#blogmas 2018 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secret-rendezvous1d · 5 years

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D E C E M B E R 3 R D

REQUEST what about pornstar harry making a festive christmas special w y/n?

So.

Here we have it.

The first smutty Blogmas story for you all to read!

You all know, by know, that smut is far from my strongest forte on here. I lack something that I can’t put my finger on and I can never be as good as some of the smut writers on here; I aspire to but I never think I can reach that level of talent.

I’m not sure where this came from, and there’s a jumble of other pieces that I’ve written in here - that have been adapted to fit the storyline, of course! - but I’m pretty proud of this and only hope that you guys like it as much as I do. It’s an impressive piece, for 5k+, for someone who doesn’t usually do smut so your feedback will mean the most to me on this Blogmas prompt.

Feedback is welcomed, as always - please let me know what you think of my pieces, send me any constructive criticism you think would help out, any ways to make my writing better, anything. It really helps me and keeps me motivated to write and we get to work as a team to make things better, for me to write and for you to read.

Enjoy. xx

D e c e m b e r 4 t h , 2 0 1 8

“Look at you, eh?”

His lips quirked into a sheepish grin as he bashfully looked down at his loafers and let his shoulder-bag drop to the floor beside his feet. A bang echoing around the room as the leather hit the floorboards and whatever was tucked beneath the buckled flap must have been heavy, she guessed. The address that they had been sent, by their agents just a few days prior to the date, hadn’t exactly lead them both to a room that was located at the bottom of the complex; probably something to do with eagle-eyed viewers zooming in with camera phones through the window because it had happened before, in shoots that she, thankfully, hadn’t been involved in and it was something they wished to keep from happening. He looked beautifully festive for the fourth of December, dressed in a hideous Christmas jumper (with fuzzy Santa beards ironed into the wool and bobble hats knitted into the material in a consecutive manner) and a pair of grey, tweed trousers, with a Christmas pudding beanie tucked over his unruly locks. Which, in her opinion, had topped the whole outfit off.

Him as her boyfriend and her as his girlfriend?

Even though they’d known each other for less than a few months? Not really considering themselves as best buddies, who hung out all the time and arrived on each others door steps like they lived there too, but were far from being the acquaintances that they once were.

Had she thought about couple-y things including him?

Cooking together and welcoming their families into her home because his university dorm was far too small to hold everyone inside? Was he a good cook or was he the type of man who chose microwave meals over cooking from fresh? Dancing to the jingling melody of Christmas songs, singing together in the car as they drove down streets lined with homes decorated with an array of Christmas lights and fake Santa’s, and kissing under the mistletoe that he secretly carried around in his pocket? Having sex, without a camera crew to record their every move, in front of an open fire and drinking warm eggnog and hot chocolates whilst feasting on marshmallows and watching Elf?

Would he take her back to Manchester so she could meet the woman who he spoke so fondly of? Would he agree to meet her family or would he feel out of place? She didn’t think he would because he seemed up for anything that life threw at him but... would he chicken out if she suggested that? Travelling to Hyde Park on the tube, dressed in multiple layers that kept the cold out, so they could visit Winter Wonderland and surround themselves with people who loved the festive holidays? Helping him decorate his university room and getting the grand tour of where he studied when he wasn’t showing off his wonders to the camera?

Of course she had... she had done for some time know... and she loved it.

“What?” His eyes widened as he took note of the amused look that knitted her features together, “I haven’t gone overboard with the whole festive look, have I? There’s this ugly-jumper day at my university today and this was the ugliest one I had in my cupboards. Saved me having to go out and buy one from the shops,” he snorted and hid his hands underneath the sleeves that hung low and practically already covered his ring-clad fingers, “I wondered why people were giving me strange looks in the-”

“No way, Harry. You look incredible. So amazing,” YN grinned widely and tightened the silk belt around her waist, stopping the flaps from opening as she stood from the plush queen-sized mattress she had occupied whilst on her own. Leaving her phone behind, with a screen that still showed a Twitter account that she seemed deep in scrolling through, she welcomed him to the set - the empty set that was still anticipating the arrival of their agents, camera-people and the set officiants that kept the area in order and free of passersby who may have stumbled upon the wrong room - with stretched out arms to envelope him in a hug and. His lips connecting with her cheek in a soft greeting and she was pleased her face soon hid in the hollow of his neck so she could hide the blush on her cheeks. “You smell like cinnamon, too.”

“My mum sent me this aftershave that she saw in a shop back in Cheshire. Wrote me a letter, because she’s so old-fashioned and texts are too new-school for her, and she said that she thought of me when she smelt it because I’ve always loved the smell of cinnamon,” he chuckled lightly and squeezed her body to his chest. The silk kimono, that barely covered the skin of her upper thighs and, due to the white colour of it, was see-through under the right right, was smooth underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from rubbing her back. “You smell lovely, too.”

“I never said you smelt lovely,” she teased and mentally scolded herself because, as he strained away from her, his body heat had left her abruptly and she felt a chill in the air that she was sure hadn’t been there when she arrived. A playful frown pinching his features as he looked down at her. “I’m joking with you, H. You smell absolutely gorgeous.”

His laugh was like music to her ears and a smile was all she could give him.

Regrettably, he unlatched his arms from around her, because she was soft and cuddly, warm and inviting and, if he could have things his way, he would have held her until the day was over, and took a tiny step away from her. A step that left a gap that allowed him to take a twirl to take in the room.

“They’re not going to make me dress like Santa Claus or anything for this project, are they?”

“We can boycott if they make us dress in anything that looks remotely ridiculous. I’m not making myself look silly,” she gave him a wink and backed away from him. The backs of her legs coming into contact with the bed was the touch she needed in order to fall back onto the plush mattress. “I’m not dressing like an elf or a reindeer or whatever else they come up with. And, I can’t stress this one enough; and I am not fucking a Santa Claus. I draw the line at role-play.”

“I think you’d look pretty fit as an elf. A reindeer, not so much, but an elf,” he smiled smugly and lifted his hand up from his side, the tip of his thumb and the tip of his finger connecting and pinching and he pressed a kiss to where his fingers joined - a gesture that was something he’d picked up from an Italian restaurant, in Italy, on a family holiday that wasn’t that long ago - “you’d definitely look fit. I’d still fuck you.”

