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stylesharrys · 4 years

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Watermelon Sugar

Harry wants a taste of something sweet and Y/N wants to savour the moment.

A/N: this is obviously inspired by the video that came out like three hours ago... bet you didn’t think I’d write it this quickly lmao, enjoy!

Warnings: smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, food play (?), oral (female receiving), recording sexual acts (sex tape)

WC: 2.1k

She’s got the camera on him the second he walks in with the platter of sliced watermelons. It’s their third day in their Malibu vacation home and they’re yet to actually leave the house.

Harry’s got a cheeky kick to his step and she watches him get closer through the screen, jaw moving as he chews on a slice of watermelon. She’s in bed still, completely bare beneath the silky white sheet and Harry’s got a mixed array of clothing on that he grabbed quickly after announcing his craving for something sweet.

Both sure they’re still a little drunk from last night, Harry sways over as Y/N lets out a giddy giggle and kicks the thin sheet off her heated body. Harry doesn’t try to act coy. He tilts his head to get a better view of her over his blue tinted sunglasses and her thighs knock together in a rush of arousal.

“Not sure I want the watermelon now,” he teases. She’s too fucked to have a blush on her lips or seem bashful. The camera is still aimed at his face and he knows she’s caught what he just said on tape. What he doesn’t know is that before he came back to their room, she was catching something else on tape.

Harry sets the plate on the nightstand and lays beside her, knees by her head and face by her hips. He’s leaning back on one elbow, naughty grin on his pink lips as he takes a bite out of the sliced fruit. They both know he’s putting on a show for the camera and they love it.

He’s humming his own song, eyes closed and head rolling. Y/N has to bite back the urge to clench her thighs together and she knows she’s fucking soaked between her folds -- she can feel it threatening to spill through her swollen lips and dribble down her thighs.

“Watermelon sugar, high.” Harry’s still got a mouthful of food in his mouth and when Y/N zooms in through the old camera, it looks vintage enough to be passed off as from the 90s. She chooses to watch him through the lense instead, basking in the glow and sheer beauty he radiates from the musty filter and Harry thinks he can smell her arousal simmering.

The doors and windows of the summer house are open, leading down to the sandy beach and the gentle gushes of wind are smoothly breezing through the sheer net curtains. They can hear the laughter and sounds of the waves crashing just a few meters away and maybe that’s what makes it all the more exciting.

It’s when Harry takes another bite that a bit of juice dribbles from his chin and splatters across her rounded hip. The coolness of it causes Y/N to flinch slightly and he doesn’t miss the way his lovie’s thighs clench shut in eager desperation.

It only encourages his filthy grin and he’s leaning down to lick a broad swipe across the sticky skin. His tongue is cold on her flesh and his nose meets the dip between the apex of her thighs. He cant help but take a heavy inhale and his eyes flutter closed in pure ecstasy.

The camera has migrated with his movement and Harry rests the half eaten slice of watermelon upon her pussy, wicked grin tugging on the corners of his lips. Y/N’s shuddering as she tries to keep the shot steady but she knows her camerawork is atrocious. But it’s only for them to see.

He tugs off the blue tinted glasses and throws them to the floor with a shit-eating grin. He shuffles as he spreads her thighs until he’s laying between them and the watermelon slice has slipped just perfectly to cover her sweetest spot.

“Let’s make a dirty movie,” he mumbles. He’s nosing across the smooth skin of her inner thighs and Y/N’s trying to keep her eyes open, trying not to combust and drop the camera. She’s nodding breathlessly as he shuffles closer, smearing open-mouthed kisses until he reaches her core.

He lets his tongue flick across the fruit in quick successions and he knows she can see it from where she sits up on her elbows. “H, come on,” she breathlessly pleads; tries to roll her hips up to meet his face but he keeps them in place with two arms wrapping around her thighs and keeping her still.

