Harry styles Imagines (Book 1)

Stumble

O-M-F-G YASSSS, this is the 120th Imagine, beating the record of 119 Imagines for Harry....I feel so accomplished. I worked all night for these Imagines. It Is now 12:03 and this Is the last imagine for tonight. So, enjoy :)

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Your POV

 

Harry’s hand connected with my cheek, sending me flying backwards. I crashed into the counter, my back stinging at the force of the impact. Tears formed in the back of my eyes, but I blinked them back. Harry didn’t deserve to see me cry for him.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed, his hands latching on to my shoulders. He shook me violently, and I let out a small shriek. Blinking, I struggled to focus on him, earning myself another slap. “You think this shit is OK?” *GIF*

He released my shoulders from his tight grip, disappearing into the hallway. I sighed, unable to ease the pounding of my heart. As I struggled to regain my breath, I nervously looked at the hall. I needed to leave.

—

“Where are you going?” Harry mumbled, sleepily, rubbing his eyes to clear them of the sleep.

His eyes landed on the bags tightly clutched in my hands, and he sat up. The covers fell off of him, revealing his half naked body. Despite myself, I could feel my eyes wandering along his toned abs. My eyes went back up to his, and I looked away when I noticed his hurt expression.

“Baby,” he whispered quietly, his voice cracking. “You’re leaving.”

My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t find any words. He crossed the room in a few quick steps. I flinched involuntarily, but my body relaxed when his hand gently caressed my cheek. His eyes wandered down to my lips, and he bent down, quickly closing the space between us.

His tongue leisurely made a trail along my bottom lip, and immediately, I parted my lips for him. Our mouths moved together, moving in ways that only we could. He deepened the kiss, placing his hands on either sides of my face, causing me to drop my bags. My hands moved to his chest, and I moaned when lead me over to the bed.

Closing my eyes, I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips as Harry’s hands cupped my breasts. His hands lingered there before slowly wandering down to my pants.

“I love you,” he whispers, moving to unbutton his own jeans.

I eye him warily, my teeth worrying over my bottom lip. My legs spread, willingly, for him, and I pull him back down for another kiss. “I love you, too,” I whisper.

And it’s true. ‘Cause every time I know that what we have is wrong, and I try to leave, he kisses me ever so gently, sending me back into his arms. I want to escape from him and his abuse, but every night I find myself stumbling back in love with him. And maybe I was addicted; I could never be sure. I just knew that I was his, he was mine, and neither of us were close to letting go.