“To be honest, I’d probably still fuck you if you dressed like Santa. Big belly and all,” she teased, cackling towards the ceiling before turning her head to look at him, “I’m glad it’s you I’m doing this with. The best Christmas present this hellish job can ever give me.”

“If we could get things started, that would be great.”

A middle-aged man, with a bald-head and a soul-patch underneath his bottom lip, had spoken. Neither YN nor Harry had met him before this project, even though YN had heard of him through many other connections that came with the job. Catching the attention of everyone that was loitering in the room and passing the time with idle discussion amongst themselves, informally telling people who knew who they were, who didn’t need to be in the room whilst filming commenced, that they needed to leave the room. From across the space, and settled at a table on the other side of the bed, Harry snapped his head in YN’s direction with an excited grin forming his lips, soon disappearing, seconds later, behind the wrist of the make-up artist who was spreading powdered foundation across his cheeks. Not that he needed any makeup because he was flawless and there wasn’t a single mark, acne scar or blemish upon his olive skin.

“Let’s get things rolling now, please,” he waved his hands in the air as a bundle of people pushed through the space of the door. Looking over his shoulder, he made sure those he had asked to be part of his skeleton-crew were in the correct positions and ready to go; that the cameras were in the right place, that the lighting was set on the correct mood and had the correct tones in check and that the microphones and boom-mics were held high enough and out of shot but still close enough to capture the moans and mewls that Harry and YN would fill the room with. Nodding to himself, pleasingly, before turning on his heels. “The general basis that we have is to start with YN giving Harry a blowjob that will then roll into Harry eating YN out and then we finish off with full penetration. But feel free to go with whatever you think fits the moment; you both know how this works by now.”

The floorboards creaked underneath Harry’s weight as he carried a fold-up chair to the corridor outside the room, and YN smiled at how sweet and gentlemanly he was to those people who never really gave him a second of their day, dressed in his red boxer briefs. The waistband digging into the soft love-handles that spilled over the black elastic but perfectly showed off just how satisfyingly huge he was. Her lipgloss feeling sticky against her lips as she swiped a finger over her lips on the brisk walk to the bathroom. A chill in the air , from the small, open window, that brought a layer of goosebumps to her skin.

“Harry?”

The same man from before called out, startling him in his tracks as he let the seat rest against the cream wall. His attention fully on the soul-patch that was hard to tear his eyes from.

“Now, please, mate.”

“Yeah, of course. I was just...” his sentence drew quiet as his bare feet padded across the carpet, settling down on the edge of the bed and clasping his hands upon his thighs, “you want me here or...?”

“There is perfect. YN’s going to walk from the bathroom to start the scene. See you sitting there and then things escalate,” a hand wavered in the direction of the bathroom door and YN peeked her from behind the doorframe, waving at him with a cheek-aching smile, “starting in one minute.”

Despite his arrival into pornography, just a few months prior, Harry still hadn’t had much sexual experience to form a personality off of. Just enough experience to know what he needed to do in order to please another person and what he could expect, in terms of pleasure, from someone else. Every girl that he had ever been with - a number that he could count on one hand - hadn’t seen him as a desirable sexual partner and, apparently, had not been sucking him off in the way it should be properly done because the way that YN worked her tongue up and down his shaft, how her lips enveloped him with such an inviting warmth and how she gave his cock all the attention it deserved had left him a trembling, whimpering, squirming mess upon the bed as she dug her nails into the inside of his thighs, not even bothering to wipe the drool that clung to her cheeks and dampened the carpet between her knees and coated her breasts in thick rivulets. With YN in his life, the girls before him seemed like practice runs; their moans and begs being the pushes he needed to be a better person when it came to pleasing somebody else.

He loved seeing YN on her knees.

As she pulled down his underwear and let the loose material fall to his ankles in a heap of red cotton, her eyes looked hungry and once his cock sprung free from its restraint and slapped up against his stomach, she ogled it like a steak dinner and couldn’t dare take her eyes away from it. His tip raspberry pink and his slit twitched at the cool air, a dribble of pre-cum slipping down the side of his shaft and disappearing into the jungle of thick, unruly, dark hair that covered the base. His hand wrapping around himself, tapping her cheek with the rigid head, and his thumb swiped the clear and sticky arousal that bubbled to its escape.

One of her tiny hands sat upon his naked hip, thumb tickling over the tip of a leave belonging to the fern tattooed upon his body, whilst her other snuck around his thigh, denting the pillowy skin of his bum with tiny fingernail indents that tingled his skin. Her doe eyes looking up at him with an appetite and puckered lips were parted plenty enough for him slip a thumb between. Which she welcomed and instantaneously tasted the salty coating that covered the pad of his calloused thumb, using her tongue to lick his digit, a hum of delight vibrated his hand as she swallowed and slowly dragged her lips to his nail, pulling off with a pop.

“Have you been a bad girl this year, hm? Will I find you on Santa’s naughty list or his nice list?” Harry wondered, holding her jaw and forcing her lips to pout as she tried her hardest to grin at him, her eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks with each slow blink that she gave him, her nose scrunching as his thumb dug into the hollow of her cheek, “reckon you’ve been a nightmare, baby. An absolute nightmare. Reckless, naughty, the baddest of all bad girls, hm?”

She shook her head from left to right, only for his wrist to tense, holding her neck still.

“Deserve a proper fuck, don’t you, baby? That’s what bad girls deserve when they’ve been bad. To be properly fucked and punished until they can barely walk,” he told her, a smirk finding its way on his lips that looked menacing and dangerous, sending tingles down her spine and a jerk of electricity towards her clit, the bundle of nerves feeling warm between her thighs and no doubt leaving a damp stain upon the crotch of her knickers, “and I think sucking my cock would help you in moving naughty to nice.”

