wedlock blurbs/one shots <3

Leaving a space in her job for a student in need of money, Hue Ngo fills the void by taking a job to assist those filming My Policeman. Harry Styles is one of the actors in that film. As passing strangers, the connection is built leisurely - exchanging glances in shared rooms and sending joyous smiles to each other when no one's looking. However, from the smallest ember in a dying fire of loneliness, those same glances have the power to revive the compelling fire. (COMPLETED)

(COMPLETED) Angelina knew the Amalfi Coast like the back of her hand. After all, she visited it twice a year. Harry Styles was sent there to film a music video. Meeting in a pottery class wasn't expected, nor was the future they both built together.

In which Harry Styles is a criminal law professor at Harvard Law School, and Maude Sterling is his student.

18+ / Very Mature "Madison." "I need you." My voice is thick with emotion, quivering slightly at the thought of rejection. I didn't know if Harry wanted to take this further, if I was the only one feeling this level of longing. He takes his forehead away from mine and stares into my eyes, brows furrowed, "You need me?" His voice was full of disbelief, like the thought that I was pining for him in that way was impossible. "I need you." I repeat unwaveringly.

"You were ours from the second we saw you," he stated as if I didn't have a choice in it, and the truth was, I didn't need to because he was right. I was theirs, but what they didn't know was that they were mine, too. *** One invitation to an open house. One moment. One chance. And everything changes. When Emma receives an invite to the most exclusive BDSM club in the city, she knows she needs to go. At Desire's Den, she'll experience pain and pleasure, bondage, domination, and submission - all intertwined. For the first time in her life, she dares herself to go after what she wants. She'd always been too afraid. Now she is ready. Now she just has to secure a dominant. But just as everything she ever desired is in her grasp, she finds something she never expected: three possessive masters, all ready to claim her. Callan, the owner of Desire's Den, could make even the most innocent woman hungry with lust. His voice is soft as silk, and as wicked as the dirtiest fantasy you've ever had. Mateo, the sweet-tongued professor, is every woman's dream: a gentleman in public, and filthy in private. Gideon, the trio's resident bad boy, is owner of one of the most popular nightclubs in the city. Behind his calm and stone façade is a violent storm ready to conquer the object of his obsession. And she just might be the one they've been waiting for.

"Would you ever give me a piece of your heart Harry?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I think I'd give you the whole damn thing Wren." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wren Gilbert is a songwriter and also fulfilling her dreams of making her own albums. She loves music, she loves writing for other people too. But sometimes she gets tired of sharing her heart with other people who don't fully understand the meaning of her songs. So when she falls in love with a boy who loves her songs, and shows her to the world she's dreamed of being in, suddenly all of her songs were about him. Trigger Warning- This story contains minor drug use, sexual content, mental health issues and abuse.

Eva's past and present collide to cause chaos. [Completed] I do not accept translations, sorry x --- "What are you-" I tried to speak but once again was cut off. Harry brought his hand back up, wrapping it around my throat and pinning me forcefully against him. I couldn't stop the gasp that came from me, my eyes going wide and meeting his in the mirror while under his hand on my neck went hot. His fingers tensed around the sides of my throat, making my head go light and core ache. "You want me to stop?" he asked, tightening his grip. I dropped my eyes to my throat, seeing his bloodied hand wrapped around it, the red liquid seeping out between his fingers and dark drips falling down my chest already. He doesn't look bothered one bit... Neither am I "Don't stop"

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*

a killer instinct was coined in the early boxing world as a protective, cold mentality that surges to one's consciousness and turns one into a vicious defense practitioner. everyone has a killer instinct. for harry styles, that ruthless mentality always seemed to circle back to one singular thing - her. --- but she doesn't let me go far, keeping our faces inches apart and my lips curl up as i chew this gum in between my teeth. her fingers roughly press into my cheeks and she smiles back with a devilish, lustful glint in her eyes. "you're gonna want me in control more often after i'm done with you, baby." she whispers, taking me aback with the boldness of her statement as she simply smiles before letting go of my face with a light shove. i slowly scoff and she hums as i shake my head at her. "yeah? prove it." i taunt and she sinks her straight white teeth into her bottom lip with a smirk. --- || mature and explicit content, read at your own risk * ||