Harry Potter Imagines

Get in O.W

"I want Harry. I bet he's a lot better at sex than you."

The look in his eyes at your words is so dark and predatory that you actually have to swallow your terror back and fight to keep from running away. Oliver straightens himself up, and points at the empty classroom nearby "Get. In."  

Your legs obey without any input from your brain. They shake as you stumble towards the classroom, heart hammering so hard you wonder if you need to go to the hospital wing. You know exactly what is coming and you've missed it for too long to deny it.

You enter the classroom and spin around when you hear the door shut, your lips already attacked my his. His hands roughly grab at you and he backs you into one of the tables, the backs of your thighs colliding with the wooden edge painfully. It's so wonderfully familiar to have his hands on your and his lips kissing you so deliciously hard, one hand gripping the bac of your head, but you get the image of him and Alicia and you shove him off you, leaving him startled yet hungry for you.

"You can't just be with her and think you can drag me in her and-" he shuts you up with his mouth again, and you squeak when his hand squeezes your backside hard.

"This isn't about her. This is about me and you" Oliver growls against your lips. He tugs at your waistband but you kick him in response. He doubles over in pain, hand clutching his sore leg and grunting, and you smirk from the satisfaction.

His eyebrows raise when he sees your expression "Oh, you wanna play that game do you? Well if you like pain so much, why don't you bend over the table."

"Fuck you" you hiss as his hands grab your sides again.

"I'm counting on that" he smirks, his hands gripping your hair pulling sharply. You groan into his mouth and your hand takes hold of the back of his neck, squeezing hard and pulling him closer. At the same time. Oliver's hand returns to your trousers, sliding them down with ease. You grip his shirt and dig your nails in, making him groan into your mouth.

"I've missed you" he mutters, and you scoff.

"So much that you went to have sex with-" you are starting to get irritated with his kisses shutting you up.

"Stop fucking talking about her" he demands, and you gasp as his fingers wriggle between you legs. "I don't wanna hear about her, and I definitely don't want you to talk about Harry."

A long finger suddenly enters you and you moan without meaning to, your hands gripping Oliver tighter. He grins down on at you, watching you try to hold in your gasps of pleasure.

"Hmm...I don't think Harry could make you feel this good like me. Can he?" another finger. "Hmm?"

You shake your head as his hand moves faster, thumb on your clit, and your hips move without quite meaning to.

"Say it" Oliver commands, mouth on your neck. He bites down on the skin as you exhale sharply. "Tell me..."

"You don't deserve it" you pant, and Oliver's hand disappears, making you whine. He takes a step back and beings the process of removing his trousers.

"Get on your hands and knees" he orders, and you practically collapse on the floor. Once he's behind you, your breathing shudders with anticipation. His hand running over your backside and slapping it hard leaves you startled, and you almost scream when he suddenly pushes all of himself into you, barely leaving ant adjusting time before slamming into you over and over again.

You can't catch your breath from the sheer speed and strength of each thrust, but it's his hand gripping your hair again which really halts your lungs. He tugs your head back, forcing you to look at him, though your vision is jerky from how hard he is moving in and out of you. You can barely open your mouth from the feelings he's creating within you, all of your anger overridden.

"Harry is never going to fuck you, okay?" Oliver groans, his other hand squeezing into your hips hard. "It's only going to be me. I don't want him even touching you again. Because you're mine."

You moan wordlessly, moving your own hips back into him and matching his rhythm, making him moan.

"Who do you belong to?" Olive shouts, nails digging into your soft flesh. "Tell me, Y/N."

"You" you whine, shutting your eyes, "Just you."

"And who do I belong to?" he continues, slapping your ass sharply.

"Me" you cry out, almost howling as your orgasm hits you. Oliver lets go of your hair and soon follow, hissing your name into the skin of your back, hands sliding up your sides.

You keep still as he pulls out, catching your breath on your hands and knees, and don't realize that you're crying until the sob escapes you. You sit back on your haunches, wiping at the tears falling down your chees, and Oliver slides his arms around you, holding you tight. You take in his smell, his warmth, the shape of his body and the feel of his muscles, and can't stop crying.

Oliver pulls you both down to the ground and you lie practically on top of his chest, making the most of finally being in his arms and having him with you, his mouth on your forehead and your name is the only name leaving his lips.