Her nimble fingers took hold of his cock and she couldn’t help but apply a little pressure to his aching and throbbing hard-on, gripping at his shaft as she kept a close eye on his face, looking for any signs that he was uncomfortable or too close to the end and needed her to back off before he spunked too early on - she had that effect on him and she ruddy well knew it. Her wrist slowly beginning to jerk him off, working him slowly and painfully close to his orgasm, her thumb brushing over his slit as he winced, bucking his hips into her fist. She scooted closer on her knees and applied kisses to the lower space of his belly, tracing his intricately-detailed tattoos with her lips, before she dragged her mouth down and around his belly-button, pressing a kiss to the patch of skin that seemed to tickle him and ignoring the thick course hair that tickled beneath her nose. Peppering the softest of kisses to his shaft and bumping over the pulsing veins and feeling just how warm his skin was, tasting remnants of dried pre-cum when itran down his length in rivulets and slowly - teasingly slowly - puffing cool air onto his wet skin.

Her tongue slipped out from between her lips and moistened her pink flesh, the colour of her mouth matching the colour of his mushroom tip, both glistening beneath the light that streaked through the window. A wince hissing through the gaps of his clenched teeth and she reciprocated by wrapping her lips around him, Her tongue flicking over the slit, craving more of his thick girth to stretch her throat, fingers toying with his balls and rolling them in her hand.

His hand never seemed to feel as good as her hand did and his jerks never did the trick nor did they seem to satisfy him enough and every squeeze and every spurt of ejaculate, that he released in thick strings of white cream, never seemed to send a spark of electricity down his veins like she could do. Her mouth felt immense as it dragged up and down shaft, her hands feeling amazing as one jerked off what she couldn’t fit in her mouth and one fondled his bollocks to bring him close to the edge, and her eyes... god, her eyes looked so perfect as they watered. Drool slicking her chin as she gagged and whined.

“Such a good girl, baby. So good for me,” he cooed raspily, fingers shaking as they stroked through her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head, “you drive me crazy.”

His toes hurt from being curled into the carpet, his thighs shook from how tense they were and his bottom lip almost drew blood as he chewed and nibbled on the flesh and cried out with euphoria - he never seemed to get used to being able to voice his pleasure because sharing a university hall with other people, with flats that had paper thin walls and allowed everyone and anyone to hear him, took away that advantage. His nostrils flared as he huffed and puffed a hoard of deep breaths, his chest rising and falling, as he gained all self control to not fall back on the bed.

“M’gon’a cum if you keep going like that,” he grunted, running his hand through his hair and tugging on his fringe, eyes squeezing shut as she pulled off of him with a slurping ‘pop’, “wan’a cum after I fucked you good and proper. Need to feel you around me.”

Their bodies seemingly in a rush to clamber upon the bed and pursue the one thing they were most eager for. Harry’s cock swinging with movement as he rested his body weight on one knee, resting on the edge of the bed, allowing space for YN to launch herself on the mattress, leading to a twist of two bodies that were panting and heaving with busy lungs. She watched him with hungry eyes as he grasped his cock in a loose fist and jerked himself once, twice, three times before it begun to swell bigger, giving himself a thick and veiny look before lining up to her slit. Tapping her folds once before slamming forward with a quick snap of his hips, filling her up in one swift thrust, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh that bloomed over the elastic of her lace knickers (that were decorated with delicate candy-cane sweets and a striped ribbon that held a tiny, golden bell upon the knot below her navel) which, if they jingled once more and caught against the pubic hair that sprouted from his crotch region, he would tear off with on swipe of a fist. Tucking himself inside of her and instantly rocking forward on his knees as his broad hips spread her legs apart, her ankles hooking in a rather limp fashion around his middle as she completely enveloped him. His groans sounded so deep and raspy, and in the moment would always put his voice second on her list of favourite sounds, scratching inside his chest as a way for her to hear just how pleased her was to be back in a cunt that he enjoyed so much. That he preferred to sink his cock into. That he was still a little starstruck over and couldn’t believe he had become, not only the industry’s favourite, but her favourite to star alongside on multiple projects.

It was an unexpected motion from him. Completely unexpected. She had been anticipating something a little softer, like a tap to her clit with the head of his cock, or something much sweeter from the man who had admitted, himself, that he couldn’t ever hurt a fly. The same man who was terrified to hurt her, terrified to break a limit and terrified to push between her legs because he didn’t know her. He didn’t know whether she had limits, whether she liked certain things, whether she was into specific kinks that he could put into play... they were simply just ‘fuck-colleagues’, if he had to give it a title; he wasn’t sure if they were buddies or not... they hadn’t really hung out outside of projects, they never really spoke and they used each other’s numbers as a means of contact for an upcoming session they had been asked to attend. Never to talk about favourite foods or what they were up to in a moment or whether they wanted to hang out at a local pub to mingle.

He stopped moving once he was fully situated inside her, his mouth gaped wide and his two front teeth breaking free from behind his pink lips, his chest heaving in short, sporadic and shallow breaths, tongue tensing before licking across the skin of his bottom lip, catching the top of the hump of his chin, as his eyes scrunched shut.

A sound, classed between a gasp and a strangled moan and a choked off bleat, bubbled up her throat and escaped from her parted lips and her nails dug into the expanse of his muscular back. Fingernails leaving tiny crescent-shaped indents amongst the freckles and moles and the faint scratches, causing his skin to feel bumpy and jagged, that he had gotten from somewhere (most likely received by someone whom she didn’t dare bring herself to think about). “God, Harry!”

“Fucking... christ. Fucked you plenty of times but you’re still so bloody tight ‘round me,” Harry whimpered, eyes rolling back into his skull as he released heavy puffs of breath that smelt deliciously of mint and blew her fringe from her eyes. Puckered lips looking exaggerated once he noticed her deeply-coloured eyes were disappearing behind loose tendrils falling from the messiest ponytail he’d ever seen her hair in. His hips pushing deeper - deep enough to nudge against all spots inside her and get the last inch of his prick inside. “How’s that happen, huh? Why d’yeh feel so tight?”

“You don’t fuck me enough,” she whispered - and she hated how she spoke with so much truth. She wished he was her co-star for all of her projects because he was a one of a kind bloke. The way he treated her was the way she had wished all of her co-stars would treat her; a kiss on the cheek upon arrival, a grin on his lips because he was genuinely excited to be with her, a compliment about how lovely she looked, asking her if she was okay, making sure she felt comfortable (regardless on how uncomfortable he may have been feeling) and talking to her like she wasn’t just the parking garage for his cock. “You need to fuck me more. Fuck me harder. Fuck me deeper, Harry.”

