legs around his head.
He nuzzled his head back and forth between your legs, blubbering against you as sopped you up and swallowed you down. His eyes stared up at you as he watched you collapse into your orgasm, the scene so provocative that he felt himself drip through his pants. Embarrassing, yes. But not between you two.
Your breaths slowed and your heart pounded as you came down from your high, pussy swollen and even wetter than before. He rose from his place at the edge of the bed with a wipe of his mouth, hovering back over you and taking in your red face.
“On your stomach,” he muttered stern, a demand rather than an ask that you will so happily oblige too.
You rolled to your stomach and shimmied to let your cheek lay against your pillow, wiggling your ass on the bed just barely.
He came to sit behind you, pressing his hands up the sides of your back and over the curve of your ass. He was taking you in, a sharp exhale slipping through his throat as he watched you shimmy around on the bed. Your ass was up and your slit was held tight together, dripping with the remains of your orgasm and puffy waiting for him.
You stretched your arm back behind you as you looked at him over your shoulder, slipping your fingers down past your ass until they landed on your center. You tapped the wet area twice, staring at him suggestively as you lifted your ass higher and used your fingers to split your hole open. You were putting on a show for him, displaying your little hole as he watched you intently.
“You wanna use your words?” He spits, rearranging his cock in his shorts at the sight of you teasing him.
“I can use my words,” you nod, continuing to touch yourself from behind. “You just tell me what you wanna hear.”
His jaw clenched at your response and his eyes shut for a moment too long, desperately trying to keep himself together.
“I want you to tell me what you want, and stop parading yourself in front of me like a slut,” he says low, running his hand up the back of your thigh.
“But I am a slut for you, daddy,” you whine, pressing a finger between your folds, “aren’t I?”
You watch as his lips part and his brows furrow, lost in watching you touch yourself so grossly as you spoke. You were an animal for him, stripping all of your self respect for the man behind you.
You press a second finger into yourself now, slowly stroking in and out as he watched closely. Your eyes shut in bliss and your pink lips fell apart at the pleasure you were providing for yourself, getting off to watching the man stare at you.
“Mmm,” you hum, “feels so good. Wish it was daddy’s cock instead, so big and hard.”
You watch him wince at the words, taking a thick swallow down his throat as he continues to eye you down. Your fingers plunged deep inside of you with every press, pulling out and soaking your skin with your filthy arousal.
“Stop.”
And you did. Hand out of yourself immediately, peering back at him with big eyes and waiting for the next instruction.
So you watched. Watched as he shrugged his shorts down and onto the floor, boxers following next and his cock springing to his lower stomach. Your thighs clenched and your jaw fell open, desperate for the throbbing length in front of you.
He was heavy and thick, so wide for you. His tip was red and swollen, soaked in the subtle drips that had been spilling out of him since he’d arrived. He looked glorious, like the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on.
When he shifted over top of you and lifted your hips up harshly, you could barely hold in your excitement as you bit back a smile. You’ve been thinking of this, this moment, his cock lined up behind you, for what felt like ages.
He pressed the head into your creamy slit so slow, so punishing. He stretched your tight pussy wide, pulling at the skin in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. Your mouth fell open as you melted into the mattress beneath you, soothed by sweet sounds of Harry’s long groan behind you.
“Fuck, y/n,” his tone was low and his grip on your hips tensed, tugging at the skin until it reddened.
“Ohh, Harry,” your knuckles whitened as you tugged at your comforter, “fill me up, keep going.”
He slammed the whole of himself into you in one quick movement, bottoming out as his dense balls slapped against your throbbing clit. It sent a jolt of bliss through you as his tip pecked in deep, rubbing into your spongy insides rough and relentless.
He fucked you this way for a while, pounding in and out of you and watching as your ass jiggled and shook with every thrust. You were moaning loud, feeling too good to keep anything in as your skin slapped together. The noise was wet and sloppy as his hips melded to your ass, skin slapping and pussy gushing in a disgustingly pornographic manner.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned through gritted teeth, pressing a hand onto your back to press you further down into the mattress.
“My pussy feel good?” You whine, “tell me who feels better, daddy. Me or her. Tell me.”
“You, fuck— you!,” he struggles, “You.”
“Yeah? You missed this? Tell me how good it is,” you clenched around him tight, building to your orgasm as you taunt him.
