An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
His fingers grazed along a row of books, skimming the titles and hoping for something to stick out, when he saw something rather intriguing written on the wood. It was just as filthy as most of the scribbles in this place, but this message was much more direct.
“I need to get railed ♡” was written below the book spines in cute, curved handwriting with a crooked heart drawn next to it. Most interesting though, below that was written, “snap: @lick_m3_28.”
✶ ✶
Harry had been feeling drained and dull for far too long thanks to his master's degree. Perhaps messaging a complete stranger about hooking up after seeing their graffiti in a library was exactly what he needed.
Y/N's day is been shitty so far. It started with an ache in her lower abdomen from Harry’s morning stiffy bulging against her asscheeks fattening everytime he snuggled into her to hoard her warmth and blankies and to stuff his face in her neck with incoherent blabbering.
She wanted to wake him up with her hand, mouth, hole— anything around his cock and to please him and dull the burny feeling in her tummy -- but -- she had an important workshop at UNI that was must needed to be attended.
The time she managed to knock herself out of her needy and lusty headspace, she was getting late and whirling around the room and closest like a thunderstorm -- burying a snoring Harry under the heaps of clothes and littering the floor with her shoes collection, the kitchen got treated much more worst with maids being not around (she’s used to Harry waking up earlier than her and making her a full course brekkie) after making a laughable ruckus of cabinets all she stuffed her mouth with was a chocolate protein bar.
The stars were still not in her favour. She was grabbing onto her hair until far when she missed the bus (she usually don’t take buses, Harry makes sure the driver drop her off safe and secure) and it started raining leaving Y/N with nothing but a bare head to take all of it as she already left the bus shelter to stop a taxi.
If all of that wasn’t much of a tragedy and humiliating, Y/N slipped the moment she stepped out of the vehicle and on the slippery curbs of the building, she saw her life flashing right infront of her eyes as the papers tucked in her armpit fled everywhere and landed on the rainy mud sadistically along her. It gave her a serious hit in her ankle and completely yanked her hip, still being a stubborn-head she picked herself and went inside despite how many glares the cleaning staff threw her way for bringing the dirt with her feed all over the shiny floors.
She felt bad.
Stupidly bad.
Her workshop teachers were kind enough to accept her late arrival, but her designs for fall got rejected and they’d have been a huge milestone for her to get her dream internship.
Y/N felt awfully, teeny, pathetic and little while slumping into the corner of the bus and holding her breath to refrain from crying these little liquidy bitches out of her eyes.
Reaching back home she was met with pure chaos, bumping into petrified and agitated employs from Harry’s company scurrying out of their main foyer and she could persist but to ask what happened only to be informed in stammers that the staff messed up big and caused a loss of million dollars— making Harry terribly mad and fire people left and right.
It wasn’t a joke at all.
Because once, she steps inside, bag falling from her shoulder as she sighs in exhaustion feeling her muscles stiffening everywhere but one particular spot's hurting wrenchingly— her foggy mind couldn’t figure it out yet. She peeks into Harry’s home office to be met by a very annoyed, aggrieved, furious Harry pacing in his office all whilst with a phone against his ear shouting at someone who was destined to be humiliated today just like her and she pouts gingerly seeing his features skewered tightly into displeasure, the vein that curves along his temple prominent with blood pumping erratically in his body.
His head snaps up at the door’s creak and albeit his eyes softens a little, the kink of brows and the scowl on his lips is still there and he watches her paddle towards him carefully knowing anything at the moment would burst his chimneys out and she wants to be good for her daddy.
“Hi.” She speaks timidly, pout getting more rusty when the greetings not returned and instead he keeps all of his attention on the phone keeping a loose arm around her.
She grumbles, when he gestures down at her to give him a sec and untangles himself from her walking away and huffing and puffing into the phone.
How could he!
She feels so denied and rejected and kicked like it’s done to those affection starved lil puppies.
Her clingy tendencies flying high drunk and wooly. The needy beastie inside her wanting nothing more than take a bath where Harry could cream her back in her favourite berry bubbles, massaging her head and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, then lots and lots of cuddles, maybe he'll be generous enough and let her keep him snug inside her while they watch movie because she had such an awful day.
But, No! He's trying to escape free from her because she’s such a burden for him now.
Her eyes turns glassy, her shoulders slumping sadly and out of nowhere she’s feeling cold and barren as Harry’s voice becomes a wafting fume for her— an indication she has gone under too much.
“Daddy . . .” She stomps behind him, circling his footsteps like a whiny puppy and grapples at his dress shirt gasping sullenly when he swats her dainty hands away and glares down at her in dominance, his tone harsh as he blocks the receiver with his palm and mouths at her with a huff, “Stop being needy fo’ once. I’ve clearly some important issues to care for, Y/N.” Poor Y/N's deathly grip on his shirt loosens sorrowfully and her chin wobbles as she nodded still wanting to be good for him and if it wasn’t enough to give her the biggest heartbreak of the year— he even rolled his eyes at her too grumping under his breath about something how he turned her into a spoiled brat himself.
