i'm persuasive

A/N: I’ve gotten a few requests for a smut piece on vibrating panties…enjoy. NSFW. 

“How d’they feel?” Harry asks you from his spot on the leather couch. His body language was dominant, his eyes dark. He was already in stage outfit, drinking his pre-show glass of wine. 

“A little tight,” you twist your lips. “Think they’re too small, they’re practically inside of me.” 

“That’s the point, love,” he stood, striding over towards the mirror where you stood, adjusting the red panties. “S’part of it.”

He was referring to the bet you two had made two nights before, while sitting on the leather couch backstage, the World Cup playing in the background. Harry’s head was in your lap, your fingers combing through his silky hair, occasionally moving down to boop his nose. 

“Wanna make a bet?” he said out of the blue. “On th’ next game? France versus Argentina?” 

“Depends on your terms and conditions,” you hummed down at him. “And I’m placing my bet on Argentina.”

“Alrigh’ well then I’m France,” he shrugged, slightly indifferent about who wins, but excited by the idea of this bet. “What’s your bet?” 

“If and when Argentina wins,” you pretend to ponder, although you already knew exactly what you wanted. “We go to the shelter tomorrow and adopt a rescue dog. Or cat is fine too.” 

“Alrigh’,” he shrugged, his shoulders hitting your hipbones. “Mine’s a little kinkier.” 

“It’s not going in my butt,” you had planned to continue, but he bursted out laughing. 

“Not tha’,” he giggled. “You’ve got t’ sit side stage wearin’ vibratin’ panties during my next show. N’ I get the remote.” 

Your stomach instantly clenched and your cheeks flushed as you reached your hand forward to shake on it. 

And that’s how you ended up here, seated on top of a crew box in the dark arena, watching thousands of people practically jizz their pants over your boyfriend. The vibrator part of the panties rested against your clit, but Harry was 3 songs in and had yet to turn it on. You silently hoped he had forgotten the remote backstage. 

As soon as the first few notes to Medicine ring out, you know you’re fucked. Your suspicions are confirmed when Harry sensually slides his hands down his side, subtly pressing the button. It starts off as a low buzz, filling your stomach with butterflies but not enough to make you visibly react. 

The vibration gradually gets stronger, the direct pressure on your clit causing you to squirm. Harry dances around the stage as usual, giving you the occasional smirk. He could see you out of the corner of his eye.

The setting changes to a different mode of vibration, pulsating gently but quickly. You try your best to keep a poker face, not wanting to capture the attention of any fans with wandering eyes. Luckily, the arena is so loud that nobody can hear the involuntary moans and whimpers that you’re trying to hard to conceal. 

As the song wraps up, you’re about to cum. Harry can tell from his position on the stage that you’re close. Giving you a devilish smirk, he gently taps his left hip and the vibrations stop. You sigh as you feel your orgasm fade away. 

The vibrations don’t start up again until the encore. You’re still sensitive, so when he presses the button in the midst of covering Fleetwood Mac, you squeal in surprise at the contact. 

Harry cockily grins down at you, turning the setting up to what you assume is the highest one. Your stomach instantly clenches, your failed orgasm from earlier creeping back at a rapid pace. 

As he transitions into Kiwi, its clear that he’s trying to focus on the crowd. But he keeps looking over at you, watching you bite your lip and wiggle your hips and try everything to keep yourself from losing control in front of thousands of people. 

When he hits the chorus, you’re teetering on the edge of desire once more, and he knows. He can practically hear your whimpers, his cock stirring underneath his black jeans. 

You bite down on your knuckle as you finally cum, Harry turning his head at just the right moment to watch you desperately try and conceal your orgasm. You sit there, humiliated at the thought that any one of these innocent concert goers may have just watched you come undone. 

 After you catch your breath, you practically run backstage straight to the dressing room. Harry walks in seconds after you, his sparkly shirt already discarded. He locks the door and immediately presses his lips to yours. You stumble backwards, landing on the couch. He climbs on top of you, his feverish kisses continuing. 

“The fuckin’ hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Cumming fo’ me in front of all those people. Almost fuckin’ busted righ’ there s’well.” 