“So good,” he breathes, “feel so good around me, baby girl. Best pussy I’ve ever had. So tight, shit.”
“Mmm,” you hum at his praise, legs trembling he thrusts into you even harder. You were jelly in front of him, being treated as nothing but a fuck toy for him and that’s how you liked it.
His tip slams into you relentlessly, over and over and over again until your stomach is boiling for the second time and your head is fuzzy. You were close, so close and he could feel it.
“M’gonna cum,” you murmur into the mattress, ass arching up as rams into the same sweet spot.
“I know, baby,” he rasps, “wanna feel this pussy cum on my cock. Give me what I’ve missed so much, cmon.”
You shook as your second orgasm rippled through you, hard and aggressive this time. Your moans were strangled and your face was red, gripping your walls around his dense shaft as you fell undone. You felt light and floaty as you came down from this one, falling limp beneath him as he rode you through it.
He pulled out, popping out of you as your stomach fell flat to the mattress. You were wiped, completely exhausted yet craving more all the same. A feeling only he’s given you.
“Y/n,” he rubbed up your back, “I know you’re tired…but I’ve been waiting to watch my baby ride me again for too long. Can you do that for me?”
He was insane to even act like you would say no.
“Yes, please,” you nod quick and flip to your back, catching your breath as he peers over you.
After a quick shift and some rearranging, you were perched on top of his thighs as he laid back into your pretty headboard relaxed as ever. You loved to see him like this, laid back and sprawled out for you to play with. To climb on top of and treat it as your little playground.
He tugged your top off in one quick motion, gawking at your perky breasts that fell in front of him. They bounced out of your top and displayed themselves beautifully for him, so hard and just what he needed to take him over the edge.
You smirk at his intense stare never leaving your chest, and lift your body up and over his swelling tip. It was pretty, so red and aching for you to sit yourself down where you belonged.
And when you finally pressed yourself down and let him pierce through you, your legs tensed harder than they ever had before. His hands guided your hips as they made their journey down, taking him in slow and steady as he stretched you for a second time. He curved straight up into your stomach, pressing a tent into the skin with every sudden movement.
“Oh, baby,” his neck reels back, “You feel that? We feel so good together, fuck.”
And you did. You were spinning, lost in the feeling that you brought upon yourself as you rolled your hips back and forth ever so sensually. It was tender but rough, slightly personal with a tinge of animalistic chemistry. Broken moans and heavy breaths littered the space around you as you rode him with your perfect mix of bounces and slides, soaking the hairs that surrounded his base with your slushy arousal.
“Did she fuck you like this, baby? Hm?” You spur on, quickening your pace as you find your rhythm back and forth.
“No, no, only you,” he spits out with no hesitation.
You grin, satisfied with his admission before lifting yourself all the way up, sliding him completely out of you as you kept him in place between your folds. You teased around the tip that slid between them for just a moment before swallowing him whole once more, sitting yourself down completely in one smooth drop.
At the sound of his deep, drawn out moan you shuddered, bouncing up and down and all around him as you watched his lips fall further apart. He looked heavenly, stubble shifting as his prominent Adams apple bobbed up and down with every groan. His body was strong beneath you and his big grown hands held you tight, gently guiding your movements but letting you keep control all the same.
“Shit,” you curse, “I fuck daddy so good, make him cum better than she did, I know I do.”
You’re rambling now, but you don't care. Neither does he. It’s all true, and right now it’s all so right. Just what he needs to hear falling from your pretty soft lips. He wanted to be reminded of his emotional disloyalty to his ex-girlfriend. He wanted you to know how often he thought of you while he fucked her.
“She was nothing. We were nothing. This is it, baby, you’re it, fuck!” he’s breathless, dick twitching inside of you and so close to his release.
“Please, miss your cum in me so much daddy, wanna be full,” you pick up your pace, bouncing so harsh that your tits were slapping against themselves with every drop. He was in a trance as he watched you, struggling to keep his eyes open but determined to not miss a second of the angelic sight in front of him. His girl, his little baby fucking him again just how he liked. Rough and desperate and one big mess for him.
With a loud and girthy groan, his hot liquid spurts inside of you in a warm blanket of comfort. His head tossed back and his mouth fell agape in total and complete ecstasy, legs trembling beneath you as he came long and hard.
