#harry styles x y/n smut
Text
false god
PAIRING harry styles x reader
SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.
WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT 5.5k
AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3
LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.
copyright © sleepyhollands. all rights reserved. || my masterlist.
“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”
“it does to me!”
“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”
“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”
“of course it does, i just—”
“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”
“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.”
… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon.
and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n.
don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof.
if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world.
but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet.
harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion.
now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company.
but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly.
“we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out.
even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.
“what are you talking about?”
harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”
when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
his eyes narrowed. “like what?”
“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”
while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient.
“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.”
oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again.
“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”
“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”
…
harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again.
it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions.
harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips.
things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory.
harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him.
it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad.
harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind.
this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—
“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.”
the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.
…
“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”
“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”
y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break.
but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with.
“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.
“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”
harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite.
“hey.”
y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern.
“doin‘ okay?”
she nodded, gulping. harry noticed.
“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”
“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”
that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.
harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“feel all right, baby?”
“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”
harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after.
“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”
…
harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy.
moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work.
they could make this work.
right?
…
“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”
“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”
y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes.
the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?”
harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”
“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”
harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke.
“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”
“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”
they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this.
when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”
y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but.
“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something.
“what was that, love?”
the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed.
they weren’t lost, were they?
…
if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her.
when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this.
harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips.
the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n.
“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him.
y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds.
“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body.
“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge.
y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while.
it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other.
…
y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.
now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once.
“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”
a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later.
compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.
“please, baby?”
harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest.
he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time.
it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.
in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away.
a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior.
“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”
“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.
“now, m‘ love.”
with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.
“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.
“i’m sorry.”
it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”
harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”
“what are you sorry for, then?”
harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”
y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve.
“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”
“for what?”
“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”
the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”
the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.
harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit.
y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest.
he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her.
“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.”
“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”
harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale.
“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him.
“you’ll always have me.”
taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy
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YOU’RE ALL I WANT
Summary: You and Harry finally reconnect.
Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.7kish
Warnings: Over 3k of smut!! Oral (fem! & male!receiving), fingering, allure to squirting, raw sex, creampie, slight fem!reader!Dom/subrry vibes if you squint!! 🤏🏻
A/N: Hi!! Sorry this has taken so long! The holidays were very crazy and work has been… just as crazy as always! But she’s here and I hope you love her as much as I do.. because I love her!! I’m also going to be tagging anybody who mention needing part 2 since it’s been a while!! Also, this is probably the last part! Song title inspo: “You’re all I want” by Cigarettes After Sex
Divider is by @silkholland!! I love your divider so much! Thank you for allowing us to use them. 🫶🏻
All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.
I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!
PART 1 || Main Masterlist
May 20th, 2022.
You tapped your fingers on your countertop as you watched the time slowly trickle by.
3:03PM.
Watching how slow the time was going felt almost agonizing.
You let out a groan as you felt as if time had never gone by any slower. You were still in your pajamas, sipping on your door dashed iced latte, stomach still full of your late morning breakfast, and you felt nervous. Nauseated, almost.
So nervous about seeing Harry tonight that you almost wanted to throw up. And you knew you didn’t have to feel this nervous, but it’s been almost a year that you haven’t seen him. It’s normal to feel this way. You can’t help it.
Harry’s album had already been out since midnight and you had to physically restrain yourself from listening to it. You wanted tonight to be the first night you listened to all of his new songs.
Either way, you knew they were going to be amazing.
You had also already chosen your outfit for the night. Which surprisingly had taken you so long to put together.
Simply because you wanted to look your absolute best tonight.
You searched throughout Twitter for concert inspiration and for any ideas that would help you. You knew fashion. You worked in fashion. You had your own famous fashion line and you still had no idea what to wear to this concert.
You’ve been to plenty of his concerts before. You even remember the outfits you wore to one direction concerts and it secretly made you cringe. Flashbacks of textured shorts and frail crop tops fill your mind.
But now.. now you wanted to surprise him and feel good. It’s been way too long since you had seen Harry's face and you missed him.
So, you did what you do best and you made your own outfit.
You ended up making a black jumpsuit with an amazing sequin fabric which covered every inch of it. It was long enough to pair with your favorite platform heeled boots that were comfy enough to be standing a long period of time in. You made the top of the jumpsuit have a cross neck fixture with a triangle opening right underneath your sternum and you made the back to match.
Now, it was just time for the clock to strike five for you to start to get ready.
So, here you are. Fiddling with your phone to try and pass the time faster.
You hop off the stool and move to your private sunroom in your penthouse that overlooks the river. You bask in the sun on your skin and wonder how tonight will go.
Hopefully everything goes well and Harry’s only expression when he sees you is happiness.
You can only hope.
You tug on your oversized silk blazer as you walk down the backstage hallway of MSG with Jeff by your side.
“Harry might shit himself when he sees you,” Jeff says to you with wild eyes and a loud laugh as you try and match his fast pace down the hall.
You let out your own nervous one as you fix your hair for the millionth time as you follow him.
“Don’t worry. I just might, too.”
You weren’t lying. You genuinely felt sick to your stomach. You had decided to wait until you knew that Harry would already be almost going on to text Jeff that you were waiting at the back entrance for him. Just so he wouldn’t be able to tell Harry you were here.
“The concert already started, but don’t freak. It just started,” Jeff says casually as you start to see the flashing lights from behind the curtain.
You still for a second right before you pass the curtain to let out a shaky breath. Reminding yourself to calm down. That it’s only Harry.
Jeff’s hands are suddenly touching your shoulders and he’s giving you a reassuring smile.
“Don’t be nervous. He’s going to be happy to see you. Trust me.”
You nod quickly and your senses are suddenly filled with loud screams. Thousands and thousands of people screaming for Harry. For your Harry and it makes your heart warm.
You follow Jeff to the side of the main stage behind a barricade, but in perfect view of Harry. And your eyes start to water as soon as you see him.
He’s wearing an adorable white shirt that’s lined with red hearts, black leather figure hugging pants, red sneakers, and a big chunky yellow necklace.
You cover your mouth to hold in your own cry, quickly shaking off the nerves as you settle into the spot next to Jeff, and you zone out as you admire Harry in his zone.
The way the music completely takes over his body and his actions. The way you can tell he lets the music get into his bones by the way he lets it take over and how he dances. The way he lets himself be free in a room filled with people that love him. People that you know he loves. His fans. His wonderful, amazing, love filled fans.
The way he smiles, laughs, and giggles so hard his dimples end up showing. And how he looks so freaking happy it makes you want to burst into tears.
You can easily tell this is his favorite thing to do. Just by looking at him. He’s the type of person that you can just watch and admire because everything he does leaves you in awe.
And that’s exactly how you feel.
Then, at the right moment when he’s prancing around the stage, and running on your side of the stage.. he glances down to look at Jeff and then he sees you.
You both lock eyes at the same time and he trips on his own feet, halting in front of you, and the screaming only intensifies when he breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve seen on him all night.
His hands immediately go to his heart and you see his eyes water as you smile back at him with matching watery eyes. He reaches for you with a small “Hi” leaving his lips and you mouth it back. You can tell he wants to say something else, but he quickly shakes his head with a grin and goes back to dancing around the stage.
You can hear fans calling out your name from around you as now they’ve noticed you. You look around, giving a small wave at the fans near you, and they shriek when you look at them.
You blush under their gazes as it never gets any less weird for you that people actually know who you are. But feeling grateful nonetheless.
Harry makes his way to your corner of the stage after he sings probably the saddest song you’ve ever heard and smiles at you as he settles himself with the microphone stand.
“Now this next song… this next song is incredibly special to me. One of my favorites actually. And…” he pauses and takes in a shaky breath. “The person who inspired this song is actually here tonight.”
The crowd goes wild. Loud cheers surrounding your entire body. You feel lightheaded as you watch Harry on stage.
Watching you.
He gives you a small smile and continues, “This person.. has been my best friend for almost a decade now. We actually met at a Halloween party many many years ago. Her best friend is actually the person I spilled my beer on,” you both chuckle at his words, “I’m getting off track here. But I just want to say that this person is the one person that I absolutely adore. I adore her, I admire her, I respect her, I recognize her, and I love her.” His voice cracks at the last couple of words, his bottom lip quivering and his chin caving in, and tears pool his eyes.
Your eyes are filled with tears at hearing his speech to you and knowing that this is showing his vulnerable side. Which he has always struggled with. You clamp your hands together against your chin as you only smile up at him.
“This is ‘Little Freak’,” he says into the mic as the band starts playing a soft melody.
The first lyrics remind me of the incident in Italy last year and your heart silently hurts. You grip onto the railing in front of you as you listen closely to each lyric.
Finding yourself relating to each word and wanting to pull Harry into your embrace.
Did you dress up for Halloween? I spilled beer on your friend.. I’m not sorry.
You chuckle as you sniffle while slow tears fall down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away. You watch him in awe as you hear everybody singing along to the lyrics. To a song that came out less than twenty four hours ago.
I disrespected you
Jumped in feet first, and I landed too hard
A broken ankle, karma rules
You never saw my birthmark
Okay. Maybe this is the saddest song you’ve ever heard. Harry holds out the microphone to his fans and gets overwhelmed when they’re singing back his lyrics so loudly. You laugh with joy at how happy he is.
“Thank you so much,” he says into the microphone with his voice wavering, but sounding so grateful.
Just thinkin' about you
He finishes singing the last lyric and he looks over at you with a smile. You smile back with a thumbs up and his dimples show.
The rest of the concert goes by so quickly you can’t even believe it’s been almost two hours since he started.
Every single one of his songs feels connected to you in some way and you wonder if you were in Harry’s thoughts when he wrote this album. You know ‘Little Freak’ is about you since he practically dedicated it to you before he sang it.. but you wonder about the rest.
A part of you doesn’t want to know.
Jeff is by your side as soon as Harry runs off the stage after doing his famous ‘Whale’ and glancing at you quickly.
Jeff wraps his arm around your shoulder, with a smile, he asks, “What’d you think?”
“He’s incredible.”
“That’s our boy.”
You hum in agreement and you both walk off backstage to the chaos that is the loud voices of people congratulating the band and Harry on a brilliant performance.
You stand in the background, watching Harry take each compliment with grace, a shake of each person's hand, and a dimpled smile on his face.
You watch him carefully, bouncing on your heeled boots, heart racing, fingers aching to feel Harry’s skin, and your body trying not to reach for him.
You smile softly when you notice his eyes searching the room and then they land on you. His expression changes to a mix of glowing happiness and absolute joy. He looks like a little kid that just got offered a lollipop at the dentist.
He politely excuses himself from the group he had just thanked and hastily makes his way towards you.
You open your arms to him on instinct, “Hi.”
His arms engulf you into his space, completely tucking you into his body, and you feel complete. His hands wrap around your torso, underneath your blazer, touching your skin, and your arms wrap around his neck. Your faces squeezing into each other’s necks and he whispers a breathy, “Hi.”
You melt into his embrace, smelling his cinnamon roll hair styling crème that he still uses, and it brings back a decade of memories for you. His strong arms squeeze you as he lifts you up off your toes and you can hear him inhaling your scent.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
You chuckle into his neck, “Me more.”
You both pull away at the same time, staring at each other, and you place your hand on his cheek. He leans into it with a small smile, beautiful glossy green eyes staring into yours, and you thumb his cheek.
“I’m sorry, H.” You confess with a soft tone, trying to hold your voice steady while your heart races inside of your chest.
“Don’t apologize. I’m the one that messed up, but.. c’mon.” He wraps his hand in yours, giving Jeff a small signal, and he starts to walk off towards his dressing room.
He leads you into the big dim-lighted room, shutting the door behind you, and locking it for privacy.
You stay in front of him, glancing at him and trying to see if you notice anything different about it.
But he’s still the same Harry. Right in front of you. Finally.
He pulls two cold waters from the mini fridge and hands one to you as he leads you both to the couch. You get comfortable as he kicks off his shoes, leaning into the green couch, and planting his feet on top of the coffee table. You sit back and admire him for a second before drinking some water.
After a moment of silence, he asks, “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good. Missed you tho.”
He smiles as he tucks his chin into his chest, arms crossing over his chest, “I did, too. More than you can imagine.”
“Yeah?” You question, playing with the rings on your fingers, and you look at him from underneath your lashes.
“Come here,” he says as he reaches for your hand. Your insides turn and you let him pull you into his lap. Your breathing hitches as he stares at your face, taking you in, and then his eyes land on your lips.
“Of course I’ve missed you. You’re my best friend,” he whispers into you as he slowly leans in and you close your eyes, waiting for his lips to touch yours.
“Do you still want me?” You blurt out bluntly, your eyes going wide, and you suddenly feel weak. You feel vulnerable. Insecure.
Harry tenses in front of you, his eyes going wide, and he searches for words. But nothing comes out. His eyebrows furr in confusion, “What? How-I… Are you serious? I was about to kiss you..”
You look down, ashamed at your question, and you feel him pull your face back up to meet his own eyes with his thumb.
“How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?”
His eyes are sincere and full of concern. His body leans into yours, his arms that are holding you only grow tighter, and you wrap your arms around his neck limply.
You lean into his touch and try to smile. Your lips wavering when you say, “I.. I ignored you for months.”
“You had your reasons. I was awful to you. I said mean words to you that I should have taken back as soon as I had spoken them. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His thumb caresses your cheek as you nod at him.
“I’m still sorry,” you say again as you kiss the inside of his palm.
“I have always wanted you.”
“What?” You say with a grin as he matches your own.
“I, Harry Styles, have always wanted you, Y/N L/N. Ever since the first moment I saw you. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on and you continue being so.”
You let out a watery laugh as tears prick your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Stop! You’re making me cry!” You both laugh together as he places a big smooch on your cheek.
You giggle as he slowly starts to kiss your cheek and makes his way down to your lips.
His hands are holding your face when he leans back and asks you, “Can I kiss you?”
Before you can even finish nodding, his lips are on yours.
His lips feel soft and warm against yours. You both held your breath as he waited for you to respond to his kiss, his lips on yours, but full of hesitation.
You relax into his hands, letting yourself finally kiss him back, and a feeling of euphoria fills your body. You both moan into the kiss, tilting your heads for better access, and you pull at each other to feel closer together. He slides off your blazer and touches your naked arms, moaning at feeling your skin against his own.
Your tongue fights with Harry’s and you suck on his bottom lip with a moan. Your hands moving from the back of his warm neck to his curly hair, tugging at the roots, and filling with content when he groans into your mouth.
Harry lets go of your face and he’s moving your body over his own, adjusting himself onto the couch, and you plant yourself down on his hips. Feeling his hardening bulge against your core makes you feel hot. Your core aching in want and you grind against him.
You both meet again in the middle and kiss, lips lapping against each other, open mouthed moans, and pants filling the room. Slow hips grinding against each other.
In the rush of probably the hottest way you’ve ever kissed someone, he’s suddenly pulling away from your body completely.
Leaving your body aching for his touch and your skin feeling burned as his hands leave your waist.
You’re suddenly filled with confusion, furring your eyebrows, and peering up at H.
“What’s going on? Why’d you stop?” You pant out as you try to catch your breath.
H looks like he’s torn between a million emotions as he clutches his eyes in distress, a heavy breathe escaping his lips, and he’s shaking his head. Then.. he chuckles.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this..”
Your heart stops.
“But.. I don’t want our first time to be like this.”
Oh.
“Oh?” You question with a small smile as you sit up on his lap, adjusting your jumpsuit straps around your neck, and he’s leaning against the back of the couch… looking so adorable.
He looks almost shy right now and he blushes under your gaze.
“Yeah,” he says as he reaches for your hand and you let him. “I want our first time to be special. I want it to be in my bed or yours. And I want it…I just.. I don’t want to fuck you in this dressing room. I mean—“
You cut him off as your cheeks flush down to your neck at his words, “I have an apartment here.”
His eyebrows spike up in shock as he looks simultaneously confused, shocked, and you can tell he’s hurt that he doesn’t know about this major change in your life. You reach for his hand and squeeze it when he immediately grips onto yours. Trying to reassure him with your touch.
“Since when?”
“Fairly recent,” you say with a small smile playing on your sinful lips.
“Where?”
“The Copper,” you say with a glint of enthusiasm and he only matches you. Like always.
“You got an apartment there?” His eyes glint with a look of pride.
“I got the penthouse.”
The second that you both walk into your penthouse, Harry’s mouth and hands are on you. And you’re not complaining.
You throw off your blazer at the same time he kicks off his shoes.
His hands are all over the parts of your skin that isn’t covered and he stops when he finds the clasp around your neck. He swiftly unhooks your jumpsuit and you feel it fall over your shoulders and down your chest. Your breasts are now exposed and you feet the cold air brush against your nipples. Perking them up and making you gasp in pleasure.
He tugs on your jumpsuit which makes it pull around your waist and his hands move onto your breasts. He moans into your mouth when he feels them naked since you’re not wearing a bra or pasties. He thumbs your nipples and you whimper into him, licking the roof of his mouth, and sliding your hands underneath his shirt.
He manages to shove you against your couch and you both tumble on it, giggling into the kiss, and his hands are around your body to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.
You giggle as he kisses you, which only makes him giggle with you, and then you’re laying down on your couch. You pull away from him when you feel him get on his knees in front of you.
He slowly slides his hands underneath your jumpsuit, unzipping your boots, and tossing them to the floor. His eyes are only on you.
You watch him with want as he slips off his shirt, tossing it to the side, and you shimmy out of your jumpsuit. Tugging off your black thong with it.
Harry's lips are on yours again and he’s hungry. Kissing you deeply, his tongue fighting for dominance with your own, both moaning and panting, aching for each other, and he’s reaching down to unzip his pants.
Harry’s hands suddenly are off of your hips and his lips leave your own. You whine as you feel him pull away from you and you quickly open your eyes to watch him as he’s watching you, now sitting on his knees on the couch, and his eyes never leave yours.
He slowly lets his eyes wander down your naked body, fully taking in that this is the first time he’s ever seen you naked, and it makes you ache in ways you’ve never ached before. Makes your skin break out into goosebumps at the mere sight of him taking you in.
He stands up, shoving off his leather pants and his red briefs, and his long, thick dick makes an appearance. Your eyes go wide as you look at him, the first time truly looking at his dick, and your pussy only clenches with desire at the same time your mouth waters with want.
His dick is beautiful. Long, thick, and looking juicy. And waiting to fuck you up. His tip is leaking pre-cum already and it bounces with every movement he makes. He moves back to where he was sitting on his knees on the couch, admiring you as you admire him.
“Fuck,” he mutters out as he wipes his face with his hands before he sets them down on your ankles.
“What is it?” You whisper as you move your legs to open up in front of him, feeling your wetness coat your inner thighs, and he bites his bottom lip. His dick twitching in all its hardened glory. He’s almost fully leaking from the tip of his dick.
“You… are beautiful. Breathtaking.. and this is the first time I see you naked. I just wanna admire you,” he says as he pulls your ankle to his shoulder and kisses your shin. You smile as you let yourself spread out more for him as he starts kissing up your legs slowly and sinfully.