He rubs his hard-on against your thigh, his lips honing in on the sensitive spot on your throat. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the remote, a devilish smirk on his face. 

“M’gon turn it back on,” he whispers. “N’grind my cock against ya real nice, yeh?” 

You nod as he strips down into his tight gray boxers. You nearly salivate when you notice a wet spot from his onstage exhibitionism. He grabs your waist and pulls you towards the edge of the couch, kneeling on the floor and lining your centers up. 

He presses the button, starting off on medium. His eyes immediately clench shut, jaw going slack. He mercilessly bucks his hips towards your center. 

“S’good but not enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Need you on top.” 

You two shuffle around and he settles on the couch, cock freed from its CK cloth prison. It’s resting against his belly, the tip red and swollen. You inhale sharply as a particularly strong vibration hits you before positioning yourself so you’re straddling his cock. 

“Don’ fuckin’ move,” he grunts as you try your hardest not to squirm. It was a challenge, and was only made harder by the fact that he was beneath you, looking completely fucked out already. “Bloody hell ‘m close.” 

Now you’re the one devilishly smirking as you reach for the remote, hitting the up button. You immediately let out a squeal, the blood rushing to your core as the vibrations buzz away at your sensitive cunt. 

Harry releases onto his stomach with a groan, his strong hands immediately pulling you off of his over-stimulated cock. Your orgasm follows closely behind, your legs nearly thrashing, whimpers leaving your quivering lips until he turns the panties off. 

“Gotta get me one of those vibrating cock rings,” he murmurs. “Cuz that was fuckin’ ace.”

A/N: Here’s a piece I started a while ago, when H guest hosted The Late Late Show. I’ve been working on it little by little for a while. Contains smut. 

You hummed a quiet tune to yourself as you entered the CBS studio elevator, anxious to get to your desk to start writing. Being co-head writer on a late night talk show was everything you had ever dreamed of, although it was stressful. Especially in today’s crazy political climate, news stories were constantly breaking, sometimes changing the monologue minutes before air. 

This particular morning, you had a million thoughts and potential bits racing through your mind. So when you arrived to the studio to see that James was absent, you immediately retrieved your phone from the bottom of your bag. Two texts from: James Corden. 

Jules went into labor, gonna miss the show tonight 

Harry is on his way to guest host

Here is a list of the people that I follow and who are just the most amazing and talented people out there!

I want to say thank you to all of them for creating amazing content for us to read and for being just so nice and supportive of each other!

I love you all!

A/N: I’ve gotten a few requests for a smut piece on vibrating panties…enjoy. NSFW. 

“How d’they feel?” Harry asks you from his spot on the leather couch. His body language was dominant, his eyes dark. He was already in stage outfit, drinking his pre-show glass of wine. 

“A little tight,” you twist your lips. “Think they’re too small, they’re practically inside of me.” 

“That’s the point, love,” he stood, striding over towards the mirror where you stood, adjusting the red panties. “S’part of it.”

He was referring to the bet you two had made two nights before, while sitting on the leather couch backstage, the World Cup playing in the background. Harry’s head was in your lap, your fingers combing through his silky hair, occasionally moving down to boop his nose. 

“Wanna make a bet?” he said out of the blue. “On th’ next game? France versus Argentina?” 

“Depends on your terms and conditions,” you hummed down at him. “And I’m placing my bet on Argentina.”

“Alrigh’ well then I’m France,” he shrugged, slightly indifferent about who wins, but excited by the idea of this bet. “What’s your bet?” 

“If and when Argentina wins,” you pretend to ponder, although you already knew exactly what you wanted. “We go to the shelter tomorrow and adopt a rescue dog. Or cat is fine too.” 

“Alrigh’,” he shrugged, his shoulders hitting your hipbones. “Mine’s a little kinkier.” 

“It’s not going in my butt,” you had planned to continue, but he bursted out laughing. 

“Not tha’,” he giggled. “You’ve got t’ sit side stage wearin’ vibratin’ panties during my next show. N’ I get the remote.” 