Your hips rolled him through it until his cum was pouring through the crevices where you connected, mixing with your own as you came with him. It was ridiculously wet and weirdly therapeutic to hear, like a sound you forgot existed.
You both tensed and squirmed and vibrated within each other until your head fell forward and into the crook of his neck, laying there in heavy breaths as his hands instinctively wrapped to your back. He rubbed softly into your sweaty skin, catching his breath in sync with your own.
His cock stayed in you for quite a bit before you two parted, your pussy dripping with the two of you as it landed onto his lower stomach. You both giggled a bit at the burden, knowing now that you have to go run to grab him something to clean himself up with.
“Oops, stay here,” you couldn't contain your little laugh, meshing with his own muffled chuckles throughout the dimly lit room.
You ran quickly to your bathroom to grab him a fresh towel, returning fast so as to not leave him coated in his own cum for too long. You know how it feels, there’s definitely a lot of pressure to stay perfectly still until the towel appears.
You leaned over to wipe him up, leaving him dry and only slightly sticky. You were sure you two would shower soon anyway. You had to, you were both coated in sweat.
“Thank you,” he whispers to you as you toss the towel to the side, climbing back into bed next to him.
“Harry,” you push some hair out of his face, “I really miss you.”
“I dont,” he shakes his head, pushing his lips together as he turns to face you.
You freeze, lips parted and cheeks red. And all you can think to do is put a bit of distance between the two of you and bring one of your fuzzy pillows to cover your naked body.
“Hey, I’m joking!” he nudges you with the back of his hand and erupts into a fit of laughter, the sound so sweet but so annoying in the moment.
“Harry, that’s not funny!” you scold, tossing the fuzzy pillow at his head harshly.
“It was kind of funny, until you got all sad,” he mocks, “that was quite the pout, little miss.”
“I don't miss you anymore. You can go,” you cross your arms and swat him away, tummy fluttered and chest full.
“Y/n,” he pulls closer to you, “I miss you very, very much.”
“You do?” you ask, softer this time. You know it was silly, but for some reason you had always been under the impression that you were more into him than he was you. Maybe it was the age, the power dynamic, that had you feeling like he had much more important things to attend to than a cute little twenty something. But when you were reminded otherwise, it was more rewarding than anything.
“Very much,” he nods, “Bath?”
And of course you nod, as smitten as ever, before he kisses your cheek and hops up from the bed to run the water. You just sat there, fucked out of your mind and heart swelling, waiting for him to come back and swoop you up and into the bubbles.
if you enjoyed, pls like/reblog!
more importantly, please read my recent work on wattpad! Liminal- a smutty friends w benefits plot where harry and oc live across the hall from eachother
link to Liminal -> here.
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MY WIFE
A/N: so like... this is basically just smut hehe idk i felt the urge to write something filthy and this is what came out of it, also its probably the longest smut i've ever written, 4k of it is just that lol
WORD COUNT: 5.2k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: What happens when certain feelings and desires mix into a marriage of convenience? Y/N is forced to find out after a jealousy stunt she pulls on her husband, who she definitely shouldn't fall for.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
The deafening quiet is nothing new. It’s been suffocating you since the moment you married him and accepted your fate, but tonight it’s deadly as you sit in the backseat of the car.
He is right there next to you, if you reached out to the side you could touch his arm, his broad shoulder, something you’ve been dying to do, but didn’t. Couldn’t.
He is your husband. The one you vowed to love forever, the one you’re tied to the rest of your life. Yet, he feels like he’s a million miles away, completely out of your reach.
And yet, you still crave him.
You had a plan going into this marriage. Do your part, be the pretty wife, the armcandy he can parade around with, keep yourself out of trouble and bring the best out of this impossible situation of being the wife of one of the city’s most feared men and it all worked out at first. The mansion is big enough to not run into each other for days, he was out there, doing everything you didn’t want to know about and you could go your own way, reading in the enormous library room, swimming in the crystal clear pool or gardening in the seemingly never ending backyard that stretches behind the main building. You could practically do anything, had everything you asked for in the blink of an eye and it all went according to your plan at first, but then…
Your real wife duties started and were forced to spend time with Harry and… fell for him.