Your breathing hitches as he gets closer to your center, you're already antsy when he stops in your inner thigh, kissing both of them, licking them, and sucking small love bites onto them.
You massage your breasts as you lean your head down to get a better look at him.
“You’re glistening,” he mutters against your thigh, kissing right next to your aching pussy. You can help but moan out in want and anticipation. Your hips are getting a mind of their own as you try to hitch them towards his mouth and his eyes move towards yours.
“So inpatient,” he says as his cold fingers are suddenly touching your wet lips, pulling them open, and he spreads you to his liking.
“Oh my god,” you moan out at the sensation that overcomes your entire body at Harry finally touching you.
He moves himself in between your legs, pushing your thighs down on each side, and he lets his tongue slowly lick your pussy. You clench around him, you can’t fully believe that this is happening right now, and you twist your nipples in between your fingers. You tilt your head back in a pant when Harry slips two fingers inside of you.
“Fuck,” he groans out as he curves his fingers inside of you and your pussy only tightens around them. Your breathing has picked up and you can hear how absolutely drenched you are by the sound his fingers are making as he moves them in and out of your pussy.
Harry seems to only fuel himself more with your moans and panting because you feel him start to devour you. You gasp when you feel his tongue lick you from the bottom of your folds all the way to your clit where he swivels his tongue around it and sucks it into his mouth gently. The bundle of nerves makes the pit of your belly harden in pleasure, your back curving upwards, and your hands move into his curls to hold onto something. Anything.
You moan out his name when his fingers start thrusting inside of you, in and out. In and out. And then he picks up his pace, slightly, but making a big difference in how it fuels your impending orgasm.
His fingers continue to fuck you, his mouth devouring you, and his tongue is torturing you. In every possible way. You know this is going to be the best sex of your life. You know you’ll never be able to move on from this. You hope Harry will feel the same way, too.
His mouth moves skillfully against your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit in all the best ways, and you can feel the pressure slowly building up in your lower stomach.
Harry sucks onto your clit, making your legs start to shake slightly, and he inserts a third finger into you. You cry out in pleasure, your body feeling like it’s on fire, your skin is glistening with sweat, and you start to move your hips to match the pace of his mouth.
He doesn’t stop his movements. He only keeps going. His fingers fucking you like heaven, his moans sending shockwaves through your body, and then.. he moves his tongue into the right spot on your clit which makes you absolutely explode from underneath him.
You yell out his name, so loud that if you actually had neighbors on this floor, you’d be scared they’d come banging on your door for being so damn loud, and your eyes prick with tears from the amazing orgasm that overtakes you.
Your toes curl into the couch, fingers gripping onto his curls, entire body clenching and then releasing as you feel yourself soaking Harry's mouth and fingers, and he’s lapping up every single drop of your release. Moaning as you can see his thighs grinding into the couch.
You don’t even let your body come down from the high when you’re hastily moving from being underneath Harry to being on top of him, straddling him, and kissing him hard. Sucking his lips into yours and moaning when you can taste yourself on his tongue.
You kiss him for a couple seconds before you move down his stomach, licking his butterfly tattoo, sucking a couple love bites on his abs, and letting yourself make eye contact with him the entire time.
His pupils are blown out, lips plump and swollen, cheeks flushed bright pink, and he looks fucked.
“Fuck,” he pants out, his voice raspy and blissed out. And he can’t even react before you’re taking in his aching dick into your mouth. Fully deep-throating him that the tip is curving into the back of your throat. Your eyes water as you keep eye contact with him, your hands holding yourself steady against his fern tattoos, and his hands grip into your loose hair.
“Holy shit! You’re fucking-I-you’re fucking taking me all the way, baby!”
You preen at his words, bobbing your head on his dick, pulling up slowly to let your tongue lap over his tip, sucking off the pre-cum into your mouth, and moaning so that he feels every vibration in your throat on his dick. You can feel his dick twitching in pleasure inside of your mouth and it only fuels you to be better. You pick up your pace, nails digging into his hips, lapping him up, and everytime you go all the way down, you let your tongue lick his balls too.
Harry suddenly pulls your face off his dick and you whimper at the disconnection. You look at him with big, blown out pupils, and a stream of saliva connecting your lips with his dick.
He groans as his hands move down to your breasts, pinching your nipples, and then he thumbs your swollen lower lip to wipe off the mess.
“‘M gonna cum if you keep suckin’ me off like that, honey.” His voice is breathless as he cups your face, pulling you up easily, and connecting your lips with his. Your wet core lands on his fat, aching dick, and you already need him inside of you.
You’re aching for him.
You kiss each other roughly, hands all over each other, and you start hitching your hips higher trying to align yourself with his dick. You can feel his dick fluttering in between your folds, wetting him up even more, and then you feel your opening align with his dick. You shift your hips a little bit more and you feel the head of his dick right where you want him.
You lower down onto his pulsating dick and he groans into your mouth. His hands immediately find your hips, holding you steady as you try to lower yourself more, only being halfway.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight right now. So fucking tight, give me a second..” He moans even louder as he allows you to lower yourself even more until your pelvis meets his own. You steady yourself on his chest, tightening your arms against your breast, and smiling wickedly at Harry’s expression which only shows pleasure.
You slowly start to move against his hips, slowly bouncing on his dick as his tight grip on your hips help you move, and you can feel how desperate he is for you. How much he’s wanted this. How much you’ve been wanting this.
He slowly starts moving his hips underneath you, quickly changing the pace from slow and sultry to fast and rough. The sound of slapping skin fills the entire penthouse, your moans mixing with his own, and your hands are touching him everywhere.
“You feel so good,” you whimper out to him as you lick the curves of his neck as he pulls you into his chest as he hitches his hips to fuck into you like this.
“You were made for me,” he whimpers back as his arms wrap around your waist.
His thrust only increases in speed in this position. His dick filling you up completely, like nobody ever has, touching every inch of your walls, and your wetness only allows him to fuck into you faster.
You feel the familiar feeling building up in your belly, you lick and suck his earlobe, “I’m so close.”
He quickly turns you over, so that your body is laying on the couch now, his dick never exiting you, and now he hitches your legs to wrap around his waist. He presses down against our belly and it only fuels your climax.
“Oh my fuckin’—” you cry out as you feel Harry fucking you hard and him pushing against your cervix seems to increase the sensations.
“Feel me up here, huh?” He groans out as he continues to push into you at a rough speed which you can only nod, feeling absolutely fucked, and he moves his free hand to your clit. Moving his thumb in circles roughly against it which triggers your orgasm.
You clench around his dick, crying out loud, your entire body breaking out into goosebumps, and instant satisfaction floods you. You tighten your legs around Harry, pulling him into you, waiting for him to cum too, and he’s looking like a fucking god above you.
His curls falling around his face, sweat glistening his toned body and his forehead, fucked out, bright flushed pink cheeks, and you don’t know what comes over you…
You reach forward as he fucks you and you place your hand aound his neck, holding the sides, avoiding the center, and his eyes go wide.
His eyes instantly meet yours and his lips part in shock. And you keep moving your body against his, letting him use you completely, and then.. you squeeze around his neck.
His eyes roll back into his head, biting his bottom lip, fucking you rough and hard, and you know he’s about to cum. You squeeze his throat harder and your free hand reaches underneath his neck to tug his curls.
He lets out the loudest, gut-wrenching moan of the night, and his thrusts start turning animalistic, when he yells out, “Fuckkk!!”
He continues to thrust into you as he reaches his peak, filling you up completely, and you both are a panting mess as you both start coming down from your orgasms.
Harry flops onto your chest, but holding himself up with his forearms on your sides. You giggle as you can still feel his dick inside of you, but you wrap your arms around his neck.
He lifts his head, panting, and eyes glistening. He smiles at you, bunny teeth showing, and dimples carving his cheeks.
“That was…” he stops as if he can’t even find the words, but who are you kidding? You can’t either.
“It was,” you agree as you kiss his forehead.
“That was very much long overdue,” he states with a teasing grin and you playfully pinch his forearm. He laughs into your neck before giving you a soft kiss.
“How long are you here for?” You ask, not really wanting to ask, but you know you should.
“I’m here as long as you are.”
You furr your eyebrows in confusion, lips parting with a question, and he shushes you.
“I’m not letting you leave my sight ever again.”
He places a million kisses over your face, you swat him away with giggles, and then hold his face in your hands. Eyes locking.
“Does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” You tease.
“Shit, I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d let me.”
Your eyes glint with amusement and so do his.
“Who says I wouldn’t?” You whisper at him, playing with his curls in your fingers. And he attacks you with another million kisses.
You could get used to this.
And you think you just might.
“So, where’s that secret birthmark of yours?”
-
@that-daydream-look @harrysfolklore @b-reads-things @tbslnightly @noseyrosey1597 @alwayslovingharry @alreadyjackbestfriend @cevansssss @1cedteaa @feestyles @you-sunshine @awesomebooklover17 @aruima
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friends, right? pt.2
you didn’t really think i’d leave you hanging like that, did you??
word count: 4.2k-ish
disc. nsfw content ahead. mdni. includes fem!reader n harry styles, daddy kink ig, teasing, praise, oral, sexy time, bold ass language, best friends but not really vibes n other hot shit.
read pt.1 here <3
•••
You open your eyes with difficulty, finding it hard not to melt away at how good Harry’s thigh is making you feel. If he’s making you feel so good by just sitting there and letting you use him, how good could he make you feel if he actually does something to you himself? God—
“Gonna cum for me, love?” Harry’s voice is in your ear and all you want is to come undone, “Can feel you shaking already.”
“Fuck—” You struggle to keep your eyes open as you moan, “I’m..H—Harry I’m—”
He cuts you off with a kiss, and you moan into his mouth, “I know love, s’okay. Let it happen, let it out. Let me feel it,” He whispers as you pull away, his eyes set on yours as you continue to move your hips along his thigh, “Cum for me, Red.”
Oh. Oh.
Your mouth falls open, your eyes rolling back as your orgasm takes you by surprise, crashing down all at once. Your legs begin to shake and Harry holds you in place, his hands by your waist as he watches you.
“There you go,” He whispers words of praise to you, kissing your neck as you throw your head back lazily, “Theeere you go, love.”
You whimper as he continues to move your hips against him, letting you ride out your high.
“Yeah? I know, poor baby,” He smirks at how fucked out you already are, taunting you, “So good for me, hm?”
You bite down on your lip and nod, and he leans in to bite it himself. You melt against him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to deepen your kiss.
“Stand up.” He murmurs against your lips, and you oblige.
He grabs a hold of your hand, knowing you’ll need it in a second. You struggle for a moment when you first get up, using Harry as support. It takes you a few seconds but you’re able to stand.
Harry’s eyes are on you and he’s taking you in, looking at you properly for the first time since you took your clothes off. He was in such a rush before, such a rush to let you use him, such a rush to make you feel good—that he didn’t realise how fucking sexy you look with nothing covering you up.
As he’s looking at you, you notice that the situation isn’t very fair. You haven’t got any clothes on, and Harry’s still got his boxers on. Normally you wouldn't think that that’s a lot of clothing, but compared to what you have on..
Harry seems to read your mind, smirking and reaching for his boxers when you reach forward and stop him.
“Wh—” He furrows his brows at you, confused.
“Let me,” You whisper, reaching for his boxers yourself.
Harry arches his brow at you slightly, clearly not expecting for you to be so direct with him. He’s always seen you as the innocent one out of the two of you. You were never the type to sleep around or have meaningless sex the way a lot of your other friends—including him—would. Harry’s always expected for you to be the shy, innocent fuck and you’ve always been fine with it because what’s wrong with that? And you’ve never felt the need to prove yourself to anyone and he has no idea and oh you’re going to enjoy this.
You give Harry a quick kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth to make him think that you’re about to kiss him for a lot longer than you actually are. When he leans into your touch and tries to grab a hold of your waist to deepen the kiss, you pull back, breaking away. Harry tenses his jaw. You’re teasing him. It’s working.
“Red..” He murmurs your pet name as if to warn you not to go too far, to warn you not to torture him with your touch.
You look at him and smirk, sinking to your knees. His eyes follow you and his lips part in anticipation as you reach for his boxers again, your eyes still glued to his as you start to palm him through his boxers.
“Fuck,” He breathes out, his eyes widening at the feeling of your hands against him. “Oh, fuck—"
You bite your lip and reach your fingers under the hem of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. You’re agonisingly slow. Seeing Harry’s chest rise and fall at the rate it is, is only making you want to go even slower.
He’s giving you front row tickets to your favourite show.
“P—please, love,” He murmurs, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along it for a moment, “Take ‘em off for me.”
You smile up at him and nod, satisfied with his desperation. When you finally pull them down that little bit more, his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. He sucks in a breath as you reach forward, wrapping both of your warm hands around him.
You look up at him, flattening your tongue against his tip and licking him once. Just once.
He tastes so good that you struggle not to taste him some more.
His head tilts back against the wall and his mouth hangs open, slack as a string of dirty words fall from his lips. He’s tense.
“Relax, H,” You whisper, looking up at him innocently as you use his own words against him, “Let it happen,” You place a kiss to his tip, “Let it out,” You lick him, “Let me feel it.” You wrap your mouth around him, bobbing your head until he’s completely lost in you. Harry sucks in a breath, looking down at you with his lips parted.
“Fucking god—fuck—shit—” His eyebrows are knit together, in complete disbelief at how fucking filthy you look for him right now. Here you are, on your knees in front of him with his cock in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat over and over and over and over and over again. Harry’s never felt like this in his life. He’s never gotten head the way you’re giving it to him. He’s never felt so many things at once. He’s never been so taken back by how good someone’s making him feel. He’s never been lightheaded. Never. Not like this.
The best part? You look like there’s no place you’d rather be.
He lets out a moan, beginning to losing his mind as he tightens his grip on your head, tugging your face up so he can get a better look at you, “Fuckin—” He lets out another moan when you smirk at him and exhale, feeling the vibrations on his cock, “Y/N—love—I’m—”
You move your head up for a moment, replacing it with your hands, “I know, H,” You whisper, “It’s okay.”
His eyes screw shut and he throws his head back, groaning and moaning and whimpering all at once, “Aaah fuckin—”
You take him back into your mouth. His fingers grasp at your hair desperately, as if he’s drowning and you’re his life raft, and his hips jerk towards you, faltering as he begins to reach his limit, “Fuck,” He drops his head to look down at you, his lips parted as he pants out your name, “Yeah, fuck—Red,” He reaches down and strokes your face with his thumb, taking in the sight of you as you continue bobbing your head, “Yeah. Fucking yeaaah,” He bites his lip, another string of moans escaping his mouth all at once, “Can’t take it, fuck—”
You bob your head faster. Suck harder. Move your tongue around. Move your hands against his balls. You do everything you can. And Harry loves every second of it.
You don’t stop when you feel your throat filling with his cum, you don’t stop when he falls back against the wall from how hard his orgasm hit, you don’t stop when he tells you how good you are, how well you took him, how badly he wants to fuck you. You don’t stop until he’s cumming down your throat a second time, his legs beginning to shake from the sheer shock of it. His moans are broken, you can’t understand a single thing he’s saying to you but you know he’s saying a lot.
You pull away from him with a pop, pressing a soft kiss to his sensitive tip as he shivers under your touch. You like having the upper hand. Even if it is just for a moment.
“There you go, daddy.” You whisper, standing up and smirking at him as he tries to catch his breath.
“Say that again,” He stares at you with a hunger you’ve never seen before—from anyone—reaching his hand over to grab the back of your neck and pulling you closer to him, “Say it again. Call me that again.”
“Daddy.” You smirk and he moans, pressing his lips to yours.
“Fuck,” He whispers against your lips, holding your face in his hands and pulling you as close as he can have you, “Fuck.”
You giggle against his lips, loving the effect you have on him. It’s nice to see and feel how you make him feel, it’s oddly validating.
“Need to taste you so bad, Red,” He murmurs against your lips, desperation clear in his eyes as he searches yours for an answer, “Can I?”
“Please, yes.” You nod as he pushes you back on the bed, towering over you and reconnecting your lips within a second.
He breathes out, feeling your fingers graze his skin, tracing over the tattoos he has scattered across his arm. Your lips are back on his. He lets you take the lead, leaning into your touch and moaning into your mouth as you continue to trace his heated skin with your fingertips.
He can’t think straight. He can’t form a single, coherent thought because of your hands on his skin. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way you’re touching him.
You can’t think straight, either. It’s almost laughable—how long you’ve both wanted this. How badly you’ve both wanted to invade each other’s personal space like this. Neither of you think you can ever stop.
You grab his hand, guiding it to your chest and letting him feel you. He moans against you and pulls away for a moment to look down at you. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are parted as he palms your chest with his hands, quickly moving his mouth to cover yours as you begin to moan.
You feel Harry’s tongue grazing against yours, over and over again, deepening the kiss more and more until you’re practically inhaling each other. When you both finally break away for air, you can’t help but stare down at his body. So perfect. As confident as you are, you still can’t believe that you have someone who looks like Harry so desperate for you. Harry’s wondering how he got so lucky, too. He can’t believe that he’s able to see you in your entirety. What a privilege, he thinks.
His kisses trail down your neck first. He makes sure to suck on your skin just enough to mark it, teeth grazing the sensitive areas as you hum in response. He gets to your chest next, not wasting a second to wrap his lips around your nipple, reaching his hand over to play with your other one. His eyes close in bliss as he darts his tongue out to flick your nipple. You whimper. If this is how good—how quick—he is with his mouth—with his tongue—you can’t imagine how good he’ll feel with his head between your legs. You won’t have to imagine it. You’ll feel it soon enough.
You moan out his name and his eyes open, setting on yours as he moves to give your other nipple the same attention. His cheeks hollow as he sucks, his eyes still set on yours, his hands still all over you, his mouth moaning around your skin. You bite your lip so hard you feel it sting. You’re losing your fucking mind.
He moves his head up, your nipple still caught in his mouth as he continues to suck, letting it go with a pop. You gasp at the feeling, and he does it again. And again. And again.
He does it until you’re whining, until you’re bucking your hips up desperately to get some sort of friction.
“Patience, Red,” He chuckles at your desperation, beginning to kiss down your stomach, “I’ll make it worth the wait. Make you feel so fucking good. Promise.”
Your breath catches in your throat as you stare down at Harry’s face, his head finally where you want it—between your thighs. He looks down at you, admiring how you look all spread out for him. You feel vulnerable but you couldn’t care less. You’re so horny, so worked up, so wet that you need an outlet. You need to feel Harry against you.
“P—please—” You whisper, “Please, H.”
“Please what, Red?”
“Please.”
He smirks up at you, “You want my mouth?”
You can’t speak. You nod.
“Here?” He looks up at you innocently, pressing a kiss to your left thigh. You shake your head.
“How about here?” He kisses your right thigh. You shake your head again, bucking your hips up. He chuckles and holds you down by your waist, keeping his eyes on yours.
“You don’t want it?” He’s taunting you.