Your stomach instantly clenched and your cheeks flushed as you reached your hand forward to shake on it. 

And that’s how you ended up here, seated on top of a crew box in the dark arena, watching thousands of people practically jizz their pants over your boyfriend. The vibrator part of the panties rested against your clit, but Harry was 3 songs in and had yet to turn it on. You silently hoped he had forgotten the remote backstage. 

As soon as the first few notes to Medicine ring out, you know you’re fucked. Your suspicions are confirmed when Harry sensually slides his hands down his side, subtly pressing the button. It starts off as a low buzz, filling your stomach with butterflies but not enough to make you visibly react. 

The vibration gradually gets stronger, the direct pressure on your clit causing you to squirm. Harry dances around the stage as usual, giving you the occasional smirk. He could see you out of the corner of his eye.

The setting changes to a different mode of vibration, pulsating gently but quickly. You try your best to keep a poker face, not wanting to capture the attention of any fans with wandering eyes. Luckily, the arena is so loud that nobody can hear the involuntary moans and whimpers that you’re trying to hard to conceal. 

As the song wraps up, you’re about to cum. Harry can tell from his position on the stage that you’re close. Giving you a devilish smirk, he gently taps his left hip and the vibrations stop. You sigh as you feel your orgasm fade away. 

The vibrations don’t start up again until the encore. You’re still sensitive, so when he presses the button in the midst of covering Fleetwood Mac, you squeal in surprise at the contact. 

Harry cockily grins down at you, turning the setting up to what you assume is the highest one. Your stomach instantly clenches, your failed orgasm from earlier creeping back at a rapid pace. 

As he transitions into Kiwi, its clear that he’s trying to focus on the crowd. But he keeps looking over at you, watching you bite your lip and wiggle your hips and try everything to keep yourself from losing control in front of thousands of people. 

When he hits the chorus, you’re teetering on the edge of desire once more, and he knows. He can practically hear your whimpers, his cock stirring underneath his black jeans. 

You bite down on your knuckle as you finally cum, Harry turning his head at just the right moment to watch you desperately try and conceal your orgasm. You sit there, humiliated at the thought that any one of these innocent concert goers may have just watched you come undone. 

 After you catch your breath, you practically run backstage straight to the dressing room. Harry walks in seconds after you, his sparkly shirt already discarded. He locks the door and immediately presses his lips to yours. You stumble backwards, landing on the couch. He climbs on top of you, his feverish kisses continuing. 

“The fuckin’ hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Cumming fo’ me in front of all those people. Almost fuckin’ busted righ’ there s’well.” 

He rubs his hard-on against your thigh, his lips honing in on the sensitive spot on your throat. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the remote, a devilish smirk on his face. 

“M’gon turn it back on,” he whispers. “N’grind my cock against ya real nice, yeh?” 

You nod as he strips down into his tight gray boxers. You nearly salivate when you notice a wet spot from his onstage exhibitionism. He grabs your waist and pulls you towards the edge of the couch, kneeling on the floor and lining your centers up. 

He presses the button, starting off on medium. His eyes immediately clench shut, jaw going slack. He mercilessly bucks his hips towards your center. 

“S’good but not enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Need you on top.” 

You two shuffle around and he settles on the couch, cock freed from its CK cloth prison. It’s resting against his belly, the tip red and swollen. You inhale sharply as a particularly strong vibration hits you before positioning yourself so you’re straddling his cock. 

“Don’ fuckin’ move,” he grunts as you try your hardest not to squirm. It was a challenge, and was only made harder by the fact that he was beneath you, looking completely fucked out already. “Bloody hell ‘m close.” 

Now you’re the one devilishly smirking as you reach for the remote, hitting the up button. You immediately let out a squeal, the blood rushing to your core as the vibrations buzz away at your sensitive cunt. 

Harry releases onto his stomach with a groan, his strong hands immediately pulling you off of his over-stimulated cock. Your orgasm follows closely behind, your legs nearly thrashing, whimpers leaving your quivering lips until he turns the panties off. 

“Gotta get me one of those vibrating cock rings,” he murmurs. “Cuz that was fuckin’ ace.”