It’s almost ridiculous to you, going against best judgement and falling for the one man you’re supposed to keep at arm’s length, because he is dangerous, a feared business man and an even more formidable mob boss you’re practically a prisoner to. But the more time you spent with him, attending events, accompanying him to dinners or appearing by his side in his club, you got to see more of him. More of the charming man who actually cares for the people closest to him, who might be considered morally grey, but actually fights for whatever he believes in and what matters to him. A man who is closed off, often labelled as cold and ruthless, but he is actually… someone you easily fell for.
The only man you can never have even if he’s your husband, what an awfully unfortunate situation.
You’ve kept your desires for him at bay. A fire has been burning inside you, but you didn’t let it show, you swallowed everything and anything that tried to bubble out of you, but tonight you just couldn’t control yourself.
You attended some kind of gala tonight, you’ve stopped caring about the events a while ago, you just go and fulfill your duty. Everything was going well, seemingly Harry has been in a light mood, even making jokes, seemingly paying more attention to you. But then when you left his side to go to the restroom you returned to finding him with a tall blonde woman who could easily be a model with her legs for days, full breasts that sat so perky behind the deep cut of her dress and perfect smile she eagerly flashed at your husband.
Jealousy blinded you in a second and you acted before you could even think twice. A guy walked up to you right in time, offering you a flute of champagne and you gladly took it, then let him shamelessly flirt with you to the point where his hand was getting dangerously close to your ass. Your little scene was cut short when Harry showed up with a not too pleased look on his face, practically killing the guy with his eyes as he dragged me away and out of the building, ending the night for us without a word.
“What’s wrong? I can’t have a little fun?” you smugly asked as you walked to the car that was already waiting for you. “It’s not like he could hurt me or something, we had dozens of people around us,” you huffed and Harry’s jaw ticked.
“You know nothing,” he spat and that was it. The conversation was over.
Now as you watch the lights pass by the window of the car you deal with a mixture of feelings and thoughts. He is mad because you put yourself in danger, familiarizing with a random guy on your own. He told you before that being his wife comes hand-in-hand with safety hazards, that you’d become a target and you have to be careful. You always listened to him, up until tonight when the jealousy completely blew your mind and had you acting reckless.
And the worst thing? The cherry on top of your rage? That it’s your jeopardized safety that set him off, not the flirting. Because you want him to want you the same way you feel about him, with the same intensity you’ve been burning for weeks now.
But that’s not happening. You might be husband and wife, but you’ll never be more than just the title.
You turn to look at him, but he is just staring out the window with an unreadable expression, but even now, he looks so…
The car parks in front of the mansion and even though you can tell he is pissed, more than ever, he still rounds the car and opens the door for you, helping you out so you don’t trip in your long dress and high heels. The momentary touch of his palm against your elbow just sparks even more heat inside you and it feels like pure torture.
You walk inside in excruciating silence, the tension feels like it could pop any moment. Once you’re in the spacious hall, you stop by the door while he keeps walking ahead and before you could think twice, you speak up.
“Are you regretting marrying me?”
Harry stops, but doesn’t turn, you watch his broad shoulders stiffen.
“I’m not what you imagined, right? Not the perfect little obedient facade you need as your wife.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His tone has a warning in it, but it just riles you up even more.
“Maybe you should have married that blondie, I’m sure she’d be a better wife than me.”
“Y/N, stop,” he snaps, finally turning around. “Don’t…” He lifts a finger pointing at you, but then curls his hand into a fist, dropping back to his side. It seems like he is struggling, his usual controlled self is crumbling in front of your eyes.
“Don’t what? Don’t remind you of what you could have if you weren’t tied to me?”
Your throat tightens and eyes water, even though you’re fully dressed, in a sense it feels like you’re standing naked in front of him, speaking your thoughts for the first time you’ve met him, but you can’t keep it down any longer.
He takes a few steps closer, but stops way too far away from you.
“You’re dancing in a dangerous territory, Y/N.”
“Why? Are you gonna hurt me?” Now you’re just provoking him, you’re curious to see a side of him you haven’t, one that loses control, one that’s real and raw and unseen by anyone before.
He huffs, it almost sounds like a laugh, but his face doesn’t match it. He shakes his head and turns around with the intention of walking away, but you’re not ready to end whatever this is just yet.
“Must be hard, finding someone when you have a wife,” you push some more, wanting to get a rise of him, but what you get is far more.
