Hiii Can You Do Something Where The Reader Gets Like A Disposable Film Camera And She And Harry Take

my baby's fit like a daydream

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.  

xx

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!”

Full Masterlist

masterlist.

by honeytryst.

a work in progress. please do not repost my work on any platforms without my permission. thank you so much for reading!

* = mature content

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

RANDOM

harry as tags on my posts that have made me chuckle

one direction as greek gods/goddesses

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

TAGS

pictures and videos of my harry concert

writings that I recommend you read

what I wish harry would wear

things that make me happy

a little info about me

answered asks

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

SERIES

sunflower. | surprise; | savior;

where harry meets an endearing fan who has resilience for her not-so-uncommon situation. (pregnant!y/n)

wild card. | wild flare.

where an innocent game of UNO with tequila and a twist makes harry and y/n’s night go wrong. (best friend!harry)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

ONE-SHOTS

winter flakes.

where the holiday season brings upon a terrible first impression.

permanent lovers.

where two lovers are bound by the ink of the strange universe.

edge of the universe.

where y/n is younger, and harry fears that he will ruin her youth.

past lovers.

where 18-year old harry tries to get y/n to get back together with him (film student!harry)

xx.

where harry hides his true feelings behind a thoughtful birthday card.

fame.

where harry knows the industry more than y/n does. (singer!y/n)

missing piece.

where harry is in search of a muse and is running out of time. (dancer!y/n)

feline.

where y/n isn’t very fond of harry’s surprise.

don’t feel bad.

where y/n is 7 months pregnant and knows her husband all too well. (dad!harry)

miss you.

where y/n loses harry’s rose ring.

housewarming gift.*

where harry gives y/n a housewarming gift. (best friend!harry)

night terrors.

where harry’s daughter experiences night terrors for the first time. (dad!harry)

soft skin.

where y/n feels insecure about her skin and wishes it was soft.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

SHORTER STORIES

y/n cuts her hair very short and harry comforts her

y/n breaks her ankle

harry is ill and y/n comes down with something

y/n worries that harry feels under pressure

chasm convinces model!y/n to get back together with harry

gift wrapping … and harry saves xmas

Jealousy - Harry Styles One Shot

Request: Can you do number 5 with Harry styles? I love your writing so much btw!

#5 “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

It was meant to be a small summer get-together, but it looked like a few of your friends had brought a few of their friends and now it looked like there wasn’t going to be enough pasta salad and watermelon for the people you had originally invited.  Your eyes scanned the crammed backyard for a familiar head of dark hair and let out a slight sigh when he was nowhere to be found.  Looks like it was your job as co-host to try and find more chips, guacamole, or something that would be able to fill your guests’ stomachs because you’d already gotten several asks about when the “actual dinner” was being served.  A sassy, slightly bitter, part of you wanted to bite back and say since they’d shown up unexpectedly why don’t they show you the dinner, but you held your tongue.

Actual dinner.

You scoffed.  Clearly the buffet set up on the picnic table wasn’t enough for them, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.  Before somebody tried to eat the table itself, you begrudgingly headed to the back door and went through to the kitchen, pulling some leftovers from your dinner with Harry several nights ago and deciding that it would have to be good enough.  Perhaps you should call for takeout?  Before you could make up your mind a tall stranger appeared in the entranceway to your kitchen.  You would be lying if you said he wasn’t handsome.  He had light curly hair, skin tanned from the beach, and he gave you a stunning lopsided smile.

Okay.  He was very handsome.

“Can I help you?” you asked, irritation lacing your voice.

“Oh, sorry.  I’m Lawrence,” He stuck out his hand routinely, but it fell when he saw yours balancing trays of leftovers.  “I was just wondering ‘round…But I’d be more than happy to help you.”  He once more eyed the trays that seemed dangerously close to loasing their balance and tipping over at any moment.

“No, no it’s fine.  I’m perfectly capable,” you assured him adamantly.  As much as you would’ve liked to continue this conversation and figure out who he actually knew at this party you had to move quickly or else the plates were sure to topple.  You had shuffled past him and just nearly made it out when you heard the corner of the tray make a light scrape against the wall.

“Frickle frackle!”

Your heart nearly dropped as you let out a squeal, mirroring a circus act as you tried to salvage your balance and catch the food from the clutches of gravity.  Before the tray hit the ground, the stranger -what’s his face? Linguini? - caught it with one hand and steadied you with the other.  You let out a sigh of relief and looked up to the sky in silent thanks, and when your eyes met his there was a slight shimmer in them.  Your eyes fell to the small smirk resting on his face and you quickly stepped back, causing his arm to fall from your shoulder, but not before it lazily grazed your hand as it went.  He knew you were hosting this with your boyfriend, right?

