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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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Chuck Grant’s NSFW Alphabet
I think tumblr tried to take this down bUT IMMA PUT IT UP AGAIN BC WHY THE FUCK NOT. 
Hope y’all enjoy my boi Grant’s flith alphabet :)))) 
Warnings: sm*t.
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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Saturday Morning // George Weasley
Pairing: George Weasley x unnamed OC
Warnings: s m u t 
So, uh… yeah. I wrote smut about George Weasley. It was actually about Oliver Phelps, but George deserves more of this attention.
This is my second time, so bear with me, alright? Writing this shit isn’t easy lmao.
Hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and feedback are appreciated. Even if you want to punch me for writing this. 
Saturday morning.
George laid in the bed he shared with his girlfriend, half asleep.
He wouldn’t budge opening his eyes to the sunshine that covered his bedroom, but enjoyed the warmth it gave his bare body, only covered by his underwear and messed up sheets around his calves.
He did feel the absence of his girlfriend next to him, but she was probably brewing coffee in the kitchen, in his clothes, humming to a song she liked, a little bit of tea for the british man he was from his roots.
After a little while, he heard the footsteps of his girlfriend coming, with a small yawn falling from her lips as she crawled into bed next to him.
She folded her legs under herself as she looked at him, sprawled, admiring his body.
Morning she said, her voice still a tad groggy.
Hey George responded, his hand blindly looking for her until he bumped her knee, rubbing it softly.
I love that you sleep shirtless, you know that, right? She asked and George smiled, blushing just slightly.
While he kept still, her hands found his abdomen, and grazed around as she looked at how his 6’3 figure covered the mattress from top to bottom just right.
George was huge and she loved it.
Her palms dragged down his legs, enjoying the v lines that got lost into his underwear, alongside the freckles. His skin was rough in some parts, with old scars, and some others were soft, like his thighs.
George’s thighs were firm on the front, and squishy and cold on the inner part, and she loved how he reacted when her warm hand met that last part, sending a small shiver up his spine.
All the while, he never stopped smiling with his eyes shut, enjoying himself completely.
So she got an idea.
Changing position, she moved up and sat on his thighs, closing his legs just a bit. George’s eyebrows lifted, but never opened his eyes to look.
So she took advantage and lifted herself slightly to reach the start of his chest and started kissing around, sometimes with her mouth opened, dragging her lips through his pecks.
George’s mouth opened just a tad when he felt her warm breath over his nipple, which sent another shiver up. She was endeared by his reactions, so she took it up another level, now dragging the tip of her tongue every now and again as she went down to his abdomen, with her hands just barely grasping his sides.
When she pressed a bit more to kiss his stomach, she felt his boner in her chest, and she peeked down to look at his underwear, which showed a clear mount shape tightening the fabric, making her smirk.
Oh, how easy George gets aroused.
So, she carried on kissing until she met his middle upfront, and laid down her lips to kiss it through the fabric. George’s hips thrusted just barely a millimeter, but it was enough to get her going.
After teasing with the waistband for a few seconds, she finally took down his boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed.
She smirked deeply at the sight. He was still keeping his eyes shut.
George naked was so beautiful to her. His chest slowly heaving up and down, his thick arms sprawled about, his hair completely messed up. He was completely vulnerable to her presence.
So she then proceeded to grab his shaft with one hand, his body squirming in reaction, and took her time to move her hand up and down, slowly, steadily.
Just when her touch left for a second his body, George opened his eyes for a bit and caught her licking her own hand and grabbing him once again, his throat sending a small groan when he felt the damp, fresh hand meeting his skin.
Her palm and fingers moved dreadingly slow, but she twisted her wrist a few times to change her pace and type of movements, and mix how he felt.
She then stopped her hand on the top, to rub the tip with her thumb, which George reacted to with a whimper, his hands now covering his face, but this wasn’t without her other hand still rubbing up and down.
She engulfed in his reaction and decided to give him a treat, by moving her head down and dragged her tongue in a straight line up his member.
Oh my—
She smiled, and took him inside her mouth, while her left hand gripped his hip, her fingers squeezing the skin to add more sensations.
Now George was moaning loudly while she sucked him up and down, her tongue playing inside, and at a moment, she hummed and that sent a vibration that made him curse loudly as his hands ran through his hair furiously.
Bloody. Fucking. Hell!
If there’s something George’s girlfriend loves, is his slurring, cursing and moaning while he’s receiving pleasure. He could barely mutter words unless he shouted.
So she worked her mouth for a little longer before she decided to finish him off with her hand, lifting herself to her knees as she placed her free hand on his chest, pushing just slightly.
Come on, George, come on.
She ordered, noticing the redness in his cheeks, showing off his freckled face, biting a swollen lip and his eyes squeezed shut tightly, until he finally, after a few more pumps, came in hot spurts into his stomach.
George was panting, his eyes opening once again, his mouth ajar, mustering a small smile to his girlfriend. His skin was totally flushed and his heart still racing.