He whips around and closes the distance between the two of you with just about two long strides. One hand comes to grip your upper arm, it’s firm but not painful and his face is so close, your noses almost brush together. Your breath hitches at the sudden closeness and the fire you see in his eyes.
“What’s hard is watching another man lay a hand on you and make you laugh when I want to be the only one you ever even think about.”
With eyes shot wide, you stare back at him, lips parted in complete disbelief. Did you hear him right or did you just imagine it? You can’t tell for sure, the rapid beating of your heart making you dizzy, or maybe it’s his words that have you going insane.
His hand lets go of you and he takes a step back, like he is sobering up, realising what he said. He takes a deep breath shaking his head as he slowly turns away once again.
“Stop putting yourself in danger,” he then says, quietly, reserved, like he is closing back again.
“I won’t stop,” you answer, still frozen in your spot. Harry stops, but doesn’t face you, so you continue: “I won’t stop if this is the reaction I get from you.”
He glances at you over his shoulder, as if making sure you meant what you said and you try your best to hold his gaze.
“I didn’t do it to risk my safety,” you admit. “I did it out of jealousy. I saw you with that tall, blonde woman and… I got jealous.”
Slowly, he turns around and starts walking back, stopping right in front of you, his face is still unreadable, but something has changed in his expression. His eyes slide down your body, down to the tip of your toes then back up, they stop on your lips, linger for a heartbeat before returning to your gaze and you read his look clearly for the first time.
Do you mean it? Do you actually mean it? His eyes ask and you tip your chin up as your answer.
I do.
He exhales deeply and takes a step back. Panic settles in you that he is about to ignore it, ignore you and you’re on the verge of begging, but then he speaks up.
“Go to your bedroom, take your shoes off and wait for me.”
His voice is even, controlled, but you see the fire in his eyes. With a small nod you do as he told you. You’re panting by the time you step into your bedroom, chest heaving from the desire that’s burning through your veins, eager to find out what’s about to happen. Kicking your heels off you stand by the end of your bed, back straight, hands by your side, obediently waiting for him. When you hear his steps approaching your room you swallow and stare at the door that gently opens.
He walks in, he has gotten rid of his own dress shoes, padding across the room barefoot, his suit jacket is also gone, the sleeves of his crispy white shirt now rolled up. He looks delicious, you’ve been thinking about running your hands through his hair all evening and the way his tattoos peek out from under the white fabric is just making you insane.
Harry stops right in front of you and you feel a pull towards him, your body is aching to be touched by him, but you stay still. He runs his gaze down your body again and you catch his tongue wetting his lips before he looks you in the eyes.
He takes another step, this time he is so close his front presses against yours and your lips part with a sigh when he reaches up and cups your cheek in one hand. He tilts his head to the side, like he is curiously examining your reaction to his touch, runs his thumb across your lower lip and then pushes it slightly into your mouth, surprising you for a second, but you’re quick to recover, closing your lips around it and sucking it gently while looking him in the eyes.
He grunts and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve heard from him, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and you almost protest, but then he kisses you and you have nothing to complain about.
It’s rough and demanding, there’s nothing exploratory about it, it doesn’t feel like a first time, you move so perfectly together like you were made for this, for each other. His hand moves down to your jaw, angling your head so he has perfect access to you and his other hand slides to your waist, pulling you tight against him, though you’re eager to get closer as well, get under his skin if possible.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth before pulling back just enough so he can look at you. His gaze rakes over your features that radiate desire right now. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”
“Take me,” you reply, probably a tad bit too fast, but you can’t control yourself any longer. “I’m yours,” you add, out of breath and desperate for practically anything he is willing to give you.
He exhales sharply, his fingers digging deeper into your waist at your words before his hands fall from you and he steps back. Once again, panic bursts through your veins that he is about to end it, but you’re quick to learn that he has other plans.
“Take your dress off.” His voice is low and demanding, but his face doesn’t twitch, he doesn’t even blink and he’s oozing power that has you weak in the knees.
Keeping eye-contact you pull the straps of your dress off your shoulders, the soft fabric bunches around your waist, leaving your upper body fully naked. The back of the dress has such a low cut you couldn’t wear a bra underneath. You don’t have to look down to know your nipples are pebbled and you could lie to yourself and say that it’s because of the cold, but it’s obviously because of Harry’s hungry look he is eyeing your chest with.