You groan, “N—no—fuck—”
“Where do you want me, then?” He arches a brow at you, not giving in easily, “Here?” He looks down at your centre and you nod your head frantically, practically whining for him.
“Ask me nicely.”
“H, please just—”
He cuts you off by pressing a kiss to your clit. Your eyes close. You moan at the feeling of his mouth finally coming into contact with your skin, where you need him the most.
Your eyes close and you arch your back to feel closer to him, feeling him smile against you already. He hooks one of his arms under your thigh, pulling you closer and getting better access to you.
He flattens his tongue against you, licking a stripe up your slit and back down again. He strokes the thigh you have slung over his shoulder with one of his hands, using the other to rub circles on your clit.
“F—fuck—Harry—” Your eyes roll back, “Daddy—"
He moans against you, and your back arches. You let out a high pitched moan, a sound you never thought you could make. You’ve only heard sounds like his in pornos before. You can’t believe what’s happening to you.
“Feel good?” Harry looks up at you, still rubbing circles on your clit and breathing against your skin. You nod.
“Say it,” He pulls away, staring at you, “Tell me how it feels.”
You struggle to move your mouth. Harry smirks.
“S—so—so fucking—mmmm—” Your mouth falls open in a gasp as Harry’s mouth is back on you, lapping at your skin. He slows down every few seconds, somehow knowing exactly how to drive you insane. You reach your hands down and grip onto his hair, tugging it back. He smirks and looks up at you, dipping his tongue inside you.
Your mouth opens and your eyebrows furrow, but no sound leaves you. You’ve never been so..so fucked up that you can’t even make a sound. Whatever Harry’s doing to you, he’s doing it well.
He starts fucking you with his tongue, his thumb still rubbing circles on your clit as you feel your stomach tighten.
“Fuck H, gonna cum—gonna—fuckin—”
“Make a mess of me, Red,” He murmurs against your skin, “Make a mess of my mouth.”
“Yeah?” You pant, propping yourself up on your elbows, “Ask me nicely, daddy.”
Harry’s eyes close momentarily at your words, and suddenly he’s just as insane as you, “God, please. Let me taste more of you. Please—fuck—please.”
That’s all you need. That’s all you fucking need.
You let go of Harry’s hand and reach for the back of his head, pushing his face against you as you come undone. He moans against you and you feel his tongue against every inch of you, taking whatever you’re giving him. He can’t get enough.
A string of curse words leave your lips, along with whimpers and moans and more of those high pitched sounds you’ve only heard in pornos. You collapse against the mattress and Harry continues slowly licking you as you lazily ride your high out on his face.
“That—” Your voice comes out strained, ��T—thank you, H.”
He places a kiss to your clit and chuckles, towering over you kissing you. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan, reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. He holds one of his hands next to your head to hold himself up, cupping your cheek with the other as you both deepen the kiss.
“Did so good for me, baby,” He whispers against your lips, looking in your eyes, “So fucking good for me.”
He can’t wait another second, he’s too eager to taste more of you. He leans forward in an attempt to reconnect your lips, but you stop him by placing a finger to his mouth. His eyebrows furrow and he searches your eyes for some sort of indication that you want him to stop.
You never want to stop.
You lean your head forward, your finger still against his lips as you whisper.
“Fuck me, daddy,” You take your hand away, keeping your eyes locked on his, “Want you to fill me up.”
Harry falters for a moment, his eyes widening as he processes the words that just came out of your mouth. You said all the words that he never expected you to say, all at once. Only an hour ago, you were both smoking a joint and speaking about how much things have changed between you. How strange that made you both feel. And now? Now you’re..well.
Feeling a lot better.
“Yeah?” Harry swallows, trying to contain himself somehow even though he knows there’s no use, “Gonna let me stretch you out?”
You moan and arch your back, nodding.
“Words.” Harry’s voice is stern and you just want to ruin him. The way you’ve both been switching all night, the way you’ve been driving each other insane. He was made for you.
“Use me, H,” You whisper, your voice desperate and strained, “Stretch me out.”
And he does. He slowly dips his cock in, starting with the tip to let you adjust. You both screw your eyes shut and gasp at the feeling, moaning as he begins to move inside you.
“Fuck,” He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling you wrap around him, “So fucking wet.”
You whimper, moving your hands down to his back and clawing at the skin, “Just for you, daddy.”
“Yeah? Just for me?” Harry groans at the feeling of your nails across his back, “Mine, yeah?”
He knows what you’re doing. You’re trying to what, claim him? He doesn’t know what’s going through your head, but he knows that you want to mark him up. You want to mark him up well. Well enough that it’d be impossible for him to forget how good you’re making him feel. How nobody could ever compare. Yeah, you’re claiming him.
“Yours.” You breathe out as he begins to move in and out of you.
“Say it again, Red.” His voice is desperate, like he needs you to repeat yourself more than anything. He starts to speed up his movements, eager to feel as much of you as possible. You feel him hit your most sensitive spot.
“Fuck—”
“Say you’re mine,” He won’t stop asking until you give him what he wants, “Go on, say it.”
“I’m—fuck—I’m yours, H.” You gasp as he grabs a hold of one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder to fuck into you deeper. He’s being relentless. He’s ruining you.
You want him to ruin you more.
He’s sticking two of his fingers down your throat, watching you as you suck and moan around them, “Again.” He takes his fingers out from your mouth, moving them down to rub your clit.
“I’m yours,” You let out a strained moan, your mouth falling open, “Are you mine?”
Harry’s movements are even faster now. You’re impressed. So fucking impressed at how he’s carrying himself. He’s picked up the pace, he’s circling your clit, he’s holding one of your legs above his shoulder and he’s driving you fucking crazy.
He lets your leg back down, spreading your thighs apart as he slightly changes position. He’s still on top of you but at a different angle. He towers over you, not slowing down—he wouldn’t dream of it—and moving his lips to your ear.
“Been yours for months,” He murmurs against your skin, making your eyes close, “Was just—” He grunts, “—was just waiting for you to notice.”
You can’t speak. You can’t form a single word. Your fingers grip his sides, your nails digging deeper into his skin until he bleeds.
“Shit,” He buries his head into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin, “Oh fucking yeah.” Every sound that leaves his mouth is better than the last. You hear every moan, every gasp, every whimper leaving his lips.
He slows down his thrusts, making them harder and rougher and deeper. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him repeatedly hitting the best part of you.
“Right there—fuck—right there—!” Your voice suddenly raises and you’re practically screaming at Harry as he continues to fuck into you, his hand still circling your clit. You let out a string of moans as he moves his hand up from your cunt to your stomach, pushing down. Your eyes close at the feeling..until it stops.
You feel a hand come into contact with your jaw, grabbing it roughly and making your eyes open. You look up to see Harry staring down at you with his jaw tensed. He’s still inside you but he isn’t moving. You want him to move.
“Open,” Harry’s voice is stern as he lightly taps the side of your face, “I’m not going to tell you again.”
You nod and bite down on your lip, enjoying this side of him more than you could’ve ever imagined. He can be so caring, so good, and so fucking condescending.
You love it all. You want it all. You need it all.
He begins to move again, his own eyes closing for a split second before he catches himself and sets them back on yours. You furrow your brows, trying to control the moans leaving your lips as his thrusts grow faster and harder again. His hand drops from your face back down to your stomach, where it was before.
“See that, baby?” He applies pressure to your lower stomach, where you look to see the outline of where he’s penetrating you, “So deep.”
You whimper and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes from how fucking euphoric you feel. You never thought it was possible to feel so much at once.
Your back arches as his hips meet yours, slamming into you. Harry drops his head to your shoulder, letting himself feel everything he’s ever wanted to feel.
“Cum with me, Red. Cum all over my cock,” He groans, his lips brushing against your skin, “I belong to you.”
You smile, digging your nails deeper into his back, “You belong to me.”
Harry’s voice is something between a mumble and a moan at this point, an endless stream of curse words falling from his lips as he feels you clenching around him.
You both cum at the same time, moaning so loudly that neither of you would be surprised if you woke up without voices tomorrow morning or with a noise complaint from your neighbours. Or both.
He practically collapses on top of you, shifting to the side and falling on his back. You both pant, trying to catch your breath as you stare up at the plain beige ceiling above your heads.
“That was..” You trail off, struggling to find words as your chest heaves.
“Yeah.” Harry’s in the same boat, knowing exactly what you mean.
“Friends do that?”
Harry laughs. He really laughs. Like he hasn’t laughed in years. Claps his hands together, covers his mouth even though there’s no use. You laugh with him.
After a few minutes, Harry moves to stand up from the bed. You smile at yourself when you notice that he’s walking over to your side of the bed. The view isn’t bad either.
He holds his hand out to you and you grab it, standing up with his help. You both smile at each other and share a quick, soft kiss before making your way to the bathroom. Harry gets the shower ready and you both step under the water, closing your eyes and holding each other close for a few moments.
“I belong to you.” Harry murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head. You pull away just enough to look at him.
“I belong to you, too.” You smile. He smiles back, widely.
“We’ll see where this goes?” He asks, his dimples still on display from how wide he’s grinning. You lean forward and try to kiss him, feeling each other’s teeth from how hard you’re both smiling.
You giggle against his lips, looking up at him with adoration, “We’ll see where this goes, H.”
•••
aaand there we have it whores. i LOVED writing this one, it’s probably the most in-your-face smut i’ve written to date. hope it was worth the wait <3
lmk what you think. if you liked it please reblog and comment, i love seeing y’all interact w my stuff <3
my suggestions are open. if you have any ideas for shots or even fics, multiple part stories, one shots, blurbs, lmk. you never know, i might write ab your idea next.
as always, stay safe n be kind to yourselves. i’ll see you sooner than you think.
- k
#smut#one shot#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x oc#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles one shot#one direction smut#friends to lovers smut#smut pt.2#friends right? pt.2#harry styles x y/n one shot#harry styles x you one shot#harry styles x reader one shot#harry styles x y/n smut#harry styles x reader smut#kilistina#kilistina <3
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Grapejuice (fic) Part Two
Premise: In the aftermath of your birthday party, your karma catches up with you, and bumping into Harry seems to be a running theme.
Word Count: 10k
Warnings: Smutty smut [head, head, head baby!], Alcohol use, mind-blowing banter.
Part One / Part Three
Fashion Board
Masterlist
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In a haze of needy kisses, he gently pushed you back until your bumped right into his dressing table.
You were tugging at his hair, making sure he stayed close. With your help, he used one arm to wrap around the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until you were sat atop the table.
Your legs were wrapped around his waist in an instant, linking your ankles, tugging him closer. Harry was holding back a long overdue moan, hands on your jaw. You pulled back for a breath, taking in him- lusty, dishevelled, eager.
He reached up and gently removed your birthday crown, tossing it over his shoulder, and then his hands dropped to your shoulders, leaning down to press kisses to your collarbone, the nape of your neck, one final one – dragged out – beneath your ear.
Harry softly worked at the bows, pulling them loose, watching them fall, your chest on proper display now. Your hands were roaming his torso, back, his hair and finally, his jaw- leaning back in, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. His mouth parting slightly, and you stole the change to slip your tongue in- giving Harry a pleasant surprise.
You worked to unbutton his shirt, hastily shrugging it off of his shoulders, forcing him to help you remove it completely. Your hands were roaming his torse, lips following suit. Harry couldn’t help the soft sighs he let slip, trying to keep his hands on any part of your skin.
The impatience was growing – neither of you wanted to address it. But after the third time you pressed yourself against his crotch, Harry decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.
He stepped back, softly chuckling at the bratty whine you sent his way. Harry’s hands pressed firmly into your hips; his thumb drawing circles up your thighs. He let a few fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it up to reveal your deep red, lacy undies.
Harry tutted, trailing his fingers closer and closer,
“I am very, very fond of these.”
He was inches away from getting exactly where he wanted, patiently dragging out each action. He knew you were certain- your incapability of letting him out of your grasp was proof.
Your hands were still all over him, desperately grasping at any free skin,
“Shut it.”
“Yeah?” he snickered,
“Yeah,” you huffed,
“What if-”
“Harry. I said shut it and put your mouth to good use.”
He blinked, blinked once more, and nodded profusely,
“Yes ma’am.”
With that, he squeezed your hips, earning a surprising moan when he suddenly licked a warm strip over your pantie-clad clit. Harry was filled with further encouragement – a desperate need to hear you omit such pretty little sounds again.
He tugged your hips closer, and you were now sitting right on the edge, relying on him to keep you balanced. He did a good job holding you in place; tongue pressing flat against you now, sighing when he felt such dampened lace,
“All worked up just for me?”
He looked so pretty, innocently looking up at you. Looking right through you, knowing he finally had you where he wanted.
And that made you swoon, your stomach in knots, a flush of electricity- a nod of approval sent his way. Harry smiled knowingly, going back to placing sloppy kisses along your inner thighs, ending with a harsh nip before he slipped one hand into the band of your panties. He was ponder-some, toying with the lace between his fingers, looking up at you,
“You’re not gonna miss these are you?” it wasn’t really a question,
“They’re expensive-”
With little to no effort, he tugged the material until it ripped, and slipped from his fingers. You couldn’t decide on disapproval, or endearment, reacting with a soft gasp at your sudden exposure,
“You owe me,”
“I owe you,” he nodded with a soft smirk, spreading your hips further apart.
Harry sighed with satisfaction, slowly taking you in. His right hand left your thigh, his thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing slight circles before his middle finger slipped into you with ease – slick and warm, and Harry bit down on his lip, looking up at you with approval,
“So wet,” he muttered with fascination, “all for me” – that one was under his breath, almost going unnoticed by you. He pushed his finger in further, thumb continuing to work at your swollen clit.
You were biting back soft whines, holding onto any stubbornness you had to spare. But he was making it difficult, pulling his finger out altogether, moving back to your clit, using your wetness to help increase his speed.
Harry both looked like and was in paradise. He removed his fingers completely, leaning back to take a proper look at you. Your face was flush, lip clamped between your teeth, chest heaving. Harry decided he liked you best this way, his cock pushing up against his briefs at the fact that you were reacting this way, just for him.
And then Harry took another moment tell you what a “pretty, pretty pussy” you have, using his thumbs to spread you open, admiring how slick, and wet you were, all for him. You whined above him, on the verge of begging him to do more – touch you, taste you - anything.
He read your mind, leaning forward, curls tickling your thighs as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit, breath fanning over you, tongue darting out to lick you. When you finally moaned, Harry’s motivation only increased, flicking his tongue over your clit once more, sucking on the bud, hand coming up to help keep you spread before him.
His free hand reached out to the back of your ass, tugging you as close as possible- careful to avoid you toppling over. You whined, bucking forward, and Harry almost lost all balance.
He removed his lips, retreating from your thighs and the huff of disappointment you sent his way only had Harry’s heart swelling further.
“Needy little one,” he remarked, standing upright.
“Harry,” you warned, but that was long forgotten when he grabbed a hold of your waist, picking you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, hands rushing to the back of his neck.
He knelt down, carefully laying you flat on the carpeted floor. Legs still attached to his waist, you tugged him closer, luring him in for a kiss. His lips were slick, warm, and inviting- your tongue slipped past his teeth with ease, sloppily trying to find his own.
Harry kissed you back with adamance, tugging at your lips, sucking at your tongue, wetting your lips with his own. You sighed into his mouth, and he grunted, hips grinding down onto your own. His pants material rubbed against your clit, igniting a spark in your stomach.
He pressed down again, desperate for some contact. You hiked your leg up further, needily asking for more- and Harry was smitten with your impatience.
“Want me to touch you again?” he asked in between the kisses he was sloppily planting across your neck.
You nodded quickly, eyes pleading for him to do so. But he only tutted, tongue settling below your ear,
“You have to tell me, sweetheart.” Harry informed, and you awkwardly shuffled beneath him, frustrated but not surprised.
When he pressed himself down against you once more - hand reaching up to squeeze your boob, thumb grazing your nipple – you could no longer resist him,
“I want you to touch me,” you sighed in defeat, “please, Harry.”
He sat back up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, unlatched your legs from his waist, folding and spreading them out. He worked his way down your body, briefly stopping to flick his tongue over your nipple, before finally settling between your thighs.
He wasted no time, mouth attaching to your clit, hands spreading your lips, tongue dipping inside of you. You whined out, fingers digging into the carpet. Harry began lapping at you, tongue slipping in and out, flicking up to swirl and suck at your clit, nipping at you as your hips bucked forward, pushing yourself further into his mouth.
Harry moaned out, vibrating against you, and you hadn’t even noticed his name slipping past your lips in a soft mewl. But he certainly had, pushing your thighs further apart before flattening his tongue, licking at you with haste.
Your back arched, muttering profanities as Harry slipped his middle finger inside you, curling it upward. Your toes were curling, body wriggling beneath him, and Harry used his free hand to keep you still, pushing his palm against your pelvis.
He slipped his middle finger in, pumping in and out with both, while his lips came down over your clit once more, sucking, and swirling circles. You were a mess, breathing heavily beneath him, eyelids heavy as you watched Harry doing such a good job at making you feel good.
He praised you, reminding you what a pretty girl you are, how good you taste, how much he wanted to fuck you into next Tuesday. Your stomach clenched tighter with each praising, insides tingling. Harry was quick to notice how much it turned you on,
“Such a good girl for me,” he kept rhythm, fingers slick, almost slipping out completely before he thrust them back in, “so, so, good,” he licked and kissed your clit, “just for me.”
You were unravelling, legs threatening to shake. Harry picked up on this, licking you one last time before he pulled back, cool air rushing to your clit as you whined out.
He shushed you, fingers still lingering at your entrance as he crawled on top of you, sweet, sticky lips meeting your own, tongue pushing past, wrestling with yours.
His lips barely left yours as he brought his hand up, slipping his thumb into your mouth, waiting for you to suck on it.
You did, slowly, spit leaving a trail from your lip as he pulled away, reaching down to coat your clit. He began rubbing small circles, taking his time, swirling bigger, smaller, longer, and shorter, you rocked your hips into his hand, and Harry finally soothed you, sliding his middle and ring finger back into you.
“Fuck, Harry, please,” you groaned, head pushing further into the carpet.
“Please what, angel?” he whispered against your lips, slowly pumping his fingers in and out.
“Faster,” you panted, “please, Harry.”
You didn’t have to ask twice, Harry picked up his pace, rhythmically thrusting his fingers into you, curling them upward, covering your lips with his own, kissing you deeply. Your orgasm was bubbling within - threatening to spill over -hands desperately wrapping around the base of his neck, tugging at his curls.
Your hips could no longer stay down, ass lifting off of the carpet, letting his fingers slide deeper into you. A particularly loud whine left your lips, his name dancing off of your tongue, and Harry’s muffled your moans with his own, pumping faster- overwhelmed by the sound of your strained breaths, and his fingers dipping into you.
You were reaching climax, nails digging into his skin- tugging at any part of him you could. Harry could see it in your eyes- pupils dilated, hazy and desperate.
“Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?” he asked so sweetly- with such kindness it made your heart thud, nodding profusely, tugging him closer, chest weighing down your own,
“Yes, please,” it came out so soft - so politely - that Harry almost bust right then and there.
“Good girl,” he muttered against your lips, fingers gliding in and out with fervour, his thumb rubbing figure eights against your clit. “cum for me, baby. Please.” He was so rewarding; you couldn’t stop the wave of arousal- tingling and sparking your insides. Your body was no longer your own, euphoria washing over you – body desperately succumbing to your climax, whining his name over and over, frantically grabbing at his forearm and neck.
“Fuck,” Harry muttered, never slowing down, watching the way your body squirmed beneath him, hips rocking against him, your frantic breathing, and all because of him. Your nails were sharp, digging into him in a way he was certain would leave a mark. His name was tumbling from your lips, falling in synch with each thrust, Harry was adamant to help you ride out your high.
Your body started to relax, slipping down onto the carpet, legs still apart- too fatigued to move them. Your hands were still weakly wrapped around him, his finger lazily rubbing circles against your clit, slowing to a halt, before he brought his hand up, sucking both fingers into his mouth, eyeing you contently as he licked off the taste of you,
“Hm,” he pondered, and your brows raised in unnerved curiosity. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “never knew you could be so polite.”
---
You never thought you’d say it, but you were glad to be leaving London after this weekend; ready to get back home to your nook- your safe place.
Two things needed to happen before you left though: going on this date- with a man you met through a friend at your birthday. And successfully avoiding Harry until you touched down in Italy. So far, you had done a good job, tonight would tick off both tasks on your list.
You had just barely stepped into the restaurant, music a tad too loud, an unnecessary amount of fluorescent lighting- the feeling of total excessiveness was swallowing the place and all of the people in it- you wondered how the two of you would even manage to get seated- everywhere seemed taken, this restaurant was up-and-common; on the map and on demand, and as of right now, you couldn’t understand why.
Still, you scanned the room- hoping to find somewhere that would seat just two. You were already resenting your date, annoyed for picking somewhere so inaccessible. Before you could dwell on it, he seemed to spot a free table in the distance, and he barely looked to see if you were following before walking off.
You worked to avoid bumping into anyone, weaving your way through the maze. You could now see the table, dimly lit, and trapped between other tables and booths. As you neared, the sound of someone calling your name stood out from the pumping music.
Considering the bustling atmosphere, you would have normally ignored it, but something deep within you knew that someone was definitely calling after you.
Scanning the crowd, it took mere seconds to spot the group seated at one of the booths; the entire band, a few faces you had yet to meet, and at the centre of it all; Harry.
You weren’t certain he had been the one calling for you, but it wouldn’t come as a surprise. Nevertheless, they knew you had seen them – walking away would be rude, even for you.
And so, you gestured your date to re-route, willing to at least greet them all – hoping it wouldn’t cost you the other table.
There was a chorus of hello’s; everyone enthusiastically festive. It lightened your mood, until your gaze landed on Harry, who was grinning with what you assumed to be sheer delight. You rushed through introducing your date, after you were asked your reason for being here this evening.
You had had enough now, gesturing it was time to go. But as you woefully expected, your table had been swiped, occupied by another lucky couple.
You knew it was coming before you could protest, a rush of encouragement to join them – at least until another table became available. And if your date knew you better, he would have politely declined, instead of agreeing and immediately slipping into the newly open spot next to Mitch, patting the leathered cushion for you to join.
And begrudgingly, you did so. Your first loss of the evening- dreading it wouldn’t be the last.
As predicted, the rest of the group was extremely warm and welcoming. They enveloped your date in pleasantries, and you cursed yourself for finding it relieving. Your habit of agreeing to go on average dates with the hope of a good time - or at least a good meal – was beginning to feel like more effort than not.
Nevertheless, you feigned interest and joined in the conversation. It was becoming clear that you would be sat here for a while, so you reached across the table and pinched Sarah’s G&T, taking a few sips as she faked a gasp, smiling and pulling you in for a chat.
🍷
One drink in, you were starting to relax – settling back against the booth, crossing your legs beneath the table. And though you feigned sheer ignorance about Harry’s gaze, which was burning a hole through your forehead, it was taking a lot more effort than you liked.
It was only when your date started another story - only when you found your thoughts straying, your fingers started tapping the table, knee bouncing – only then did you finally give in and glance up.
You knew he was still looking at you – you felt it - but it still threw you off guard though when you found Harry was indeed looking at you, eyes slowing switching between you and your date; still acting far too smitten for your liking.
You challenged him, for a moment - refusing to break eye contact, holding off blinking, and even raising an eyebrow before looking away. You turned your attention, as well as your body, to face your date. Resting your head in your hand, elbow on the table. And though you shouldn’t have, you hoped it would make Harry feel some type of way.
But the man to your left was making it so incredibly difficult to stay interested – he hardly finished the first story before diving straight into the next, surely stock exchange couldn’t be that interesting? He didn’t even stop babbling as his arm brashly slid over to rest across your shoulders, keeping you close but still directing his attention to the group of friends all huddled together.
Harry was still looking at you though, a valid excuse he found since your date was the one carrying majority of the conversation. He didn’t get you. And now he was certain that your date didn’t either. Why did you continuously humour these men? You were out of their league – always. From the first boy you had brought home, to the one sitting beside you now, they never brought out the spark within you, never created a podium to elevate your excellence; and Harry could only wonder if he had the compatibility to ascend alongside you.
It didn’t help that you were so evidently losing your composure, slumping further into your seat, fingers still swirling circles into the table. Harry found the man so boring; he had never tuned in to begin with, and he admired your strength and persistence for even trying.
He knew you had a habit of getting yourself into these situations; he also loved taking a backseat, endeared and hot under the collar, watching you huff and puff. Harry would revel in the opportunity to soothe that frustration into something closer related to ecstasy.
And so, your frustration slightly transfers, Harry grasping onto it, and onto the fact that you were right here, in front of him, choosing the company of someone else. Someone else’s arms around you – someone who you were willing to give a chance.
Harry was still smiling slightly though, finding this whole situation more amusing than not. Especially when you gave up, not even trying to hold back your eyerolls, certain your date couldn’t see you doing it. After your third attempt to resist a scoff, Harry did actually chuckle now, all eyes suddenly landing on him.
You were both on the brink of blushing; but relief washed over him when your date only smiled in Harry’s direction, mistaking his laughter for encouragement, and continuing the story where he had left off. Slowly everyone around the table returned their attention to the anecdote, somehow engrossed in this arbitrary relay of the ‘imminent crash of wall street’. Except for you; eyes still lingering on the boy sitting across from you - his own flickering under the dim-lighting, lips sweet and slick.
You caught his gaze with your own, remaining stern-faced at first, luring him in for another stare-off, before sending a cheeky wink his way.
Harry’s head tilted back with a bellow of laughter, your date foolishly chuckling along.
🍷
You were outside now - tucked away- a cigarette the only thing keeping you company. The night was cool, but it was a welcomed contrast to the pulsing atmosphere you had just escaped from.
Leaning your back against the bricked wall, your eyes fluttered shut, slowly letting the smoke slip past your lips. You needed a breather now more than ever- a moment to gather your frazzled feelings back into their box.
At least you could relax now knowing your date was certainly back in there, talking everyone’s ear off. You couldn’t believe he had so much to say – even for you, someone who was willing to speak until hoarse, toppled over with the nagging realisation that you were actually more than grateful that the two of you never made it to your own table.
But as you finally started to feel at ease, and before you could take another drag, your cigarette was cruelly snatched, pinched by Harry- suddenly perched beside you. He took a long, and dramatically slow pull, closing his eyes for emphasis, milking the idea of your current annoyance towards him.
He finally finished, but eyes remained closed, foot tapping along to the muffled beat as he turned, leaning one shoulder against the wall to face you.
You were still looking at him expectantly, quickly soothed when he reached over, placing the cigarette back between the parting of your lips.
Your fingers brushed over his briefly, replacing his hold of your smoke, and Harry took the moment to unnecessarily graze your bottom lip with his thumb. You were instantly wound right back up the moment his own lips parted to say something,
“Wondered where you’d snuck off to. Date got you that bored, huh?”
When you didn’t respond and instead huffed out a smoky cloud, Harry continued,
“Now, had you invited me instead…” he took the ciggie back, dragging quickly, smoke slipping past his teeth as he continued on, “I doubt youd’ve been out here in the first place.”
“Didn’t have to invite you. You’re here regardless, innit?” gesturing towards him,
Harry inched closer – ever so slightly - his voice low and dripping mischief,
“True. Though I can imagine there would still be a distinguishable difference.”
“Hm, What might that be?” turning to mock his stance,
“Well for starters, if I came with you…” he extinguished the bud’s sparks against the wall between you two, “I’d make sure I wasn’t the only one coming…”
“I won’t dignify that statement with a response,” you derided, and it was now Harry’s turn to scoff - though his was merely frisky- and playful.
“You disagree?” he was genuinely curious,
“I think you’re very optimistic.”
“Y’mean opportunistic.”
“That too.” You paused, “bordering cocky.”
“I prefer confident,” he said righteously.
You didn’t reason back this time. It was true - and charming - and disputing the matter would only cause you to flounder further under his guaranteed interrogation.
You huffed; tired of being tired – and Harry chuckled softly, reading you like a book. A fleeting thought about the strangeness of him being able to read you – to understand what you were thinking through a mere sigh.
He shifted closer, tilting his head towards you- close enough to notice the familiar mix of bourbon and mint slipping past his lips,
“So, which is it then?”
“Care to elaborate?” you asked,
“Are you hiding from that snooze you called a date… or from me?” Though his tone remained jovial, you suspected he desired an honest answer.
“Both, really.” You said, and Harry delayed his reaction in hopes of a warmer follow-up.
You took a risk edging closer, and you’re not certain why, guiding him directly back into your trap, hanging onto any words you threatened to spill. And when he was close enough to see the purple glitter flickering across your eyelids, you spoke up,
“Avoiding any repeats of my last sexual escapade.”
“You’ve been messing around with someone else I don’t know about?” Harry feigned hurt, his right hand reaching over to clutch at his chest.
“Grow up, Harry,” you huffed, retreating- but only slightly.
“I thought you writhing below me was testament enough that I have in fact, grown up”.
And to your utter dismay, he wasn’t wrong. Not in the slightest. You had started thinking of him differently - not to mention how you ruefully indulged in several steamy flashbacks of his warm and wet tongue pressed flush against your skin. But naturally, you were always quick to dismiss such thoughts, convinced that you were merely caught at a weak moment.
“Well as much as you might have enjoyed yourself, I hope you didn’t get too attached,” you attempted to make it perfectly clear that what had happened between you and Harry was purely a one-time thing.
“What if I said it was already too late?” He tested, eyes flicking down briefly to study your lips.
“Then I’m better than I thought.”
“I agree. Better than I thought,” he mused,
“Think about me often, do you?”
“I think about you, always.” Neither were certain on his definition of always, but Harry was aware it was increasing tenfold.
When it was evident you weren’t going to say anything more, Harry tried to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in his chest. A small part of him had hoped you would confirm that you had enjoyed his gift of birthday-head as much as he had. The way you had responded to him, so well - your moans still etched in his brain, the feeling of your nails raking down his neck – Harry didn’t doubt he had made you feel good. But he wanted – no - he needed to hear you say it.
“This is the part where you say the feeling was mutual, darling.” He still rejected all discouragement,
“Oh, is it now?”
“Mm. Something along the lines of ‘Harry, you ate me out just right!’” he sighed out, teasingly,
“Harry, you ate me out just right!” you tone mocked, dripping with sarcasm,
“Come off it,” he groaned,
“And cum on you instead? Where would you prefer; face? cock?” you seemed indifferent even when taunting him.
Harry further closed the gap between the two of you, leaving only a few inches distance. You could almost taste him now- trying desperately to ignore the familiar goosebumps threatening to break out all along your spine as he said,
“Your stubbornness knows no bounds. Frustratingly so that you seem to be in total denial.”
“Denial?” you pondered,
“Did I stutter?”
“Marginally,” you squinted, annoyed by his incessant need to pester you.
Harry closed the small gap between you, his lips resting just above the lobe of your ear, his hot breath threatening goosebumps to spill as he spoke,
“I said, you’re in denial.”
Cue the bubbling in your stomach, the thud in your heart, the sudden head rushing mercilessly to the gaps between your thighs- the urge to clamp them shut in disapproval, shadowed by the thought of Harry catching you doing so.
Instead, you remained as calm as ever, head tilting up in the opposite direction, chin raised to elongate your neck and throat – a last ditch effort to create distance between the two of you.
But your actions only seemed to encourage him, as the sudden sweet fragrance of Chanel seeping from the crook of your clavicle, and the bare offering of your throat- begging to be licked at, only heightened his fugue of attraction.
“I’m not in denial.” You finally stated, all focus directed to maintaining a steady breath – managing to subdue the pulses of excitement, all trying to push their way past your skin with fervour.
Harry sort of huffed - almost laughed, and when the warmth of his breath fanned across your skin once more, your goosebumps overruled, prickling up all along your neck.
“Y’are. Acting as if those pretty lips of yours weren’t slipping my name out in whimpers just the other day,”
And before you could protest, Harry used his free hand to cup the side of your face - tilting it further upward - before latching his teeth to your jaw, harshly nipping at your skin.
You bit back a whimper, adamant that you wouldn’t fall into submission, as Harry’s tongue darted out over the reddened skin, gently lapping at it.
Things were escalating, and from your experience with Harry, they were sure to go from one to a hundred before you were able to properly register. But when he used his tongue to lick a strip up your neck, before gently biting your earlobe, that held-back whimper escaped past your lips.
“And you seem to have no problem whining around me now…” he remained close, letting his words tickle your cheek,
You remained mum, slowing your breathing, turning to look at him, his hand still loosely holding your jaw. You looked up at him, batting your lashes, eyes doey. Harry was lost in the feel of you, with one hand still on your jaw, he extended the other, looping his finger through the belt loop of your pants, tugging you forward. You stumbled over your feet, your chest bumping against his, closer than you needed.
His hand left your hip, sliding up your waist, hand lying flat atop your ribs - inches away from the swell of your breasts.
When you emitted a soft gasp, he tutted and squeezed your skin. A second gasp came tumbling out- mouth ajar, and he took the chance to slip his thumb between the gap, resting it atop your bottom lip. You closed your mouth around his finger, instinctively sucking it further past your lips, swirling your tongue around it- but only once.
And just like that, he pulled his thumb back, hand wrapping around the back of your neck. He leaned as close as your noses permitted, brushing against one another as Harry trapped your lip between his front teeth, tugging on it. You sighed and he bit down harshly, his tongue forced its way toward your own, lapping at it, covering your lips with his own.
Your body was melting beneath his touch, sparks of provocation igniting your body from your head to your thighs. But you refused to give in completely, pulling back before he could do anything further. even so, you allowed yourself to stay close, his lashes fluttering against your skin, chest flush against your own.
Resisting him was fast falling off of the table, toppling to the ground with the threat of tugging Harry back in for a proper kiss. And with a surprise that shook you to your core, Harry dropped both hands, stood up straight, sent one last smirk your way, before turning on his heel and heading back toward the door- the music pumping as he opened it and stepped through, taking the music with him as it shut in his wake, and you were left alone in silence.
🍷
Still struck with awe, you shook your head, stood upright, and made your way over to the door. The restaurant was even busier – if possible – now closer resembling a nightclub. You weaved your way through the mass of people dancing or just standing around, huffing in relief when the table finally came into view.
And Harry was seated as if he had been all along, now occupying the spot Sarah had taken up, now she had moved closer to Mitch, and it took you sitting down to finally remember you had left your date at the table. Mortified when you noticed he was now sitting next to Harry – both across from you, both looking expectantly. But Harry’s smile was wider – cheekier - signalling he was completely aware of the new seating arrangement, and how amusing he found it.
And you would have sent daggers his way if it weren’t for your date. So, you smiled sweetly, all the while using the heel of your docs to stomp on Harry’s nearest foot. He winced in astonishment, jumping slightly. You sent a satisfied smirk his way, hoping he now understood that teasing you would not go down well.
Everyone around you seemed to be enjoying themselves, and it was certainly time for another drink. Looking down at the couple empty glasses sitting on the table, both men seemed to take note, their hands flying up to summon a waiter. You hid an eyeroll- only because it had worked, and the waiter was now heading your way.
Your date, not wasting any time, ordered himself another peer – some craft nonsense, and you were finding it harder and harder to reason with yourself for accepting his invite out tonight. Without taking a breath, he turned and added input to the group chatter happening to his left. Harry politely went next,
“Scotch with ice, please.” As you opened your mouth to order, Harry continued on, “And a double G&T for the lovely lady.”
You wanted to scold him. But for what? He knew your order, he did something your date hadn’t. To top it all off, it sent a rush of desirability up your spine, only deepening your attraction for him.
So, you muttered a ‘thank you’, and he smiled, playfully tapping your ankle with his foot.
Before the waiter could turn away, Mitch gestured him over, ordering a round of don julio for the table. And by the time they had arrived, you were already a third of a way through your gin, moving it over to make space for your shooter.
You waited until all tequila was dispersed amongst the group, picking up the glass in anticipation of a group-cheers. But your date was quicker, tossing his shot back, slamming the empty glass back on the table, puffing out a sigh as he stretched his arms out in satisfaction.
The look on your face must have been awestruck, who the hell was this man? Before he could catch you staring, Harry tapped your ankle once more, leaning his arms across the table, sliding his shot glass over to join your own. He looked at you with a fondness that left you feeling like the only person in the room – the only other person in the world, and you smiled up at him – a real smile.
As he smiled back, he picked up and held out his shot, waiting for you to lift yours. You did so, watching as the glasses clinked against one-another. You started pulling back, slightly tilting your chin upward, but Harry gasped in horror, kicking your shin,
“Hey, hey. You have to look me in the eyes.”
“Ah, preventative measures. I see.”
“Yes. Preventative,” he confirmed, his foot sliding all the way up your calf. You bit back a yelp, almost covering yourself in tequila as Harry winked, mouthed ‘cheers’ and tossed his drink back.
He was clearly enjoying this- given the opportunity to see if you would squirm. And your insides were squirming and wriggling their way to the surface, pushing up against your skin in the form of goosebumps.
You caught up with him - finishing your tequila, chasing it down with some of your drink – and then you decided it was time to get some revenge. You stuck your foot out, hooking your own heel against his nearest leg, intertwining it with your own.
Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, sitting very still as your foot started to wander along his shin, trailing further upward. You looked at him sternly, foot sliding up along his calf- stopping briefly at his knee before continuing on up, settling against his inner thigh.
For a moment, you make no further moves, sending a challenging stare his way. He started to pout, eyes like a puppy dog. You reached for your glass, downing the remaining contents, and then you used the point of your boot to lightly tap his crotch.
Harry bit back the urge to moan – to sigh. Mouth agape, sucking in. He looked at you in astonishment, desperate for your next move.
You turned to Sarah, asking if she would accompany you to the loo. She nodded along, enthusiastically shooing the men blocking her exit. They piled out one by one, and now both your date and Harry were looking at you.