“The door-wall thing comes out,” you stopped, caught your breath.  “It’s faulty construction, this house is built really weird,” you rambled off some lame excuse, but his smirk never faltered.

“I bet,” he said in between light laughter.

You shifted your feet in the ensuing silence and looked at the tray he’d saved that was still in his hands.  He didn’t offer to give it back to you and the loud chatter outside sounded like mere murmurs in here…

You sighed, and for a brief moment wondered where Harry was.  He was probably chatting up the guests.  Entertaining.  Doing the fun part of hosting.  Linguini broke your thoughts.  “Well, I mean, since I’m already holding the plate…”  His voice trailed off, leaving an unspoken question up to your decision.  You hesitated.  But then again, you were the clumsiest person you knew and if you had to order take out it would be ages until it arrived…

“Sure, thanks Larry,” you said.

“Lawrence,” he corrected.  But you had already turned your back and walked out the door.

With much more control than you previously demonstrated in the kitchen, you maneuvered through some guests, nodding and giving quick hello’s! and I’ll catch up with you in a sec! before you finally set the trays down on the table.  He was close on your trail and when a pair of tanned hands set down the remaining food, you looked up to see Lawrence already smiling.  He leaned back against the table, and crossed his arms, his whole vibe labeling him as “laidback” and “possible vegetarian.”  He looked at you with a mock ponderous expression.

“So who do you know here where they have you bussin’ the food all around?” he asked.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and in a little bit of the “excuse-moi” fashion.  Granted, you weren’t famous so it wasn’t that surprising he didn’t recognize you as the Harry Style’s girlfriend, but at the same time…

This guy was at your house.  Your house.

Guess you could have some fun with this.

“I’m pretty close with the co-host,” you responded vaguely. “You?”

“Oh, my mate’s close with the host, Harry I think, and he was the one that extended the invitation.  I’ve never met him but he seems nice.”  His gaze swept around the yard and they narrowed. “You’d think it’d be a bigger place for such a famous guy.”

A little indignant flame arose in your chest at the insult to your patch of land, but you were concerned with the first part of his sentence.  “Wait-? Harry invited you?”

“Yeah, well, not directly, but he said it was an open invitation.”

“Oh.  Cool.” you said.  But the way your lips were pressed together in a thin line he could tell it was anything but.  Course that little bugger was to blame… He scratched his head in the awkward silence that followed.

“So…”

He clearly didn’t know how to respond to your suddenly tense demeanor and you felt a little guilty at how you were acting.  This guy wasn’t a jerk, actually he’d been acting the opposite.  “Sorry, I haven’t eaten yet.  You know what they say, you’re not you when you’re hungry!” you finally spoke.  You cringed at the cheesy Snicker’s reference, but no matter what embarrassing thing flew out of your mouth next, you vowed to be nice to this guy.  It wasn’t his fault your boyfriend decided to change the party plans without giving his girlfriend any prior notice.

It wasn’t his fault at all.

An easy smile bloomed on his face, and just like that all was forgotten.  “No worries.  Watermelon?”  He offered you a slice of the fruit and you shrugged, and, taking that as a yes, he held the watermelon out for you to bite.  You looked from his hand to his eyes, then back down, then up again.

Eh, what the hell.  Just as you took a bite, the red juice dribbled down your chin and landed on the top of the white dress Harry had bought for you last weekend.  “Nice one,” you muttered to yourself, looking at the red marks dotting your chest.  The whole thing was a little ridiculous and awkward and you both couldn’t help the laughter that followed.

“I got you,” he said, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the stain.  Your cheeks heated a little at the contact and it was a little too close to be comfortable.  A part of you wondered if Harry was seeing this right now and you darted your head in a hopeless attempt to try and find him, but to no avail.  Even if he was seeing this right now, he probably wouldn’t do anything about it.  You know, all the love and all.  It wasn’t very Harry to get jealous.  Perhaps protective, he’d always squeeze your hand or drape his arm around your shoulders when the paparazzi was flooding you both, but a truly jealous Harry?  You’d had yet to witness that and you wish you could.  You know you’ve certainly felt the green eyed monster rear its head at parties when he would be talking with a bunch of beautiful models…It almost made you feel pouty in a way.  Even more jealous.  You wanted him to want all of your attention, you wanted him to be consumed by you.  Yet here you were with a handsome beach Baywatch lifeguard man practically fondling your breasts (okay not fondling, perhaps…perhaps patting) and he was nowhere to be found.  Where was he??

“Better.  Think I may or may not have spread it though so maybe not.”  Lawrence removed his hand, but as it fell you got distracted by a scar along the base of it.

“What’s that from?” you blurted out.  “Sorry if it’s too personal you don’t have to answer that,” you quickly added.