“Okie. . .” Her voice strangled and small. She shrinks into herself but wasn’t paid any heed from Harry and without another word she leaves him as to be it.
Having a huge breakdown in her room didn’t help at all. A painful headache hitting her like a train as she clumsily strips down, wearing one of his t-shirt heavily drenched in his scent he keeps for her under her pillow anytime she needs it and hides under the blankets with tears still running down her swollen cheeks— slipping into a light slumber from all of weariness and crying.
Once the smoke cleared from Harry’s mind and his capabilities of rational thinking coming back to him, he was reminded of how he denied his baby of his littlest of affection and tenderness when she clearly looked so glum and sad and upset.
He wanted to whip himself in head.
He’s such a twat that he let work come between them.
He curses himself. Making a sprint to his bedroom, knowing he’d find her none other than there and he was right puffing out a disheartened sigh when his eyes falls over his princess buried under all of these layers of blankets, he crawls up towards her carefully not to startle her awake.
Grunting at himself when he finds she’s been crying, he strokes a thumb up her blushy cheeks and her wet lashes, kissing her puffy eyelids and her little sad unhappy pout away.
He frowns. Feeling her feverish and flushed under his hand, “Hey puppy . . .” He thumbs down her throat getting a little fretful when she doesn’t stirs, however she’s such a squirmy little one and he moves the blankets away to let her body cool itself smiling proudly at his shirt swallowing her whole is when she snuggled herself more into her stuffie letting the shirt ride up her thighs and hips exposing a ghastly bruise of red and purples and he frowns not remembering it being there before.
Now. He feels shittier. Wanting to jump of the cliff for being a shitty sadist boyfriend to his only beloved.
“No!” Y/N whimpers loudly, squirming away from his touch as he examines her gently and it sent shockwaves to each of her tissues and lions causing her an undeniable pain.
“Puppy, shh, shh. ‘s just me, making sure if y'okay.” He scrambles closer to her towering her to cradle her face and kiss the tip of her nose—- his face falls drastically and his heart cracks miserly when Y/N pushes him away with a sorrowful mumble not even letting him wipe the drool away from the corner of her mouth as he usually does.
“’M okay . . .” She tries to knuckle the sleepiness away with shivery hands, “No you’re not —...” He’s cut off by her angry pout and her silly efforts to keep as much distance between them as possible, “I don’t need, Daddy . . ‘m big and I could take care of me self.” At her puny waver realization dawns upon Harry and his brows shoots up to his hairline feeling nauseous and terrible for not taking care of his babylove earlier.
He’d have never let her be away from him if he knew she was in her subspace.
“Y/N baby . . . I didn’t mean it, darling —--...” With gentleness he tries to approach her but she wraps her arms around her petite figure in a protective manner, haziness taking best of her and Harry’s chest suffocates into itself, being a dom it’s your responsibility to make your subby feel protected, loved and happy and he even failed at that.
He quickly cups both of her hot cheeks in his nippy palms when she hiccups sadly, a sob threatening to slip out, “Yes you did! You meant it. Said you spoiled me, I don’t want your money, promise! I just want you and y'shooed me away saying Y/N’s too needy . . .” Harry flinches at her words. He never even spared a thought to this negativity that she chooses to be with him for his money because he knows out of all the people she’s the only one who loves him out of the boundaries of status and money.
He realises how stabbing they'd have been to her when she was so sensitive and floaty wanting nothing more, just him.
How deep she has gone if she’s taking her own name in third person.
“’M sorry baby. So sorry. Swear on myself, didn’t mean to hurt my baby, knows tha’ work shouldn’t be an excuse t’ make y'feel unloved—- but those bastards got a tick outta me.” He rambles on frantically. Afraid she’ll think he’s lying and would finally make up her mind to leave him.
“You didn’t?” She asks with so much innocence Harry nearly cries out, “’Course I didn’t! How could I? You could never be needy, Bab. I love you so much and you’re my whole word, forgive me please?”
“You’re forgiven,” She let a small smile flutter up her features, a tinge of gleam in her previous dull eyes brightening the whole room and Harry immediately bunches her up in his lap.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks her, not sure if she still needs space from him and would rather be better without him but she bobs her head shyly and he chuckles softly before touching their lips together into a tender loving kiss and brushes their noses up and down murmuring sweetly coy to her.
“Now, could y'tell daddy how y'got this bruise baby? How did ya get hurt?” He coos, brushing her sweaty hair back and rubs her sweet gland behind her ear delicately, “Oh yeah . . . this, was raining and slipped.” She murmurs, hissing a gasp jolting away when Harry glides his fingers gently down her hip bone and fresh tears springs in her eyes as she buries herself in his chest, “Daddy hurts. . .” . “Oh babypie. Daddy’s g'na take care of his love.” He lays her down gently kissing her forehead when she whines for him to keep on holding her, “’M right here darling. G'na prep us a bath, make my baby alright.” Saying this he quickly disappears inside the washroom and next their room’s sursuring with marble tub filling with warm water, Harry throws in her favourite pink coloured bath bombs and rose essences and throws their towels in the warmer coming back with her as he left her to be, he has decided he’s gonna love on her whole night, “My baby’s the best, ain’t she? She’s my bestest girl.” He coos down at her sweetly and slides his forearms under her knees and back picking her up carefully and brings her to his chest securely.