You ignored their stares, waiting for Sarah to make her way over. When she finally reached you, motioning toward the bathroom, you smiled in their general direction knowing they would both assume it was intended for themselves alone.
With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.
🍷
Harry was at the bar now, nonchalantly leaning against the countertop. Sarah hadn’t noticed him, spotting the group mingling around an impromptu dancefloor. She walked ahead of you, but as you caught a glimpse of Harry, he quickly ushered you over.
He turned slightly, saying something to the bartender as he waited for you to join him. He was slotted between other partygoers, leaving little space for you to create any distance. You slipped between him, nervous as you pressed up against him, everything touching but your faces.
The bartender placed a scotch, and two shot glasses before him, filling them with silver liquid. Harry slid both glasses over, shuffling around to accommodate for the lack of space. Once you were finally able to rest your arm atop the counter, Harry leaned down, lips hovering above your ear,
“Don’t forget to look me in the eyes this time, sweets,” he used his free arm to tilt your chin upward, maintaining eye contact as he took his shot, even waiting for you to finish your own.
Your eyes crinkled shut, lips puckered in a sour pout. Your body wriggled around in an attempt to expel the rush of burning spirits coursing through your veins. Harry bit back a sigh as you unintentionally rubbed up against him, aghast as you snatched his glass of scotch, downing half of its contents,
“Jesus, Morpheus.” he feigned shock.
“The fuck did you just call me?”
“Seriously… before you took off your jacket, I almost mistook you for-”
“-for Morpheus? You’re joking right?” you were bewildered, deadpan, “If this was the Matrix, I would definitely be Neo,” you told him matter-of-factly.
“You wish you were cool enough,” Harry sent an eyeroll and a cheeky grin your way.
“Okay, Freddie Kruger,” you turned to walk away, Harry hot on your heels,
“I do not look like him,” he defended, catching up to you on the dance floor, gently tugging at your arm.
You stopped to look at him and laughed. He was pouting cutely now, waiting for some rectification. Eyeing Harry up and down, you closed the distance, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to tilt him closer. He didn’t hesitate in assisting, leaning in to hear you better,
“Guess it just means I’ve been seeing you in my dreams,” you turned to join your dancing friends.
🍷
Dancing was tiring, and you were already overheated, out of breath as you sat down at the edge of the empty booth. Most of the group was still dancing – or drinking – and like clockwork, you could barely settle down before Harry motioned you to scooch on over.
You did, too tired to fight- too willing to indulge in how good he looked, nightmare on Elm street, or not. His hair was slick, and damp from dancing up a storm, sweater hanging loosely along his collarbone. His hands were on the table, tapping along to the beat.
You mindlessly reached out - because of the alcohol, you defended -taking his hand in your own, fiddling with the ring on his middle finger,
“I like this one,” you twirled it around. A large silver band, dancing bears carved all around.
“Figures,” Harry chucked endearingly, and you dropped his hand – something he instantly missed – turning to look at him,
“What?”
“You still love teddy bears.” He said knowingly, smile still lingering,
“Hush,” you blushed, looking away in shame.
But Harry only laughed endearingly, reaching over to tilt your chin up, directing you to look at him,
“I think it’s adorable,” he grinned sweetly, and you couldn’t help shyly smiling along.
His hand dropped from your face, and it was your turn to miss his touch, far too grateful when he chose to rest it atop your leather-clad thigh.
He leaned in – voice deep; low – and for the first time this evening, you were willing to accept that you hoped he wouldn’t leave,
“Where’s your date?” he asked. It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had, in fact, come here with a date. You weren’t sure the last time you saw him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care,
“Honestly? No clue,” you tried to say sternly, but a burst of giggles betrayed you.
Harry laughed along, all the more enamoured by you. Even more so when you leaned closer and continued,
“Suppose I should have invited you after all,” you shrugged the statement off, head bobbing along to the music.
“Yeah?”
“Could at least be certain you’d still be here by the end of the evening.”
“How could I possibly leave knowing you’re here?” his tone was teasing, but his words were far from it.
“You really think I look like I’m from the Matrix?” you pondered, and Harry let out a bellowing laugh,
“I love the pants. Your ass looks amazing,” he emphasised, and then went on to further inform, “you do look like you’re from the matrix… but that, is so fucking sexy.”
Your lips were on his before you could find reason, hand cupping at his jaw to keep him in place. He was only happy to reciprocate, his tongue teasing your bottom lip.
You pulled back before he could slip his tongue in completely, releasing his jaw and pressing his chest firmly, motioning to leave the booth.
Harry looked at you befuddled but did as told and slid out for you to exit. You stood up, shook yourself off and started to walk past him. He started following after you, almost colliding as you stopped and turned to see if he had caught on. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but you stood up on your toes and looked at him suggestively,
“You said you wanted to come tonight.”
You turned around and continued your way through the crowd, knowing he was close behind. As you neared the bathrooms, he wrapped his hand around your own, pressing up against your back in an attempt to let you guide him.
And you did, not letting him go until the door of the bathroom stall shut, until you harshly pushed him back against the door- his head bumping back against it.
You were on your knees before Harry could blink, fingers working at his belt- removing it with impressive haste.
He was beaming down at you, eyes hazy, lips swollen with anticipation. You unzipped his pants, tugging at them until they were barely settled around his waist. You looked up at him with innocent eyes, lashes batting as he leaned forward, pressing the softest kiss to his cotton-clad cock.
“Fuck, baby,” he sighed, head tilting back, eyes screwed shut.
You looked at him a moment longer before kissing his cock again, hand coming up to palm him over his briefs. It seemed Harry had less patience than you – shocker – his hips bucking at the slightest touch,
“Now, now.” You scolded, fingers slipping beneath his waistband, hand wrapping around his cock- the mix of surprise and your cool hand made him whimper.
You liked that.
So, you wasted no time in removing his pants and briefs, pushing them down to his ankles as his cock sprung up, Harry sighing in relief. You reached out, wrapping around him, slowly stroking him. He was hard, needy for your mouth to soothe him; and you wanted nothing more than to help him out,
“So pretty,” you muttered – mostly to yourself – leaning closer to his throbbing cock, “I could just…” you stuck your tongue out, licking him from base to tip.
“Please,” Harry whined, hand reaching out to cup your cheek,
“Please, what?” you gently kissed the tip, lips spreading his precum,
“Please suck me off.”
Your lips wrapped around him, swallowing as much of him as you could, bobbing back up to swirl your tongue across his tip. Harry was vocal, he had your own panties soaked.
His hand found its way to your hair, careful not to tug it out of place. You stroked him, kitten-licking his tip, before you started bobbing your head up and down, hand wrapping around the base of his cock, pumping in rhythm. He groaned above you, fingers tightening around your hair, and you moaned softly at this sudden pleasure.
Your moans vibrating around his cock had Harry in shambles, instinctively bucking his hips forward, pushing himself further into your mouth; accidentally causing you to gag. Harry didn’t have the chance to feel bad, because the look you gave him was something he had yet to see- so lustful he didn’t have to ask twice before doing it again, whining at the sight of the string of spit trailing from your lips to the tip of his cock,
“Can I fuck your mouth?” he asked so sweetly, and you nodded like your life depended on it.
Harry was slow at first- testing the waters -but after a couple thrusts, and a couple moans from the both of you, he picked up his pace, thrusting into you, tip touching the back of your throat, saliva pooling and dripping down your chin. His cock twitched at the sight of how sloppy you were, hand stroking the base of him, trying your hardest to stay steady as he fucked into you, over and over.
Your other hand found his thigh, nails digging into him, and Harry was yet again all too ready to remind you what a good, pretty girl you were. How good you were making him feel. His thrusts were getting sloppier, hand fisting your hair tighter.
You pulled back, licking his tip, tongue swirling around as your other hand continued to stroke at him. Harry was a mess of sighs and pants, and you knew he needed to be pushed over the edge,
“Fuck. I’m gonna come, Y/n.”
You picked up your rhythm, pumping him faster,
“Please come for me, Harry.”
All you had to do was look up at him, asking so nicely, and Harry came unravelled, muttering your name, his orgasm hitting just as your lips wrapped around him, swallowing him, leaving one last kiss on the tip of his cock.
Harry was in a daze, eyes hooded- body exhausted and still wrapped up in ecstasy. You stood to your feet, using your thumb to wipe across your lip. You stepped past him and started to unlock the door of the stall. He shifted over for you, and you leaned up once more to remind him,
“You owe me, again.” He nodded profusely, anything you wanted.
---
The day was sweltering, but in your opinion, it was the start of a perfect summer. A summer by the ocean, fresh and salty, the atmosphere was so relaxed- everyone embracing the holiday vibes. You had spent the last three weeks counting down the days, sitting at your desk in Naples, pining for a break by sea.
You held a brown pastry bag in one hand, mindlessly admiring the sky above, revelling in the smells of fresh croissants, and almost completely lost in your thoughts. You were strolling amidst a group of people- all headed in one direction- when your head snapped up, heart in your throat,
“Harry!” a man called in the distance. You could have sworn you were dreaming- allowing the man from back home to invade your headspace once more.
“Oi, Harry!” they called again, and this time you came to a halt, the people behind you bumping their way past.
It was definitely your Harry. Head peeking out through the sea of people, turned your way, the crowd being the only thing keeping him from spotting you. He was standing outside the entrance of a gelato store, only metres away.
Without thought - or hesitation - you decided to make a run for it. Leaving the pavement, just barely avoiding two vespa’s cruising past. You ignored the hooting, picking up speed before reaching the other side. You were on grass now, plotting your next move.
Praying you had gone unnoticed; you spotted a palm tree and made a dash for it. It was large enough to hide you - twice over – and you leaned back against it, sighing in exasperation.
Your head was certainly spinning. What was he even doing here? You had deemed Naples your territory- let alone Capri. A damn island. Of all the places in the world, he somehow managed to end up here.
You hadn’t even decided to visit the island until a few days ago- lucky to receive a couple weeks off from work for the summer. Your plan to stay-put in Naples was quickly overshadowed by the idea of tanning, indulging in food and good wine, all done on the comfort of the sunny beach.
Your bestest-friend, and greatest confidant- Savina, was born in Capri and her family-home had remained there since. She was in the same business as you; tall, long curly hair and olive-skinned, with beautiful brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her sense of style often had you feeling underdressed, but she was your biggest hype-woman. The kindest, sassiest and most understanding woman you’d ever known.
Speaking of Savina, she had since crept up on you, a to-go coffee in each hand, standing beside the tree quizzically,
“What the hell are you doing?”
You almost jumped, eyes going wide. She looked around, puzzled, as you quickly ran up, grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her to join you behind the tree.
“Y/n!” Savina exclaimed, and at the mention of your name, you shushed her aggressively.
“You almost made me spill,” she whisper-scolded, “it’s boiling, you moron.”
Rolling your eyes, you were still totally distracted. You muttered a quick apology, shutting your eyes briefly to take a deep breath, after which you finally took the chance to peer out from behind the tree. You scanned the area you had last seen him, and your heart stopped. It was certainly Harry; eyes hidden behind familiar sunnies. Your quickly retreated, looking at Savina in shock,
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
“What the fuck is who doing where?”
“Alright. If you look behind me-” Savina immediately attempted to step past you,
“Inconspicuously, Savina!” she waited,
“Outside the gelato place. There’s a man…” you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to say more, so you stepped aside and allowed her to take a look for herself.
She looked around, brows furrowed as she scanned the many people moving in every direction,
“Be more specific.”
You whined aloud, “White tee, goofy pin-striped pants,” as an afterthought, “And ray bans.”
Savina took another moment, gaze settling on Harry, who was now leaning against the glass window, arms folded across his chest. He seemed deep in thought, head slowly turning to watch the people coming and going. Another man -hair short and dark- joined him, holding out a sugar cone for Harry.
Savina nodded, stepped back calmy and addressed you,
“Harry Styles?”
“Yes,” you sighed, bowing your head shamefully.
She looked at you, thinking things through, remaining as placid as possible. You were pleasantly surprised, expecting some sort of chaos to ensue. And then she nodded once more,
“What in the fuck?” now exclaiming- struggling to hold back a combination of surprise and bewilderment.
“Listen I’d like to stand idly by and give you the whole story-” you spoke with haste, “-and I will tell you everything, trust me.”
You were searching for an escape route, settling on the nearest staircase- one that would lead you down closer to the beach, and further away from Harry.
Savina watched amusingly as you had so easily turned into a flustered mess- knowing you over five years - never seeing you so caught off guard. Regardless, she nodded along and awaited your next move,
“We just need to get as far away from here as possible,” you gestured for the stairs,
The two of you made a break for it- Savina a few feet behind you as she struggled to keep her coffee in the cup. And once you were both safely off of the final step, the thumping in your heart was finally starting to subdue.
Savina could hardly keep still - let alone quiet - as she lightly smacked your arm, scolding you for sending her on this senseless detour.
🍷
Harry was outside the ice-cream parlour, but his head was miles away. He found himself getting distracted with such ease these days. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he noticed his overthinking had gone into overdrive. And once he was in his head, he could hardly keep one straight-thought, millions of moments flashing past.
Maybe a holiday was exactly what he needed. As reluctant as he was to pack up and head somewhere last minute, Harry was more than grateful that Jeff had offered him to join. He had never been to Capri- though his love for Italy made this vacation a sure success.
He had only arrived a couple hours ago- the boat ride over was a lovely introduction, his excitement bubbling over when they finally stepped off onto the island.
Their first step was to drop off all luggage and belongings at the villa. This took less time than expected, and the combination of intrigue and warm weather was enough to have Harry and Jeff bounding out the door towards the village.
They were pleased to find how bustling the city was with both natives and tourists. There was so much to see, Harry’s head was swinging in all directions, trying to take in everything all at once.
So much so, Jeff grew impatient and left Harry outside as he went into the store. Harry was simply scanning the area- taking note of several stores, beach in the distance, people walking about enjoying the summer breeze.
He had finally connected his phone- tons of text messages pouring in at once; Gemma only now getting back to him, mum asking if he landed safe, Jack sending an unrelated gif. He was in the midst of responding, forgetting when and where he was,
The first time Jeff called for him, he didn’t even register. The second call brought him to attention, but before he could look over and confirm what flavour gelato he wanted, the sound of a vespa hooting aggressively, caught his attention.
In a haze of white silk, dodging the road, hair flying, disappearing into nothingness- Harry could have sworn he had just seen you. Running for your life.
But you were gone- if it even was you. And Jeff was calling his name a third time before he could look any further.
Harry begrudgingly peeled his gaze from the street, turning back to acknowledge Jeff. He asked for one scoop of chocolate, one of cookie dough, and he hastily returned his attention to the street.
🍷
Harry spotted a quaint café, situated with a wonderful view of the sea. The outdoor table he chose looked down at the boardwalk; people powerwalking, walking dogs, strolling down the stairs towards the beach; and Harry was enamoured. Large chromatic trees and bushes were scattered along the pathway, slightly obscuring his view of those below.
The smell of sea salt and cappuccino was intoxicating, the sun beaming down, the feel of relaxation so enticing. Harry really did need a break – a well-deserved one at that. He was even slightly relieved when Jeff chose to hang back at the villa for a nap- it gave him some time to address some of his thoughts- perhaps clear his mind a little.
He was periodically picking at the warm ciabatta stacked in a woven breadbasket, his sunglasses suddenly slipping down the bridge of his nose, obscuring his vision.
Harry stopped eating and took his shades off, deciding to use the bottom of his t-shirt to remove smudges on the lens. His focus was diverted by a high-pitched yelp – followed by a bellowing slew of Italian exclamations – a sudden scuffle happening somewhere on the boardwalk below.
He tried to get a better view from between the shrubbery - a middle-aged man; dishevelled, and waving his arms, called after someone. Harry looked further along the path- eyeing a gust of a floral dress, attached to the body of what he could only vaguely determine was you. His eyes were surely playing tricks on him; watching the woman - followed shortly by another taller one – run off further down the path, barely dodging the civilians obstructing their way.
And then they were gone. Vanishing into thin air, the atmosphere returning to normal as if it had never been interrupted to begin with.
Harry was starting to feel a tad ridiculous; apparently unable to leave his confusion over you back in London. He assumed he would have been over it by now- at least marginally so. Not allowing his head to be riddled with thoughts of you – particularly those that pertained to your hips slamming against his own.
Nevertheless, he knew there was always the possibility of him getting attached – how do you truly get over something so significant - so fucking memorable, so incredibly important? Harry needed to be okay with what happened between the two of you; needed to be able to acknowledge that it may have only been a one-time thing after all.
He was far too frightened to consider the result of being with you; so grateful and rewarded, and undoubtedly hoping it would finally change things between you.
But you hadn’t responded to his last two texts – he had refused to send a third; regardless of how much he wanted to – Harry was now forced to face the honest truth. Things were no longer the same between the two of you; and you weren’t willing to acknowledge or accept that.
🍷
Luck was not on your side- and you were convinced it was the consequence of your trip back home. Had you any self-control, this would have been the perfect summer- the one you so deserved.
As if losing your sense of control hadn’t bothered you enough, your frustration over liking it more than regretting it was ever increasing.
Having not seen Harry again since your almost-encounter yesterday, you were feeling relieved - but any time you were close to forgetting about it, you increased your alertness – certain you would prevent any further interactions.
Savina was kind - for your sake, of course – a rarity of understanding and patience that she never showed those around her. You were her soft spot, from the moment you met in the lobby of your new work building.
It was an electric start to an electric friendship – birthed courtesy of your desperate need for directions, and her total amusement watching you run in circles; only stepping in to assist after letting you wander around aimlessly for a good five minutes.
But as you reached the lobby, Savina was there once more, smiling sweetly at just the sight of you. You didn’t stop, heading for the exit as her heels clicked-clacked to catch-up. You whined something about being extra-late today – no help from her – and she laughed, grabbing your arm, exclaiming she was taking you out for dinner.
‘A celebration!’ she had cheered, quickly switching your perspective, and reminding you that not only had you survived your first day, but you had also succeeded in the first step of making a huge change. Your attitude had perked-up and hadn’t faltered since.
Savina worked in the editing department- you worked in animation. Your morning ritual consisted of taking turns picking up coffee and bagels, this tradition carried on even here on vacation.
After your silent freakout, she finally got the answers to her many questions. The two of you learned more and more about one another on the daily. Savina knew you well enough to understand your internal dilemma before your story concluded. She may not have agreed with your choice of action - running could only get you so far – yet she followed your decision; ready to assist and eager to see it all play out.
Your mood wasn’t exactly peachy today, tossing and turning all night; almost falling asleep before being reminded of Harry. And the cycle repeated for what felt like – and was – hours. Still, you were determined to make the best of your vacation, throwing a sheer black, daisy-printed dress over your swimsuit, before heading to meet up with Savina at your usual spot for brunch.
Mimosas and bread, cheese and fresh grapes were soon cheering you up, the clear skies and warm breeze was making it that much easier.
