Summary: “At first, his mustache made you laugh as it grazed over your skin, sending a chilled shudder up your spine, your mind still giddy, but as soon as he pressed his soft lips to your knee, you sucked in a deep breath, that mustache suddenly a tantalizing tickle as you squirmed under his touch, and you held your breath as his mouth made an agonizingly slow trail down your thigh, his lips and mustache creating a bitter-sweet sting in their wake”
A/N: @likea-silhouette sent me pictures before I saw them on tumblr the other day and this was basically our conversation… long live the stached!! ✌️🏽✌️🏽✌️🏽
Word Count: 2.7K
Warning: Pure explicit pussy eating galore with a quick little gush at the end. 💦🤭. (Read at your own risk.)
H: Headed home after this meeting. Need anything??
Y/N: Actually, babe! I didn’t want to get you worked up this morning since you were on your way out the door. But all I could think about today was your face, and that smooth fucking chin.
H: Really? My chin??
Y/N: God yes!!! 😩 Like respectfully, I want that face buried in my pussy…just whenever you have time. No rush!
H: Fuck, love. I have like two more hours of this meeting. It’s not the right time to try and hide how much that just turned me on. You’ve got me sparking, love. I’ll be home as soon as I can!!!
H: 🏃🏻🏃🏻🏃🏻
Y/N: I guess… I can be patient!!
H: How about I’ll shoot you a text when I’m headed your way, and you can get yourself nice and ready for me? I want you dripping on my tongue the second I walk through that door? Sound like a deal?
And that you did, because the second you got the text, you felt the rush of excitement like a dull ache pulsing between your thighs, already needing a little touch, something to stir the sensation, something to tide you over until Harry walked through that door. You were sprawled across the bed when you heard the downstairs door open, and you halted your actions, heart pounding, as you held your breath listening for Harry’s activities. You knew he was taking his time, silent with his movements, already playing into the bit so effortlessly, which only excited you more.
You heard his footfalls against the wood floor down the hall, then the bathroom door shut, and you slammed your head back into your pillow, covering your face. It was like torture, the waiting, and you felt it coursing through you like an urge you couldn’t control—your whole body raging with the anticipation, your chest filling with the giddy inflection of a schoolgirl playing out her wildest dreams. Except it wasn’t a dream. It was real, he was real, and he was yours—your man already knowing every way to make all your requests come true, and now all you had to do was be patient.
As Harry’s footsteps approached the bedroom, his words from his last text echoed in your mind: “I want you soaked and ready by the time I walk in.” And as you brought your fingers between your legs, ready to show him your work, you closed your eyes, sinking into the feeling of your fingers circling your clit, that anticipation now a slow tingle up your spine as you drew your bottom lip between your teeth, lungs constricting with the thrilling joy of knowing.
When the door finally creaked open, you let out a surprised gasp, eyes going wide, like he just caught you in the act, your knees knocking together, thighs closing around your hand, and you bit down harder on your lip, eyes moving to his as you tried with all your might to stifle the smile threatening to rise. For a second, you both stared at each other—you taking in his chiseled jaw now, smooth, and that glorious fucking mustache sitting thick and proud above his lip. You couldn’t help but gape, your breath hitching as you imagined how good it would feel at work between your legs.
He gazed back in mock surprise, both of you slipping into your roles as he licked his lips. You watched as he closed the door behind him, eyes never leaving you. You liked it best this way, you thought, rising to your elbows, thighs pressing tighter together, your pussy aching for the touch only he could bring. There was something about moments like these, the open vulnerability of you being naked, and laid out waiting for the man you loved to walk through that fucking door, catching you doing exactly what he asked for, and you knowing you were about to get exactly what you wanted.
“God,” Harry said, fainting ignorance of the agreement, “Look at you having all this fun without me, love.” He told you, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and your mouth went dry, watching as he stroked down the hairs of his mustache, his thumb swiping over the swell of his bottom lip.
“I didn’t think that you would be home…” You told him, bringing a hand up to your bare breast, and rolling your hard nipple between your thumb and forefinger, sending a cold shiver over your body, your thighs slipping as you moved, your pussy already wet as you shifted slightly on the bed. “I can stop—”
“No—keep going,” he blurted, stepping closer, and his tongue flicked the edge of his mustache like he was already prepping for dinner.