Her nails dug into the sweaty muscles of his back, leaving moon-shaped indents in his skin, as she pawed around eagerly for something to grip onto, both of her knees quaking either side of his body as he worked at a pace that had her edging closer and closer, each passing second, to her orgasm. The biggest she’d ever had out of all the people she had starred alongside, the biggest she could ever dream of having from a co-star (particularly a newcomer who wasn’t so used to be handled so boldly by a partner) and the biggest she had ever wanted, ever, in all of her career. Someone to stretch her properly, to the point where she could almost feel a burning tear at base of her cunt, and still feel satisfied by it.

“God, please…” she gulped and her voice was soft, broken in some places, and she wanted to plead with him for them to work together - but she knew it wasn’t just them in the room, they weren’t just having sex to pleasure themselves and they weren’t having sex of their free-will. It was a job and there were people out there who were waiting on something that wasn’t so emotionally fueled. He was making her feel good but was she making him feel good? “Harry, fucking hell.”

“Nice and slow, baby. Slow it down,” Harry cooed, hovering over her some more with the tiniest of grunts and mewls rolling off of his plush and swollen lips. Lips she just wanted to kiss whenever she wanted and a set of lips that she wanted nothing more than to feel touching every inch of her body whenever they were alone. She clenched around him, like she was holding onto dear life, and he felt it. Keeping him warm and snug, hugging his thick shaft like she was born to protect it. “You’re so good, baby. So good.”

She smiled and promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging on his hair was he dipped low and pushed his face into the crook of her neck, right between her prominent collarbone and the warmth of the thick of her neck, arms disappearing underneath her body as he rolled them over. Feet planted on the bed and his knees bent as she stayed closer to front. Her bare chest flushed against his tattooed chest, a heavy moan erupting from within her as he bit down on her skin and started to suck like his depended on it. Feeling her fingers tense between his locks, pulling harder and harder and forcing him to suckle harder and harder, completely falling in love with the way she allowed him to bruise her. To mark her like she was his very own possession - and it hadn’t dawned on him then but it had done a few weeks later, when he saw a video of her with a guy who looked too young to be in porn, with a hickey so bold that it was impossible to cover with makeup, that he marked her. Not some strange bloke, not some cocky bastard who thought she was the fittest fuck, not some guy who hadn’t earned his place in her life... but him.

She buried her face into his neck, soon after, and it only felt right to him, as she clenched around him and kept a hold so devilishly dangerous around him, to allow her the chance to take a bite of skin between her teeth and chew and nibble until it was freakishly purple, taking a fistful of his sweat-drenched hair and pulling his head so it lulled to the left. Her lips moulding against his jawline before she flicked her tongue of her earlobe.

“Fuck me harder, Harry,” she whispered lowly, full of need and the desire to have him pound deeply into her, “so much harder, baby. I need it. I need you.”

And he happily obliged, suddenly snapping his hips up. The tops of his fuzzy thighs colliding with the flesh of her bum, the flesh jiggling under the momentum of his bollocks, as he forced every single inch of himself back inside of her with one quick slam. A drawn out whine echoing around the room from her open mouth as she reached between their bodies and nudged her fingers against her tingling clit, eyes rolling back in euphoria as he wrapped his arms around her middle and he’d her close.

“Christ!” She cried out, “yes, Harry! Keep going.”

She whined at the sensation that was building between her thighs, her stomach clenching visibly and her arms flexing as she held onto him with one arm and continued working her clit with her free hand, her entire body far from relaxed as she let out one last shaky breath, lungs rattling with the effort of the air she’d been holding in, releasing her orgasm around him as his thrusts fell into a jagged rhythm. His cock nudging deep into the pit of her stomach, pressing deliciously into the spot inside of her that forced her legs to straddle him a little tighter than they already had been, as he felt himself twitch and plead for release.

“Fucking hell, you’re so good. Feel so warm and snug around me, don’t you, baby? So good at taking all of me in like the good girl that you are,” he crooned with a voice that was raw and desperate for hydration, his hips slowly retracting away from her and pulling his cock out, one tiny centimetre by one tiny centimetre, little by little, enticing a gasp from her mouth as she rolled off of his body and stretched out beside him. She knew what was coming and she always found his endings to be the best endings; always helped when leaving the viewers wanting more. He jumped to his knees and spread them at a shoulders width apart, the sheets rustling under his skin and the mattress creaking under his body weight, fingers wrapping around his slick cock, that was covered in a slimy coating of her arousal, and jerking himself off to finish his orgasm. His eyes darting between her wet cunt and her startled eyes. “Look at me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes watch me when I cum.”

And, if there was one thing that YN had grown to realise, over the short few months of knowing him, it’s that when Harry cums, he cums hard.

In all of her pornographic career, she’d had her fair share of unique spunkers. She had this one guy who came short and quick when he orgasmed, like she was errand upon his list of many other dutiful errands, and tasted more saltier than she preferred; she had one guy who sprayed like a fountain and had rather watery orgasms, which she hadn’t ever seen before, that dribbled down her face in quick trickles; she had another who spurted aimlessly and hadn’t any control over any specific place on her body... but she wasn’t lying when she spoke about how much he fucked like the proper bloke she had always wanted to be fucked by; and she had one guy, who she never asked back to film scenes with her, because he had been into cumming deep in her throat, and she wasn’t comfortable with him around.

But Harry... Harry was something else entirely.

When he wore a rubber, because they liked to skip that part sometimes, he managed to fill it nice and full with his release, and to the point where it leaked thick dribbles onto his fingers when he tied a knot at the opening. When he spunked after YN gave him a blowjob or wanked him off in whatever position a producer had them start off in, he liked to take control when he was close so that he could swipe the tip of his cock across her cheek and paint her skin with his creamy substance, only so he could lick it from her flushed cheekbone and give her taste when she kissed him. When they fucked so deeply and so passionately, he liked to cum on her stomach and watch it glisten under the natural lighting that entered the room, smiling at how delicious she looked when she was covered in his release, before turning into the perfect gentleman and wiping her clean when the cameras were no longer rolling. And when he took part in projects based on solo masturbation (which she was an absolute sucker for), when he didn’t have her to jerk him off as he sat back and watched her tits bounce, he managed to keep his twitching cock under control with a tight fist that still allowed him the pleasure of an unruined orgasm, leaking down his hand and onto a towel folded up to capture any spills.