“Ah this?  No it’s fine, I got it from a gnarly wipeout.  I was surfing down in Mexico with a couple college buddies of mine and I wiped out on a hidden reef.  Not pretty.  I actually got a scar running along my stomach too.” He grimaced at the memory, but your captivated eyes were wide.

“Can I see it?”

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, lifting his t-shirt to reveal a long scar that ran up from his v-lines to his sternum.  It was almost white now, contrasting his golden skin that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.

“Woah,” I whispered.

“206 stitches.” You could hear the pride in his smug tone, and your eyes didn’t miss the abs that looked like they were chiseled by God himself.  But there were no butterflies in your stomach, and it didn’t come as that much of a shock to you that you didn’t feel any sort of attraction.  Ever since you’d met Harry you didn’t feel anything towards other boys.  If you were being honest, it was annoying as much as it was scary.  Lawrence misinterpreted your lingering gaze and you realized you’d inched closer in your examination.

“Have any other stories?” You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and he just shook his head.

“Nah you don’t wanna know.”

“Okay well now I have to know.”

Something involving tequila, a left shoe, and a donkey had you absolutely losing it and your laugh could be heard from Africa the way you were cackling.  Lawrence’s eyes widened towards something behind you and you hardly had time to turn around to see who it was before you heard him.

“There y’are, been looking for ages.”  Harry came up behind you and snaked his arm around your waist, stealing a quick kiss to your temple before looking to Lawrence and sticking out his hand with a friendly smile.  You stiffened in his hold, still a little peeved that he’d invited so many extra people and, now that he was here, you realized you were a little upset that he’d been ignoring you for the majority of the afternoon.

“‘M Harry.  You enjoying yourself?” His deep voice was so close to your ear it sent a shiver down your spine, and you absolutely hated yourself for it.

“Yeah of course, and with great company.”  He shot you a little wink.  “Nice to meet you man,” Lawrence said.  The two shook hands, and Lawrence looked at Harry’s arm still holding you to his side and then to your face.  You saw the pieces slowly come together in his head until his eyes widened with recognition.  “So you’re Harry’s girl?  Y/N?”  He let out a laugh and ran his hands through his hair in disbelief.  “Well you didn’t tell me that.”

“She didn’t?” He said it lightly, but you felt his arm slacken and you knew Harry well enough to hear the slightest trace of hurt behind the question.

Good, you thought.

“He probably thought I was the caterer the way I was carrying the food around.  Actually, he was kind enough to help me,” you chirped.

You looked to Harry and hoped that sentence would plant a seed of guilt that would grow like a weed and strangle his stupidly beautiful strong neck.  But you were sorely disappointed when he just gave an appreciative nod.

“Thanks for helpin’ the lady mate, sorry I got caught up talkin’ to a few…” His voice dropped when you uncurled yourself from his grasp, but in a discreet enough way so Lawrence didn’t notice. “..people.” he continued.  He looked at you with furrowed brows then, a little confused at your detraction.  The first hint that you weren’t exactly peachy with him.

“Nah, it’s my pleasure man, she’s a cool girl.”  Lawrence smiled, but the glimmer you’d seen in it before had fled in the presence of Harry.

“Not as cool as Lawrence though.  Did you know he’s a surfer?  He has a gnarly scar,” you said.

“Gnarly?” Harry asked, tasting the word on his tongue.  You could tell he didn’t like it the way his eyes squinted just the slightest and the small frown that was forming on his face.  He’d never heard you use the word before and suddenly you were saying it after one conversation with a handsome stranger.

“Show him,” you said enthusiastically.  Lawrence looked to Harry and he shrugged his shoulders as if to say why not.  When he effortlessly lifted up his shirt, Harry fell absolutely silent beside you.

“Oh…s’cool.”  But the way his lips were pressed in a tight line just as yours had been earlier, you knew it wasn’t.  His wheels were turning and he didn’t need to look long before he was starting to question how long he’d shown you his scar.  But, as always, Harry was effortlessly charming.  “Alright, alright, there’s children here!” he protested, completely joking.   You practically snorted at Harry’s not so nonchalant reference to his abs and Lawrence put his shirt down with a smile.

“You know…I’ve always wanted to surf, but I never knew how.  It’s honestly so amazing how y’all can just commit to the ocean like that.  As much as it’s alluring it’s pretty terrifying too, and I bet it takes a lot of practice.  I mean, Harry doesn’t have much balance so we’d probably crash into each other if we tried,” you admitted.

Lawrence just laughed and shook his head. “No it’s true! I’m actually the clumsiest,” you admitted.

“Well we never tried s’you can’t know that….for sure,” Harry mumbled.  His arms were now crossed and he was looking at you intensely, hurt-speckled green eyes trying to break the wall you’d built up around your own.  What’re you doing? They seemed to ask.