“I jus’ wanna taste it, I jus’ wanna taste it,” he hums under his breath, biting a calculated chunk from the fruit and its juices mix with the pool that dribbles from her cunt. His eyes are fluttered closed again, head rolling at the faint taste of his love on his tongue. The fruit is too overpowering and Harry decides he doesn’t like the watered-down taste of her. He wants it right from the source.

“I jus’ wanna taste ya, baby, let me taste ya,” he drawls in a low sing-song murmur, nosing at the fruit slice until it’s out of his way and all he can see is Y/N’s perfect peach. Y/N’s letting our breathless giggles at the change of his lyrics and he’s smirking against her cunt as he swipes a long swipe through her swollen lips.

His tongue is immediately flooded with arousal, practically scooping it up and into his mouth and the filthy hum of approval sends shockwaves through her body. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he grunts out in appreciation. “Favourite fuckin’ cunt t’ ever taste.” His face is drenched as he forces himself closer to her.

Harry’s mouth is smearing across her entire pussy, licking and sucking at every inch he can. She’s keening into it. She doesn’t have to be looking down at him to know it’s sloppy and messy -- it always is with Harry. It’s always done right.

“So good, baby, oh God,” she’s praising him, keeping the shaking camera trembling on him. From the side screen, she can see just how eager and desperate he is. His face is close-up and his chin and cheeks are glistening in her arousal. His eyes are fucked, like he’s on a massive high and can’t quite come down.

She thinks it’s the most orgasmic thing she’s ever seen. “Baby, y’er fuckin’ dripping down ya thighs.” His muffled acknowledgement sends a rush of heat to her cheeks but it’s not from embarassment, never could be when he’s eating her so fucking good.

Harry’s trying to lap up everything she has to offer, completely emerging himself in her and he’s staring up and past the camera. His eyes are focused on Y/N’s face, like he’s waiting for her to look at him and he won’t falter his gaze until she does.

She knows the deal. How he loves to keep eye contact esepecially in these filthy moments. She feels his burning gaze on her warm face and raises to her elbow again to get a good look.

His green iris’ are glazed over with lust and need -- his lips swollen and red and his entire face from his nose down is shining in precum and arousal. She hears the sheets ruffling before she really catches on and then she feels a warm finger probe at her tight hole.

He teases a little, swirling and coating it in her wetness before he gently pushes forward and coaxes her with filthy praises of encouragemnt. “Tight little cunt, baby. God, look at you... dirty fuckin’ girl. My dirty girl.” Her back is arching in complete bliss but he doesn’t let his finger stay long before he’s pulling out and raises the hand to reach for her face.

She opens her mouth straight away, tongue flacid against her bottom lip and she welcomes his digit with a watering mouth as her lips close around it. She hums at the sweet taste of herself and Harry groans at the sheer filth of her actions. He lets her keep his finger in her mouth while he suckles eagerly on her clit.

He can feel her start to tremble around him but he knows she needs more. As much as her clit is throbbing and her thighs are shaking, he knows she needs a little push to really get her to that edge. With his spare hand, he unhooks his arm from around her thigh and brings it between her spread legs.

The lack of strength pinning her to the mattess allows her to thrash and squirm when he presses two thick fingers in her weeping cunt and begins to curl them. Harry’s humming and grunting into her sloppy pussy, fingers scissoring and curling in quick successions and Y/N loses control over the camera.

It topples to the bed until her thighs jerk and her knee knocks it to the floor. “Fuck, I’m cumming, Harry! Fuck, oh God, just like that!” Her begs are muffled around his fingers, desperate to cum all over his mouth and he grants her wishes. “Cum fo’ me, baby,” he coaxes against her swollen little nub and she shudders, letting go as she feels the coil tighten before it snaps and she’s cuming hard and fast.

Y/N can’t tell left from right, night from day. She’s reduced to a blubbering mess as her cunt grips tight on his fingers and he moves his hand away from her mouth to hold her thighs. She’s trying to thrash away from him with loud cries and pornographic whines but Harry doesn’t move. She’s begging him to stop, crying that it’s too much but he’s fucking infatuated with the sweetness of her little cunt.

