Original Story…

can u guys write something about p*ssy spitting? 🥺🥺🥺

I’ll do a little drabble!

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She couldn’t describe how much she loved it. Or why. But she did.

Perhaps it was the look in his eyes before he did it. The dark, lusty, mischievous look that took over him as he had his lips attached to her clit. He suckled, finding a pace and strength she liked and watched her chest heave as the pleasure soaked her. He lifts his head, keeping direct eye as he purses those beautiful, swollen pink lips and the stream of spit leaves them, dripping slowly on to her puffy, well used cunt. He would look right at her cunt after it landed, watching that bit of his spit as it dribbled from clit down to her asshole- or he would dive back in and spread it around with his tongue. Revel in the soaked pussy surrounding his face.

Sometimes it was different. When he was particularly rough, pounding into her cunt, he would pull out and spit thickly over her pussy. Taking the tip of his cunt soaked cock, he would give her clit a few taps or slaps, rubbing it in before slamming back in. The man loves messy sex, and the added spit only made the slide better.

It was a bit of an ownership thing too.

“Who’s fucking pussy is this? Hm?” Is often growled out before he spits on her. Finding that sick satisfaction that Y/N knows that it’s his pussy. It’s his to fuck, to lick, to spit all over. Knows that he’s the only one allowed to do it and the only one able to make her feel so good from such a dirty action.

Harry’s a dirty fuck. He knows that, she knows that and there’s no denying it. They both love it though.

WELCOME TO THE MASTERLIST FOR IN MY FEELINGS

what it is: you and harry hate one another, like really hate one another–but then you start fucking. 

based off of lana del rey’s song in my feelings. 

*completed*

*warning: the sex in this series is going to be rough and a little mean (choking, slapping, etc) so if that’s not your thing…beware*

✰=smut

in my feelings fits

playlist

moodboard

general masterlist

…………………………

part one

part two✰

part three✰

part four✰

part five✰

part six✰

part seven

Hey Anna!! A girl with a big booty do you think harry would love it? Like when she walks, certain clothes she wear, during sex like how do you think Harry you act? Would’ve be obsessed wit it? I HAVE TO KNOWWWWWWWWWW late night though *hehe*

Hi babes! I would HOPE he would be into it lol.  The fantasy part of me likes to completely ignore the track record he’s had with stick thin models in the past.  

I personally think he would look so hot with someone curvy on his arm. Always having a hand in her back pocket or an arm wrapped around her holding to the very top of her hip, right above the curve of her behind so he can feel the lift and fall of her hips as she walks. 

I love the idea of her walking around his house in a big t shirt and a pair of his boxers and the underwear not being baggy on her? H has really narrow hips so I imagine he wears pretty small boxers and her filling them out, I think, is really fucking sexy. 

Him sitting at the counter in the kitchen watching her reach for something on the top shelf, exposing the tops of her thighs and the curve of her ass in the tight boxers. Seeing how the shirt rests on the curve of her ass and hips when she brings her arms back down, making his dick twitch with a need to press himself against her. Maybe coming up behind her and doing exactly that, gripping her hips tightly in his fingers as he presses his body against her back with his lips on her neck, whispering something filthy into her ear.  

Alright, I had this full blown image in my head earlier today of him having the front of her pressed up against the wall, standing behind her and lifting her hands up above her head. 

“Keep ‘em there,” whispering his request with his lips brushing against the skin behind her ear before he plants a wet kiss to the top of her shoulder. Pushing his hips against hers more when she arches her back to press her behind to his cock more.  Leaving one more kiss to the back of her shoulder before he’s kneeling behind her. 

He’s watching how her skin indents around his fingers as he squeezes her full cheeks in his hands. Pulling her hips towards him so that her back is arched and her ass is perched up for him. Spreading her cheeks as he leans in to lick her lips fully before slipping his tongue between her folds.  

Moaning into her when she gasps from the smack he leaves against her cheek, gripping it harshly as he holds her ass cheeks open for him to bury his face into her more.  Gripping and kneading and massaging her ass as he licks her cunt until she’s a moaning mess and begging him not to stop.  

Fuck, what a dream.  

Jason | Saturday Night Live (2019)

i will never accept the sound of my recorded voice

Imagine you're riding Harry and when he's cums, his stomach is clenching so hard and his butterfly tattoo is just wiggling on his tummy

So let’s say Harry just got out of the shower.

He comes out with a towel wrapped around his hips, using another one to dry his hair and back. He’s rubbing it over his broad shoulders as he pads barefoot over to his cabinets, digging for a pair of briefs as he scrubs his skin dry. You’re watching from the bed, where you had been watching a rerun episode of Baby Daddy, but Harry’s much more interesting at the moment.

His back muscles flex as he reaches behind him as far as possible, trying to rid his skin of all the wetness, shoulders and arms going taut as he works the linen over his body, tattoos wiggling and stretching along with his movements.