Your swimsuit was the first thing you put on this morning- Savina had done the same, packing a bag with towels and sunscreen.
Your goal of the day was to spend as much time out in the sun- the beach was bustling, family-goes and vacationers setting up spots all over. It reminded you of summer growing up, building sandcastles and surfing baby-waves with Jack.
As brunch ended, you began making your way down to the boardwalk, following the pathway. You scoped out possible beach-spots, finding it semi-difficult considering the beautiful array of trees and bushes had created a mini canopy, hiding the beach behind it.
You were glancing left to right, enjoying your stroll, but as you looked right up towards the scatter of restaurants above, you spotted Harry with ease. He was sticking out like a sore thumb- sitting right near the restaurant’s balcony- an entire view of the walkway below.
He was looking down- thank god- and you were certain this time that you had gone unnoticed. But that didn’t stop your body from going into flight-mode. Before you could stop yourself, you started ducking and running forward, bumping directly into a man walking opposite, apologising but not slowing down.
The man was exclaiming something rude, but you were tuning him out- forgetting about Savina completely. You dodged everything and everyone in your way, working with such precision you could have been mistaken for an Olympic hurdler.
Savina began a slow run after you- she would catch up eventually and, in the meantime, she had figured out why you had begun sprinting to begin with. This was becoming increasingly amusing, Savina almost hoped another run-in would occur - totally enamoured with this new side of you.
When you were absolutely certain you were now far away enough to slow down - precisely 200 metres-worth – you collapsed against the railing, totally out of shape and as a result, out of breath. Savina strolled along, finally joining you- acting as if nothing strange had just occurred.
She looked out at the view, deciding this was actually the perfect spot to sit and relax on the beath- quiet and cosy.
Without waiting, Savina began climbing through the railing, taking a small jump, feet sinking into the sand. She knew you were now following close behind, so she began unpacking and laying out her towel,
“Are you planning on running away every time you see him?” she didn’t look back.
You weren’t sure – really - refusing to accept that you might have to factor Harry into your holiday itinerary. It was unfair, unbecoming, and ultimately unnecessary. To fix things, you would surely have to confront him. And for some reason, that felt worse than the things that went down between the two of you in London.
At least then you were comforted by the literal feeling of pleasing and being pleased by Harry. That was the problem after all, the fact that you enjoyed – loved – it so much, the fact that you thought about it more and more as time passed; at the mere thought of him, the slightest reminders.
Seeing him now was worse than before; your annoyance was so prevalent, but the addition of lust, attraction, and neediness was something new to battle with.
Nevertheless, you had avoided him twice now, and that gave you hope that you might succeed at doing so the entire vacation- at least as long as he stuck around,
“I think I’ve been doing well so far,” you huffed matter-of-factly,
“By the skin of your teeth,” Savina reminded.
You removed the extra fabric, exposing your swimsuit and settling down onto the towel that had been laid out next to the one Savina now occupied. And you didn’t attempt a response; aware that you would see each other eventually. But until that occurred, you would remain optimistic.
With the sun so crisp, the sand so warm, the sea roaring and the city bustling afar. You slipped on your sunnies, plugged in your earphones, and attempted to find a level of mindfulness.
This seemed successful- so much so that you ditched your music, reached into the communal bag, and pulled out the latest book of your likings.
There was rarely time to read nowadays; you wondered how anyone found a moment to enjoy. So, you relished in any moment you found, relieving all guilt, and finding such entertainment.
Shade had been nowhere in sight, providing the perfect reading condition; so, when this changed, a dark cloud of coolness swallowing you, the cruel feeling of dread seeping through- you were afraid to look up and confirm your awful suspicions.
Harry peered down at you, eyes disguised, absent of shirt and shoes. He had a cheeky smile – something you found both taunting and humiliating. He had intercepted you; apparently tuning out for even twenty minutes had turned out to be detrimental.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said smugly as you removed your shades.
---
Here we go sweet pea's!! Let me know what you think, I really hope you enjoy ! We're in Italy now babyyy lets fuckin go!! - Emmy xox.
#grapejuice fic#elioslover#elioslover writing#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#harry x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry x y/n#harry styles one shot#harry fic#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#harry x reader smut#harry styles x reader smut#harry styles x y/n smut#harry x y/n smut#harry styles#harry styles blurb
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brat (sex columnist!harry x best friend!y/n)
in which y/n is best friends with harry, a sex columnist, who needs a little help answering a reader's question.
word count: 3k
content warnings: SMUT!!!! (mean dom/bratty sub dynamic, dirty talk, pussy spanking, paddling, sir kink, degradation, slight edging, fingering)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I’m really not.”
“No, but you are.”
“It would be for work and work only—”
“I don’t care.”
Harry sighs as he lifts a hand to run it through his curly hair. The noisy puff of air is filled with unsaid annoyance and Y/N tries her best not to roll her eyes at her best friend’s stubbornness, instead focusing on toying with the bracelet around her wrist. Instead of replying, he quickly runs his fingertips over the trackpad on his laptop so it glows back to life.
“Can you at least hear me out?” he asks, his tone teetering on a polite plea, “You know writing about sex is my job. How am I supposed to help this person out when I can’t even offer a fair answer?”
Y/N crosses her arms and shrugs and Harry wishes he could reach across the couch and push them to her sides.
“What makes you think I have any experience being a sub, anyway?” she fires back, keeping her eyes glued on the TV in front of them.
They're currently binging the newest season of The Bachelor, but Harry was more so using the dialogue and Y/N’s periodic gasps as background noise. For the past year or so, he’s held down a job at an online publication as a sex columnist. He loves it — people write in anonymously, asking him questions about everything from premature ejaculation to open relationships. Under the pen name H.E. Bell, he gets paid to write lengthy, thoughtful responses, helping his readers with approaching whatever sexual issue they’re facing. And this week, his editor really wants him to address a particular question about a dominant and submissive relationship.
The thing is, though, is the letter comes from a sub. And Harry’s a dom.
A mean one, at that.
So while Y/N’s diving into a pint of her favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (Phish Food, obviously), and Harry’s trying his best — and miserably failing — to place himself in the shoes of his submissive reader, he knows what he has to do.
“I hate to tell you, but you scream submissive,” Harry replies, pushing his laptop off of the couch and onto the coffee table. “Don’t even try to deny it. Just… just hear me out. Please. My deadline’s tomorrow afternoon.”
Y/N lets out an irritated huff as she grabs the TV remote and presses pause. Silently, she sits back against the couch, facing her best friend, and shoots him a displeased expression; a wordless allowance to speak.
“I’m a dom and I’ve literally always been that way. You’re a sub, through-and-through. This person is asking about situations pertaining to experience as a submissive, and I can’t really provide them with the advice that they’re looking for since I’ve never been in that headspace.”
Y/N shrugs carelessly. She’s unbothered by his frank analysis of her subordinate behavior — it’s not exactly surprising that Harry, the sex columnist, is able to identify a sub, dom, or switch from 10 miles away. But that doesn’t mean she has to get dragged into his research, or whatever the hell he was trying to play it off as.
“Why don’t you just skip the question, then?” Y/N asks. “If you don’t have the right resources to offer an answer—”
“My editor thinks it’ll bring in a lot of page views,” he says, his throat bobbing with a swallow. His eyebrows draw together some, creating a small worried wrinkle between them. “Listen, I’ll fuck off if you’re totally uncomfortable with helping me, but you’re my best friend and I don’t know who else I could ask with this short of a timeframe.”
She sighs and brings her knees up to her chest.
“Fine. Read me the question.”
A grin breaks out on Harry’s face as he grabs his laptop. He taps on the trackpad a few times as he brings the email up on the screen, eyes scanning over his bright inbox.
“Okay, here’s what they said,” he clears his throat and Y/N really does roll her eyes this time, “Dear H.E.— I’ve been in a sexual relationship with my dominant for three months. Up until now, we’ve clicked really well. The chemistry is great and we always mesh really well both during scenes and aftercare. But lately, I’m worried I’ve been a little too bratty. For context, I’m a bratty sub with an attitude, but my dom knew that going into this. I fear that they’ll grow tired of my nonsense and insistent disobedience, but when I’m in my subspace or engaging in a scene with them, it’s hard for me to pull away from it. What should I do? Do you have any advice for what I can do as a sub to best help my dom?”
Y/N’s plucking at her bottom lip as Harry glances up from his computer. Blinking, she thinks for a moment before crafting a response.
“Well, it sounds like the sub needs to communicate their feelings to their dom. There seems to be a lot of insecurity.” she says. He hums, nodding his head as he types a few words on his keyboard.
“Yeah, that’s true,” he murmurs, “They said it’s hard for them not to be in that bratty headspace, though.”
She shrugs, “I mean, if you’re a bratty sub, you’re a bratty sub. That’s just who you are.”
“Do you think there are any punishments that would work, then?”
“You’re the dom, shouldn’t you be able to answer that question?”
“I guess,” he replies, running his palm over the short bit of facial hair that’s grown on his chin in the past few days. “Spanking, edging, overstimulation, types of shibari, I guess…”
Y/N’s thighs squeeze involuntarily.
“...I just don’t know what works best.” he finishes his sentence, halting the tapping of his fingertips over the keyboard. “What do you think?”
She forces a swallow to coat her dry throat. “It depends.” she pushes out.
“Well, what works for you?”
She thinks for a moment. It’s been a minute since she’s been in a proper dominant/submissive dynamic — the last few times she’s had sex have all been one night stands and quick flings, all of which don’t allow enough time to learn about hard limits, punishments, and safe words. Her brain has to float back to a year ago, when she was sleeping with Reese, a soft dom who tried his best to tame her bratty nature but came back empty every time. He was good — the sex was good, but she wanted — no, needed — more.
“I don’t think I’ve ever really had a dominant… achieve that, I guess,” she mumbles thoughtfully. “I mean, I know what I like, as far as punishments go. But it’s not really about what the submissive likes, is it?”
“No,” Harry agrees. He hums as he opens up a second tab and she watches as he types the words “punishments for submissives” into the search engine. She sniffles and attempts to disregard the way her core instantly clenches.
He’s silent as he reads through a few lists, occasionally jotting down some notes into his Google doc. Y/N swallows noisily when he glances back up at her, this time prepared with an apparent list of proposed consequences.
“Okay, can you just tell me which ones you think most submissives would be fine with?”
She nods.
“Withgoing underwear in public?”
“Mhm.”
“Pussy spanking?”
“Yeah.”
“Nipple wax play?”
“Depends on the sub’s pain tolerance, but um… yeah.”
“Paddling?”
“I actually haven’t done that one before.”
Harry’s eyebrows raise.
“No?”
She shakes her head. “None of my doms have ever had one.”
“Doesn’t sound like they were proper doms, then.”
“They’ve all been on the softer side,” Y/N explains shyly. “But… yeah. I guess it’s always something I’ve wanted to try.”
“Is it?”
She can tell by the way his eyes have darkened, that there’s something wicked stirring in that brain of his. She knows she can put a stop to this now if she wants — he’s her best friend and he wouldn’t care if she ended the conversation here and now.
But she doesn’t.
Not for a second.
So instead she nods. And she’s completely unsurprised by the next sentence that falls from his lips.
“Do you want to try it now?”
By now, Y/N’s brain is all fuzzy and melty, so she doesn’t even think before she’s nodding her head eagerly. Harry chuckles and closes his laptop, shuffling onto his knees to lean forward and pluck at her bottom lip. A smirk curves at his mouth as she leans into his touch.
“Getting quite desperate on me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, cradling her cheek into his palm. “Get naked for me then and I’ll go get the paddle. No touching while I’m gone.”
Her stomach flips at the domineering tone in his voice. All too quickly, they’ve fallen into their most intimate roles, and Harry’s carrying himself to his bedroom as Y/N continues sitting there, all gooey-eyed and foggy. And maybe he should have expected it when he returns back to the living room a few moments later to see her sprawled out across the length of the couch, her bralette and underwear still on with her fingers tucked beneath the waistband of the fabric.
“Kitten,” Harry all but growls, making Y/N shiver at the pet name, “Are you already disobeying me?”
She hums as she watches him through half-lidded eyes, soft fingertips petting at her pearled clit. His eyes glimpse down at the tented material and he instantly sets the dark red paddle down on the carpeted floor, kneeling between her legs.
“What’s your color?” he breathes, locking a hand around her ankle. Her pussy quivers just from the simple grasp.
“Green,” she answers, “I’ll tell you if anything changes. Safe word is licorice.”
Harry nods, allowing his large hands to float up her legs. They reach the gusset of her sodden underwear and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, snapping the fabric against her swollen pussy.
“Take your hand out of your panties now and I won’t smack your pussy until she’s raw.”
Y/N doesn’t move. In fact, he thinks her circling fingers only quicken.
“I’ll give you one last warning,” he grits out, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, “I’m not a nice dominant. You won’t be able to walk if you keep going against me.”
But of course, her hand stays glued to the bundle of nerves. Instead, she breathes out a sultry response: “Think I could cum like this, having you watch me.”
In a moment, her cotton underwear is being ripped from her body and thrown aside. He’s swift in his movements as he collects her wrists in his palm, squeezing them harshly and throwing them up, high above her body. She gasps, noisy and wet.
“I don’t fuck around with brats like you for a reason.”
The first spank he issues to her puffy pussy is quick and fleeting, hardly offering a lick of pain. He’s eager to find where her pain threshold lies; if she’s all talk or if she can take the full force of his large palm. By the time he lands the sixth one, her skin now reddening beneath his smacks, he thinks he’s found it and he admits, he’s relatively impressed.
“Aw, did that one hurt?” Harry mocks, watching as her face twists in an expression of discomfort. “That’s because punishments are meant to be mean. You’re not supposed to enjoy them, little brat. You’ve had it too easy, hm?”
“H-haven’t,” she stutters out, wincing as he delivers a seventh, “I’m good, sir, I swear—”
“Oh, bull-fuckin’-shit,” he retorts. “You’re a silly little brat is what you are.”
“‘m not—”
Smack—
“You are.”
She whines until he reaches the tenth one. She’s a wiggly mess of sniffles and whimpers and he shushes her, brushing a thumb over her clit. She gasps lowly and he laughs.
“On your belly.”
This time, Y/N doesn’t defy him and Harry is admittedly surprised. She buries her face in the throw pillow and he rolls his eyes at the theatrics. Before picking the paddle up off the floor, his blunt fingertips scratch at her scalp, gentle and kind as they trail down to the nape of her neck.
“What’s your color, kitten?” he asks softly, rubbing a docile palm over her bare ass.
“Green, sir.”
“Do you still want to try the paddle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, “We’ll start with five and then see where you’re at. You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”
“Red or licorice, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Since it’s her first time, he decides to ease her into it. He uses only a smidgen of his strength to smack the paddle against the thick of her cheek, watching as the wood ricochets. Her skin jiggles in response and he swallows, noting the way her nails already dig into the couch.
The second and third are just as light but he adds a bit more pressure to the fourth and fifth. When he’s finished, he rubs over the flush skin, slow and intentional.
“How was that?” he asks.
“Good,” she replies, her voice slightly muffled from the pillow, “I can take more.”
A hand quickly finds its way to the back of her neck and her eyes instantly widen. He shifts her head, smushing her cheek into the soft fabric so her voice is no longer dulled.
“Need to hear you loud and clear,” Harry says. “And now you’ll count for me.”
When the oak paddle makes contact with her ass for the sixth time, she grits her teeth but still calls out the number. She follows suit for the next five and, while it’s painful and harsh in the most uncomfortable of ways, she’d be lying if she said her skin didn’t feel like it was on fire. She’s burning for him, feeling her arousal leak down between the apex of her thighs with every last spank.
“Good job, kitten,” Harry announces, dropping the paddle at the end of the set. “You did good, hm? Did the bratty girl learn her lesson?”
Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in a pout when his soft palms begin to soothe her aching bum. He instantly takes notice, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion.
“Can’t give you anymore tonight, kitten. It was only your first time.”
Instead of replying, she simply shakes her head.
“Use your words. I’m not a mindreader, brat.”
Swallowing, she lifts her head up slightly, only enough to give her a peek of Harry’s concerned expression.
“W-wanna cum,” she mumbles, blinking at him, “Will you make me cum, sir?”
And instead of immediately getting what she wants, Harry does the unthinkable.
He rolls his eyes.
“You act like a slutty brat all night, begging to get paddled, and now you want me to make you cum?”
She nods, ashamed and embarrassed.
“What the fuck makes you think you deserve that?”
“I-I took my spankings and paddlings without complaining. And I didn’t disobey you a-after that.”
“But you did defy me to begin with, didn’t you?” he pushes, weaving his hand into the hair at the back of her head. His fist tightens and he lifts her head so her neck cranes back. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And now you want to cum.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But not only do you want to cum— you want me to make you cum.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine then,” he decides, sitting down and leaning back against the couch cushions. “Come here. Straddle me.”
She forces herself onto her knees and ignores the way her ass and pussy both sting from her punishments. Right now, all she can focus on is her buzzing clit and its need for attention.
She does as she’s told and splits her thighs to fit his own legs between them. Almost instantly, he cups a hand beneath her mouth and glares at her expectantly.
“Spit, brat. Are you dumb?”
She shakes her head, allowing saliva to pool behind her lips before spitting it into his palm. With his eyes staring into hers, he lowers his spit-slick hand down to her mound and pushes a finger inside of her. Immediately, she clenches around it, her eyes threatening to flutter shut.
“Keep them open,” he instructs, “Jesus, your cunt is already milking me.”
She swallows and forces herself to maintain eye contact with the man sitting before her. He’s merciless in his ministrations, especially when he nestles a second, then a third finger and curls them up to her most sensitive spot. Her hands form tight fists as she grinds against his hand, moaning loudly when his thumb reaches her clit.
“What a desperate little pussy,” he murmurs, speeding up the tight circles over the swollen bundle of nerves, “You like getting stretched out, don’t you? Say it.”
“I-I love when you stretch me out, sir.”
“Of course you do,” he smirks viciously, “Is your cunt gonna cum like this?”
“Y-yes, sir—”
“Ask for permission first, kitty.”
“Please sir, can I cum? P-please?”
She’s whimpery and mewling as she bounces helplessly on his fingers, the ribbon in her lower stomach threatening to unravel at any given moment. He hums, stilling the digits inside of her.
“Hold it.”
“Sir—”
“Hold it, brat.”
Her pussy clenches around him but she does. She restrains herself until he finally allows the ribbon to come undone, a slew of whines and curses sounding from her plush lips as she does.
It feels like it goes on forever but when the pleasure finally ceases, she collapses into his chest. Harry gently pulls his fingers from her center and wraps an arm around her waist, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze.
He lets her stay like that for a bit and, maybe selfishly, he enjoys having her limp, exhausted body so close to his.
“Gotta clean you up and rub some salve on your bum,” he finally manages out, ducking down to whisper the words in her ear.
Tiredly, she nuzzles her head against his shoulder. “Five more minutes?”
He swallows.
He doesn’t think she’s in her subspace, but he knows she’s sleepy and fuzzy from the mix of pain and pleasure he just instilled on her body.