She closes her eyes, biting down a whimper when Harry dips them in the water some it sloshing down the edges of bathtub and it envelopes them and gives a stingy feeling to her bruise before soothing it down.
He rubs her arms, and circles smoothing patterns on her tummy and kisses her a gallons as she melts in his embrace and he let’s her sink into him more, nibbling and sponging wet ticklish kisses on her neck making her purr and become a puddle of softness in his hold while she takes her time to mumble all the bad events that happened to her and he felt so guilty of not asking her how she’s and how her day went when she came to him, in need of some of his lovin.
“I love you so much, bab.” He suckles her earlobe, toying and plucking her bottom plush lip, “Was prick to me love —.. you deserve all my lovin,” He noses at her jaw, not forgetting it to mark it with his pecks and sloppy bites.
“’S okay daddy, y'had a bad day too.” He’s grateful to have her in his life. She cares about him, maybe more than he does for her and he feels himself lucky for it.
“You want me to help you relax?”
“Can I have you?” Her tone bashfully desperate and coy, Harry meanders their fingers together and kisses her knuckles softly.
Considering her wound still being sore and pulp, having sex would be painful for her and she might not grasp it in her hazy mind but Harry doesn’t want to hurt at all.
He plants a little noisy smooch to her shoulder when she nods, she mews and purrs when Harry glides his palm all the way down her body and cups her pussy digging his palm into her mound and coats his digits with her arousal dipping the pads of his fingers into her entrance, “All this wet f'me?” Palming her tits while whispering sweet nothings into her ear when she gasps and closes up on Harry scratching nails into his bended knees.
“Shh, shh puppy, jus' relax hmm? Feel yourself.” With sputtery inhales she does as he says, soon two of his fingers slips inside her and he strokes her pussy and pulls them out making her all whiny and pushes them back with a squelching noise, fucking her with it smiling and stopping when her thighs parts falls again his’s completely.
“Daddy!” She writhes and whines, trembly hands trying to bring Harry fingers back to her pulsating wetness, “You’re the cutest.” He smiles against her lips giving her cheeks several squishes and pats her head loving to see his adorable princess all flustery for him.
On her demands. He slicks his fingers back inside her and caresses the insides of her thighs while she pants and sinks onto his knuckles blabbering out daddydaddydaddy weepily.
“Cum fo’ me, puppy. Feels good? Yeah? My baby feels nice?” He rasps in her mouth, curving and petting the soft spot inside her pussy and sucks onto her upper lip when she moans and mewls loudly gushing all over his finger and he keeps on fucking her till she’s all sleepy and balmy against his chest.
Harry coaxes her tenderly, smoothing his hands all over her twitchy spots and patches sloppy kisses all over her face that makes her all giggly and shy—- the amount of endorphins spiking high in her system.
“Love you so much, daddy.” She mushes puckering her lips into his throat.
harry would be such a soft dom with bloody hard kinks and he’d say things like “oh baby, i’m going to have to punish you for this and it’s going to hurt, but i’ll kiss you all better after i promise” iM MELTING/-?!?,?
I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT I WROTE BUT I JUST KNOW ITS FILTHY AND FLUFFY
Harry never knew he’d be such a kinky sneak.
He loved having sex. With consent, of both parties and he had quite an edge for exploring his own sexual desires and particular holes— if you know, you know.
With Y/N out of his picture (he wishes he’d have met her before). He never had emotional attachments with his fuck buddies, no-cuddling rule was very stony and staying after a nice fuck however was a fat chance.
He didn’t expect himself to be budded with flowers whose each petal blossomed gradually, when he met Y/N. She had all his firsts with him and he felt terribly cherished, that she gave her kind little heart to him and trusted him with it.
He has promised himself to never break it, whatever it takes him too.
When Y/N bugged him about kinks and rough sexual plays. He was hesitant to say least, walking on eggshells with easing her into it because she was just too delicate and precious for him to hurt her for getting out a blasting orgasm he could simply have by teasing her to tears and then having an amazing sex afterwards. (with Y/N he worries alot, hands diligent and tentative to her needs and limits, eyes conscious of her presence).
Y/N being a stubborn pesky menace wouldn’t leave him alone, pouting and grouching in his lap, not listening to him and rebelling just to get a reaction out of him; she just wanted him to roughen her a tad and choke and spank her peachy bum sore.
The first time. He lavished her to teary cheeks, swollen pink hued lips, and marked her body with purples and rosy lovebites—... it was heaven sent on earth for Y/N.
She felt small, secured and overly shy as Harry took pictures of her tangled in silk sheets of their bed mumbling a ‘mine.’ Under his breath and everytime she remembers the night it sends jitters down her thighs making them clench to shut down the throb in her core.
