Larry Stylinson One-Shots

Angst: Refers to a genre of stories with prevalent physical or, mainly, emotional torment of characters. Smut: A writting style that is sexually explicit. Erotic fiction. Fluff: A fanfiction in which the story has no plot. Only humourous or romantic nonsense.


22. #21

This one is smutty for all you dirty fucks heh •

Title: 'Cause All We Ever Do Is Love by eversincewefellapart on AO3

Summary: “Harry,” Louis says again, before giggling again and quickly stepping into the room, turning around and shutting the door fast but silently. Harry’s eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open when Louis turns around again, pressing his back to the door, legs pressed together, a familiar pink skirt wrapped high around his waist, falling to naked mid-thigh.

(PWP ft. 16 year old Harry, 19 year old Louis and that fucking pink skirt.)

Word Count: 2,803

Harry can hear Louis’ little giggles before he can see the pixie-like boy, sitting at his study desk, fingers skimming over the keyboard quickly when the door to his room pushes open.

“H,” Louis whispers, voice gleeful, and when Harry glances over his shoulder, Louis’ little fingers are gripping the side of the door tightly, head peeking out. Harry gives him a questioning smile.

“Harry,” Louis says again, before giggling again and quickly stepping into the room, turning around and shutting the door fast but silently. Harry’s eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open when Louis turns around again, pressing his back to the door, legs pressed together, a familiar pink skirt wrapped high around his waist, falling to naked mid-thigh.

“Louis?” Harry asks, and it seems like they’re introducing themselves again, saying each other’s names so much. He brings his hands down from the laptop to his lap, over his crotch, because he’s sixteen and the sight of his wank image in a small pink skirt as him hardening embarrassingly fast. He shuffles in the chair, turning sideways to give Louis a puzzling glance.

“H,” Louis greets again, smoothing his little hands down the pink, his fingers sliding between his thighs, quick but slow enough for Harry to notice. He swallows dryly, shifting in the chair. “Just finished a twitcam, did y’watch it, love?”

“No, I- I hadn’t, I needed.” He doesn't finish the sentence, I needed to finish this report, because his mouth goes dry and his tongue stiffens as Louis pushes himself from the door and walks over to him nonchalantly, feet padding softly against the thick carpeting of his room.

“I wanted to humor everyone, and I found this ridiculous skirt. I had a little fun with it.” He leans his bum against the edge of Harry’s desk, dangerously near to him now, a bare thigh right in Harry’s vicinity. “I didn't put it on, though; thought you’d appreciate it more than other people.”

Harry blushes then, trying to say something but nothing comes out. Louis just smiles down at him before reaching down and gripping his shoulders gently, pushing him in the chair again until he’s pressed against the back of it fully. Harry watches dry-mouthed as Louis straddles his thighs before plopping into his lap, and he thinks he’s going to die, this is it, he’ll die with his best mate wearing a pink skirt in his lap. He had so much potential, really.

“Why?” he croaks out a second later, as Louis adjusts himself, trying to make his position more comfortable. The way Louis’ squirming, though, has Harry growing harder even quicker, and his heart thumps, brain spinning, prays Louis won't notice. Louis notices everything, though.

“Because, Harry,” he says, stilling and bringing his hands up, one cupping the side of Harry’s neck, the other brushing the fringe out of his eyes, “I thought you’d appreciate it. Do you?”

Harry looks down, blushes harder, and his own hands come to grip Louis’ waist, thumbing at the noticeable lump the folded waistband of the skirt makes under his Rolling Stones shirt. “I guess.”

Louis smiles again, dirtier this time, and Harry cannot breathe when he grinds down once, still smiling a bit.

“I noticed,” he comments, a hand coming to press palm-down on the growing lump in Harry’s sweats, and Harry cants his hips up. He’s gonna die, honestly.

“I knew you would,” Louis continues on, and his fingers fit around the shape of Harry’s cock, rubbing it slowly through the material. Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, lips parting, stomach dropping.

“Hand-” he wheezes a moment later, when he realizes Louis will probably go on teasing him through the sweats, and he sounds needy, voice thin, “Lou, hand, please-”

“God, I never thought you’d ask. Shut the fuck up,” Louis grunts, and Harry wants to point out it’s only been ten minutes but he remembers Louis has thin patience, and his fingers are slipping under the waistband of his pants, which. He’d never want to interrupt that, really.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes a moment later, and Harry’s eyes snap open to see him wrapping his lithe fingers around his prick, hard and large and curved upward, “you’re really big for-”

“For what?” Harry asks, voice a bit frantic. Louis looks up at him and meets his eyes, confused.

“Nothing, sorry.” He strokes Harry once, slow and uncertain, and Harry whimpers, limbs straining a bit.

“Lou,” he says, voice cracking, and Louis looks up at him again, “I’ve got- I’ve got something in the drawer-” He waves one trembling hand out behind Louis, points it. Louis glances at it and gives a small laugh.

“Dirty boy, Harry.” His free hand tugs it open, disappearing inside before drawing out a mostly empty bottle of lube. “Dirty.”