“I definitely got the whole clumsy thing in the kitchen earlier,” Lawrence grinned.  You put your hands up to your face to try and cover your blush, mumbling an ohmygosh, and as much as Harry tried to hide it, he couldn’t help the way his shoulders stiffened to your reaction, to your blush.  He was the only one allowed to do that, and he didn’t like the intimate suggestion behind Lawrence’s words.

“I don’t know if you’d be up for it, but I can teach you sometime.  I give lessons to kids on the weekends when I’m off work, usually they’re younger, but I think I can make an exception for the party hosts.”

His smile was everything genuine and well-intending, completely oblivious to Harry’s harsh gaze on you as he waited for your reply.  But the smile would’ve been off his face and he’d be out the door in a second if he could only hear the thoughts clouding Harry’s mind.

“Actually yes!  I don’t think I have any plans-”

“We’re going to visit family actually.  Aren’t we love?” Harry butted in, expecting you to follow.  But as far as you knew there were definitely no plans.  You distinctly remember asking Harry if he wanted to go out and see a movie this weekend and he had told you he wanted to stay in (“s’going to be a stressful week Y/N, ‘n I’ll feel like a cuddle instead. Can’t have a proper cuddle when we’re out, can I love?”).

Interesting.

“No, I don’t recall-”

“We’ll s’you later man, enjoy the party,” Harry briskly nodded to Lawrence and suddenly grabbed your arm, not giving you any time to finish your sentence or offer an exclamation as to why his hand was dragging you away.   His grasp was firm and almost painful, but he gave you enough time to keep up.  But just barely.

“Harry, what are you doing,” you hissed, avoiding the awkward stares as you two stormed through your backyard.  Lawrence was right, it was pretty tiny, and currently half-filled with people you didn’t know, which made Harry’s tantrum all the more painfully obvious.  “Harry, stop, everyone’s looking!”  You whispered harshly.  You squeaked when he squeezed his hands tighter around your forearm.

“I know,” he growled.  

He hadn’t missed the men who’d eyed you up and down throughout the party, and his blood was boiling the way they were eying you now.  They kept staring even when he was right beside you.  Jesus did they ever fucking stop?

Harry dragged you to the side yard, out of sight from nosy party guests, and once he had you cornered along the tall wooden fence, he released you.  His eyes were stormy, and the frown set in his face was completely out of character.

“Harry what the hell?” As much as you were shocked by his sudden reaction, you were thrilled.  And it was hard to conceal the elation in your voice.  Harry was distracted though and his eyes darted to your hand that was gently massaging the forearm he’d just released.  His eyebrows pinched together and he winced.

“‘M sorry…did I-did I hurt you?”  His voice was strained, and for once you felt speechless.

“No,” you managed to breathe.

He groaned and rested his head petulantly against yours.  “Harry, what’s wrong?” you asked softly.  His hands grasped your waist and squeezed, your back arching as he pulled you closer.

“You know what’s wrong,” he finally grumbled, nudging his nose against your temple.

“No Harry, I don’t,” you claimed.  You were enjoying his sudden neediness, and when you felt him nuzzle into the side of your neck and breathe you in, your heart swelled with affection.  “Tell me what’s wrong baby.  I need to hear you say it,” you coaxed.

You yelped when he bit down on the sensitive spot just below your jaw. “Y/N,” he said your name like a prayer. But it wasn’t an answer.

“Harry,” you finally snapped.  How hard was it for a man to just admit his feelings?

“Don’t be mad at me love, I jus’ want you, s’that s’bad?” he soothed you, wrapping his arms completely around your back.

“It is when you won’t t-tell me, harry,” you moaned at the open-mouthed kisses he was placing down your neck, his arms restricting you and keeping your centers close.  Your lips parted as you felt his hot, soft, yet firm tongue lick against the mark he’d created only moments before and you whimpered in his hold.  You had come so close, had finally seen a jealous side to Harry, and now he was blowing it off like it never happened.

“No.” You shoved him off of you, and his eyes burned at the rejection.  They were darker now, clouded with lust and traces of anger, and you took a deep breath to hold your ground.

“D’you not want me anymore?” he scoffed.  If you hadn’t detected sincerity you would’ve thought he meant it in a mocking way.  You felt a little guilty for pushing him, but this was his fault to begin with.

“You dragged me over here for a reason.  And it wasn’t…it better not be just because you’re horny,” you said breathlessly.  His jaw clicked at the truth you were hinting at, but he remained silent, just in time for a random stranger from the party to turn the corner.