She felt droplets not only land upon her pubic bone, ut also upon stomach and there was no doubt that some had landed in her belly-button, that some had missed her body completely and dispersed in the air, that some had flicked up and she had missed it land upon her chin or upon her cheek, that some caught in the material of her knickers and that some had definitely disappeared into his fist, for use as lube to smoothly jerk himself off. Painting her so messily and pushing the tip between her folds of skin before pulling away and hunching over her. Puffs of breath fanning over her lower stomach, and just the tops of her thighs, as he looked at the spunk that pooled between her thighs.

She shivered at the feeling of his tongue swiping up her folds. His wet flesh lapping up stripes against her wet flesh and the contact, the slurping and the moans were the only sounds that could be heard amongst the quiet room. Amplified because of the microphone but sounding so soft to their ears, like they were in a bubble and it was just the two of them as they revelled in the toe-tingling aftermath. Her fingers gripped at the sheets beneath her as her toes curled up, whimpers escaping her lips because his nose was in perfect place against her twitching clit. Lips soon attaching themselves as he worked on eating her like a feast. Lapping up every ounce of spunk that dribbled from between her walls, every slick puddle of her arousal that hid in her folds, every drop of a saliva and cum mixed concoction that left a distinguished taste on his tongue that he wanted more and more of.

He pulled away and looked up at her as she stared back at him with a smile on her face and a light behind her eyes that made her look pure, and her gentle cries of pleasure bounced off the walls as she slowly uncurled her toes. His cheeks and lips, and the underside of his nose, glistened under the natural light that filtered into the room and his tongue he’d the taste of both orgasms that he was desperate to show off to her.

“Tastes really nice. Always love how good you taste, baby,” he grinned cheekily, pushing up on his knees and leaning forward, hovering above her as he pressed a deep kiss to her lips. Open-mouthed and incredibly passionate and barely jerking away when her tongue found the inside, devouring every inch of his mouth as she, too, let the taste of their mixed releases linger on her tongue. “Lovely, right?”

“Delicious.”

#blogmas 2018 #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles concepts #harry styles writing #harry styles prompts #harry styles preferences #one direction imagines #one direction preferences #one direction prompts #one direction writing

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secret-rendezvous1d · 5 years

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D E C E M B E R 1 0 T H

REQUEST angst should be best friend harry! where they get in a fight about her flirting and being with someone else at a christmas party when she already kinda had an “unsaid” thing with harry where they’re friends with benefits but she didn’t know how he really felt plssss uGh

At some point in the new year, I’m definitely going back and re-writing a lot of my stories... and these Blogmas prompts will definitely be included. I just think I can do a lot better than what I’m doing - it’s hard to please myself. :’)

Enjoy! x

He was jealous.

That was all he could class himself as.

Harry didn’t want to arrive at Nick’s Christmas party all on his own but he, kind of, had to. He had no other choice but to do so because Nick was his friend and he would have looked like a shitty friend if he never showed up at a party that was being held whilst he wasn’t frolicking around a place that wasn’t home.

He didn’t want to walk through the front door and be greeted by couples, left, right and centre, who looked so infatuated with one another and looked so deeply in love with each other, unknowingly rubbing it in his face that they had someone to spoil during the festive period and he didn’t. He didn’t want to be on his own through the night, he didn’t want to make small talk with anyone because the conversations wouldn’t be at all fulfilling and he didn’t want to be left alone with anyone but the girl that he wanted to go with. The girl that he wanted hanging off of his arm throughout the night. The same girl that he wanted to show off to people and introduce as his someone special... who wasn’t his girlfriend but wasn’t just a friend, either. The same girl who had decided, weeks ago and upon receiving an invitation, that a man named Phoenix seemed to be a better fit as her ‘date’. A man that Harry had only found out about in the days leading up to the event, having left him rendered speechless and unable to find anyone else because there was no one better than her, leaving his reeling in a state of jealousy that he simply couldn’t shake away.

God, he had hated that word: date.

He knew that she was entitled to dating whoever she liked the look of but... she wasn’t allowed to date them.

No, not in his books.

It was the lowest of the low, even for someone as beautifully nice and kind as her, and he never thought that she was capable of something so hurtful.

Because for three years straight, for one thousand and ninety-five days, they had had a pact that was strictly between the two of them and for no one else to know the details about. Friends with benefits, as the kids were calling it these days, and she had been all his and no one else's. For no one else to have, for no one else to hold, for no one else to kiss or touch and for no one else to make love to (or to fuck, in better terms) because that was strictly his job. It was his duty to satisfy her and make her feel good and it was her duty to make him wriggle and writhe and feel immense. He didn’t dare spare a look in the direction of another girl because YN was all he needed to feel happy, content and completely satisfied and he had hoped that YN never spared a look in the way of a bloke that could play enemy to him. She was the one that he could talk all day to, about anything and everything that came to mind, no matter whether the topic was that of a serious nature or one that was far from reality, before winding down with his head between her legs as he scoffed upon her delicious flowery feast. She was the one that he would think about all day, that he would always invite home after a tough session at work, before having her suck on his cock to make him feel refreshed and refined.

It was only expected that their agreement went both ways - that she was happy and that he was happy and that they didn’t need to worry about anyone else interfering - that was, until, he took a look at the guy she had arrived with.

Blonde hair that was slicked back and curling around the ears, brown eyes that she seemed captivated by, dressed in an outfit that looked like it belongs on a dummy in the male section of Next, and laughing big and boldly over whatever they were discussing. Tucked away in the corner of Nick’s kitchen, with coloured drinks in their hands and a bowl of peanuts on the counter between them, in their own little bubble that was thick enough to hold her attention in place. He looked strangely at home, given that he was a complete stranger amongst everyone, and it gave Harry a vibe that made him feel on edge and a little weird.