You gave him a small smile following the movement, “You want me to keep going?” This time, it was your turn to faint ignorance as your pussy throbbed between your legs, and you squeezed your thighs as tight as you could, trying to find relief.
“Yes…” he answered, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “And now I want to see how ready you are. See if that pussy is wet enough… or if you’ll need some help getting there.” And your eyes dropped to Harry’s hands, watching as he undid his belt with a little snap. Not to join you, not yet, you knew his first priority was always getting his face between your legs.
You could see his growing bulge, see the desperate press already needing space, but he only unzipped his fly, and he tossed his belt aside, as you spread your thighs wide, spreading the lips of your pussy open, giving him the view you knew he wanted, two fingers sinking in, and when you pulled them out he let out a strangled groan, biting his lip as you watched the hunger rise, his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Mmmm…so good for me.” He cooed, and his eyes dropped to the damp sheets under your ass; your knuckles shining as you dipped them back in. Both of you listening to the wet gush as you pushed them in deeper, the rhythm slow and lazy, drawing it out the way he liked, and all you could do was smile up at him.
Harry smirks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and he crawls onto the bed, his green eyes locked onto yours, that hunger gleaming like the fucking sun outside your window. He doesn’t even need to speak; his actions are loud enough. He grabs hold of your ankles, pulling you towards him, and you gasp at the sudden movement, your hands clutching at the sheets as if they could save you for what was about to come, and your heart slammed against your chest as a laugh rose, but you were ready, physically and mentally prepared—already slick and glistening as the cool air of the room teased your heated flesh as your body began to relax into the mattress.
He knew what you wanted, what you had been craving.
At first, his mustache made you laugh as it grazed over your skin, sending a chilled shudder up your spine, your mind still giddy, but as soon as he pressed his soft lips to your knee, you sucked in a deep breath, that mustache suddenly a tantalizing tickle as you squirmed under his touch, and you held your breath as his mouth made an agonizingly slow trail down your thigh, his lips and mustache creating a bitter-sweet sting in their wake—a painful edge that promised pleasure, and you exhaled the moment you felt the subtle smoothness of his chin, such a stark contrast to the harsh prickle of his mustache.
The sensation was overwhelming you in the best way possible; all of that growing need, now a rushing pulse straight to your clit that was throbbing with an ache so deep inside you that you were starting to lose your mind with it… and you just knew your pussy was dripping, because your body was begging for his touch like it had been starved for months. Each kiss or nip was a captivating slow burn that had you sinking into that heady thrill that you were ready to get lost in.
Trying to satiate that need, your fingers threaded and tangled into his hair, trying to guide him, to urge him on, but he resisted, then stopped, and you felt his low chuckle vibrate against your thigh. “Patience,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning across your skin, and you groaned, arching your back off the bed, both in frustration and pleasure as his mouth began to move again, and god, you had never wanted him more in your life—needed him more, ached for him, and he knew it, but wasn’t this part of the play, you thought, drawing in a lung full of air, fist tightening in his hair.
Finally, finally, you felt the prick of his mustache move deeper between your legs, his lips brushing against the soft apex of your thigh, the rough hairs scraping across the sensitive flesh as you felt his warm breath skim over your pussy, and you shuddered in suspense. Harry looks up at you then, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Is this what you want?” he rasps out, and you nod, your breath coming in short gasps. “Tell me what you want,” he asks, more demanding this time, like he, too, is having a hard time holding back.
“I want your face buried in this pussy,” you forced, trying not to buck your hips, chest heaving, his face so close you could shove him into you if you dared, and you gave his hair a light tug, drawing a laugh from him. “I want you to eat this pussy until I come. I want to feel that mustache, that chin, your fucking lips and tongue. I want it all,” You finish.
And Harry releases a low hum, eyes trained on you as he lowers his head, and you spread your legs wider, ushering him in. The first touch of his velvet tongue has you moaning out the word “please” as you watch the slow drag up your slit, as a jolt of pleasure courses through your body, and you cry out his name, your hips lifting off the bed, already pushing yourself closer to his mouth. He licks, then sucks, giving your clit a gentle nibble, his mustache starting to create the sweet burn of pleasure as his chin comes up to smooth it away.