He has to use both hands to open it, and he lets go of Harry’s prick to do so, flicking it open as he squeezes some onto his palm. Harry watches him for a moment before looking down again, too shameful to watch it for a reason.

His mouth goes dry when he sees the pink material of Louis’ (he’s not actually sure if it’s Louis’ skirt, really) skirt sitting on his thick thighs gently, narrow waist tapered in because of the waistband. He nearly looks like a girl from the angle, would it not have been for the fact his cock is now trapped under the material, poking through it.

“Dirty boy,” Louis says again, but it has more meaning this time as Harry eyes his thighs, sort of wanting to fuck them up. He grips Harry’s cock again with a wet palm, and he hisses, hands on Louis’ waist tightening because it’s cold and of course Louis’ the type of person who wouldn't warn someone.

“Sorry,” he says sweetly, and he begins to stroke Harry quickly, getting his dick slick, thumbing at one nipple with his free hand. It’s maybe the most erotic sight Harry’s ever seen, really, Louis leaning back against his desk, in his lap with a skirt on, jerking him off. He thinks he wouldn't really mind dying.

That’s when Louis stops stroking him. Harry’s slack jaw tightens and his hooded eyes go wide as he looks at the older boy, who’s lifting the hem of the skirt and shuffling up, lifting his hips over the tip of Harry’s cock.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry gasps, holding his hips tight enough he can’t move, “you can’t just do that dry-”

Louis pauses, mouth twisting up before he looks at Harry from under his lashes.

“Who said I was dry?”

Harry’s hand has never moved so quickly; skimming down his waist and under the taut folds of the skirt, running over his soft thigh and to where he’s already wet and loose.

“Lou-” he whispers, voice hoarse and Louis smiles down at him from the bridge of his nose, looking three million types of pleased with himself. He takes Harry’s dick in his hand again, gripping him lose, his skin winter-pale and ghostly against the flushed hardness. It makes his prick twitch in the older boy’s grip, causing him to smile smugly again.

Louis sinks down onto him easily; wet and loose, Harry’s cock slick. Harry’s eyes roll into the back of his head almost at the tight, slick pressure around him, cock throbbing, hands gripping Louis’ waist. The hem of the skirt brushes his thigh, and since it feels like every single nerve he has is on-edge now, he shivers, a hapless noise tumbling out his lips. His eyes open slowly, and he stares at the ceiling, enjoying the feeling. Until Louis rolls his hips once.

“H, fuck, Haz,” Louis mewls suddenly, and when Harry’s gaze snaps to him, he sees Louis’ thighs are trembling, stomach muscles quaking and nipples hard and poking through the material of his shirt. He’s tugging at his fringe, frantic, eyes blurry with tears, and Harry grips his wrists, entwines their fingers and settles their hands over the tops of Louis’ thighs.

“S’alright,” he croaks, hoarsely, and Louis bites his bottom lip, nodding before looking at him from under his sticky lashes.

“C’n I move?” he asks, and Harry chuckles helplessly, nodding like he can’t believe he’s asking. Louis seems to get that response from him, so he grips his hand tighter and rocks his hips once, and Harry can feel him pull him inside tighter, until his cock is completely in him, and Louis looks so fucking content with that. It makes Harry’s misery fade a bit.

“It feels nice,” Louis whispers, “doesn't it?” And Harry has to nod at that, because it does, fucking amazing feeling around his prick. He’s fucked girls before, felt their tight clutch around him, their slickness, but he doesn't think anyone else could overrun Louis.

(And that’s his opinion in everything, now, really.)

Louis wraps his arms around Harry, locking his fingers behind his neck, and just slowly rocks his hips, clenching around him. Harry sighs, a bit exasperated, before dipping down and kissing his jaw, the skin under his lips smooth and delicate. He nips at it with his teeth from the thought.

“Amazing-” Louis says, and Harry groans into his skin when he presses his tiptoes on the floor and lifts his hips, swaying a bit and pulling up and then dropping back down, feeling the drag of Harry’s sensitive cockhead inside him, “how someone could walk in here, and think I’m just sitting in your lap-”

“What about you wearing a skirt?” Harry asks, and he burrows his face into the crook of Louis’ neck as he begins to move quicker, thighs straining each time he lifts his hips and drops back down, sometimes resorting to just rolling his hips. “They’d- I think they’d find that a bit odd, you?”

Louis surges forward and kisses Harry hard, teeth and tongue, fingers tangling into his mess of hair. “Shut the fuck up.”

Harry grunts into it, and the next time Louis’ fully seated on his cock, his hands smooth down his curvy little sides, over his thighs and then sliding under the skirt, his fingers pressing into the fleshy meat of his bum. Louis makes a yelping noise into the kiss when Harry pulls his ass cheeks apart and his fingertip rubs against his stretched-out rim, cock spreading his arse out wide. He holds him there tight and, with shaky legs, stands up from the chair, breathing hard when Louis squeezes around him in retaliation.

He doesn't move, just bends over the study desk and lets Louis’ back hit the desktop, leaning back carefully to keep his cock pressed in the older boy. Louis makes an indignant noise, and when he’s back to his full height, Louis lets his thighs fall apart each side of his narrow hips, granting him the image of wear he’s all spread open and wet. Harry grips his knees, trying to normal his breathing.