He fucked her rough and hard, holding onto her hips to leave guaranteed bruises of his grip on her when her limbs gave out sinking her into the pillows, he pounded inside her with deep strokes grinding his pelvis against her sensitive clitoris everytime he bottom out snug insid her, gritting with her face squished in his palm, “Yeah? Can’t take it babylove? Too bad,” He tutted, a knowing smirk adorned his sheeny features, “Gonna use ya however I want.” It was a last nibble to Y/N's sanity turning her into a massive puddle of loud needy moans, gushing on his cock and gasping out in surprise when he slid his fingers against her throbbing clit and circled it in calculated lazy pushes.
.
Riding his thigh. She’d always bury her face in his neck, palms pressed gently to his dense torso and always chase for his kisses when Harry’s fingers that once plays with the baby hair on the nape of her neck – spreads and slips into her hair and yanks her away from his chest and his palm draws and wraps around her throat— having his pressure known but never squeezing it too grimly.
“Choke me, please?” She’d pant, meek whines eliciting through her parted mouth when Harry thrusts his meaty thigh up into her cunt -- feeling her incredibly soaked and sticky panties gliding aside out of his little mindless action.
“My baby wan' me to choke her? Likes daddy’s hands too much, innit pet? Playing with yer soft pussy and yer pretty tits ... likes it when they mark your cute bum, mine?” He’d whisper, squeezing tightly and firmly enough to get her eyes rolling to the back of skull and her pace faster, nibbling onto her pouty lip suckling kisses and pecks on it while his hand helps her fuck herself onto his thigh.
.
Sometimes when they’re watching telly and she’s cradled in his lap, very sleepy and weary sucking onto his fingers – almost falling asleep when Harry pushes his thick digits deeply to nurse the back of his baby’s throat and she'd always whine like a disgruntled kitten, drooling down her chin with yawning whimpers and he’d always tend to her caringly, “Look at you. Sucha messy baby of mine. Lemme clean you up,” His magic cleaning tool always his tongue licking her chin and the corners of her lips until she’s a whimpering and whining mess demanding to have his cock warming her tummy.
.
He encouraged Y/N to be more familiar with her own body and needs, teaching her how to make herself feel good and not cry out of frustration when he’s away.
It started when he ordered her to play with herself and it was an absolute fruitless insistence because she got caught up into chasing the pleasure and that cloudy trip instead of relaxing and enjoying herself -- which melted her into a squirmy huffy mess, only to whine more needily when Harry reached to her rescue. “Lemme show my Angel how to fuck oneself . . . these dainty fingers of yours might not snuggle too deep in, like daddy’s does, tha’s why y'gotta learn to play with yer toys pet. Stuffs y'nice and good.” He crawled atop hers, making his presence known and pinned her hips down with his bicep while smothering kisses into the inside of her quivering thighs, her centre getting slicker and slicker with his warm daunting mouth reaching her swollen folds.
Instead of making her learn he ravished her into a proper crying mess with his tongue and his steady hand wrapped around her wrists guiding her fingers in and out of her with an abrupt speed.
.
Her punishments used to be nominal. He’d be damned if she ended up bruised awfully, because he’s very well aware how pudgy and baby like his lovie’s skin is.
She’s such a soft little peach.
Her punishment eased from getting her cummies denied, refused to be touched while Harry pounds into her cunt not empathising with her needy innocent crying (she’s getting better at her game), her wrists restrained to their bedhead with silk ties and he never forgets to make sure it’s not tight enough to stop the blood flow and make her dizzier than she already’s about to get. “Gonna tell me when ‘s too uncomfy, yeah baby?”, to getting vibrators slipped inside her hole when she acts bratty before going somewhere and all her mind could blur onto is harryharryharry, pushing her into such an intense and needy and clingy heads pace “Oh petal this ones going to hurt your poor bum, did this t'yourself. Good girls don’t get punished d'they now pet?” to getting her asscheeks spanked pink and blushy with whites imprints of his thick lengthy fingers and large palm round the globes of her bum.
Taking care of her afterwards with clean gentle cool baby wipes, “Shhh. Shh moppet knows your little clit's too sensitive, but couldn’t let you go t’sleep all messy now could I?” He’d coo, shushing her whimpers and kissing her knees swiping the drip of gooey cum oozing down her slit, then takes care of her bum, coating a good amount of soothing creams and aloevera gels to calm the sting knowing she'd be very grump in morning and batty with him when all she did is wiggle and shift while taking her online classes and didn’t hear the single damn thing her professor said.
Things only Harry could do to Y/N.
She loves taking part in his kinks as much as he does.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
When Harry had woken up that first day with a light tingling in his fingers, maybe he should have known something was going to go wrong.
Now, sat in an empty field in fucking nowhere America, covered in blood, he realises he couldn’t save everyone. He knows his limits, has had them drilled into his head from the moment he was old enough to retain words. He knows he shouldn’t mess with the natural order of things. He knows that what will happen will happen one way or another either way.
And yet, he can’t control himself. For the third time, he settles his hands on Louis Tomlinson’s still heart and wills it to beat once more.
Hello, you have a nerd louis fics¿ or a BDSM Harry dom¿
Hi sugar. I don’t think I do have any nerd Louis fics, which is odd. I’ll keep looking but on first glance, I came up empty.