“You can’t just sit here, slumped over a whiskey, and do nothing about you wanting something else out of your fuck buddy sessions,” Nick slurred, bumping his elbow into Harry’s ribs and looking at him through hooded eyes. His elbow leaving some kind of painful throb above his hip because drunk Nick had always been a little more boisterous than what sober Nick was like; much more raucous and was seemingly the life and soul of a party, even a party that wasn’t his, and he was always the one people that had their eye on and always drew attention to himself, in some way or another. Harry’s neat whiskey sat on a coaster in front of him, all dark and no ice, that had burned his throat when he took heavy gulps, and he couldn’t bring himself to taking a sip because all he could focus on was her. YN. His best friend turned fuck buddy turned crush turned love of his life. “If you want something to happen between the both of you then you need to do whatever you need to do about him.”

He wanted YN happy and, as selfish as he sounded, he was the only guy that could make her as happy as she could ever be.

“What exactly do I do?”

“I mean,” Nick ogled her date and smirked, “I wouldn’t mind taking him off of her hands for a while. For a long while, if it helps. Do you think he swings both ways or what?”

Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged, with no enthusiasm behind it because he just didn’t care about the sexual origin of the bloke he was eyeing up and down, scratching the pattern printed to his whiskey glass with his thumb, a displeased scoff breaking through from his throat. Trust Nicholas to think like that.

“What kind of guy goes by the name Phoenix, anyway?”

“A guy who was given the name at birth?” Nick wondered toyfully, a smirk on his lips and it only deepened the frown that sat upon Harry’s browline. His head snapping to the left, to stare at the drunken state of a man beside him, with a glare that looked devilish and dangerous. And if looks could kill then Nick would have been on the ground by now. “All I’m saying is that you need to grow some bollocks and do something. I don’t just allow you two to stay in my spare room for absolutely nothing. I know what you get up to. It’s obvious you two have a thing for each other. I support what you get up to. You think I’d just give my home and my bedrooms up to anybody?”

“That room used to be a room you gave to your dogs before YN called you out on how stupid it was.”

“And I repaid her with a thank-you by having a den that you could fuck in whenever you came to stay. Comes with blankets and pillows and a drawer full’a condoms that I stock it up with every other month” Nick cackled. His laughter catching the attention of YN, who had awkwardly turned around under the loose hold that Phoenix had upon her waist, to glance in their direction. A smile twitching her lips when she made eye contact with Nick, fingers wiggling hesitantly when she looked at Harry - a gesture he rudely ignored and gained a tut from beside him. “When he disappears, hopefully with me, take your shot and bloody do something, you mopey bugger. You’re killing the vibe of this party tonight and you’re not being jolly at all. Dressed in black with no festive cheer about you, you bah humbug.”

“My festive cheer is still there,” he grumbled and Grimmy laughed with sarcastic boughts, “piss off, you prick.”

“Kiss her. Snog her. Fuck her in front of the bloke. Anything you want to, I’m allowing it because you’re my best friends and you being happy is my best interest.”

“That’s wrong.”

“It’s not wrong. We all know that she would be better off with you. You’re all she talks about, mate. I should know because she talks my bleedin’ ear off every time we hang out without you,” he admitted. Harry’s cheeks flushing pink when she smiled widely at him, covering her mouth with her wine glass and taking a sip as the tall, blonde-haired guy beside her slipped a kiss to her cheek. “We walked Pig the other day and all she could talk about was how you took her to a drive-thru and let her go nuts with ordering what she wanted. Let her eat in your car and that she was the only person you had let do that,” Nick watched Harry’s hard-face demeanour change. His jaw relaxing and his nose twitching at the tip before his head dipped down to his chest. “Mate, you don’t even let me do that.”

“Because you’re a mess.”

“M’not a mess. You just don’t fancy me as much as you fancy YN,” he stated, pushing up from the island counter and taking a swig from his beer bottle. Harry’s face turning south as he internally told his friend to ‘piss off’, “if I was you, I’d do something about them. Tell her how you feel before she ends up going home with him. Before it’s too late, buddy.”

Harry didn’t know when it would be ‘too late’.

But as the night progressed, and as the seconds ticked by, he had a feeling it would be soon. Midnight was upon them, only an hour away, and Harry couldn’t risk seeing them leave together, back to his place or back to her place, for a night that should have been another passionate night for Harry and her. They were seated far too close to one another, in the armchair in the corner of Nick’s living room, with nothing but a small couch cushion to keep them separated. A hand flat on her thigh, his thumb rubbing against the skin along the inside, and a smirk that came and disappeared from his mouth whenever they whispered to one another. Her shoes had been kicked off and left by the fireplace and Harry wanted to scold her for wearing such abysmal shoes for a night where she would be on her feet for most of it - “who the hell wears six inch heels to a get together?” he had always argued with her but it never made her change her mind because she liked how they looked and wouldn’t ever pay mind to a man’s fashion opinion.

Lou Teasdale had only just popped away, informing him she was just nipping to the loo and then she would be back to chat some more, and he took that as his opportunity to jolt across the living room, shuffling in between drunken bodies and couples who had no fear in making out in front of a room full of people, appearing above her and towering her. Glass of a gin and tonic, because his binge on whiskey seemed to dry him out, in his hand, topped with a lime and a few ice-cubes to water it down.

“YN, could I have a quick word?”

She nodded apprehensively and squeezed Phoenix’s arm, stopping him in the middle of the conversation he was having with a man she hadn’t quite caught the name of, who had crouched down by the arm of the chair, to tell him she was just popping somewhere quieter to speak to Harry, hand dropping from his arm after a brief few seconds. He wasted no time in waiting for her, didn’t grab her hand to pull her anywhere, and they were off in the direction of the empty hallway without a glance back. Although Harry so desperately wanted to turn back and throw a smirk in Phoenix’s direction because he could feel the eyes of brown-eyed man burning holes in the back of his head; a feeling that made him feel powerful because he finally had her all to himself and he didn’t care how the bloke felt.