And so for that, he’ll give her five more minutes.
Six, if she’s lucky.
#writing#harry styles#bffrry#harry styles writing#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles fic#harry styles filth#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles smutty fanfic#harry's house#hs4#harry's house album#fine line#one direction#harry styles fic rec#harry styles angst#harry styles drabble
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Ruin Me H.S
Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)
Warnings: SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅
Word count: 13.7k+
Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe
- Find my General Masterlist here -
You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.
It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight.
You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything.
He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise.
That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.
It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return.
You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.
Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.
The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.
He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible.
You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.
“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night.
You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders.
Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy.
“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.
That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about.
You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.
Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.
Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t.
You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.
Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.
It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.
Then one night… everything changed.
You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window.
You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over.
Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin.
You prayed it was only her being skittish.
When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet.
It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.
“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time.
“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell.
That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in.
Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived.
“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.
Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful.
“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”
Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.
Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.
You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience.
“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.”
Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”
You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”
Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.
“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.
Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds.
After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive.
“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him.
“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.
“I don’t, actually.” You responded.
“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating.
“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.
“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”
“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet.
“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”
“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily.
“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”
“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”
Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”
He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.
He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him.
But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.
He’d break your heart.
“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.
You needed it.
“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”
The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside.
You wanted to save him.
“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”
So he did.
He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.
But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along.
Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you.
Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night.
Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it.
You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along.
There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected.
Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time.
His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you.
“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air.
“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh.
The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window.
“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”
“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”
“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word.
Mine.
“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”
You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting.
What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that?
“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?”
That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up.
He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was.
Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release.
This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.”
Shit.
“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.”
You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all.
The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin.
You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now.
The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street.
But tonight… you knew.
There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew.
And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.
You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times.
6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.
Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it.
“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway.
“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky.
You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him.
“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.”
You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.
Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip.
“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms.
“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”
“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”
You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you.
Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it.
“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.
“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”
Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss.
You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue.
“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him.
“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds.
“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already.
“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.”
“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine.
“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”
“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped.
“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.”
You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away.
“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.”
“You’re distracting me.”
“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”
“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”
You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his.
“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”
“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”
“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”
“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world.
“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world.
“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?”
Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you.
“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.”
All you could do was nod.
Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head.
He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth.
You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.
You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever.
“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”
“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips.
“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny.
“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom.
“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you.
“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.”
“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.
He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him.
“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”
“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples.
You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.
“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday.
“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches.
His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.
His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever.
“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”
“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”
He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything.
Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp.
“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch.
“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face.
“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body.
“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert.
“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you.
“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face.
“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe.
“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.
“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”
“Well yes but-“
“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”
“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling.
It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked.
“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy.
“I guess so.”
“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?”
“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word.
To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you.
“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine.
“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him.
“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?”
“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you.
After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.
You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him.
“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.
“You could’ve died.” You argued.
“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”
“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.”
“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?”
Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.
“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern.
“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you.
“Mhmm.”
“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed.
Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good.
The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you.
“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”
“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.
“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”
“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”
He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle.
He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way.
“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”
Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit.
“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore.
“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”
“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.”
“Good.”
Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile.
“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.
“Harry…”
“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you.
Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.
“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”
And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin.
“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed.
“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin.
“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.
“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”
He was evil.
Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on?
“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again.
Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly.
Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room.
But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs.
The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name.
“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”
“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.
You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night.
“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder.
“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.
“Mhmm.” You nodded.
“Colour?”
“Green.”
“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you.
Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.
“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”
You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual.
Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.
The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.
You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.
“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”
He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it.
He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible.
That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure.
You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again.
“No. Harry...”
“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”
You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long.
Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.
“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…”
It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing.
“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it.
Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself.
Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge.
And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time.
“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.
He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever.
The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.
“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears.
“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.
You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back.
“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.
“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”
“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come.
“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”
His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling.
“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.
It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed.
No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him.
“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.
“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”
He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.
It was euphoric.
“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”
Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.
Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.
You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.
“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of.
“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air.
The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.
That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.
“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you.
It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.
“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”
“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.
Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.
“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck.
You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry.
“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.
“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”
With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.
Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.
“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.
“Was it too much? Be honest…”
“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”
“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”
Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”
“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.
“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”
“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”
Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”
He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”
“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”
“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.
“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”
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The Handyman
Summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.
A/N: This was requested! Also if you'd like to see early access content like this (plus more exclusive content) consider joining my Patreon! xoxo
Word Count: 10.9k
Warning: smut, mentions of a close relative dying, and tons of sweetness
When you pulled up the long dirt driveway to the old estate you used to spend your summers at, it was as if you could feel your aunt Gayla’s presence all around you again. You could remember running through the fields and the trees and dawdling your afternoons away on the big wraparound porch with extra sweet lemonade and book after book.
Your aunt would have her old radio playing with records or cassette tapes, volume turned up so loud you’d be out climbing a tree a quarter mile off and could still hear the sounds of Credence Clearwater Revival or Stevie Nicks crooning over the distance. When the sun would begin to dip in the sky, oranges and pinks coloring in where it was bright blue just before, she’d change the record to Bill Withers or maybe even Louis Armstrong and she’d call you in by screaming at the top of her lungs that it was time to eat. But when you’d arrive she’d pull you into her arms and dance with you and tell you how important it was to read, write, dance, and love.
And everything she did and the way she lived her life had the biggest influence on yours these days. She had been your favorite person, next to your mother of course. But your mother died when you were 17 and your aunt filled in to help raise you when your dad was overwhelmed with the loss of his wife and trying to reign in a hormonal and emotional young woman. He tried his best but you knew it was lucky your aunt stepped up to help guide you into adulthood.
So it came as almost no surprise to anyone when your aunt passed and she left you everything she had. At the time you didn’t realize she had so much. At the reading of the will, it was just you and your father. The lawyer said you’d be inheriting her estate and every dime she had to her name. But when he read off the number, well, that part very much came as a surprise.
It was a life-changing number. And her old, huge house set on 16 acres in that old, small town was worth far more than you ever imagined it would be. You were advised to sell it at first. And you certainly considered it. What would you be needing with so much space all by yourself so far away from the big city you currently lived in? That money could just be piled on top of the already large sum she’d left you.
But the more you considered selling it the more you hated that idea. All the wonderful memories you had there, all that gorgeous space with expanses of marble and hardwood and tall trees and meadowland could be a sanctuary. It could be a place for you to live. To enjoy the large space, tall ceilings, and windows, the sunrises and sunsets… To play music loudly and dance in front of your oven as you baked muffins and write to your heart’s content.
It could certainly be far better than your studio apartment that cost nearly as much in rent as what you made working your ass off at the paper. You could move out of your rundown, mouse-infested building and fix up the old estate to your liking. You could quit your job and begin writing full-time like you always wanted. Your aunt’s house would be the perfect place to begin your new adventure. A refuge of peace. An oasis of your own to spark inspiration and creativity.
And so here you were, standing with the key in hand on the big front porch, old, rotted boards bending and cracking as you stepped up to the door to open it for the first time in years. When your aunt had fallen sick, she’d been transferred to the city to live with your father as she was unable to care for herself during the end of her life. You helped as often as possible. On Saturdays, you’d take her to the park to sit on the bench and watch the birds and the trees and you’d chat about the books you were reading and life. You did that every Saturday until she could no longer be moved from her bed. But you were always with her every Saturday, by her side and holding her hand until she had no more Saturdays left.
You felt a surge of emotion as you walked through the space. The old funky vintage chandelier that hung over the dining table was covered in cobwebs. When your aunt had it installed you helped her paint the little ceramic flowers in various shades of green and yellow. It had been all white at one time.
But it was the window that stretched along the wall that overlooked the back acreage that drew you closer. Pulling the dusty curtains aside, sunshine filled the room. Sheets covered the furniture that had all been left behind.
The whole place was yours. And you had a great feeling about this next phase in your life.
. . .
After a week of cleaning, working in the garden, peeling wallpaper down, having a new refrigerator and oven range installed as well as a washer and dryer for clothes, and attempting to tear out wooden boards from the front porch all by yourself, you’d hit a wall. It was clear you’d need help to get the house in tip-top shape.
Scouring the internet for handyman recommendations, you were left feeling quite hopeless. So you made a trip into town to talk to the owner of the hardware shop you met some days earlier when you were buying paint and tools. He had mentioned he knew someone who could help if you ever needed. A local man who took over his father’s business. You imagined there weren’t a lot of people willing to make the trip out to the small town and then even further out to the old house miles from the main road.
When you arrived, as you expected, the place was empty aside from Mr. George shuffling about behind the counter. When he spotted you his face lit up in a grin, “Miss Y/n! How can I help you this Thursday morning?”
“Hi, Mr. George. I was uh, wondering if I could get the number of that handyman you were telling me about? I think I’ve done all I can do by myself at this point. Some of the electricity needs rewiring, the boards in the porch are rotting away–“
“Say no more, my dear. I’ll call him right now,” he placed his hand over the phone receiver, “We’ll see if he can make some time today or tomorrow and if not, I’ll bet he can fit you in next week for a quote.”
“Next week?” You frowned.
“Well, he’s the only one who runs the business these days. His pop passed away a couple of months back so I’m assuming he might be a bit busy. Good guy, though. I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t think he’d do your aunt’s place justice.”
You nodded. That would have to be good enough you supposed. If not this week, next week you figured would be okay. Things were different in the small town than they were back in the big city. Life moved a bit slower and that was something you would just have to get used to.
Mr. George dialed the number he pulled up from his desktop Rolodex as you patiently waited to find out if the recommended handyman would be interested in helping you or not.
“Harry! My boy! How are you?” Mr. George spoke into the receive with a big smile.
“Yeah… I’m well too. Hey, look,” he glanced at you, “I’ve got a lovely young woman here who needs some help with her new house… yes. It’s that old mansion off Timbert. The one about a two miles from the main road… exactly. Gayla’s old place… It’s her niece, uh,” he cupped the receiver and looked at you with his brows raised as you spoke your name to him, “her name is Y/n.”
Seemed everyone in this town knew your aunt. You watched George scribble down something on a piece of scrap paper before sliding it over to you and began to make a little small talk with the man called Harry.
It was a number and the name of the company, Styles and Son. Mr. George pointed at the paper, and looked at you, “Write your number down here for me.”
You picked up the pen he used and wrote your number with your first and last name next to it, handing the paper back to him.
Mr. George tore off the section with your number and nodded at you, “Okay, ready for the number?”
He read it off to Harry before looking at you and holding out the receiver, “Wants to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Oh, sure,” you reached for the phone and stepped closer to the counter so you could put it to your ear, “Hello?”
“Hi. You’re Gayla’s niece?”
“Yes, sir. She recently passed and left the house to me and I wanted to fix it up a little.”
“My dad used to help Gayla out whenever she needed things done. I’ve never had the opportunity to see the inside but I’d like to come by maybe tomorrow afternoon when you have an hour or so to spare?”
“Sure! I’ll be home all day. Any time works for me.”
“Great. Let’s say around 2? I’ll give you a call before I head that way. George gave me your phone number, and make sure he gives you mine.”
“Oh yeah. He already did. I’ve got it written down here.”
“M’kay… well, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n.”
“Sure! And thank you again!”
Mr. George took the phone from you and placed it into its cradle to hang up the call, “You know… Harry’s a single man. Bout your age. My wife says he’s a looker and I reckon you two might get along well.”
“Is that so?” You grinned at the store owner as you folded up Harry’s contact info and stuffed it into your pocket, “Appreciate this, Mr. George. So much. Truly.”
“Ahh, it’s nothin’. This small town is a close-knit community. We’re all here to help each other when we can.”
. . .
Instead of calling you, Harry texted when he was on his way over.
See you in half an hour. H
You smiled at the thought of finally getting some help in that big lonely house. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you climbed down the step ladder to freshen up a bit before Harry could arrive. You slid on a clean cotton dress, washed your hands and face, and then made some lemonade should he want anything to drink.
When Harry arrived you heard his truck clonking up the dirt driveway before you saw it. He’d been your first visitor so it was the first time you’d had the pleasure of hearing a vehicle driving toward your house (and didn’t it feel so weird to call it your house?). You watched out the window as dust kicked up from his tires. It was a big black truck. A decal on the side that read Styles and Son.
Walking onto your porch you waved to greet him as he stepped out, feet landing on the ground. His attire was simple. Jeans and a white t-shirt with a pocket at the front. Work boots. But what you couldn’t get over as he smiled and raised his big hand to wave back at you was how fit and broad he was. Tanned skin on his arms and tattoos up the length of one of them. Chestnut curls with touches of light brown and maybe blond hidden in the strands. He was tall and he was handsome.
“Y/n?” He smiled as he walked up the steps to your porch with his eyes on you. Green eyes.
“Yes! I’m Y/n,” you reached your hand out to him as he gripped it into his palm to shake.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to check out Gayla’s house. Glad I’ve got the opportunity,” he looked down at the boards under his feet, “And first thing is,” he bent down and placed the heel of his palm into the wood, “this porch needs updating in a bad way.” He stood back up, soft green irises on you, “Feel how soft that is when you step over it?” He spoke as he demonstrated, pressing his foot into the floor of the porch.
You nodded, “Oh yeah. I already tore some of the boards out but I knew I couldn’t do all this on my own.”
Harry squinted at you and the way his eyes scraped down over your dress and to your feet then back up to your face had you tingling, “You tore out some boards on your own?” He nodded with an impressed look on his face.
Now you were feeling flustered. The sudden shift in temperature made it feel like your cotton panties were digging into your hips and your thighs too tight.
You laughed and shook your head, “Oh… I mean it wasn’t much. But…” you looked back up at him and watched as a lopsided smile took over his face, complete with a dimple, “You wanna come inside? See the place?”
“Absolutely.”
You pushed the front door in and let Harry pass through into the space. You watched him look all around and then walk toward the big front window and slide his hand over the wood frame, “Beautiful woodwork here,” he looked up toward the ceiling and then along the wall toward the archway into the dining area, “It looks like it’s probably throughout the house. We’ll be sure to keep this original,” he looked at you suddenly, “Unless you wanted to completely change all this. It’s up to you but I would suggest trying to maintain the existing features.”
“I would love to keep it original if possible. So… are you saying you’ll do this for me?”
Harry chuckled and ran his index finger under his nose, “Soon as I saw the place as I drove up the path to get here had my heart set on it. Of course, we’ll need to talk numbers and come to an agreement but I’m ready to start as soon as possible. What’s the electricity situation? Original too?” He looked up at the light sconce on the wall.
“I think it’s all original. Everything. Most likely all needs overhauled to bring it up to code. So… you don’t have other jobs you are committed to right now? Thought you were the only one?”
Harry raised his brows and looked back at you, “Hired a helper a couple weeks back. He can do all the odd jobs for me while I focus on this. Honestly, Y/n,” you scorched at the way he said your name so casually, “There ain’t tons of work around here. I usually have one or two small jobs a day. Garbage disposal repair, sodding a yard, shingle repair… we do bigger jobs too like tree stump removal, burst pipes, and things like that. One-offs usually.”
“Tree stump removal… you do all that?”
He nodded, “Yep. I do it all. Got the equipment from when my father was running the business. My dad and I were the only ones in town to do all this kind of stuff so we learned how to do just about everything.”
You showed Harry around the rest of the house and described what you thought you might want done. But watching Harry slide his hands over your baseboards and knock at the walls as he talked about what he’d do… you smiled and agreed with everything he said.
“I do want the wallpaper out, though. It’s a little too dated for my taste,” you ran your finger over the silk flower design wall covering and Harry put his palm over the wall and nodded, “We could look at other wallpaper if you wanted. Or were you just thinking paint?”
You bit your lip and leaned into the wainscoting, “Maybe a new wallpaper? What do you think is better?”
Harry mimicked your pose, placing his hip on the white wainscoting, and faced you, “There are some really high-quality wallpapers out there. In any pattern you can think of. Can also get them custom-made if you had the money for it. I’d get the wallpaper if I were you.”
You nodded, “I’ll be honest, Harry, my aunt left me a good bit of money and I’d like to restore the place with really nice quality things and finishes. Want it to look as beautiful here as it did the day it was built. I’m not too worried about how much it’ll all cost. Within reason of course.”
Harry pushed himself from the wall and clasped his hands together behind his back, “I’m really sorry for your loss by the way. Was a shock to everyone when we found out she passed.”
You nodded, “Yeah. I always thought she’d live forever. Spent so many summers here with her, climbing trees and dancing… just feels so weird that she’s gone now,” a small smile covered your face, “But also, I’m sorry to hear about your dad too. His recent passing.”
The smile fell from Harry’s face, “Did George tell you he passed?”
“He did. I’m sorry if bringing that up wasn’t–“
“No, it’s fine. I was about to tell you anyway. Hence the name of the business, Styles and Son. I’m the son part of it,” he grinned, “But yeah. He died and I took over the business. It’s been a struggle. I miss him but I think he’d be really pleased that I was getting the chance to fix this old place up.”
You offered Harry some lemonade and you both sat on the back porch together as you discussed what you wanted done first with the house. Of course, Harry already had a solid timeline in mind, he’d start with the electrical wiring and the rotten boards on the porch and make sure everything was up to code and safe before getting to the more superficial parts of the job. The garden and landscaping would come last.
Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.
“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”
You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.
Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.
But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.
And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.
You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.
Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.
“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”
“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”
He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”
You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”
Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”
You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”
“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.
When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.
“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.
Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”
You sighed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll get it. You don’t have to do all this. I promise I’m fine. Just need to kind of wake up I think.”
Harry nodded, “Okay. I’ll get back to work out there. Gonna be some loud hammering and noises for a while.”
You cleaned yourself up and put actual clothes on before making coffee and bringing a hot mug out to Harry on a tray. This time, you carefully placed your steps around the boards and scanned the porch to see open spaces and nails in a tin next to fresh boards.
Harry was crouched along the railing and prying a board from its spot when he looked up at you.
“Coffee? Wasn’t sure if you take it with sugar or cream… Or maybe you just want tea?” You placed the tray down as he stood up.
“That’s really nice of you. Thank you. I would love some coffee. Black is fine.”
He took the mug by its handle and brought it up to his lips to take a sip.
“And if you’re hungry I could make you something?” You watched him gulp down the hot liquid.
Shaking his head he grinned at you, “Maybe lunch in a few hours. I ate breakfast already. But you don’t need to go out of your way to make anything. I can go into town for a sandwich, which is what I usually do.”
“Oh no. I’ll make you something for lunch! I insist! I love the company anyway. That way you can kind of relax instead of driving back and forth just to eat. Unless you want to get away for a bit. I mean…” you started rambling. You couldn’t help yourself. Harry’s biceps were on full display as he lifted the mug up to his mouth again and you could just feel your own mouthwatering at the sight. You hadn’t seen a man so attractive in a long time. All the city guys you dated were nice enough… but then there was Harry. Tall with broad shoulders and lean muscle all over, deep pink lips and light green eyes… and dimples… and he was handy? God, you weren’t sure how long you could go before you started to become obvious about how much you enjoyed letting your irises rove over his frame. That is if it wasn’t already obvious.