As for Dom Harry, there are very few that work for me because of the characterizations, but I do like this Daddy Harry fic:
a love reaction by tilthesundays (E, 10K)
Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.
It's never been a thing. Not until now.
And this Dom Harry fic:
Something In The World Today by whoknows (E, 48K)
It shouldn’t be a surprise, the first time that Louis drops to his knees in front of Harry. It shouldn’t be, because it’s been something that Louis has needed for a long time. It shouldn’t be, because he’s been crawling out of his skin for weeks on end. It shouldn’t be, because Harry always makes him feel better. It shouldn’t be, because he’s needed this even when he didn’t know that he needed it.
Harry’s hand rests on your hip, your shoulders nestled perfectly under his arm and your head resting on his chest. You can hear the thumping of his heart through the expensive fabric of his shirt, above the hum of the TV you aren’t paying attention to. Your eyes are closed, focusing on the way his fingers trace nonsense shapes into your skin where your shorts have ridden up to expose the meeting of your thighs and hip. Every now and then he lets out a breathy chuckle at the mediocre sitcom that he found after flicking through channels — the jokes are barely funny, but he’s always laughed easily. You love that about him, how joy seems to pour out of him. You were always more reserved, but he’s your ball of sunshine. And more, so much more.
But you aren’t really thinking about that now. You’re thinking about this morning, how he woke you up with his hands wandering over you (much like how he’s touching you now), squeezing at your chest and creeping between your legs. Teasing and teasing until you could feel yourself dripping and were on the verge of cumming from just his gentle touch over your panties, before he rolled out of bed and went to go shower. Alone. Leaving you teetering on the edge of release, watching his muscular back disappear into the bathroom. Your boyfriend loved to play games, which were fun—until you fell victim to them. Needless to say, you had been distracted today.
His fingers pause at the top of your thigh, and then he asks, “Are you watching?” His voice rumbles through his chest, a little raspy from lack of use in the last hour.
You shake your head, eyes still closed.
“Hm,” he murmurs, and you feel his fingertips dance over the top of your leg until he’s running the guitar string-calloused pads of his fingers against the soft skin of the inside of your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together and press your face into his chest, hiding the smile that’s creeping over your lips.
“Y/N,” he says, and his voice is the only thing you can think about. He presses harshly into your thigh, pulling them apart. “Keep these open for me, yeah?” His other hand takes hold of your chin and gently manoeuvres your head to face him. “And look at me. Don’t hide.”
You nod, doe-eyed staring up at him, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He smiles at you, his thumb running over your mouth and pulling your lip out. He just gazes over your face for a second, then ducks his head down and presses his lips sweetly against yours, at the same time suddenly moving his fingers to brush against your clit over your shorts. You let out a whine against his lips, your brows creasing.
“How’re you feeling, baby?” he whispers, alternating the pressure of his hand over your clothed core so you never quite get used to it. “What do you need from me?”
Your heart rate begins to pick up as your hips start to grind against his hand of their own accord. You drop your forehead back down to his chest with a gasp, feeling yourself start to pool in your panties. His hand withdraws from you suddenly, then you feel it sneaking underneath the waistline of your shorts. He draws one finger through your folds with a torturously slow speed, and you whine into his chest.
“So wet, baby,” he murmurs, dipping his finger into your wetness once more and then withdrawing it completely. “What for?”
You close your eyes, pushing your face into his chest harder. “Left me hanging this morning.”
“Mm, I did, didn’t I?” His thumb rubs comfortingly against the side of your hip. “Want me to take care of you properly now, then?”
You nod eagerly, already feeling yourself lighten as you prepare to let go, and think of only Harry. Only Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry.
He smiles again, bringing his finger up to your mouth. You take it in eagerly, tasting yourself on his skin and sucking slightly. He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying himself, then pulls his finger away gently. “Eager, are we?”
You nod, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth again. Your hands twitch, which he notices. Of course he notices. Nothing gets past him. He knows you too well. He grabs your wrist in one large hand, putting it behind your back and holding it there, using his leverage to hold you against his chest so you really can’t move. You moan softly against his chest. You can’t get out of his hold with your weak struggles—and it feels perfect.
He hums. “This what you need, is it?”
“Yeah,” you whimper into his shirt, pushing against his hold slightly because you like the security of knowing that he’s got you.
You feel him take a deep breath, and then you’re suddenly pulled up and over his shoulder and he’s standing up, an arm around your waist to keep you secure. Your head falls somewhere around his lower back and you feel the blood rush, making you light-headed and it’s perfect. He carries you to the bedroom and you never slip once, his strong arm keeping you pinned to him. All the while you feel a steady throbbing between your legs, growing stronger, and you know you’re making a mess in your panties but you can’t bring yourself to care. You whine against his back and you can feel the vibration of his laugh through his body.
He drops you onto the bed and you bounce up, hands scrambling to find stability. “Stay there,” he tells you.
You nod at him. “Okay, daddy,” you tell him sweetly, sitting up and pressing your thighs together as you watch him cross the room to the drawer at the bottom of the dresser.
