Harry Styles Tumblr Smut.

WANNA DIE TONIGHT.

Credits: https://songbirdstyles.tumblr.com/
Word count: 1.8k

"C'mere, baby, please -"

"Harry, you go on in twenty minutes -

"Please, jus' quick, c'mon -"

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes, feeling Harry's clammy, twitching hands grasping your own, tugging you closer to where he wants you - pressed tight against his body, chest to chest and legs dangerously close to getting tangled with each other. He's practically radiating heat, already a thin sheen of sweat coating his exposed skin through the sheer shirt barely covering his abdomen and chest, and when you bury your nose into his pecs you can smell the scent of his cologne and musk and you want to inhale it in until you're suffocated with it, but that falls lower on the totem pole of priorities at the moment.

Your priority - doting girlfriend and supporter before anything else - is (or was) to calm his nerves before the show, giving him hugs and kisses until he's released every anxiety possible before bounding onto stage for all Pittsburgh fans to see.

His priority, a horny beast before all, is to bury his head between your thighs.

You suppose you're not opposed to either.

"You're crazy," you tell him, words muffled against his chest, and you can practically hear the smirk spread across his face - a smirk because he knows you're going to give in, if not now then in a couple minutes, because it's never been your forte to deny him, or yourself, of eating you out until you were screaming or crying or both. "Insane. Shouldn't you want me to give you head before the show?"

"Maybe," Harry says, then, and when you pull your head back to look up at him his eyes have flitted towards the clock mounted on the wall of his dressing room - there's now less than 19 minutes left before he has to be on stage, and instead of going to regroup with the band, he's wrapping a large hand around your slender wrist and pulling you towards the chair parked at the vanity in the corner of his room. A nudge of his knee knocking into your thigh and you're collapsing onto the seat, hand already reaching for the edge of the vanity, littered with his and your makeup, to grasp onto as Harry drops to his knees in front of you, surely staining the front of his thousand-dollar pants with the dirt from the floor but it isn't like he, or anyone else, truly cares too much.

"Gonna be quick," Harry murmurs, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your kneecap, hands smoothing up the sides of your thighs to push your short skirt further up your legs until you're lifting your hips to let him push the fabric up to your ass. He sounds like he's more trying to convince himself rather than you, the both of you knowing more than well that your lover could spend hours between your thighs without getting the tiniest bit bored, and trying to limit his activities down will certainly be an exercise in restraint for him. "Jus' need t'taste you, baby. Y'look too fuckin' good for me to not want t'try some, hmm?"

You can't bring yourself to respond as Harry rests his cheek against your knee, reaching towards the apex of your thighs with one crooked finger to delve between the fabric of your panties and your slick folds, bend of his finger running up and down through the center of your folds, reaching your clit and barely brushing over the surface of the sensitive nub before he's pushing his finger back down with a devious smile and another kiss to the side of your leg.

"You can't possibly think you have enough time to tease me," you breathe out as Harry fully pulls your panties away from your pussy, now nearly sopping with liquid as he tugs you forward, displaying your wetness further for him like a meal on display, and you're certain that's what he considers it - no different than a gourmet meal, waiting on a platter for him. "Only got fifteen -"