His feet were quick as they jogged up the stairs, skipping one step at a time, whereas YN was slow and lacking in pace as she tried not to spill her drink over herself or Nick’s very clean, cream-coloured carpet. A hand colliding with a door as he pushed it open, letting it swing on his hinges before entering, flicking the switch on with his elbow and stepping aside to let her in. His ankle swiftly shutting it, with an echoing bang, back facing her as she stalked towards the bed.

“Harry-”

He laughed a pure evil laugh, with such a sickening grin, and turned to face her.

“No, I brought you up here so that I,” he pointed a finger towards himself, poking at his chest with a sharp tap of his fingertip, “so that I could speak to you. Yeah?”

His tone of voice shut her up; he sounded angry and she never liked it Harry when he was angry.

Whenever he was angry, and he never seemed to be with her, he said things he didn’t mean at a volume that he never liked to use around her and had a look of such disgust that it made her want to curl into a ball and wait patiently until he was done.

Upset couldn’t even count for the way he was talking to her; she was finally experiencing the man she had seen at his angriest and she couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. She hadn’t spoken to him all night, he never approached her when he arrived and they had separated by mutual friends who seemed eager for conversation. So why was speaking to her with such a nasty voice behind his words?

“What the hell are you doing? Did you even think about what you were doing or were you just too blind to see?” He stared at her with such brute anger that she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. One look at his tensed jawline, his flaring nostrils and his dark green eyes and she would have melted into a puddle of tears and sobs and utter heartache. “You bring a bloke to a party, as your date, even though you knew I was going to ask you to be mine? You leave me to turn up on my own? You’re my date to these kind of things and you bring some guy we’ve never met before? That we’ve never seen? Even though we get invited as individuals, you’re always my date to parties.”

“Harry-”

“No, just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and released a deep breath, “just let me speak to you.”

She perched herself down on the edge of the bed, setting her drink down on the carpet beside her feet, eyes focused on one particular point on the floor. Her point of focus being a little brown ball of fuzz, right beside the toe of his boot, that seemed to have built-up from dust and fluff and looked so delicate, like it had flown through the air at such a soft speed. It was better than looking at him...

“I thought what we had was special enough for you not to need comfort from other people. From other men, for Christ sake. I thought I was all you needed because I gave you all you wanted. I always gave you what you needed, what you wanted, what you asked for with such innocence. I give you a room to sleep in when you couldn’t be bothered to go home, I brought you food to fill my cupboards with even though I don’t eat half of the crap you fill your body with, I took you to places whenever you need me to because you don’t have a car to take you there and you were always too afraid to go by tube or by bus. Scared you’d get on the wrong one and end up lost and you knew I’d rather take time out to take you anywhere to save you from danger. For Christ sake, I paid for your plane tickets so you could come and see me and you got to experience the luxuries of the best hotel suites in the world because you were with me and I never wanted you to have anything less than the best. I let you cry on my shoulder when someone upsets you at work and I listen to you whine and cry about how shitty some of your colleagues were,” he sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. Pulling on the strands with gentle tugs because he was so angry and so disappointed and so upset and heartbroken and it’s all he could think of doing without forcing his fist into a wall or shouting so loudly that people would need to find out what was happening. “I had sex with you when you wanted sex because I gave it to you good and proper and you just couldn’t seem to get enough. I gave you so many orgasms in one night that you still begged for more when the morning came around. I let you suck my cock, even when I wasn’t in the mood for sex, because it made you happy and I could never turn your pretty mouth down,” he scoffed and knelt down in front of her. His whiskey glass left behind on the vacant bedside table, next to a box of tissues and a half-read book that he was sure Eileen had told him to read whenever he had the opportunity. His fingers gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Am I not good enough anymore? You use me for what you want and then decide to chuck me away when someone better comes along. Is that it?”

“No, Harry-”

“That’s what it looks like to me,” he growls lowly, “that’s what it feels like. Like I’m no longer someone you can come to when you want something. You chucked me away because he came along.”

“That’s not-”

“Is my home not good enough for you? My food? My bed?” He listed off, forcing her to look back at him when her head drifted to the side, her eyes closing to blink back a round of tears that threatened to spill before swiftly opening then to look at him, “is my cock not good enough for you anymore? Does Phoenix fuck you as good as I do? Does he make you scream as loud as you do when I’ve got you creaming down my cock, huh? Do you suck his cock the way you do mine?”

“Harry,” she whimpered and her chin wobbled, despite the hold he had upon her jaw, “Harry, you’re scaring me.”

He fell silent.

The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her away.

But he was terrified to lose her; the anchor that kept him grounded, the one slither of hope that seemed to light up his life and show him the way and the beacon of his life that he couldn’t dream to live his life without. He needed her around and he wanted her to stay with him but he hated how she could become anyone else's. He loved her, had always had a special place in his heart for her, and he didn’t want to dare to push her into the arms of another man.

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just angry with you,” he grunted, his nose scrunching as he snorted and kept a tight stare upon her face. The tears that rolled down her cheeks making him feel no remorse, no guilt and no upset because how could she be playing the hard done by girl when he was the one she was playing around with? When he owned the heart that she was breaking? Her heart wasn’t breaking - how could her heart break when she had two guys pining after her, giving her the attention she subconsciously craved, giving her the affection she wanted and treating her in two different ways that seemed to make her feel pleased? “I’m so angry with you. You think you can just use me and expect me to be okay with that? You think that I’ll be okay with you bringing another guy to a party? Holding his hand? Touching his arm in front of me? You let him kiss the cheek that I get to kiss. Do you let him kiss the lips that I kiss?” He whispered dangerously low, running his thumb over her bottom lip and pushing the tip between her teeth, “does he get to kiss these lips?”

She shook her head before biting down.

“Does he fuck you better than I do?”

Once again, she shook her head, but much more vigorously, and he smiled devilishly. Slight force being applied to the tip of his thumb, pulling it closer, as she sucked on his digit and let her tongue swirl around his nail.

“Are you going to do this again?”

She bit down on his flesh and he smirked, dimple forming just below his cheek, and he brought his free hand to rest upon her naked thigh. Fingers close to the hem of her dress and he was so close to dipping his hand beneath the material and tearing her knickers from her hips, tucking them into his pocket to show off that he was hers... and that she was his... and no one elses.

“Good,” he cooed coyly, “that’s a good girl.”

He was close.