He rummages around it quietly for a moment, then smirks at you as he straightens up, holding something behind his back as he walks back to you. “Daddy, hm?” he asks. He puts his hand on your cheek and you lean into his touch, sighing blissfully. “You’re pretty deep right now, aren’t you?”
“Wanted you all day,” you admit, eyes flittering to the hand that’s held behind his back in plain curiosity.
His hand on your cheek threads into your hair, pulling your attention back to him. “Eyes on me, baby,” he says quietly.
You swallow and nod. He pulls his hand from behind his back and drops what he brought onto the covers: a pair of handcuffs. Your stomach flutters at the sight, and you squeeze your thighs together tighter to relieve some of the pressure that’s beginning to coil between your legs. Harry nudges them open with his knee as he crawls up onto the bed, with a glance that serves as a silent warning. You whimper and open your legs for him. He nods. “Good girl,” he praises with a murmur, almost to himself. He takes hold of the bottom of your dress and pulls it up. You raise yourself up to accomodate him and soon you’re left in just a matching white bra and panties set with lace details. He nods appreciatively, then says, “Give me your wrists.”
You swallow and hold your wrists out to him, fingers flexing nervously. He takes each one and presses a kiss to the soft skin inside, helping you relax. Then he’s holding them both in one hand as he kneels up over you, pushing you to lie down. He takes the handcuffs and locks it around one wrist, then threads the other around a beam of the headboard and locks the other. You’re exposed for him suddenly, unable to get out, and this excites you more than anything else tonight as he sits back on his heels between your open legs and looks at you.
“Daddy,” you gasp out, arching your back as you struggle slightly to enjoy the feeling of being restrained, and try to convey to him exactly how badly you need him to touch you right now. You’re sure he can see the wet spot on your panties.
He presses his fingers against it to feel it, and smirks as you writhe underneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “So sensitive for me, baby,” he says, rubbing small circles around your clit over your panties. “What’s got you all worked up like this?”
“You — teasing — this morning,” you answer, even though you know he already knows, your sentence coming out between gasps as he increases the pressure of his fingers.
“Poor baby. Did I leave you all drippy and desperate?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Good. I meant to.”
You moan at that, rolling your hips against his hand. “More — fuck, please more.”
He pulls his hand away. “Now that’s not very nice language, is it?”
You look up at him with a horrified frown, lifting your head up as far as your predicament allows to stare at him. “No, please daddy. I’m sorry. Please, please keep going,” you beg him. “So close — want to cum so badly.”
“Cum?” He raises his eyebrows, grabbing hold of your thighs and forcing them apart as they threaten to close again. “What makes you think you get to cum?”
Your mouth opens and you frown at him. “Daddy, please! I was so good today. Didn’t touch at all.”
“At all…” he muses. “No wonder you’re so desperate for me.”
Your thighs tremble against his hands. “Please.”
“Please what?”
You bite your lip. “Please touch me. Please — stop teasing. Please let me cum.”
He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “A lot of requests from a girl who’s all tied up and spread out underneath me and can’t do anything about it.” Your eyes roll back again at his filthy words and he laughs. “And I seem to remember the same girl telling me how much she likes it when I tell her no.”
You have a sharp intake of breath. It’s true, just a couple of nights ago, you admitted that to him. But the ache between your legs is saying otherwise right now. “Daddy, please.”
He pretends to consider your request for a moment. “I think I’m just going to play with you for a while."
“Can I cum after that?”
“I’ll see how I feel. The more you ask the less likely I am to say yes.”
You drop your head back against the mattress, accepting that it’s going to be a long time before that tight feeling inside you springs loose. “Fuck, okay.”
His hand cracks down onto your hip, not so hard that it hurts but enough to startle you. “Language.”
“I’m sorry.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll make sure of it.” His hand returns to your centre and you squirm as he runs his finger up and down, over your panties. “Remember, no begging. I don’t want to hear it. I’m just going to play with this pretty little pussy, and you can lie there and take it.” His featherlight touch pauses over your clit and he watches your wrists flex against the handcuffs. “Not that you can really do anything about it. But if you want to cum tonight, you’ll be good for me. Won’t you, baby?”
You nod, pushing your hips towards his hand. “I will, I promise I will. Please—”
Harry tuts. “No ‘pleases’, baby.”
You groan at the impossibility of your situation, at the way you’re forbidden to beg for the one thing you want most right now, the very thing he is withholding from you. Another please is on the tip of your tongue but you bite your lip, stopping it, waiting patiently like a good girl for him to do as he pleases. That’s all you want to be. His good girl. You wouldn’t trust anyone else in the whole world to take care of you like he does, like he’s doing right now.
His fingers slowly, slowly start to rub you over your panties, teasing until you can barely take it anymore. Whimpers slip out of your mouth as you will yourself to play by his rules. You keep yourself still and hold your tongue, his touch sending sparks shooting through your body. Finally, he seems satisfied (as if that slow torture was an initial test that you passed) and he hums. “Ready for my fingers, baby girl?”