Harry walks over to the edge of the bed, plopping down next to you and you catch a glimpse downwards, the towel around his waist shifting lower on his hips to expose the beginning of his pubes. And he knows exactly what he’s doing, the smug smirk on his ruby lips showing it off perfectly.

He leans forward on his palms, giving you a slow once-over as his hair is damp and matted to his neck, his skin smelling of Tom Ford aftershave and Dove bar soap. “D'you think you can help me dry my hair, pet?”

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Two kids bully Harry and his little neighbour comes for the rescue (a blurb from the ‘My Girl Series’)

AU: older!Harry (4-year age gap), childhood best friends. 

I was going through my Patreon when I found this from last year and remembered that I forgot to post this on Tumblr…Forgive me.

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She knew something was wrong when Harry didn’t come home at 5 PM like he always did. His mum had threatened to ground him for a month if he stayed out with his friends after football practice to avoid chores, so there was no way he would do that.

The little girl sat on her front porch, tapping her feet impatiently. After what seemed like an hour or maybe more, she got up and went to the field to look for him.

Just like she had thought, Harry was there but he wasn’t alone. He was with two other kids, both bigger than him, probably older too. The fatter one grabbed Harry’s collar and almost lifted his feet off the ground with a violent tug.

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hi! can i request a blurb where harry’s gf is a surfer and gets attacked by a shark while he’s on tour? idk i’ve just been really into shark videos and harry is <3 so caring so kind

“Where is she? Where—well, which fucking room?”

The sound of the loud, angry, and incredibly British request trickling into the small hospital room brings a flush to your cheeks.

You had anticipated his outrage, but you can’t quite say you’re prepared to face the wrath of Scary Harry.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” is the first thing out of his mouth as his eyes land on where you’re tucked into bed. 

Offering a sheepish smile, you scoot further under the covers, calling a timid, “Don't be mad, okay?”

“Don’t be—” A scoff. Incredulous. He moves further into the room before flinging his incredibly sparkly jacket into one of the tiny chairs near the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Well—" Your smile widens, which only aids in further exaggerating his fury. “Oh, relax. I’m fine—”

“I told you not fucking go,” he reminds you before running a hand through the once perfectly styled curls atop his head. Now, they’re disheveled and falling onto his forehead as he tugs. “I—shit.”

“Harry,” you repeat, straightening up once again as you bite back a laugh. “I am fine. He barely got my arm—”

“Oh, really?” A bitter snort, and soon, he’s reaching his fingers around your wrist to pry your arm from the bed and into the air between you.

Your eyes fall toward the bandage wrapped around your elbow as he thrusts his chin forward.

“They don’t just give out band-aids for no fucking reason unless it’s medically necessary.” He leans back. Point proven.

Your eyes narrow. “Okay, well, it’s not a band-aid. It’s gauze.” You tug your hand free. “And second…it’s a little scratch and it’s gonna leave a bitchin’ scar. So, I don’t really see—”

“Do you know how fucking scary it was to get told you had been taken to the hospital?” His words are sharp. Irate. And you can feel the guilt slowly creeping its way up your neck. “Just coming down for a pee and Jeff says, ‘Oh, hey, by the way. A shark tried to bite her fucking arm off and now she might be dead.’”

The urge to laugh becomes stronger, and as Harry watches you tug your lip between your teeth, his scowl deepens.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you exhale, reaching out to grab his fingers and encourage him to sit on the bed beside you. “But…Jeff is incredibly dramatic. It didn’t try to eat me, it just—”

“I told you not to go,” Harry is quick to remind you, and you reward him with an exasperated huff.

“Yes, I’m aware. But in my defense…you were supposed to be there with me. So I could teach you how to get better—”

“Right, and then I’d get eaten.” His tone is bitter, but his eyes are alive with relief. “I don’t need to get better at surfing. That’s your specialty. My specialty is—”

“Is peeing in buckets under the stage, yes, I know,” you can’t help but tease, mostly in an attempt to smooth out that frown.

However, the only thing you truly succeed in doing is forcing another scoff from his throat as he leans away from you.

Oops.

“Har,” you whine now, extending your hands once more to try and tug him back to your side. “Come on, don’t be such a baby. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m fine. I promise.”

His eyes are focused on the wall adjacent to the bed. Brows pulled together. Jaw clenching as his arms cross in front of his chest.

Like a little child.

And the sight brings a warm feeling to your chest. You scoot a tad closer now, moving onto your knees until you can crawl to his side and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his head turned away.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you whisper, ghosting your lips over his cheek. His breath hitches. You feel his resolve slowly start to crumble beneath your touch. “I promise I’m all right. And I promise I won’t swim there ever again. Ever, ever.”

“And?” He expects more.

You pause, lashes fluttering as you attempt to recall his previous warnings. “Uh…and I promise to wear skimpier bathing suits?”