“Oh, sorry.” The man took one look at us, saw DANGER DANGER WRONG WAY in the daggers Harry threw at him and quickly exited back the way he came.  A little tension dissipated from the stranger’s interruption and Harry let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Nothin’ ‘m just bein’ stupid s’all,” he mumbled.  You raised an eyebrow at him, and he groaned. “You’re relentless woman……don’t make m’say it,” he added quietly.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

His eyes snapped to yours at the word, and he looked at you.  At your frustrated eyes that he couldn’t help thinking were adorable, at your soft lips set in a pout, at your brows causing wrinkles he was itching to erase.  At what was his.  

And like a horrid alcohol that stayed on his tongue, he was reminded of the men who had been looking at you all afternoon, of the man who had made you blush like that.  Of the man who had made you laugh like that.  

“Yes,” he admitted lowly.  And the way Harry was looking at you now…

Suddenly you were hyper-aware of the small bead of sweat that dripped down your back under the blazing heat of the sun and you were surprised the heat of his gaze wasn’t the end of you, that you didn’t self-combust to a pile of ashes right then and there.  

“Finally!” you replied, throwing up your arms in what you could only describe as triumphant.

He stilled at your reaction and a shadow passed over his face.  “What?” he scoffed, his breathless voice filled with confusion.  

“Finally,” you repeated.  Your lips slowly spread into a smirk and Harry eyed it in disdain.

“What do you mean finally?” he commanded, suddenly defensive.  

“The calm cool and collected Harry is finally jealous over his girlfriend.” But as soon as you said it and Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise at your biting tone, he became silent.  And then you realized how petty it made you sound.  

“It’s just that you’ve never been jealous over me ‘n I was starting to think since I’m not famous or anything that I wasn’t worth…” the sentence died on your lips.  “That you’d never be jealous,” you continued softly.

A flicker of realization passed those emerald eyes, and you saw his lips part in stunned realization.  Harry usually prided himself in being in tune with people, especially you, but apparently this one had blindsided him.

“Okay well…” you couldn’t take standing in this silence any longer, the embarrassment causing your cheeks to burn, and you promptly tried to move away.  But as soon as you did, something snapped in Harry and he trapped you against the fence, an arm on either side of you.  He leant low, curls brushing against your cheek, and lips ghosting along your ear.

“‘M sorry love, I didn’t know.” He pressed a soothing kiss on your neck, just over your pulse point, and he felt your racing heart.

“Well now you do, and you know what?  It’s really nothing, I’m just being stupid so-”  your words mimicked the same ones he’d said earlier, and you tried to duck out of his hold, but his hand easily grabbed your hip and pulled you back against the fence while the other remained taught above your shoulder.  You weren’t going anywhere.

“I wasn’t finished,” he stated.  He stared at you with an intensity you weren’t sure you could handle right now, but each time you’d look away he’d gently coax you with a c’mon look at me angel, please love, until you just had to take that risk.  “You are everything to me.  And I definitely” -the hand holding your hip gave a calming squeeze- “get jealous of you.  All the time.  More than you can possibly imagine.  S’just that I never thought you’d like a jealous boyfriend, never wanted to be that guy that felt suffocating.  Do y’not think I want you?  S’that it?” His brows remained furrowed and his raspy voice was riddled with hurt.

“I-” your words seemed stuck in your dry throat and you cleared it out of habit rather than necessity before continuing, “It’s just that I see you with all these models Harry all the time and I know it’s just a part of who you are now, truly, but sometimes i just can’t help- I just can’t help that it kills me on the inside.  And it hurts to feel like you don’t feel the same way about me.  That you don’t care enough if other boys tried anything with me.  It’d feel good to feel like a prize sometimes instead of it always being the other way around.”  The last sentence slipped out before you had the chance to stop it and your eyes went wide when a sharp exhale flew from his lips.

“Oh.” It was his turn to clear his throat now, but when he opened his mouth he breathed the same word,

“Oh.”

“‘M sorry Ha-”

He interrupted your apology by pressing his lips to yours, this kiss wasn’t soft or gentle, but hard, hungry.  For the urgency of the kiss, Harry took it slow, the passion igniting sparks in your stomach when he grasped the back of your neck, forcing you into the rhythm he created.

“You’re the last person who should be apologizing Y/N,” he groaned when he pulled away, immediately pressing kisses along your jawline.  You gasped when you felt his hand slip under your dress, and you felt him smirk when you pressed your thighs together.  

“Harry, the guests,” you squeaked as you felt a long finger snap the elastic of your underwear.  Harry quieted your protests with a hot kiss and you felt another smirk form when he cupped your clothed sex.

“You really do like it when I’m jealous don’t you?” he mused.  Your cheeks were burning furiously, knowing he’d felt the damp patch that had been bothering you for a while, and he raised his eyebrows cheekily.  “‘S kinda hot innit,” he teased.

