[h.s] smut collection

Video

Of course this happened to you. It couldn't possibly have happened to anyone else, because only you have the worst luck on earth.

It was one of those nights; you were bored and stressed out and a little bit sad, sitting on the floor drinking wine alone and watching terrible television, and halfway through the bottle Harry started to text you. Nothing particularly serious or life changing, just a picture of something he thought was funny like he's wont to do, but your heart jumped into your throat anyway that he thought to share it with you. Most of the time you were good at ignoring your crush on him, but with alcohol added to the mix it was much harder to pretend you didn't want him with everything you had.

So maybe in your head you allowed yourself the private fantasy of being his lover, that you were laying on your living room floor drinking and texting him as your boyfriend. It made your night a little bit brighter, made you giggle and feel warm in your face when he called you 'love' and you could imagine that he really meant it and wasn't just being his regular sweet self.

Eventually, he fell asleep. Or so you assumed, as he stopped replying. It was just past midnight, and you sighed to yourself as you rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. Of course you had to fall for the most unattainable man you could possibly find, but thinking of that shiny hair, those bedroom eyes and perfectly sculpted hands, it wasn't as if you could be blamed for feeling the way you do. He could turn you on in an instant, without even trying.
Oh, the things you would do to him if you had permission. Biting your lip, you let your mind drift to a place where you can get revenge for all the times he left you so sexually frustrated you could hardly see straight, just by being in his presence. You'd drive him just as crazy as he drives you, make him beg for it, make him cum so much and so good that he forgot how to think.

Before you know it, you made the decision that sealed your fate. Lost in your imagination, you turned your phone camera on and pointed it to yourself, let the lens take in your bitten lips and down to the cleavage revealed by your top. You cooed his name, drifting your fingertips over your skin as you fantasized about sending him the video while he's on tour and away from you, making him desperate for you with your little private show. The thought of it makes you grow wet and hot between your thighs.

You stop the recording and start another one, this time letting your fingers pull your top down enough to show the rounded tops of your nipples, beginning to harden under your own touch as you drag your nails over them lightly. You shut your eyes and let out a sigh with his name at the end of it.

In the end, you make six videos, each more explicit than the last. The final one is shaky and unfocused, nothing but panting breaths and whimpering moans, the sound of your fingers working through your own slick as you drive yourself over the edge. And again, as your muscles clench up and your back arches, you cry out his name.

You fell asleep buzzing, curled up right there on the floor with reruns of Friends playing quietly on the tv above your head, and when you wake up it's a good little while before you can orient yourself enough to figure out what happened. It's only as you sit up and realize you're naked from the waist down that you remember what happened, and you shiver in humiliation. Pushing your face into your palms, you groan and curse yourself for being so pathetic and thirsty. At least I was alone, you think to yourself as you drag yourself into the bathroom to shower.

It's as you're brushing your teeth that you hear your phone ring from the living room where you left it. The call has gone to voicemail by the time you get to it, but as you take a glance at the screen your eyes bulge.

11 missed calls and 4 voicemails, all from Harry.

Furrowing your brow, you unlock your phone and make to call him back, hoping that everything is okay with him when you see the message screen from the night before come up, and all your worst fears come out to stare you right in the face. Because it turns out, the last thing you apparently sent to Harry last night wasn't the relatively harmless texts you thought, but the video of yourself having a shaking, keening orgasm and moaning his name all through it.