His eyes roll. “No. I mean…yeah, but no.”

You sink down further into the mattress as you think. “Um…promise let you be Ariel and wear the coconut bra?”

His head turns. “Seriously?”

You set the laugh free as you press a kiss to his tensed shoulder. “M’sorry, baby. Okay, what? What else am I missing?”

A beat. His muscles tighten as he glares at the dingy hospital floor beneath his glittery boots. 

And you wait, fingers rubbing soft circles into his skin until he sighs, and glances back over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking do dangerous shit when I can’t be there to help you.”

Oh.

Your eyes soften, now understanding his reaction. You’ve had this conversation many times. Perhaps too many, although clearly it didn’t stick very well.

It’s not that he’s upset with your surfing. In fact, he adores it. Every aspect of it. The way your face lights up when you catch the perfect wave. The way you call to him from your board as he waits on the shore. The way you reenact the Baywatch running scene whenever asked.

But there have been times, like tonight, when your tendency to go looking for trouble overlaps with his schedule.

And he’s never felt more helpless than knowing he’s trapped on a stage while you wait for him to save you.

Which, you had argued, wasn’t the case. Because you didn’t need him to save you, but you knew that wasn’t really the point, and had quickly agreed.

And then, apparently, immediately forgot.

“Right,” you murmur, reaching up to stroke your thumbs over his rigid jaw. 

“No more being stupid when I’m on stage,” he repeats. Firm. Yet laced with fear.

Your smirk rematerializes. You nod. “No more being stupid when you’re on stage.”

Another pause, his eyes flicking between yours before he sighs and reaches for your hip to tug you closer.

Teeth and tongues collide as he melts into your embrace, nearly forcing you onto his lap as you chuckle. 

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers after a moment, the request ushered into your bottom lip before he pulls back to bury his face in your neck. “Shit, please…please don’t do that again. Thought I was gonna fucking die.”

The mood has switched on a dime and your fingers fall to the hair at the nape of his neck as you run your palm down his skin. 

“Couldn’t…couldn’t get to you.” His voice is hoarse. Broken. Filled with the guilt of a man carrying the weight of your soul. “Fuck, never been so scared in my life. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You can feel the burn in the back of your throat as the tears crawl their way up. “I know, Har. M’okay, I promise. Won’t do it again.”

“Good.” A soft kiss to the pulse point below your ear. “Cause I’ll feed you to the shark myself if you do.”

With that, you laugh again, slapping at his arm until he pulls back.

"Were you scared?" A hesitant question. One you're sure he's afraid to know the answer to.

You smile as you run your fingers down his cheek, shaking your head softly. "No. Not really. Maybe for a moment, but I knew I'd be okay. Knew you'd be there for me no matter what happened."

You notice the dark storm behind his eyes at this admission, anticipating the way he's already picturing the worst possible scenario.

"Harry," you warn, offering a stern look. "Don't do that. Fear is nothing more than a tool to help keep you alive. If I hadn't been at least a little afraid of losing you, then I wouldn't have found the strength to swim to shore."

"Shit." An angry hiss, his head attempting to turn away again, but you're quick to keep him focused on you. "Don't fucking tell me shit like that."

"I'm sorry." You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lip, despite your smile. "But it's true. Nothing will ever keep me from you. Not even a big, stupid fish."

He grumbles his misgivings into the gentle kiss but does eventually melt into your touch.

And once he does, and the tense moment has subsided, you let your eyes trail down to his outfit. You’d previously seen photos from Lambert, but now…the real thing. Right in front of your eyes.

Sparkly, pink, and incredibly loud.

“Oh…my gosh.” Your palm flies to your mouth, the right words disappearing into thin air.

On stage, it looks incredible. Perfectly tailored for the show, for the atmosphere, for the crazy antics he and the crowd engage in.

But anywhere else…

“What?” His eyes move down to his chest. “Okay, well, you didn’t see it with the hat. The hat ties the whole thing together.”

Your lips roll into your mouth. “Mhm. Oh, I’m sure.”

“And the boa,” he continues, gesturing toward his neck. “Yeah. Adds some dimension.”

“Yeah.”

“Little spice.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, you’ll see,” he tells you, and your brow quirks up. “Lambi let me borrow it so I could cheer you up while you’re stuck here.”

Well…shit.

“Oh, that’s…that’s so great,” you beam, teeth gritting together as Harry’s smug grin widens.

“Isn’t it? Nurse Harry, here to help.”

“Super.”

His hands move to the mattress, digging into the soft blanket beneath his palms as he leans forward, now incredibly close. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him eye your lips like candy. Nose brushing against your own as you breathe him in, desperate for what he might have in store.

“So…what do you say?” he murmurs, head tilting until you can nearly taste him. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

You smile. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

“Sure thing, Ariel.”

“All right, you know what? I changed my fucking mind, the shark can have you.”

“Harry!”

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just wanted these photos side by side