THE FESTIVAL BLURB WTF BABES but can I also add this bc I love the photo kink: The final picture that Harry snaps is of you settled between his bare legs, pink lips wrapped around this cock, wide eyes looking up at him and his hand rested on the back of your head to keep the flower crown in its place.
FUCK oh my god YES and maybe Harry’s like a legit photographer like that’s what he does so that’s why he was obsessed w taking pictures of you the whole time???? But he really hasn’t done anything with the pictures since he got home earlier that week, so when you go over to his flat to spend the weekend with him, the pictures are just sitting haphazardly on his bedside table (which isn’t a big deal, because he lives alone and he’s got the more scandalous photos at the bottom of the stack). The raunchier photos aren’t even what catch your attention, you’re just looking through the ones he’s got of you and of the two of you doing the most innocent of things while you’re curled up against his chest – one of his band t-shirts and a pair of panties being the only things you’ve got left on, and he’s running his fingers through your hair as he looks at the photos over your shoulder.
“‘S one f’my favorites,” he says, pointing to one of you wearing one of his hoodies as a dress and dancing around towards the back of the crowd at one of the later sets, lights shining and bodies moving all behind you, but you’re twirling and laughing, and looking at him, and if Harry didn’t think it was completely insane, he’d say he was head over heels in love with you already (he does think it, he just doesn’t say it – it’s been a week). You grin up at him, pressing a kiss to his chest before you’re flicking to the next photo and you feel your entire body flush, and he moves his hand down to your hip to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, just letting his fingertips drag against your side.
“Love that one,” he whispers, and it sends chills all over your body, and you can feel where you dampen between your legs at his touch, at his words, at the fucking photo – because it’s you with your lips stretched around his cock, your eyes wide as you look up at him, tears brimming them, and the flower crown in your hair adds a certain sort of innocence to it all, still, but it’s fucking filthy, because you see where his hand is at the back of your head, guiding you a bit as his hips rocked up into your mouth. You remember how he’d told you that you were being ‘such a good girl,’ the way he’d tugged your hair and called you ‘angel’ all at the same time, and you press your thighs together at the thought of it all.
Harry must notice when you do, because he drags his hand so that he can cup your cunt, the tips of his fingers dragging around your folds, and you gasp in response. You’ve been laying between his outstretched legs for god only knows how long, and you whine and let your head fall back against his shoulder, your legs spreading wider when he presses calloused fingers against your clit. “Can’t even tease y’for gettin’ wet lookin’ at that,” he murmurs, rubbing against your button in tight, slow circles. “Got hard when I first looked at it, too – had t’get m’self off,” he whispers, and his lips are right up against your ear, and you grab his free hand by his wrist, bringing it up to cup one of your breasts, and he squeezes just once before he slips the same hand beneath the cotton of the shirt, thumbing over your nipple. “Harry, please,” you breathe, and you feel his smirk against your neck as you finally set the pile of pictures off to the side.
“Think y’should lemme’ take a few ‘f ya’ when ‘m fuckin’ y’proper, yeah? Make y’ a proper model f’me,” he whispers, and you let out a soft moan when he presses two fingers against your entrance, fucking them into you slowly while pressing wet kisses along your neck and jaw, behind your ear. “Look so pretty when y’cum, too. ‘Ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, love, I swear it,” he continues, and you can feel where he’s hard against you himself, and you clench around his fingers at the realization, and he hums in your ear. “So tight, too. Feel so good on m’cock – gonna’ be the fuckin’ death ‘f me,” he murmurs, and he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing in quick patterns while he fucks you with his skilled fingers, and it only takes a few moments more of that combined with a bit more dirty talk (even though it’s really not dirty talk, per se, despite how filthy it is – Harry means every bit of it and isn’t just saying it to get you off) before you’re cumming around him.
He makes sure that he gets a photo of you licking his fingers clean before he fucks you into his mattress (and it’s definitely too hard and desperate for either of you to be focusing on taking a picture).