“H, please. I can’t,” she sobs out, fingers yanking on his hair until she manages to pull his face away from her oversensitive cunt. He’s grinning wickedly at her, refusing to remove his thick fingers and his chin is fucking dripping with clear strings of thick arousal.

It’s a sight that only fucks her more, one that sends her body into shock and somehow has another wave of pleasure roll through her soul. She’s too fucked to notice Harry pick up the camera from the floor and this time, direct it to her.

He’s staring through the lense as the musty filter is painted over her blissful body. Her full breasts are flatter as she lays on her back and he introduces the camera to her little honeypot. Harry gets as close as he can, fingers still in her cunt as he pulls them out and spreads them open.

There’s thick strings of cum that connects the two digits as he pulls them apart and with a painfully hard cock in his pants, he leans over to his love and lets her lick a stripe between the two parted fingers, breaking the string as she licks it into her mouth.

Nothing is said as he hands her the camera and she faces it back to him. He’s stuffing his fingers between his swollen lips as he licks them clean, grinning around his digits while he stares down the camera. Y/N’s letting off giddy, post-orgasmic giggles that go right to his cock and he crawls closer to her until she’s forced to move her arm to extend the camera so they’re both in view.

His nose is pressing against hers, tongue licking a stripe from the bottom of her bottom lip to the tip of her nose and her own tongue tries to chase his. “’S my favourite taste in the fuckin’ world,” he gushes, parted lips smearing against hers and she licks into his mouth.

With as much strength as she can, she shuffles their positions so Y/N’s straddling his middle and Harry is fucked out beneath her. The camera is still in his face as she lets him take it from her hands again and he flips it to get the best fucking view he’s ever seen.

He records her shimmying down his body with sex-crazed eyes and her bottom lip taut between her teeth. When she settles between his thighs, her hands unbutton his brown pants and she finally lets her eyes meet his blown ones.

“Now let me get a taste of mine.”

#i HAD to #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot

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dweemeister · 6 years

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South Pacific (1958)

With the 1955 movie adaptation of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II’s Oklahoma! proving to be a popular success a roadshow attraction, producers at the other Rodgers and Hammerstein Broadway musicals began laying the groundwork for cinematic versions. Oklahoma! was released by RKO, but the three R&H adaptations to follow were housed at 20th Century Fox. Within Fox’s domain, South Pacific followed Carousel (1956) and The King and I (1956). The stage musical South Pacific was based on a short story collection by James A. Michener entitled Tales of the South Pacific – the winner of the 1947 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. In taking Michener’s work as inspiration, R&H implemented themes of racial prejudice that might have seemed groundbreaking upon the Broadway premiere in 1949 and the film’s late ‘50s release, but has become less norm-breaking in retrospect. Similar issues also affect The King and I. But when it comes to the theatrical releases, the craftwork and acting has assured The King and I’s place as one of the best Hollywood musicals. Shot on location in Hawai’i, South Pacific is an enormous production, but it contains less cinematic intrigue than other R&H adaptations.

Much of that is down to director Joshua Logan – experienced on the Broadway stage (the original runs for Annie Get Your Gun and Mister Roberts) not so much with movies (1955′s Picnic, 1956′s Bus Stop). Logan directed the original run for South Pacific for its five-year stay on the Great White Way. But the skillset for a successful stage director is not necessarily compatible with that of a film director’s. For example, when The Sound of Music first appeared on Broadway, it was not as universally acclaimed by audiences and theater critics. With its immortal 1965 adaptation under veteran film director Robert Wise, The Sound of Music surpassed its stagebound source material by embracing the Alpine scenery surrounding it, stretching images that makes possible what a Broadway audience might imagine.