You nearly come apart at the sheer relief you feel at those words. “Yes,” you gasp out, feeling the heat between your legs grow even more.
He chuckles. “So eager.” He leans down and kisses you, holding you down by your hips as you attempt to raise them to grind against his crotch where you can see the fabric of his pants straining. His willpower, however, is unlike anyone else you know. You’ve experienced firsthand how well he can put his own needs aside to tend to you for as long as he likes. Your hands pull against the handcuffs again slightly, testing that they’re still there. They hold fast. You won’t be getting out until he decides to let you out — and you know, of course, that you could say your safe-word and you’d be free in seconds, but you don’t want that. You want this. Harry, his mouth on yours, holding you and touching you and taking care of you.
One of his hands creeps up your side and caresses over your chest, his thumb finding your nipple and brushing over it. You arch your back and you can feel him smile against your mouth. He rolls the bud between his fingers, kissing down your jaw and over your neck. You writhe below him, sensitive from all his teasing. He hasn’t even touched you properly yet.
Finally, finally, his hand slides down your navel and plays with the lacy band of your panties for a moment before slipping underneath. You whine as his hands dip into the pool of wetness that has formed at your core, and even he gasps.
“Baby, you’re so wet,” he murmurs against your collarbone, and you’re sure he ruts against the mattress. Just once, but it gives you a small sense of triumph that even he’s having a hard time right now.
It doesn’t last long, however, because he manoeuvres his hand out of your panties and pulls them aside, giving him access to push two fingers into you and whatever reply to him you were trying to form dies in your throat, overtaken by a moan that’s so loud you would be embarrassed if it weren’t for how good you feel right now. After all that teasing, finally, his expert fingers work inside you, hitting that spot over and over again, driving you towards the edge of the climax you’re craving. His other hand begins to rub circles around your clit, spreading your wetness.
“This what you wanted, baby?” he asks. You can’t form a coherent response, which he knows, but he likes watching you struggle to speak when he’s knuckle deep inside you, still fully dressed while you’re spread out in front of him.
“Close!” you gasp out, as you feel your release ricochet towards you. “Daddy, daddy —”
His hands suddenly still.
“No!” you whine. After all that teasing, after the relief of finally being touched, you had forgotten that there was still more.
Harry smiles down at you pleasantly, sliding his fingers out of you. You can see them glistening as he brings them to his mouth, tasting you. “So sweet, baby. My little honey pot.” He looks at your desperate frown. “Oh, none of that, now. You wanted me to touch you, didn’t you? You got what you wanted.”
You simply pout at him, and he grins boyishly, his dominant facade slipping for a moment. “C’mere,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his lips. It’s a sweet gesture, grounding you as the harsh throb between your legs begins to ebb away. He pulls away after a couple of seconds, keeping his face close to yours. “Such a good girl for me, y’know that? So good, always. My little angel. I love you.”
“Love you t—oh!” He interrupts you by pressing his fingers against your sensitive clit again, rubbing firm circles until your legs are shaking and you’re crying out, “I’m close, I’m close, I’m close!”
His hand stops just as quickly as it did last time. He kisses your cheek and sits back. “That’s two.”
You frown. “How many are you planning on?”
He shrugs. “I’m thinking of a number between one and a hundred. Guess.”
“Harry!”
He bites his lip through a smile. “Don’t take that tone with me. Could be ninety-nine, could be just two. And that’s not what you call me right now.”
“Daddy,” you sigh, leaning back into the mattress. You settle your eyes up to the ceiling, feeling your core flutter around nothing. You tense your legs, un-tense them, and look back to Harry.
His smile has faded, replaced by something darker. He runs his hand up and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’re so wet, Y/N. I can see it from here. Dirty girl.” He lowers himself and shuffles down until he’s lying on his stomach between your legs, arms snaking underneath your thighs so he can splay his hands over your hips and pin them down to the mattress.
You bite your lip, looking down at him.
He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then meets your eyes. “Gonna let me have a taste?”
You nod.
He pauses. “You can ask nicer than that. I changed my mind, I think I want to hear you beg.”
His permission granted, it pours out of you like a wave. “Please, please, Daddy, I want your mouth on me,” you say, squirming your hips under his tight grasp.
“Where, baby?”
“My pussy.” Most of the time, you’re too shy to say it so blatantly, but tonight it’s just too much. You pull against the handcuffs again, the need beginning to overwhelm you. “Please lick me. Please, please, please—“
“Alright angel,” Harry murmurs into your thigh, loud enough that you can hear. “Since you asked so nicely.” He leaves one more kiss on your thigh, which has you whimpering, and then he drags the broad of his tongue over your folds, drawing a loud moan out of you.
Harry has always enjoyed eating you out — licking into you like he can’t get enough of it, like it’s the best taste he’s ever had. And he’s good at it, so fucking good at it. His tongue draws long lines from your hole to your clit, giving your sensitive button kitten licks that make you whine until he moves down again, always moving around, never letting you relax as he continues his assault on your senses. One hand reaches up and finds your breast, squeezing gently as he sucks on your clit. You feel him laugh against you as you shriek, thrashing against the handcuffs as you cry out, again, “Daddy, I’m going to cum!”