Close enough for her to feel washes of warm breath hit her cheeks, the scent of whiskey and gin hitting her nose, and close enough for her to lean forwards, connecting herlips with his. Their plump flesh perfectly moulding together as their tongues broke free, his exploring her mouth as hers brushed alongside his, arms wrapping around his neck and her fingers pushing into his hair, undoing knots and tugging on the roots as he moaned into her mouth. And it was a swift move as he stood to his feet and pulled her up with him and there wasn’t a single movement that was strong enough to break the suction of their kiss apart. Teeth bashing together and their noses pushed against cheeks, a tap of her bum encouraging her to jump up and cling to his front.

His fingers hungrily worked on hitching the hem of her dress up to her hips, breaking the kiss momentarily to adjust their position, swinging around on his heels and trapping her between his body and the matte-white wall, beside the bedroom door, of the room; it was clear that it wasn’t the ‘den’ that Nick always allowed them to use when they stayed and it was much more of a homely, more decorated room that didn’t scream Nicholas Grimshaw but seemed to scream the personality of someone else; probably Eileen, for when she stayed with her son, but she was away on a holiday and they were far too caught up in the motion of the moment to think about anybody else but themselves. With a hand snaking down between their bodies, she unzipped his flies and used her heels to push his trousers down to his knees. His boxers tight around his thighs, the elastic clawing at the pudge of his love handles, and a hefty bulge seemed to be eager to break free from behind the material. Her wrist dipping beneath the elastic waistband and grasping at his shaft, jerking him slightly in the awkward angle, a smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth when his green eyes closed shut. Veins popping up and along the thick of his neck. Teeth clenched as he grunted deeply, her fingers becoming slick and slightly coated with dribbles of pre-ejaculate that slithered and bubbled from the slit of his tip, dampening the material that he effortlessly wiggled free from his body.

Without having to guide himself to her cunt, and as he worked his way down her neck, he bucked his hips up and slowly submerged himself into that pure and delectable warmth that he couldn’t ever get enough of. A shudder rolling up his spine, goosebumps forming on his skin, as he felt her gulp back the thick and painful moan that situated at the back of her throat. His teeth attacking her flesh with quick nibbles and tugs, and it seemed to steer her away from feeling the pain of the stretch that burned between her thighs as she adjusted to the girth of him, regardless of how many times he had spent in this very place. He made it his mission to mark her with hickies that Phoenix was sure to see when it was time to say goodbye... that would prove to him that she was all Harry’s.

“Christ,” he grunted into her ear, his breath warm yet wet, “v’bloody missed this.”

“You fucked me two days ago,” she hummed, “but I’ve missed it, too.”

Minutes passed, but they felt like seconds, and he could feel the agonising knot form in the belly of his gut, making his eyes water and his face contort with a look of complete sadness; this couldn’t end just yet. He didn’t want it to end yet. She felt too good, even though that was part of the problem, and he didn’t want her to go back to the man she arrived with... she didn’t need him because Harry was all she needed.

“Am I not good enough for you, YN?”

He whimpered into her neck, his hips nestling against hers as she tightened her legs around his middle and held him in place, heels digging into the small of his back whilst her fingers raked through the strands at the back of his head. His cock so deep and so warm inside of her. Filling her deep and making her feel so full yet so much more hungrier and deepening her appetite for his cock. Her arms hugging him close, head banging against the wall behind her, dragging his lips around her skin as he spoke.

“Is my love not good enough for you?”

Her breathing hitched in her throat; much more audibly than it had done when he shoved his cock between her thighs and gave one awfully quick pound into her.

“Love? Harry,” she sighed and pulled his head from her neck, looking down at him, “we said no strings attached.”

“You said that,” he whispered, “not me. You were the one who said we couldn’t fall in love. It never applied to me. I never wanted it to.”

“H,” she gulped thickly and pressed her lips against the bony curve of his cheek, tasting the salt from his dried up tears as he closed his eyes and titled his head against her feathery touch, “you can’t love me. I’m not the one for you. I couldn’t ever fit into your lifestyle. There are so many great girls out there for you and I’m not one of them. I’m not good enough for you,” he snapped his head up and shook it, from side to side, peppering kiss after kiss across her face. Once on her right cheek, once upon the tip of her nose, one against her left cheek before he pressed a kiss to her forehead, littering a string of kisses across her eyebrows before dipping down to press one soft kiss against her lips. A mouth tasting like a strawberry daiquiri and mint. “Harry, you can’t love me.”

“I can,” he muttered against her plump flesh, “I can love you and I will.”

“I’m not the right one for you.”

“And Phoenix isn’t the one for you,” he said, her hands cupping his cheeks and pulling away from him, “he isn’t. I could treat you so much better than he ever could.”

He slowly rocked his hips in a swinging motion, pushing them towards the wall before retracting them back and repeating the action again, feeling her slick arousal coat his shaft and her rigid walls clench around him as he gripped her thighs tighter. Her hands stroking down his cheeks, down his collarbones and over the curves of his shoulders, nails digging into the thin shirt that covered his body and denting his shoulder blades with crescent moons. Soft mewls buttering him up as he moved quicker and faster against her, her feet pushing into the top of his bum as a way to bring him closer, to force him deeper inside her, so she could feel him in the entirety of the space she was giving him.

“I don’t want Phoenix,” she whispered, “he was persistent with me. He kept asking me on dates but I kept turning him down because of me and you. I never fucked him, I never kissed him and I never let him touch me because I only want you doing all three and so much more. I’m allowed to date but it felt wrong to go out with anyone when I had you in my life. I thought that if he came tonight then I could be around you, annoying you and making you laugh, and he would get the picture that I was happy with you but- but you were angry with me and,” his nose bumped against hers and he shushed her to silence. Spits of breath hitting her chin, his forehead resting upon hers, and wanted nothing more than him, “I want you, Harry. No one but you. Of course, it’s you.”

“And you have me,” he confirmed, a smile evident in his voice, “you’ve always had me, baby.”

#blogmas 2018 #best friend!harry #i'm really not so sure onthis #i felt so much pressure hahahaha #harry styles #harry #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles concepts #harry styles preferences #harry styles smut #harry styles writing

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