Somewhere in South Pacific during World War II, the United States Navy and its Seabees are stationed, waiting for their next assignment. Aside from the usual tropical maladies, the most infectious affliction among the men is boredom. After an early song in which a local trader, Bloody Mary (Juanita Hall in yellowface; singing dubbed by Muriel Smith), describes the sexual mysteries of a nearby, forbidden island called Bali Ha’i, a few of the men find themselves aroused by the thought of easygoing dames. It is from here South Pacific establishes two storylines. The first centers around the love affair of Ensign Nellie Forbush (Mitzi Gaynor, the only major actor to do her own singing; her character is a nurse) and Emile de Becque (Rossano Brazzi; dubbed by Giorgio Tozzi) – a wealthy expat French planter with a guarded past – a past simultaneously hidden by time and in plain sight. The other subplot does not truly integrate itself until the second half, when Lieutenant Joseph Cable (John Kerr; dubbed by Bill Lee) visits Bali Ha’i and falls for Liat (France Nuyen).

Other significant characters include Luther Billis (Ray Walston), Captain George Brackett (Russ Brown), Commander Bill Harbison (Floyd Simmons), the Professor (Jack Mullaney), and Stewpot (Ken Clark; dubbed by the inimitable Thurl Ravenscroft). Elizabeth Taylor was considered by the producers for the role of Nellie, but, during her audition, she was so intimidated by Richard Rodgers that she could barely sing. It matters not, though, because Mitzi Gaynor’s performance is tremendous. Juanita Hall, as Bloody Mary, is the only original Broadway cast member to reprise her role.

Melodrama reigns. And melodrama, when paired with excellent filmmaking, can pack emotional wallops for even the steel-hearted viewers. Excellent filmmaking is not present here; far from it! The first appearance of major faults comes with Bloody Mary’s introduction, the song “Bali Ha’i”. Do not adjust the color configurations of whatever device you are reading this piece on – those saturated Technicolor filters blanketing the screen are present during many of the musical numbers and most dramatic scenes. During the film’s post-production, director Joshua Logan was concerned about how the rapid weather changes might appear in theaters. To mitigate that, Logan shot those aforementioned parts of the film through color filters – unintentionally mimicking the effects of mood lighting one might see on a stage play. Logan disliked the decision after seeing the final print, believing that the film processing lab saturated the colors to extremes. He requested reshoots but, because of South Pacific’s roadshow release schedule in which theater bookings were finalized months in advance, those never occurred. Logan reflected that the filters were the worst mistake of his filmmaking career, and I concur. Where these color tricks might work on stage, film is a different beast. As South Pacific is not a silent film, viewers do not expect tinting to that extent. Often occurring in the movie’s most romantic sequences, the oversaturation adds nothing to the poignancy onscreen. The filters are more suited for drinking games – not that I am giving you any suggestions.

Logan and cinematographer Leon Shamroy (1944′s Wilson, The King and I) botch the camerawork. The colorized filters interfering with the audience’s appreciation of the backgrounds, and this issue is exacerbated by Shamroy’s insistence on medium and medium-close shots for many of the musical numbers, as well as placing many props or foliage in the foreground. Shamroy sometimes carries over the same aesthetic and framing tendencies between musical numbers shot in the same general area (“There is Nothing Like a Dame” and “Bali Ha’i” in particular). The visuals, amid beautiful sights on Kaua’i, are frustratingly adequate given the on-location shooting.