You push the dress past your hips and it pools around your feet so now you’re standing in front of him in nothing but a black lace thong. His jaw ticks several times as he takes you in, like you’re a masterpiece that deserves to be admired and you swear you can feel the burning of his gaze as it travels up and down your body over and over again. Arousal starts pooling between your legs and he hasn’t even touched you.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about you like this?”
A shiver runs down your spine at his words and you’re aching to finally be touched by him, but he is still just standing there, watching you. You wet your lips and draw a deep breath.
“I asked you a question, Y/N,” he says, dominance dripping from his tone. “Do you have any idea?”
“No,” you breathe out, voice almost trembling.
“Every fucking day since I laid my eyes on you. Every fucking hour even when you’re not around. I think about you. I think about your eyes, your lips, your curves, I think about fucking you on every possible surface of this house and I think about…”
His voice dies, like he is struggling to speak his mind which is a surprising switch up after the confidence he just demonstrated. He swallows and squares his shoulders.
Harry steps closer, one hand working on the fly of his pants and then he reaches in, palming himself through his underwear, while he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up a bit. He brushes his knuckles against the side of your face, down your neck and collarbone, over your breast and nipple, his touch is so soft, so feather-like, it’s playing with your senses. Then slowly, like he has all the time in the world, he cups your breast, your hard nipple pushing against his warm palm as he squeezes you. He leans in, lips brushing against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you.
“Get on your knees,” he orders and he is back to his controlled self.
You drop down to your knees so fast, the rug harshly rubs against your knees. You keep your eyes on him and as he finishes undoing his pants you almost whimper from the passion that’s burning inside you.
“Look at you, so pretty, so hungry for me,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face, then he uses both his hands to push his pants and underwear down, taking his cock out. He gives himself a few lazy strokes while you gasp seeing how big and hard he is. The urge to touch him is growing impossible to resist, but something is telling you that you have to wait for him to give you permission, so you keep yourself still.
“Do you want to be good for me?” he asks, still stroking himself, but not touching you.
“Yes,” you nod eagerly.
“I can do what I want with you?” He tilts his head to the side, watching you curiously.
“Anything.”
“Good,” he hums, satisfied. “Then I’m going to fuck your mouth first and then I’m going to fuck your pussy so hard you’ll never want to be fucked by anyone else. How does that sound, Y/N?”
“Yes please!” It comes out more like a whine, you know if you saw yourself you might find your enthusiasm ridiculous, but you couldn’t care less. You want him. You need him.
“Such a good wife,” he grins, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head, the other one still holding his cock. “C’mere, let me fill that pretty mouth of yours.”
You finally let yourself touch him, hands coming up to his thighs to help yourself holding up as he guides your head forward, lips opening and welcoming his head.
He groans in satisfaction as you suck on it, tasting him, twirling your tongue around it before moving further, taking more of him.
“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so…” His head falls back with a moan when his tip touches the back of your throat. His hand is still on your head, slightly pushing on it, but you don’t need much encouragement, you’re ready to take and give everything he is offering.
You start bobbing your head, back and forth, ignoring how your jaw starts hurting quite fast, one hand on his thigh, the other one moving on its own, sliding up his stomach under his shirt, looking for more contact with his heated skin. You feel his muscles move under your palm as he starts thrusting forward, meeting your movements
“Yes, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he breathes out, his free hand grabbing yours on his torso, giving it a squeeze before he grabs your head with both his hands. You squirm from his words, especially from being called baby, your walls desperately contracting around nothing, but you’re convinced you could come just from his reactions.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth now and you’ll take it,” he says and then starts using more of his power, moving your head faster while his thrusts go deeper.
Your eyes start watering and your gag reflex starts, but you don’t want him to stop, not even when your saliva is dripping past your lips and down your chin. Both your hands are on his hips now to help keep yourself up, your knees are burning, but you ignore the pain. After a particularly deep thrust Harry curses under his breath and pulls back, his cock sliding out of your mouth. You gasp for air, but don’t have much time to recover, he pulls you back up to your feet and kisses you hard and messy. He doesn’t care that you had his cock in your mouth just seconds ago or that your lips are smeared with a mixture of your saliva and his precum, he kisses you just as passionately as the first time.