“Y’know,” he says slowly, leaning over Louis again, patting his calves so he carefully hitches his legs over his slowly-broadening shoulders, “you have such a pretty little face.”

Louis’ eyes widen, and his mouth opens but Harry doesn't let him speak, bracing himself over him by placing two flat palms either side of his head, pulling out quick before snapping his hips back in, causing Louis to moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re really very pretty,” he continues, hips speeding up, cock slipping in and out of him faster, and Louis is writhing on it now, pushing down for more, lips open, a raw cherry red colour, eyes silently begging. “If someone came in the room when you were on m’lap-”

He grunts, leaning back and gripping Louis from the backs of his thighs, watching himself slide into the fleshy pink before continuing, “and you hid y’face, they would have thought you were a bloody girl- God, your cunt is tight.”

Louis hiccups a gasp, eyes wet, stained cheeks, and he arches his back, arse pushing down, thighs spreading as far as he can push them, a silent moremoremore. His little nipples are poking through his shirt, and he drags his nails down the wood of Harry’s desk, other hand reaching up to tug at the little nub, whining. Harry fucking loves seeing his loud, bossy exterior fade.

“You’d look so pretty in makeup,” he continues, and his voice is ragged and rough, heat pooling in his stomach, shoulders caving inward, “and some pink on y’lips, sucking me off. Then I’d eat your pussy out, jus’ like a pretty girl-”

Louis all but screams at that, back arching, and Harry would feel bad for his cock if he were in his normal state but he doesn't, just watches it shoot off over his shirt, hitting his chin, back arching, hips slamming down to meet Harry’s thrusts.

Harry doesn't stop as he comes, just holds his perspiring thighs tighter in his sweaty grip and pounds him into the desk, fucking him through it until he’s whimpering, eyes screwing shut, skirt pleats slipping down his skin. He clenches around Harry weakly, trembling a bit, mouth working over empty, nonsensical words until Harry slams in once more and stills, body jerking in oversensitivity as he comes, Louis squeezing around him once more to make him hiss and swat his thigh.

He can feel his cock covering in his release, and he winces, looking down at Louis, tongue heavy as he whispers “d’you want me to pull out?”

“Of course I fucking do,” is the expected and gotten reply, “what, do you want me to live on with your cock in my arse?”

“I’d suspect it,” he mutters, but holds Louis open as he gently pulls out, gripping his soft prick and watching his come dribble out of Louis’ wet rim and onto the piece of skirt under his bum. It’s a sight for sore eyes.

“You fucking got me all messy,” Louis mutters, reaching a hand down and pressing gentle fingers to himself. Harry blushes when their eyes meet quickly, and licks his lips. Louis’ cocks his head at him with judging eyes, making him flush deeper.

“Oh,” Louis says flatly, “right. You got me wet, right.”

“S’alright,” Harry says, and Louis’ eyes widen as he drops to his knees, nothing but Louis’ thighs and Louis’ smell and Louis’ leaking hole around and in front of him, “I’ve cleaned people up before.”

“Harry Styles,” Louis begins, and a hand shoots out to tangle into the top of his hair, pulling tight, “if you stick your fucking tongue-”

Harry ignores him, has found out that it’s a really useful thing to do sometimes, tuning Louis out, and spreads him open with his thumbs, licking into him quickly.

The breathless gasp that leaves Louis spurs him on, and he closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he keeps licking at him, tasting himself as well as the older boy. He presses the tip of his thumb in as well a moment later, and Louis pushes his arse down on his face, mouth, hands pulling out his hair to snake around his own cock and jerk himself off.

Harry’s mouth and tongue ache a bit when Louis comes a while later, but the way Louis twitches and makes soft noises is worth it. He wipes his mouth when he pulls back, feeling hot in his stomach when he sees his chin and mouth are slick and wet.

“Like a girl,” he tells Louis when Louis finally finds the strength to sit up, legs still idly shaking.

“Shut the fuck up,” he answers, eyes flickering from Harry’s mouth to his own cock, half-hard. “God, it was so easy to get a boner when I was sixteen, too.”

Harry watches him slowly get down in front of him, and the position is odd and cramped for their liquid-y limbs what with the desk and chair caging them in, so Harry pushes the chair back and spreads his legs for Louis to settle in between them.

“S’your turn,” he prompts, jutting his chin out, and Louis glares at him but grips his cock, hand still looking insanely tiny. He leans over him, jerking him off with his slick hand, craning his neck down, thumbing over his slit and Harry groans, coming over his chin and lips, thighs shaking around him as he keeps stroking him slowly.

“You’re a really dirty boy,” Louis hums, leaning back and licking his bottom lip. The liquid is dripping down his pretty face in thick trickles. Harry rolls his eyes, sinking back into the chair behind him.

“Yeah, but you’re the dirty boy with the skirt on, so.”

Louis squeezes his knee with one hand, the other hitching the skirt under his tummy so his wet thighs won’t show. “Shut the fuck up.”


I don't know if any of you watch AHS, but in the beginning Louis reminded me of the 'young' slutty maid omg

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