“Harry,” you whined, struggling to release yourself from his hold.

“Shh, there, there pet, I’ve gotta show my girl how much I care don’t I?”

And when he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, locking the door behind him, he made sure you remembered just how much of a prize you really were.

request an imagine/one shot/au here :)

masterlist

I tried something new with third person so let me know if you liked it! xx

Bust (sculptor!harry) Masterlist

In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.

“I, um… thank you.”

He was even more confused. “For what?”

She blinked, shivering when the cold breeze got to her, “For what you said back there.”

He easily glanced right over her head, down the hill at the little coffee shop, wondering what had happened to Rose and why Y/N was alone now.

She took a deep breath and got his attention again, “I uh… to be honest,” she stared at her feet, trying not to distract her train of thought by his lack of shoes, “when I first saw your sculptures they made me feel… seen. If that makes any sense at all.”

Part One: Chisel 

Part Two: Etch 

Part Three: Carve 

Part Four: Mold

Part Five: Blaze

info about this story: this idea came about because I was watching a lot of sculpting videos on youtube at one time. And so, if you’d like to have more of a visual of the type of things I imagine them creating in this story I would check out Ace of Clay or Tina Yu on Youtube! I’m not a sculptor nor am I super knowledgeable in it, so I apologize if I get details wrong. This story also deals with standards of beauty and includes a plus-sized Y/N.

Ok well can I suck anthrorry off while he’s eating his take out?

the feminine urge to deepthroat the hot liberal arts phd student with bad vision, a pretty smile, and a bad attitude </3

Y/N sitting beside him on the couch, watching him hunch over a bit as he shovels lo mein into his mouth like he hasn’t had a meal in days, using the end of the chopsticks to push his glasses up his nose as his sharp jaw flexes alluringly with his chewing. Despite the fact that Harry’s attention is glued to the ancient artifacts flickering across the screen of his TV, he can still feel her staring at the side of his head intently, and he lets it go on for a few more seconds before he finally intervenes. He glances over at her with his cheeks puffed out with food, his eyebrows raising curiously as he talks through a full mouth. “Can I help you?”

Y/N’s fingers halt their motions, freezing in place from where they had been playing with a loose thread hanging from the couch pillow cradled in her lap. Her response dismissive and airy. “No, I’m alright.”

Harry swallows the bite he’d been working on, blinking at her in an unconvinced fashion. “Then why are you glaring at me like I shat on your favorite copy of The Crucible?”

Y/N casts her eyes towards the ceiling in mild amusement at his vulgarity, returning her gaze onto him with a flat expression weighing down her features, refusing to let him see even a sliver of the genuine fondness she holds for his antics. “I wasn’t glaring, I was observing.”

“That was some intense observing, then.” He huffs, picking up a vegetable dumpling from the black plastic container snuggled inside the hole between his crossed legs, dipping it in its designated sauce before stretching his arm towards her across the sofa, wiggling the appetizer temptingly. “Dumpling?”

Y/N’s lips twitch with endearment as she glances between Harry and his offering. “I’m good, thank you. Already stuffed myself full of noodles.”

“Your loss.” He shrugs his brows indifferently, shoving the dumpling into his own mouth instead before reaching for his drink. “Golden Palace makes the best. The best Chinese food in general, actually. I’d slut myself out for Mei’s sesame chicken.”

“Isn’t Mei, like, seventy?”

Harry waves his bottle around apathetically. “What’s your point?”

The sincerity behind his demeanor is utterly comical, and Y/N has to purse her lips in order to avoid bursting into laughter. “You’d pimp yourself out to someone’s grandma for a serving of chicken?”

“Not just any serving of chicken,” Harry motions to her correctively with the neck of the glass cup, “Mei’s chicken. I’d whore myself out for the egg drop soup, too.” Harry’s brows suddenly cinch downwards as some unspoken inconvenience, and he sucks at his teeth in disappointment as he brings the beverage up to his mouth. “I should’ve ordered a bowl. Remind me to next time we visit.”

Next time we visit. Y/N doesn’t know why, but the way he’d so casually included her into his narrative— the way he’d nonchalantly suggested that he sees them getting takeout together again sometime soon, as if it should be obvious that they’ll be spending more time with one another for the foreseeable future— makes her stomach knot into a silk bow. She’d love nothing more than to make this type of quality time a regular occurrence; she could watch him moan over egg rolls forever, honestly, as long it’s him. And Chinese food escapades aside, she loves how much she’s learned about him in the past couple of weeks as they’ve gotten closer. She loves noticing new little details about him every time they hang out, because it feels weirdly intimate somehow. From an outside perspective, Harry appears so regal and blasé, and due to this, she initially figured that getting to know him would be a challenge; getting him to open up seemed like it would be as easy as prying an iron door open with her bare hands. But since they’ve met, she’s been proven wrong in the most pleasantly unexpected manner yet.