His self-control snaps now, his hands are all over you, palming your breasts, playing with your nipples, gripping your hips and ass as he blindly walks you back until your legs meet the end of the bed. He pushes you down so you sit on the mattress and watch him get rid of his shirt, pants and underwear, your hands fisting the sheets underneath you.
“Climb back,” he nods, leisurely holding his cock in his hand, his length still drenched in your saliva. You do as he said, sliding further up the bed, eyes fixated on him. “Open your legs.”
Parting your knees wide you lean back onto your elbows. His gaze draws down to your pussy that’s still covered in the last piece of clothing you’re wearing. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed, like a predator and you’re the prey he intends feasting on tonight. He plants his hands on either side of your hips and lowers himself, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, moving lower until he is kissing your cunt through the lace.
“Gotta have a taste first,” he murmurs against the fabric before biting you, taking the lace between his teeth and tugging on it and then he finishes the job with his hands, practically ripping it off you, throwing it behind him.
At first he runs his thumb between your folds, your arousal coating it generously and he looks you in the eyes as he sucks it clean, making you whimper.
“Mhm, you taste like you’re mine. My beautiful wife.”
You breathe out his name as his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy, sucking on your clit just a tad bit harder than you were expecting, but it’s bringing you some blissful pain. Out of instinct, your hands grab onto his hair, but then you hesitantly pull back as if you just did something wrong. Harry however reaches up, grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back, urging you to continue.
“Pull on my hair as much as you want, I’m yours as well, Y/N. Have been since our wedding.”
You can’t help but whimper at his words, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he keeps eating you out like a starved man. It’s mindblowing how well he knows what you want and need, as if he could read your thoughts.
You’re on the verge of your orgasm when he pulls back, a protesting moan slipping past your lips as he climbs up your body.
“I need you to come on my cock for the first time, baby. I promise you can come on my tongue later as many times as you want,” he tells you with a wicked grin before kissing you, the taste of you still thick on his lips.
You slow down, just for a little bit, sloppily kissing and rolling around in bed, but then the urgency and passion spikes again quite fast once he starts moving his hips, his cock teasing you right where you need him the most.
You roll around until you’re on your back again and he is on top of you. He holds himself up, staring down at you with an expression that comes off as full of… awe. Like he can’t believe what’s happening and you want to tell him you feel the same way, that it’s everything you’ve been thinking about since the day you met him, but forming coherent words is just not possible for you right now. Instead, you grab him by the neck and pull him down for another long kiss.
When the need for him grows unbearable you break your lips apart and wiggle to the side, reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, grabbing a condom you’re thankful to have, it would be devastating to stop now.
“Put it on,” he softly tells you, holding himself up above you, watching you open the wrapper and roll it on his cock that feels rock hard by now. He drops his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna fuck you like this is my only chance fucking you.”
You open your mouth to tell him it’s not, that it cannot be the only time, but he shakes his head with an airy laugh.
“I know it’s not my only chance, I can’t accept never fucking you again, but I’ll pretend for a bit.”
Biting your lower lip you nod, hands wandering his sides and then plastering to his back as he reaches between your bodies, takes the base of his cock and lines him up at your entrance.
“Look at me,” he orders when the tip enters you, pulling a gasp from you. Your gazes meet and he burns a hole into you with his eyes as he pushes into you, fully, rolling his hips a bit as if he is trying to wedge even deeper. He is stretching you, filling you up fully, like he was made to be inside you.
You get only a few moments to adjust before he starts moving and he draws be entirely every time only to slam into you to the hilt over and over again, knocking the air out of you with each thrust. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and he shows you no mercy as you claw at his back, he pulls your legs up, making him more room between your thighs. It’s all so consuming, the weight of him, the force of his thrusts, the sound of his pants and grunts in your ear, the way your front presses against him when you arch your back, skin melting together.
Suddenly his arms curl around you, he flips the two of you over without ever sliding out of you and in a heartbeat you’re sitting on top of him, his cock reaching yet another angle inside you. Planting your hands on his chest you start riding him without hesitation, rolling your lips, moving up and down, back and forth. Harry’s fingers dig into your thighs and he starts thrusting upwards, meeting your movements, but it feels so heavenly you sometimes forget to move as bliss takes over you.