As entertaining as South Pacific, it buckles with its gendered behaviors, questionable romance, and flawed arguments around racial relations. The secondary plot concerning Liat and Joseph Cable is grounded in the fears of Liat’s mother, Bloody Mary. With war raging across the Pacific and the fact that the economic presence of the U.S. Navy could disappear at a moment’s notice, Bloody Mary wants her child to enjoy the benefits of Western society and escape from the poverty of the islands. Liat, portrayed by Nuyen, has no agency and no choice of suitors because of her mother’s arrangements. Among their exotified neighbors, Liat, who does not speak a single word in this film adaptation (because apparently the worst sort of woman is someone who dares speak out concerning a man’s worst behaviors), embodies the Oriental feminine ideal pushed by artists over several hundred years: submissive, seductive, pale-skinned, giggling. Yet the musical and the film adaptation tends to play this for laughs, burying the narrative lede behind mother and daughter: the former preventing the latter from discovering love for herself, in the name of economic benefits (given how much money Bloody Mary claims she has made – and taking her at her word and inflation into account – their income probably far exceeds that of the average islander) and wartime expediency. Asian characters in Western narrative art – especially women – are often infantile, finding themselves at the mercy of underdeveloped, acquisition-hungry, and horny white characters. Where a musical like The King and I had its lead Asian and white protagonists on equal footing in terms of power and agency, that dynamic reverts to its stereotypical norm here. South Pacific has much to say about interracial romance – and not just with Liat and Cable – but its approach was and is regressive.

Not that the primary romance between Nellie and Emile is any better. From the moment they lay eyes on each other and an interested eyebrow is raised, Emile repeatedly engages in prevarication. He does this thinking that Nellie will not accept his truths – and really, too much of the drama in South Pacific occurs because of characters failing to explain their pasts or their reasoning (it’s tearing-hair-out-in-large-clumps stuff). Now, I’m all for forgiveness in leading one’s life. But Nellie, whose resentments are based on her personal racial intolerance and Emile’s history of obfuscation, forgives Emile too quickly, too easily to be believed. The two leads here are playing characters with an array of personal flaws that can be overcome. The resolution of those flaws plays out in the most dramatic fashion possible because, hey, it’s the Second World War and they have to put some war violence in there somehow!

It is my hope that you are watching South Pacific for its music, and not for the plot. Because the entire score from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical is intact, albeit many songs have been placed far differently from when they appear in the original stage musical. Credit to this film adaptation that the rearrangement of the song order makes greater sense here. Instead of jumping headfirst into Nellie and Emile’s romance, the film opts to introduce “Bloody Mary” and the Naval non-coms and Lieutenant Cable first with “There Is Nothing Like a Dame” – an enjoyable opening which establishes their longing for female company and restlessness. “Bali Ha’i” and the first appearance of the atrocious filters follows.

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Soon after this the musical’s best works appear where in the stage version they were featured far too early. Nellie and Emile’s budding relationship is outlined by three songs following the other: “A Cock-Eyed Optimist” is followed by “Twin Soliloquies” and South Pacific’s signature song – “Some Enchanted Evening”. Also preserved in their spots from the stage musical are “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair” – the film unfortunately cuts two minutes from the song – and “I’m in Love with a Wonderful Guy”. The partial deletion of the former song speaks to how the filmmakers wanted to champion falling in love (as opposed to loving someone), but that does not make me adore the latter song any less. As an example of how poorly South Pacific treats its Asian characters, “Happy Talk” is featured in all of its glorious pidgin English embarrassment (the song is often cut in contemporary productions, including the 2001 television version). This is the only Rodgers and Hammerstein film adaptation in which all of the songs are intact – “My Girl Back Home” being the one addition (and it was cut from the original stage musical).

This review is based on the general release version which runs 157 minutes long and does not include the intermission. The roadshow version runs for 171 minutes; includes an overture, intermission, entr’acte, and exit music; and contains additional scenes. Both the general and roadshow versions are available on home media.

For South Pacific, various elements of this film version – from how it handles its two romantic subplots and its commentary on interracial romance and relations – have not aged gracefully. The Rodgers and Hammerstein score, even if this does not represent the height of their collective musical acumen, remains indelible. Forget the love declarations and probably one-sided relationships. Stay for the music.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

#South Pacific #Joshua Logan #Rossano Brazzi #Mitzi Gaynor #Rodgers and Hammerstein #John Kerr #Ray Walston #Juanita Hall #Frane Nuyen #Russ Brown #Jack Mullaney #Ken Clark #Richard Rodgers #Oscar Hammerstein II #Leon Shamroy #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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