Y/N has slowly begun to take notice of the little things regarding Harry, which has helped her build a profile on him that she can reference whenever she’s alone and finds herself daydreaming about being in his company instead. One of the first things she’d learned about him is that he doesn’t take sugar in his coffee or tea; he only likes honey, for the added earthy notes it brings to the table, and because it’s how his mother used to make him warm drinks when he was young. His favorite flavor of ice cream is cookie dough, but he’s a strong advocate for mint chocolate chip, as well, despite the controversy that surrounds the flavor (“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste, people just have immature palates. Just admit you have the tastebuds of a two year old and move on.”) He abhors sweaty hands, and sleeping with socks on, and 0.9 mm mechanical lead pencils because, “the lead is way too thick and makes my handwriting look like utter shit. It’s especially hard to write lowercase Es because of that tiny space in the loop. I just use pens, and when I do use pencils, I stick strictly to 0.5 lead. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Harry color coordinates his closet and drawers, he arranges bookshelves in alphabetical order, and he has to take melatonin supplements periodically in order to regulate his sleep schedule, but he despises swallowing pills so he buys the gummies instead. But he doesn’t eat the green ones, he says they taste like sewage. He uses a tea tree oil and rosemary shampoo because he likes the way it makes his scalp tingle, and he types faster on his phone than on his laptop, so he does a lot of his coursework on his device and then edits it on his computer. He opens the balcony door when it rains because he likes smell of the wet trees, and he likes the rumble of thunderstorms as long as they’re distant and nothing extreme. He hates sourdough bread, he loves goat cheese and raspberry marmalade on his toast— not jam, marmalade, because apparently there’s a significant difference— and his favorite comfort food is pho from that restaurant that’s a five minute walk down the street. He can’t sit or sleep in a silent room; the suffocating deafness of it drives him insane, so he always turns his fan on from the second he gets home to the moment he leaves, that way there’s always some background static present to keep him from going mental.

He likes sleeping naked, though he always keeps a pair of clean boxers folded neatly on his nightstand beside his glasses so he can pull them on first thing in the morning. The smell of citrus Lysol makes him physically sick to the point of gagging, courtesy of when he drank some as a child after mistaking the liquid for lemonade. He’d been rushed to the emergency room and had his stomach pumped, which resulted in his distaste for hospitals, as well. His favorite flavor of soda is pineapple, but not the Fanta kind. He likes a brand of Mexican soda called Jarritos, and he’s been buying it from the same small Mexican market for the last four years, since it’s the only place relatively near him that carries it. He frequents the store so often for the same product that the owner— Eduardo— had eventually begun to set aside a box of that specific flavor just for him, for when he comes around to restock at the end of the week. Y/N had called it an unhealthy obsession, but he claims it’s just “customer loyalty.” Leave it to him to come up with the perfect philosophy to weasel himself out of trouble.

Harry’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. “You’re observing me again.”

Y/N blinks back into reality, mumbling a gentle apology under her breath as she admires the handsome— yet insufferably smug— grin painting itself across her companion’s face, highlighting his defined cheekbones and the dimples that wink into existence at the corners of his mouth. He looks so pretty, and she gets the sudden overwhelming urge to smother him in kisses until he can’t breathe, just to watch him giggle and scrunch his face at her doting. That wholesome instinct quickly molds into something much more crass, however, when he shifts his legs out from under him, slouching deeper into the couch as he spreads his thick thighs open suggestively. His lean tummy ripples with his actions, his strong chest heaving slightly as he maneuvers himself into a comfortable, exposed position that leaves his intentions open for interpretation.

Harry reaches forward and sets down his container of half-finished food, tossing both of his arms over the backrest of his sofa as his hips burrows into the cushions below, his biceps flexing as he folds one up to bring his drink to his mouth. He tucks the rim past his lips, tilting the bottle up and taking a slow swig of the pineapple beverage, his Adam’s Apple bobbing almost mockingly as the entrancing jade of his eyes twinkles at her sultrily over the end of the glass jug. He removes the spout with a wet pop, using the knuckle of his forefinger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, balancing the bifocals accordingly to get a good look at her through the lens. Y/N can tell her neediness has leaked into her appearance from the way he addresses her next, cracking a sly smirk as he locks gazes with her deeply for a prolonged second, proceeding to then glimpse down at where her thighs are clasped together tightly. His accent comes out low and throaty, just how he knows she likes it. “Wanna come sit on my lap? We can cuddle while we watch the rest of the documentary. Or we can make-out. Your choice.”

