Shattered by My Obsession (A Harry Styles Fan-Fiction)
Okay, so this is my first actual fan-fiction that I am partially proud of! And I really attempted to make some cool cover photo or whatever for this, but I completely failed and I am not proud of it at all. So if someone who is amazing with Photoshop or Gimp (a free software like Photoshop, just in case some of you have no freaking clue, because I didn’t until I looked it up), something like that, could make me a pretty cool or decent or even extraordinarily awesome, I would love you forever. I would even do something for you. (I don’t honestly know what that something would be yet, but I can tell you it won’t be anything fancy).
And I know this first chapter is coming up out of the blue, but I want to get it posted and out there, because let’s face it, the first chapter is hardly significant. So I’ll let you guys have the first chapter, (which is kind of short and not very eventful) and then I’ll try and post a new chapter every Friday at around eight o'clock Central Time, depending on how my schedule is and how much (positive) feedback I actually receive from this.
Alrighty, I love ya’ll and uh, happy reading! ;)
~Jess <3 :D
P.S.~ There is a tiny bit of smut at the beginning of the chapter. Just letting you guys know. Okay. Bye.
“Oh Roslyn,” I pant, digging my fingers as deep as I can into her hips. She whimpers, yelping in pleasure as I rock my hips at a slow pace. “Roslyn, baby…”
“Harry,” she breathes quietly into my ear. Her silky, seductive voice is like velvet snaking out from her soft lips. I glance down at her, my eyes hooded as I watch her body arch in pleasure. She looked so beautiful, glistening in sweat from our late night (or should I say early morning) activities. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her walls clenching around me as she nears her high. “God, don’t stop!” She cries out, burying her fingernails deeper into my back.
My pace quickens, my mouth forming a full on ‘o’ shape as I climax, releasing right as she does.
My eyes flutter open at a rapid pace, my sweatpants now coated in come. I groan at the thought of yet another wet dream caused by her. This is sick, too sick. Me having fantasies about my student? It’s absurd. Ridiculous. Unfathomable. Disgusting, even.
I let out a heavy sigh and slowly sit up. My fingers fumble around the side table in search of my phone to check the time. As soon as I press the home button I’m blinded, my eyes shutting and squinting to even see the clock. Six twenty-three. I set it back down, quickly rise to my feet, and make my way to the bathroom.
My large hands pat around the wall and flicker on the lights. I catch a glimpse at my messy curls and disgustingly worn out appearance as I make my way over to the shower. The water begins to warm up as I rid of my semen coated Manchester University sweats and toss them into the hamper. Just another pair of pants coated in my excitement, I remind myself.
The water is nice and hot as I enter the shower. I let it cascade over me, soaking in its warmth as I give myself time to think. She crosses my mind instantly. No matter where I turn she’s there, whether we’re in the halls or I’m just thinking, dreaming about what life would be like with her in it. I begin to wash myself up, shampooing and conditioning my hair as well as scrubbing my body clean of my both intentional (and unintentional) actions.
After my nice and comforting shower, I quickly dry my curly locks and make my way to the closet. I pull out a nice pair of black skinny jeans, boots, and an “almost” new baby blue button up shirt and get dressed for the day. My feet pad down the small flight of stairs and into the kitchen to make me a bowl of cereal that I down rather quickly. I finish my rather boring routine with brushing my teeth and grabbing my briefcase before heading out the door and climbing into my Range Rover.
The car ride to the school is short, considering my flat complex only a few blocks away from it. It cuts back on my thinking time, but it also gets me there right when I need to be. As I pull into the parking lot, I notice her run down, used 1999 Chrysler is already sitting there among the very few cars. I smile to myself and grab my things. She could be here in hopes to see me about her last quiz score over Romeo and Juliet.
I quickly scramble into the school and down the halls. I see her standing at her locker, munching on some food that she’s got stashed in her locker. She seems pretty content, eating and scrolling through her social media. Suddenly she looks up at me, her grey eyes piercing into my emerald ones. “Good morning, Mr. Styles,” she says, a wide smile growing on her face.
“Miss Watkins,” I murmur while giving her a small nod. “Did you want to come in and see about your quiz?”
“Oh! Yes, if you have the time.” She quickly shoves things into both her mouth and her locker, then quickly slams the door shut. I let out a soft chuckle and make my way over to my door and unlock it.
“Of course. You know I always have time for one of my brightest students.” I hold the door open for her and she blushes, but swiftly hides it as she makes her way into my room. My wandering eyes scan her body, stopping once they get to her beautiful ass. She’s not a skinny girl by any means, curves out the wazoo and even a bit of a stomach, and her chest. God is it lovely. She displays them perfectly, showing off just a bit of cleavage to drive any man to insanity. I shut the door, still watching her hips sway back and forth as she walks over to my desk. I clear my throat, trying to rid of the dirty thoughts and make my way over to her. I rest my briefcase on the top of my desk and dig around through the stack of papers next to my computer.
“Mr. Styles?” My head quickly turns in her direction, watching her small figure lean against the desk closest to mine.
“Yes?” I go back to rummaging through the papers piled and scattered all over the place, frantically searching for her most recent quiz.
“Would you um…maybe have a few minutes after last hour for me? I need to interview one of my “favorite” teachers for my Journalism class. To be quite honest I think favoritism towards others, whether it be students or teachers, is quite ridiculous, so I decided to go with the teacher that teaches my favorite subject.” I chuckle and grab the sheet with her name on it. I hand it to her, then sit down in my chair.
“So choosing a favorite subject is the way to go, eh?” I stare at her intently, watching her every move as she scans the questions, finding that she did nothing wrong. She hands it back to me and gives me a warm, yet humorous smile. “See? I told you it’s nothing to worry about. You’re figuring everything out perfectly fine.” She blushes, and right now I want nothing more than to pull her close, to have her straddle my lap and kiss her with all the passion in my body. But I refrain from that thought and just go back to messing around with papers, trying to organize myself up as much as I can to distract myself from my naughty thoughts.
“Favoritism towards what you love to do has nothing to do with favoritism towards other people. I have a passion for English.” Yeah, and I have a passion for fucking you, but that’s beside the point. “Therefore, I love it. I can’t choose my favorite teacher. You all are doing me a favor by helping me out with what I need in order to accomplish goals and make it through college so I can have my dream career.” She gives me a warm smile, and I give her one back. Hearing all of that come out of her mouth makes my heart race, and makes me fall for her even more.
“You can’t lie to me, though. We all know Mrs. Coleman is terrible when it comes to lesson plans for Geometry.” My comment made her wide smile turn into a full blown laugh, and all she can do right now is clutch her stomach and roar in laughter. My smile grows larger, chuckles coming from me as I gain amusement from watching her. “But yes. I would love it if you would pay me a visit and pester me with your interrogating questions.”
“Interrogating? Excuse me?” Her tone is sarcastic, even playful and I had to turn towards my computer so she couldn't see how large my toothy grin has now gotten.
“Yes,” I chuckle. “Just stay after class and I’ll make us some tea. We can just have a nice conversation then.”
“Alright,” she states, letting out a breathless giggle. “I’ll talk to you later, Mr. Styles.” And with that she’s headed towards the door and back out to her locker, both of us getting ready to start the day.