He pulls off you with a wet sound, finding your nipple and pinching. “No, you’re not.”
You look at him in horror. You had forgotten that he had been edging you, too caught up in how good you felt to imagine any ending to your situation that didn’t involve you cumming all over his mouth. “Daddy please,” you whisper, on the verge of tears because the ache between your legs has grown to something almost painful.
“Not yet,” he amends. He slides off the bed and stands, removing his shirt finally. You shamelessly allow your eyes to roam over his tattooed chest, flexing as he tosses his shirt behind him, and trace your gaze down his arms as his hands move to undo the zipper of his pants and finally, finally pull them off with his underwear.
The sight of his cock, hard and leaking at the tip, has your legs falling wider open for him, more pleas threatening to spill over your tongue. He strokes himself a couple of times, slowly, eyes closing in bliss and you can’t stop the pathetic whimper that escapes you at the sight of it.
He opens his eyes and smirks down at you. “Proper desperate for it, aren’t you?”
“I am, Daddy, I am, just please, please, I need to feel you,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, please.” You pull on your restraints, as if to emphasise your point.
Maybe he can sense just how far you’ve been pushed right now, because he doesn’t tease you any more. He slots himself between your legs, bracketing his elbows around your head and leaning down to kiss you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit which makes you jolt. One of his hands finds its way through your hair, brushing it out of your face. “I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. He reaches down to guide himself and pushes in slowly, filling you to the hilt.
You nearly scream at the feeling of finally being filled in the way only Harry can fill you. He fits perfectly, like you’re two pieces in the same puzzle. He holds himself there for a moment, his brows pinched, then pulls back slowly, watching your face carefully. Then he rams back in, watching your desperate frown morph into a silent scream as he begins to set a brutal pace, hitting the sweet spot inside you every time. With your wrists still cuffed, all you can do is lie there and take it, legs shaking as your moans grow obscenely loud, mixing with Harry’s grunts. When he starts to rub circles around your clit, you nearly come undone immediately but you hold back, trying to be good for him one last time.
“Can I cum, please, please,” you gasp out, every thrust of his hips interrupting your attempts to be coherent.
He kisses you messily, all tongues and teeth clashing, then moves back to hover his face over yours. “Yes, baby, go on, cum around my cock, you’ve been so good for me, my good girl, sweetheart, angel…” His words dissolve into nonsense fragments as you tighten your legs around him and cry out, feeling your orgasm finally wash over you. You clench around him, shaking as everything falls away except for Harry, Harry, Harry.
He keeps up his pace, working you through it as you start to come down from your high. You’re sensitive now, almost too sensitive, but you don’t want him to stop as he continues to piston in and out of you. “Daddy,” you sigh out blissfully, feeling yourself build up again.
His words come out staggered. “Gonna—cum for me—again?” he grunts, punctuating his question with a thrust that reaches extra deep.
“Yeah,” you say, legs still shaking. “So sensitive, so sensitive, please, please.”
“Me too, angel,” he tells you. “Together, yeah? Gonna cum with me?”
“Y-yeah.” Your voice is shaky, hoarse now.
“Come on, then, cum for me,” he murmurs, rubbing messy circles around your clit as his rhythm begins to falter.
It hits you even harder this time and you cry out, your body feeling like fireworks, unable to think of anything except how wonderful it feels. Soon afterwards, you’re feeling Harry’s hips stop pressed against yours, and he spills inside you with an unabashed moan. You crane your neck up in a silent beg for a kiss and he bends down to close the distance, capturing your lips in his in a kiss that is more tender than anything else he’s given you tonight. It feels right. After a moment, he gingerly slides himself out of you and leans up to unlock the handcuffs.
Your hands fly down to grasp onto him and he wraps his arms underneath you, holding you in an embrace. He manages to roll you over and sit up so you’re in his lap, secure in his hold as he peppers kisses over your collarbones. You’re spent, your head resting against his shoulder, your eyes threatening to close.
“How was that, angel?” he asks you quietly, gently rocking you from side to side, probably unconsciously.
“Perfect,” you whisper back. “I’m tired now.”
“I bet you are,” he says, using his hands to guide your thighs to tighten around his hips before he stands up, with you clutching onto him like an oversized koala bear. He holds you up by your thighs as he crosses the bedroom and takes you into the bathroom. He sets you down and helps you move to sit on the edge of the bathtub, which is no easy thing given how weak your legs are right now. He kisses your forehead fondly and then leans over the bathtub to turn the tap on, testing the water temperature with his wrist under the faucet. “Perfect,” he murmurs. He looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “You are, I mean. Perfect.”
You snort. “You’re so corny.”
He shrugs. “I mean it. Love you much. My perfect angel girl.”
You’re too tired to come up with a response, so you just lean over to kiss him, and you know it means enough when he pulls back with the biggest smile you’ve seen all night.
. . . . .
this is my first harry fic i ever published! i’m not used to writing harry or smut so .... hopefully this wasn’t totally awful hahah, either way i had fun writing it & i hope you liked it!