In that moment, Y/N decides that playing into his little charade isn’t within the scope of her patience right now. So instead, she decides to drop any act of civility she has left and voices her thoughts in a clear and unapologetic manner, with absolutely no remorse in sight. “What I want is to suck you off.”

Much to her surprise— and irritation— Harry doesn’t seem even the slightest bit fazed by her straightforward crudeness. In fact, the way in which he shrugs one shoulder easily and tilts his head to the side knowingly gives off the impression that he was expecting this type of reaction from her, and that only grates her even further. He knows how much she wants him, and yet he continues to toy with her like she’s a fucking doll set out for his entertainment, making her fold and bend to his will just so she can get a chance to experience whatever it is he promised, which will come after they’re acquainted enough to his liking. And as much as she hates this evil little waiting game he has going, she can’t deny how attractive she finds it, and it’s nearly enough to drive her mad.

Harry rumbles a quiet, concise hum in her direction, batting his lashes at her teasingly as he taps his pinky against the bottle in his large hand, pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I know you do, sweetheart. It’s kinda cute, honestly.”

Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the condescension behind his tone. “That I want to suck you off?”

“How desperate you are to do it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are.”

“Why?” He gives her an artificial pout, oversaturating his words with a sugary lilt just to taunt her emotions. “Because I won’t let you fuck me?”

“Because you’re making me wait as some twisted form of entertainment.”

“It’s a bit fun, though, innit?” Harry motions between them vaguely, his two front teeth digging into his lush bottom lip. “This little back and forth thing with have going? I push, you pull, you push, I pull, so on and so forth. I leave bruises all over your neck with my teeth, but stop when I reach the collar of your shirt. You leave hickeys down my stomach, but have to stop when you reach the waistband of my trousers. I grab your ass while we’re kissing, but refuse to spank it even when you beg me to. You grind against me and feel me get hard between your legs, but you know you won’t be able to do anything about it so you just have to accept whatever you get and handle the rest on your own. It’s good build-up, I think. It’s gonna make it worth the wait.”

Now Y/N is actually doing what he’d accused her of doing earlier: glaring at him. “Bold of you to assume I’ll stick around that long, considering how often you get on my nerves.”

Harry belts out a confident laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not going anywhere, Austen. We both know that.”

She tilts her chin up in a spiteful challenge. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because if you were serious, you would have left ages ago.” Harry spreads his legs even further apart, drawing her attention to his groin, exactly as intended. Even in his briefs, she can’t tell he’s well-endowed, and she can’t stop the way her mouth begins to water on impulse. “S’kinda funny.”

“What is?”

“How you’re dick-whipped when you’ve yet to receive any.”

“Get fucked.”

“We’ll see.”

For the anon who wanted one in which Harry is obsessed with Y/N’s chubby cheeks!

Harry couldn’t stop touching Y/N’s face.

He loved running his fingers along her jaw, tracing it along it before pinching her cheek, squeezing the puffiness of it between his thumb and index. He loves that she had big cheeks (or chubby as she called them) and not slender, caved-in ones that girls on magazines had. Loves that her jawline had a bit of plushiness to it, cupping her cheeks with both hands and squishing them together so that she looked like a fish.

“Harry, m’tryna eat.”, she muffles through a mouthful of cereal. This was a normal morning for them; her sitting at the kitchen island (she was very happy she could afford an apartment with an island in the kitchen, she thinks they are very useful and just tie the room together) as Harry stood next to her, playing with her cheeks as she ate. He thought they were cute all the time but especially when she was eating. They looked extra puffy around mouthfuls of food, the chewing motion exciting him immensely.

“I’m not stopping you.” He massages his palms over her cheeks, rubbing in circles as he flattens out his hands. A bit of milk sputters out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

“I’m not stopping you”, she mimics him, although smiling as it drips down onto her breasts, the valley of them showing between her robe since it wasn’t closed all the way. She reaches for the tissue roll, about to rip one off as Harry reaches around the counter.

“I’ll get it.” He dips his head, licking right between her breasts and cleaning her up of the spilt milk. Y/N yelps, instinctively pushing her breasts together as she arches her back, squeezing his face between her tits and making him laugh. “I quite like it in here.”, his voice muffled.

Y/N giggles, pulling him by his hair so his face was level with hers again so she can kiss him. Gentle smacks are heard between little breaks in the kiss, her lips sticky from the milk. Harry can’t help himself, kissing the corners of her mouth before moving to her cheek, softly biting it and turning his head back and forth as if he were a dog with a chew-toy.

“Okay, okay, enough of that.” She stifles a laugh as Harry becomes pouty after removing his mouth from her, sitting in the seat next to her and slouching dramatically. “Budge up, eat some breakfast.”

Grabbing her cheek, he pinches it between his fingers. “I’d rather eat something else.”

Y/N flushes.