She just smiled down at him, not saying a word, only closing the space between them to kiss him softly on the lips and lay there for a while with him.
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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fred dead? nah he’s living his best life rn
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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the dust
This is a non explicit smut thing I wrote about Oliver Phelps George Weasley one time, around 4am, when I was having a lot of feelings about life, love and shit we think about in the deep of the night. 
Pairings: George Weasley x OC (I’m sorry, I hate writing y/n)
Warnings: none other than nothing explicit about sex between two people that love each other lol. 
This is the first fic I post here SO PLS, don’t feel weird about sending me a message about it, let me know if u like it, or hate it, whatever you feel while reading this. 
Feedback and reblogs appreciated.-
When we spent the night together, and we stayed up making love, the sun would hit at the right moment around 5.03am. That’s when the sun rose in summer.
That’s when the dust could be seen flying around the air, dancing just on top of the skin of his naked shoulder, that showed some of the pink trails my nails left in the heat of the moment.
I bet they still burn a tiny bit.
He was moaning, as a roll of sweat dripped from his eyebrow down his temple, and the sound mixed with our skins meeting, and my rapid breathing, rougher but enerving with love.
I loved watching him moan.
And I knew he loved watching me as well.
We weren’t just fucking. We weren’t looking to show off our bed skills, without trying to actually have a good time and maybe even reach an orgasm.
No.
We were rediscovering each other’s bodies.
George’s tall frame packed so many things with it, I think I never get to see it all.
6’3 of broad shoulders that I loved to cross my arms around while he guides himself into me, that I dig my fingers into while he looks for my lips as we both settle.
And his lips, oh, they taste like the beer he was drinking earlier, and a bitter trace that came from him kissing my bare, covered in sweat skin when he was over me.
A stifled moan erupted from me every time I got down to his eye level, while his hands clasped around my hips.
I loved being so close to him.
When he insists on sitting down when I’m riding him and he mumbles that he loves how my chest feels against him, making me giggle slightly.
But I love even more pushing him down, and my stomach does flips inside me at the sight of his very nice, marked chest covered in sweat, while his arms do everything in their power to at least keep his palms against me.
Sometimes he keeps them in me, sometimes he’s so overwhelmed with pleasure and love, he has to cover his face as he grunts and my name slips like honey off of his tongue.
The only dim light we had made his body look almost bronze, even though he was as pale as our best friend, who’s irish as hell, and practically glows in the dark.
My hands would drag down his body, until they met my favorite part of it: his hips.
He found it weird that it was my favorite part, but it was. The curve that mixed it all together. His thick, usually cold thighs started there. They would meet his curvy, very well filled bottom, that never failed to make me smile, and lastly, his legs.
George has legs that would go on for days, and I love dragging my hands through them.
“My love, oh my—Merlin!”
My love
My favorite nickname.
When he can’t hold himself any longer, when he is a mess of moans, grunting, heavy breathing and sweat, when his chest heaves up and down, George holds himself in his elbows, and let’s me watch him come.
Sometimes he just cries out, twitching a bit as his red hair is spiking out in different directions.
Sometimes he embraces me as his legs give out underneath me.
Sometimes he wants to scream and let it all out and it’s like a roaring thunderstorm.
And sometimes he comes up, mumbling very drunk I love you’s to my lips. The one he meets with tremble and love and even vulnerability.
A man of his age, who rarely ever shows vulnerability, didn’t mind me watching him as tears fell out of his dark brown eyes after he reached the high.
At first, he didn’t even dare. But I told him he could and when he finally did, he had told me afterwards that he didn’t feel weak, as he expected to.
He felt very much fulfilled, and in love.
Because he understood he wasn’t crying per se. He was releasing himself, and sometimes with weeks of stress upon himself.
Most of the time, it was him, showing his true self to the only woman he felt he could do it with, and it was the feeling of the overwhelming love I feel for you he would say.
So in the mornings, while he snored slightly, and the dust danced around his fair and gorgeous nakedness, I stared at him.
Sometimes the blanket would be a mess and he would be completely uncovered. That was my favorite one.
His skin glowing under the morning sun, when the dust just barely dared to fly above his bareness. And all I did was run my fingers through his messy hair, and admire him completely.
And maybe, plant a kiss or two in his arms.
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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Alex Lawther in Declan McKenna’s music video for The Key to Life on Earth
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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I doodled smol Harry again, but this time he’s happy
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steveharrinqton · 4 years
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Stranger Things | 1.04 The Body
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steveharrinqton · 5 years
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You were clearly meant for more
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steveharrinqton · 5 years
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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i really need to stop saying ‘mood’ to literally everything. first it was ‘relatable’ then it was ‘same’ - i need to actually give thoughtful responses to someone instead of instantly relying on the word crutch of just throwing ‘mood’ out there as if it’s a replacement for thoughtful human interaction
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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@hcgwartsnet members event ( get to know the members )   andreene: the marauders
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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#mister safety first 
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steveharrinqton · 6 years
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“Why now”?
#dw
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