The writhing and moaning was never far from reach, and you both knew it when your loud words begun to fill the space as both hands fisted in his hair now as your hips twitched upward to shamelessly grind against his face, and holy fuck the sensation was overwhelming—the sharp sting of his mustache, the soothing caress of his chin, and before long you found yourself pulling him closer, grinding against his face, focusing in on every movement, every brush of his skin against yours, and it was raw and primal and filthy, and everything that you needed all at once.
“Fuck—Harry—please,” you choke, shoving his face deeper into your pussy. “Just like that—please.” You plead again, and in that moment, you didn’t even know why you were pleading or what else you needed; you just knew you needed it all.
All of it, everything that he wanted to give.
And then he groaned with your satisfaction, the vibration sending shocks through you, and you felt his greed with every lick, every suck, and when you lifted your hips, Harry would tilt his chin upward, skin slick with your juices, the smooth surface teasing your entrance that was begging to be filled and you rubbed against it—listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth, his tongue becoming relentless as it flicked against your clit; only making you want to ride it more, using his beautiful face for your pleasure, and he was loving every second of it.
You both were animals in the heat of the moment as his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open every time you yelped out at the friction, and his fingers dug into your flesh, keeping you in place. He was fucking feasting, and there was nothing you could do any time his mustache rubbed too hard against you, and it was pain and pleasure in the best way, in the only way that you wanted it.
“That’s it, baby,” he pushed, pulling back just enough to speak. “Fuck my face…” he urged as your clit ran over his mouth. “Want you to make yourself feel good—”
And you did, without another pause, each motion wild and unhinged as you chased that pleasure, the release you knew was on the horizon as his mustache scratched into your delicate skin, a painful edge that only heightened the arousal, still pulling at his hair, grinding against his chin, the smooth skin slick and wet with your every movement, and you kept going, and going.
“Yes,” you panted. “Yes, Harry. Just like that. You’re going to make me come… Make me come all over that filthy fucking face.” You moaned out, feeling that first wave hit, that knot starting to coil deep in your belly.
Without warning, he slides a finger past your entrance, pushing it inside you, and you clench around him, your body begging for more, and it’s like he knew, because then he was adding another, stretching you fuller, while his mouth never left your clit, sucking on your pulsing bud, his mustache tickling your folds, and he broke his suction to lift his chin and pressed it into you hard, making a slow circle, the added pressure, stirring everything inside you as his fingers dipped in and out effortlessly.
And fuck, here was that tension building in your body with every thrust of his fingers, the pace picking up, as you spread your legs wider, wanting him deeper until he was plunging into you with three fingers, your body making the gushing sound of a wet pussy being pumped with a force that only had you closer, because you were close, so close, your body tensing, your grip on his hair tightening, and maybe he could feel it too, because suddenly he was moving faster, his mouth working you harder.
“Fuck—baby, you’re going—” you said, barely able to form words over the pleasure. “Make me—.”
“Make me come,” you demand this time, desperate for more. “Make me fucking squirt all over that fucking face.” You begged, arching off the bed to meet his fingers.
Harry, wanting to give you exactly what you wanted, doubled down on his efforts, his tongue determined, his fingers curling inside you, hitting your spot perfectly, that spot that he knew made your fucking toes curl—and then you were there, oh my god, you were there, screaming his fucking name like it was the only word you knew as your entire body convulsed with electric waves of pleasure, and as you released you felt the gush of your orgasm squirt all over his face, and he kept pumping, his soaked fingers continuing their feverish aggression.
And just as you squeezed your eyes shut, you caught sight of him lapping up your mess, his soaked mustache turning angry as your body grew sensitive. He knew it was dirty, nasty work, and he was so good at his job, not stopping as his mouth gentled, slowly bringing you down from your high, and you released your grip on his hair, your body melting into the bed, completely wiped out.
As his fingers slowly slid from your body, he pressed a light kiss to your pussy, his mustache brushing against you one last time, and you let out an overwhelmed laugh of defeat, hand coming up to cover yourself, and he grinned when his eyes met yours, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand.
“Good girl,” he praised, climbing up your body, and you could taste yourself on his lips the second he kissed you, his mustache prickling into your lips, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, deepening the kiss.
“I love your mustache,” you mumbled, slipping into the tranquil aftermath of your heart’s greatest desire, and you felt his laugh before you heard it, his body shaking against yours, as he relaxed against you.
“I know you do, baby,” he tells you, brushing his wet mustache across your lips, then over your cheek. “I know you do… and I’ll keep it as long as you want it.”
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