He sits up, mouth covering your nipple, nibbling on it, twirling it with his tongue as you try your best to keep moving your hips, but it’s such a sensory overload, you’re not that good at it. As if he could sense it too, he flips you back onto the mattress and pulls out of you, the empty feeling making you cry out in discomfort immediately.
“Roll onto your stomach, baby,” he says, squeezing your hips.
He moves back just enough to give you room and you obediently roll onto your stomach. The mattress dips under his knees as he comes kneeling above you, one of his hands sliding slowly down your spine. He lowers himself and you gasp when you feel his cock wedge between your asscheeks, teasingly moving some.
“So fucking pretty. My wife spread out for me.” It feels like he is talking to himself, not you, like he needs to say it out loud to believe it.
“Just for you,” you say, glancing at him over your shoulder, earning another grunt from him as he leans forward, biting the shell of your ear as he moves his cock from your ass to between your slick folds. With ease, he slips right back inside you, but he doesn’t move. Desperate for more, you try to wiggle against him, but he pins you to the mattress with his hips.
“Tell me, who is fucking you this good?” he asks, his nose brushing against your ear.
“You,” comes your answer as a whine.
“Mm. But who am I?” He is still unmoving, driving you crazy with filling you up but not giving you more.
“My husband!” you moan, face twisting from the unbearable need. “My husband is fucking me so good!”
He exhales sharply and finally starts moving, fast and hard, his hips smack against your ass with each thrust. You’re seeing stars, breathing is getting harder, but the pain is so fucking good, so delicious. One of his hands grabs you by the hair, rough and almost animalistic, he tugs on it so your neck cranes, scalp burning, but it’s just so. Fucking. Good.
He leans down and kisses you, though it ends up a little all over the place since he is moving relentlessly, your throat is twisted in an unnatural angle, but you’d break your neck if it meant he’d keep fucking you into oblivion.
With one hand he spreads your legs more and pulls your hips up a little to give him better access to your throbbing pussy. His tip hits the right spot and the build-up of your climax fastens.
“Harry!” you gasp, face twisting from everything you’re feeling at once, his cock hitting you so deep over and over again, your nearing orgasm, the thought of Harry being the one to give all of this to you.
“Come on, let me feel you come for me,” he urges, quickening his thrusts, even though you didn’t think that’s possible. He is hammering you into the mattress and out of this world.
“Fuck, I–I can’t–Harry…”
His name is a plea and in a way it tips you over the edge. Your orgasm bursts between your legs and spreads across your body in waves, you twist and wiggle underneath him, gasping for air or repeating his name over and over again. You’re riding out the last waves when his climax takes over him.
His thrusts fall out of rhythm, he weighs down on you more and After each thrusts he stays inside you a little longer, right until he stops moving.
You’re a mess. Sweaty, out of breath, tired, but you haven’t felt this good in probably… forever. Several minutes pass before Harry rolls off you, lying on his back, chest still rising and falling heavier than usually, eyes closed. You tuck your arms under your head and turn it to the side, watching his profile.
His eyes flutter open and he turns towards you. His face is so much softer now, the dominance and tension is gone, the smile that tugs on his lips feels so warm and loving, it almost makes you dizzy.
He rolls to his side, gently tangling his fingers in your hair as he kisses your forehead and when you lift your head he presses his lips against yours.
It’s slow, tender and so sweet, opposite of the way he just fucked you, but it’s such a delicious mix.
“What now?” you ask against his lips.
“Now… we take a shower and I feed you and preferably do another round.”
“You know what I meant,” you smile at him sheepishly.
“We’re married,” he states. “And we are obviously open to fully conquering this marriage.” He looks at me with questioning eyes and you nod. “We can… do whatever we want.”
“I want you.” It comes out before you could stop the words, but it’s the truth. You want him, all of him, even if you probably shouldn’t.
A faint smile plays on his lips.
“And I want you. That’s a good start, if you ask me.”
You can’t help but laugh and he grins as well before stealing another kiss. “Come on, I want to fuck you in the shower too,” he announces sitting up and climbing out of the bed like he didn’t just fuck your brain out minutes ago. You sit up and look at him as he stands by the bed in all of his naked glory, his cock already hardening again and just one thing keeps echoing in your mind.
That’s your husband.
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