take your time bestie - your exams are important!!
but imagine him trying with different ways - sensory deprivation, toys, tying her up, different positions….,and him researching the topic bc it’s not something she does every time JDJSIDISJS feral for this concept
Okay, exams are important, but my brain had other plans this evening… SOOOO here is a preview of what I’ve been up to. Like, hello. I need to finish writing this chapter ASAP because you are in for a treat.
PS. Thank you so much for sending in these two requests!! you made me fall back in love with this series. If you ever have more requests, please identify yourself with an emoji and tell me you sent these in, so I can move them to the top of my list as a thank you. 🫶
WARNING: SMUT (squirting) AHEAD, MDNI!
The bedroom is dim, only the bedside lamp casting a low amber glow across the sheets. You strip out of your clothes without thinking, leaving them in a careless pile at the foot of the bed. Harry watches you the whole time, his eyes tracking every movement, every inch of skin revealed. His shirt comes off next, then his jeans, and when he's down to his boxers you can already see the outline of him, half-hard from the adrenaline of uploading that tape.
He pulls you into bed, and the second your bodies meet under the covers the tension breaks. His mouth finds yours in a kiss that starts slow and quickly turns desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck like he needs to hold you there. You moan into it, and he swallows the sound, rolling you onto your back and settling between your thighs. The weight of him is familiar and grounding, something solid to cling to while your mind spins with everything that's happened tonight.
His lips leave yours to trail down your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there. He knows exactly where to linger, where to suck just hard enough to make your hips twitch up against him. Your hands find his shoulders, nails dragging lightly over his skin as he works his way lower, his mouth closing around one nipple. He sucks gently at first, then harder, his tongue flicking over the peak until you're arching beneath him. His hand comes up to give the same attention to your other breast, fingers rolling and pinching until both nipples are tight and aching.
"Fuck, Harry," you breathe, and he hums against your skin in response, the vibration shooting straight between your legs.
He takes his time, lavishing attention on your chest until you're squirming, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Only then does he continue his descent, kissing down the center of your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel just to hear you laugh breathlessly. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips, and then he's settling lower, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart as he makes room for himself between them.
The first drag of his tongue through your folds is slow, deliberate, like he's savoring the taste of you. You gasp, your hands flying to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands. He groans at the contact, the sound muffled against your cunt, and the vibration makes your thighs tremble. He licks you again, broader this time, his tongue flat and hot as it drags from your entrance up to your clit. When he reaches that sensitive bundle of nerves he circles it slowly, then flicks over it, then sucks it gently between his lips.
Your hips buck, and he brings one arm across your lower stomach to hold you down, keeping you pinned while he works. His tongue moves in practiced patterns; circles, then strokes, then that fluttering motion that always makes your toes curl. He knows your body so well by now, knows exactly how much pressure to use, how fast to go, when to ease off and when to push harder. It's almost unfair how good he is at this.
Two fingers press against your entrance, circling the slick opening before sliding inside. The stretch is perfect, just enough to make you feel full, and he curls them immediately, searching for that spot that makes you see stars. He finds it on the first try, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the spongy tissue, and your whole body jerks.
"There," you gasp, and he doesn't need to be told twice. He focuses his attention there, his fingers stroking in a steady rhythm while his tongue continues to work your clit. The combination is devastating. Pleasure builds in hot waves, each one cresting higher than the last, and you can feel yourself getting wetter, slick coating his fingers and chin as he works you open.
Your moans fill the room, unselfconscious and raw. Harry loves it when you're loud, and he rewards every sound with more pressure, more speed, his fingers pumping faster as his tongue flicks relentlessly over your clit. You can feel the orgasm building, that familiar tightening in your core, the way your thighs start to shake. It's going to be a good one, you can tell from the way the pleasure is spreading through your whole body, from the way your breath is coming in short gasps.
Harry adds a third finger, and the stretch makes you cry out. He works them in and out, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room, his tongue never stopping its assault on your clit. You're so close, teetering on the edge, your fingers tightening in his hair.
"Don't stop," you beg, voice breaking. "Harry, please, don't stop—"
He doesn't. He doubles down, his fingers curling harder against that spot inside you, his tongue moving faster, and something shifts. The pleasure changes, deepens, becomes something almost too much. There's a strange pressure building, different from your usual orgasms, and for a moment you feel like you might need to pee. The sensation is overwhelming, almost frightening in its intensity.
"Harry—" you start, but then the orgasm crashes over you and the words dissolve into a broken moan.
It hits harder than anything you've felt before. Your whole body locks up, thighs clamping around his head, and then something releases. Wetness gushes out of you in a hot rush, soaking his hand, his chin, the sheets beneath you. The sound is filthy, a wet splatter that you can hear even through your own desperate cries. Your vision whites out, pleasure so intense it borders on pain, and you can feel yourself pulsing around his fingers, more liquid spilling out with each contraction.
Harry makes a sound you've never heard from him before. A low, guttural groan that vibrates through his whole body. He doesn't pull back. If anything, he presses closer, his tongue lapping at the wetness, his fingers still working inside you as you ride out the aftershocks. More liquid seeps out with each movement, and you're vaguely aware that you're making sounds you've never made before, high and broken and completely out of your control.
When it finally subsides, you're shaking. Your thighs are trembling so hard you can't stop them, and your chest heaves with each breath. Harry slowly withdraws his fingers, and even that small movement makes more wetness leak out of you. He sits back on his heels, staring down at the mess between your legs, and when you manage to lift your head to look at him, his face is completely wrecked.
His chin and mouth are glistening. His chest is flushed. His eyes are wide and dark, and when he looks at you there's something almost reverent in his expression.
"Holy fuck," he breathes. "You squirted."
A/N: If you have any feedback or requests, I'm not done with this chapter so feel free to comment or stop by in my inbox. Welp, see you in part 5. Adióóóós.
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