He watched you go on and on about lunch and then offer up other suggestions with a small smile on his face until you stopped when you realized you were yammering, “Sorry.”
“You okay?” He grinned. He knew you were fine. But he did wonder if you were flustered because of him or if that was how you just were.
“I’m fine. Sorry. Get kind of long-winded sometimes. I’ll let you get to it. Um… if you do want me to make you lunch just let me know. And uh…” you paused and then realized you were about to start yapping again, “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice was soft as he spoke your name and you turned to look back at him, “Take a breath. It’s okay. We’ll have lunch together in a few hours. Yeah?”
You puffed out a breathy laugh and nodded before heading back inside with the tray that had sugar and milk atop.
You hadn’t considered it until then. Until you were placing the small crystal lid back onto the sugar bowl and putting the milk back into the refrigerator that your sudden burst of inspiration for the story you were working on was thanks to your handsome handyman. It also felt really good to have someone else there with you. Not that you didn’t feel safe there alone, but just having another presence near you was comforting.
And when you began to make up a lunch, something you hoped he’d like (you had to stop yourself from asking him if he’d want cucumbers and white cheese on his sandwich and just trust that it would be fine) you couldn’t help but peek out your window at him as he pounded his hammer down and wiped the sweat from his brow. His shirt was a bit damp as the sun was rising in the sky and the temperature with it.
Which then reminded you to plug in a fan so he could cool off while he ate with you. You set up the kitchen table and plugged in a fan to have it on for him as you both ate your sandwiches. As well as iced lemonade and chopped cherry tomatoes with basil and olive oil.
It was noon on the dot when you opened the door and poked your head out, “Lunch is ready if you’re hungry.”
Harry placed his hammer down and pushed himself up to stand as he nodded, “Thank you. Mind if I use the bathroom before?”
“Harry, you can use anything you want in the house. Feel free to come inside when you please. You don’t have to ask.”
“Well, thank you, Y/n. I appreciate it.”
You felt ridiculous as you paced your kitchen in wait for Harry to come in so you two could begin. The silly thoughts you had in your head about him had your heart lobbing around in your chest a bit too fast. You could just imagine (in the deepest little fantasy spot in your brain) that he’d take one bite of your sandwich and be so overcome by you that he’d have the sudden urge to lift you onto the table, push your dress up, and take you right there, knocking the lemonade down and forgetting all about the cherry tomatoes.
“Wow. This looks excellent. And you’re joining me?” He smiled as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes on the table.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” you shrugged as you pulled a chair out for him, just in the path of the fan, “And if it’s okay, though I could have some with you. Keep you company. Unless I’m annoying you…”
Harry laughed and shook his head as he took his seat, “You’re the furthest thing from annoying, Y/n. In fact, I quite like talking to you. Sit,” he gestured at the spot where you’d placed your own plate with the sandwich. “The fan is a nice touch too. See, you’re just about the sweetest person I’ve ever worked for and it’s only been a few hours.”
You felt the skin on your cheeks heat up as you sat down in the wooden chair and looked at Harry. You really really tried not to look at him like that. But you could feel it oozing out of you as you batted your lashes and tilted your head down, your eyes still on him. You couldn’t help it!
And he saw it clear as day too. Grinning at you he took the glass of lemonade and gulped down about half as he watched you blink your eyes and then remove your gaze from his down to your plate.
“Thank you, Y/n,” he said as he placed the glass down and picked up his sandwich.
“You’re welcome, Harry.”
. . .
Harry didn’t take days off. He was at your house at 8 am sharp every morning and every day you were sure to make him a big lunch and chat with him a bit. But every day you fell further and further into a little spiral of want and lust. It was ridiculous but he wasn’t doing anything to dampen the way you felt.
Like after one lunch, he took his thumb and wiped the mustard from the edge of your mouth so nonchalantly you felt your knees give out and he had to help steady you. But you didn’t miss his smirk. Like he knew just what he was doing.
Or the time when you were walking from your bathroom to your kitchen after a shower and he’d gone out to buy supplies so you thought you were alone but instead walked past the huge window in only your underwear and bra as you were talking to yourself. Yapping away about whatever in your panties as you turned to the sink to wash some dishes but then yelped when you saw him standing there looking in, an expression of surprise on his face.
You had never run so fast in your life up to your room to put something on. And you should have known better. What was wrong with you? Of course, you were quite absent-minded at times, but that was something on another level.
But then it happened again that he saw you in only your skivvies as you traipsed to your bathroom and had forgotten that he was rewiring the second-floor hallway lights.
“Hey, sweetheart… just wanted to remind you that I’m here,” his voice startled you and you balked as you apologized and shut the bathroom door with a loud slam.
“Sorry, Harry!” You apologized again with your heart rapidly thudding behind your ribcage.
You could hear his voice through the bathroom door, “Don’t need to apologize. Doesn’t offend me. Just wanted to remind you I was here is all – in case you weren’t keen on me seeing you in your knickers.”
And Harry was like that. So gentle and thoughtful and there was the tiniest bit of flirtatiousness there too. Which really kept you on your toes around him. Made you feel all hot and gooey. Maybe if he didn’t grin at you the way he did or if he didn’t wipe mustard from your lips or call you sweetheart or compliment you as often you wouldn’t feel that tension there all the time.
But he did and so you did.
Which then led to you working up the nerve to start asking him to say for dinner. He’d sit in your kitchen after using your shower to clean up and watch (you insisted he didn’t help) as you made something for the both of you to eat.
At first, he didn’t stay every evening for dinner because he wanted to get home to clean up and you didn’t want to push and make it seem like you were needy for his company.
But soon, after suggesting he just use your shower, it was every night, and he began to bring a change of clothes so he could clean up before eating. And it felt like you were in some kind of bizarre relationship. Or, that’s what you pretended in your mind anyway. And it was fodder for your writing so you played into the fantasy a little bit.
Of course, there were also all the times you caught him with his shirt off. By the time he began working inside the house summer was in full swing and the place had no central air conditioning so it could get rather hot inside.
And it wasn’t just that you caught him with his shirt off… it was that he caught you staring while he was sans shirt, a sheen of sweat on his chest and at the nape of his neck, muscles flexing and tensing as he labored to make your house gorgeous and well-functioning.
Harry Styles was sexy. He was kind. He was charming and funny. He was smart. And you wanted him. Wanted him in a bad way.
And the days and weeks that drew on that feeling and that lust did not falter. No, it only widened and grew strong, steady thick roots into the ground and became fortified and strengthened with every little bit of contact you had with him. You wanted him so badly you could taste it. Feel it. Smell it.
“Let me get it!” He scoffed at you as he pulled the lid from the pot that was boiling over while you were chopping the tomatoes. You told him to stay seated because you wanted him to rest, that you’d get the boiling pot. He’d worked so hard that day (as he always did) and you knew he must be tired. But he dipped the spoon into the bubbling water and turned down the burner to lower the heat for you.
“I can help, Y/n. I know you’re just being sweet cause you think I’m all tuckered but I don’t mind. Really.”
You smiled as you sliced into the tomato, “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re not working extra. You work so hard every day and I feel like this is the least I can do for you.”
Harry pushed a soft laugh out through his nose as he placed the lid back onto the pot, “The least you could do is pay me for my work. And that you already do. This,” he gestured around the kitchen, “Is above and beyond. Not that I’m complaining.”
“Well, I just… I feel like we’re friends now and feels strange to send you home after,” you glanced at him to see that he was leaning his hip into the counter watching you in that way that he often looked at you. The one that made your skin sizzle.
When he didn’t respond you glanced at him again, “There’s a bottle of wine if you want to share? I think it’ll go really nicely with this dish.”
Harry pursed his lips and nodded, “Trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?”
You chuckled in surprise and shook your head, “Of course not!” Placing the knife down you turned to him, “I was only just suggesting it if you want. I mean… you don’t have to. I didn’t think a glass would be all that bad–“
“I’m teasing. It’s okay. I’ll have some wine with you,” he laughed at the way you suddenly bristled, “Where’s the wine opener? I’ll pour us both a glass.”
The wine turned out to be the perfect accompaniment for the pasta dish you’d made. But you knew it would be. In fact, you’d gone into town the night before to the olive oil and wine shop and selected the wine for that exact purpose after asking the owner what she thought. You weren’t sure if he’d like wine or not but you liked wine and it was a really nice bottle. Which you could afford now that you had a bit of money to your name.
And Harry agreed it was good as he poured you both another glass after you’d both finished your plates.
“So what are you writing anyway?” Harry asked as he leaned back in his chair and set his eyes on you.
“It’s a romance. You wouldn’t be into it I’m sure,” you shrugged as you sipped your wine.
“Why are you so sure I wouldn’t be into it? I love romance.”
“Oh. I guess men aren’t usually my target audience or prospective target audience… I haven’t actually published anything. Sorry… I shouldn’t assume I guess.”
“Tell me what it’s about.”
You cleared your throat and shook your head, “Oh… it’s not done. I’m kind of too bashful to talk about it just yet.”
Harry leaned his elbows onto the table and kept his gaze on you, “Oh come on… Tell me. I won’t judge. I want to know what kind of story you’ve been working on. And then I’ll tell you a secret of my own. How’s that sound?”
You sat your glass of wine down and licked your lips as you let your pupils take in his pretty lips, “Uh… fine…” you sighed and smiled. You wouldn’t tell him the whole thing but perhaps you could just make it brief. “It’s about a woman who takes on a new adventure in life and she meets a man unexpectedly and he helps her kind of navigate her new life… uh… like they have this unspoken connection and feel quite comfortable with one another off the bat. And it leads to a whirlwind romance that ends happily ever after.”
Harry tilted his head to the side and stitched his brows together, “Y/n…” Harry spoke your name as if he were about to scold you, “Give me some detail. What kind of new adventure is this woman taking?”
You looked up at the ceiling and felt your neck heat up. If you told him the premise he’d figure out you were basically writing a story that was a fantasy version of what you and Harry were doing.
But you didn’t want to lie and you could just tell him to drop it but you didn’t want to do that either. So you gulped down the saliva in your throat and laughed as you looked at him, “She inherits a gorgeous old house from a family member with all the money she’d need to hire a man to help her restore the place.”
The pleased look on his face had you looking away from him and down at your empty plate in full embarrassment.
“I see. So you’ve had some real-life inspiration since moving in here then.”
You nodded, a small laugh falling from your lips, “Yeah.”
“And this man helping her restore the old house? He’s the one she has her whirlwind, happy-ending romance with?”
You put your hands over your face, “Oh my god. I mean… yes. It’s just inspiration, though… like it wasn’t–“
Your words were cut off when you heard his chair scrape over the wooden floors and felt his hand at your back, “You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s just a story. Wanna hear my secret now? Level out the playing field a bit here.”
You pulled your hands away from your face and looked at him. He was sitting right next to you, so close you could see the pores on his nose as he offered you a dimpled grin. His hand gently rubbed at your back.
“Level out the playing field?”
His soft grin deepened as he slid his pupils down to your lips, “Yeah. You told me something that’s kind of a secret. If you want me to tell you a secret I will… kind of make it even.”
You swallowed with a nod as he moved his eyes over the expanse of your face and it felt like warmth seeping into your skin.
“See… So here’s the thing…” he paused to make sure you were paying attention, “I’ve been working for this insanely sweet-as-pie woman for a couple of months now. Just falling in love with every corner of the house that I touch… getting fed fruit and coffee every morning, sandwiches in the afternoon with lemonade and a fan to help cool me down, and then lately it’s spread into dinner… just me and her eating together in her kitchen, talking about nothing and everything as the sun goes down and then I go home at night alone and find myself unable to stop thinking about her and the way she laughs and the way I catch her staring at me when I’ve sweat through my shirt…”
You were holding your breath as he spoke and it was making your head fuzzy and your heart thud and your skin light up as he slowly worked his hand up to the back of your neck, fingers grazing the skin… it felt like you were watching a movie play out before you. Like it wasn’t real.
“And I think to myself… what if she feels the same way about me that I feel about her? Ya know? I mean I’ve seen the way she looks at me. That can’t be an accident. And she’s even started to ask me to stay even later after dinner to have dessert and even though my stomach is always stuffed full of the food she’s fed me and I couldn’t imagine eating another thing I’m always tempted to stay a little longer with her. Just to see where it goes,” the pad of his finger worked up your neck as you turned your gaze down to your hand on the table, “To find out if her dessert is just as tasty as everything else she’s offered me. And of course, I have no doubt that it would be.”
You stayed quiet. You couldn’t believe he’d just said all that. Like he was reading your story and knew what you wanted to happen next. Slowly you brought your gaze back to his and spoke shakily, “Harry…”
“You want me to stay for dessert tonight, Y/n?” You could feel the brush of his thumb along one side of your throat and the press of the pads of his fingers gently on the other side, palm flat against the back of your neck. And that question. It meant more than what he said and you both knew it.
“Yes. If you want,” you swallowed and kept your eyes on his face as he lowered his gaze to your mouth again. His hand at the back of your neck tensed and you could feel him pulling at you, just the last few inches needed to brush his lips against yours in a tentative move, allowing you to breach the space completely, moving in and pressing your mouth firmly against his.
And it was everything. Warm and soft and wet and then he inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to paint his tongue over your lips and you responded in kind, using your tongue against his and you felt his free hand pull at your hip. You smoothed your hands up his strong arms and to his shoulders and your heart felt full and light all at the same time.
When you felt the fine hairs at the nape of his neck under your fingers he shifted and pulled at you, both hands gripping your hips and bringing you up out of your chair and placing your bottom on the sturdy wood of the kitchen table, the plates pushed to the side and your nearly empty glass of wine wobbled in its spot as he kept his mouth over yours and he fit himself between your legs.
“Always wearing pretty skirts and dresses for me, aren’t you?” His lips traveled down your jaw and pressed over the skin on your pulse point, “Been teasing me this whole time…” slow pecks down to your clavicle and then back up the other side of your neck as he planted his palms flat onto the table next to your thighs, “Just know you wanted me to see you in your panties all those times… acted all innocent like you didn’t know you were giving me a show…”
You gasped when you felt his teeth gently scrap at your jaw before pushing plush pink lips over the same spot, “Harry…” you breathed out his name.
“Mmm… love how you say my name too,” he spoke as he moved his mouth back over yours and it was game over. Teeth and tongues, and wet lips with moans as he slid a thumb under the hem of your dress to glide up your thigh. He pressed himself in further, making you lay back on the table, your saltshaker and napkin holder tipping over as he ran his hands up your sides.
“Is this what you wanted? All this time, Y/n?”
You moaned as he began to pepper his kisses down your neck once again, your body lighting up with every touch and whisper into your skin.
“Yes…”
“Yeah,” he looked up at you with his hands firm around your waist before he moved them down to push at your skirt, shoving the material up your thighs, “And what about this? Is this what you want too?”
You pushed yourself up by your elbows and nodded, “Yeah…”
Harry grinned as his fingers found your panties and he tucked his middle fingers into the band, “Wanna give me my dessert now?”
His light jade eyes were sparkling as he waited for your nod of approval, the small yes you peeped out had him tearing your panties down your legs, left to drape off your left foot as he pushed your thighs apart and moaned, “It’s the only dessert I’ve wanted since you first started offering. Smells so good too,” he dropped his mouth to the inside of your plush thigh and ran his big palms upward on the underside of your thighs to press your legs back and you gurgled a moan as you watched him dip down and tongue at your pussy, his wet muscle slicking upward from your entrance to your clit and then repeated, and repeated, over and over as he kept his eyes on yours until you were so slick he was barely making contact with your skin… your arousal had coated your pussy and his tongue in a thick layer.
“Fuck me… sweetheart… you’re gonna give me a toothache with all this sweet juice…” he spoke mindlessly as he lapped at you. He brought a hand down to your pussy, running his fingers through your crease as he pressed his tongue to your clit and kissed it, bringing it delicately into his mouth with a gentle slurp.
“Ahh! Harry!” You reached down to pull at his hair as your back arched up and your head fell back into the wood.
The moment Harry felt your grip on his hair he spread your pussy with his fingers and drove a digit inside, curling it in and brushing against the spot you loved to focus on when you fingered yourself, making your body shiver.
Your table was rattling from the movements you were making, the lewd act causing the wooden legs to shift and give slightly as Harry ate your pussy and moaned at your taste.
“Gonna let me have some every night now?” His words came out watery, and slurred as he continued working to get you off, “Gonna let me take care of you the way you’ve been taking care of me?”
You cried out in a gurgle when you felt another finger press inside as he flattened his tongue over your pussy, “Yes!”
Harry grinned into your pussy. Seemed all you could say at that point was a combination of yes and Harry. He loved how you were responding to him. Like it was all you ever wanted.
When he felt you roll your hips up and grind into his mouth he pressed your thigh down and dug in harder, flicking his eyes up at you from time to time, watching the way your chest rose and fell heavy, how your lips were dropped wide open with your eyes closed.
“Y’shaking so hard, sweetheart. You can come if you need to,” he slid his fingers into the last knuckle and back out as he spoke, lips grazing your wet clit as he did so, “You’ve been so good to me, you deserve a treat too…”
Your brain was in a fog, a haze that made it hard to hear or make sense of his words as your orgasm tiptoed its way through your tummy and down into your core, slowly sliding its way through your organs until it burst out of you and your limbs stiffened as you pressed Harry’s face into your pussy and moaned his name so loudly Harry figured it was a good thing you didn’t have any neighbors close by to hear what could sound like someone being attacked.
But in a way, you were being attacked. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his fingers ravaged you through your orgasm, never letting up or stopping until you gasped and pushed at him as you sat up with wet lips, burning cheeks, and dark eyes, “Oh god, Harry!”
The dirty smirk on his face was pure sex as he pulled his fingers out of your sticky pussy and slid you from the table, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to your room, his mouth on yours.
You began to squeak in protest as he lifted you and started up the stairs and you were certain it was too much weight or that he’d drop you but he was solid and strong and moved with ease, holding you tight under your bottom with one hand and his other at your mid back until he laid you on your bed with a bounce.
Harry began to pull his jeans down his strong legs and you watched as he undressed. It was the first time you’d seen his bottom half but just as his chest and shoulders and abs did not disappoint, neither did his masculine, well-muscled thighs and buttocks. The man was in incredible shape, thanks to good genes and hard manual labor you assumed.
When Harry peeled his shirt off over his head, the curls were pushed upward and he was left standing in your bedroom looking like a man ready to ransack your body with wild hair, tight boxer briefs hiding an erection that looked quite sizable.
Silently he kneed onto the bed between your legs and pushed your dress out of the way, “Let me see you, sweetheart. Is that okay?”
You helped him bring the dress off over your head and immediately reached up to unpluck your bra, the clasp at the front that once undone had your tits bursting out.
“Holy, fuck…” Harry dove down to your breasts, lapping and squeezing at each one and you placed your fingers back into his hair as if it were their new home. The length was perfect to grip onto.
He pushed himself up as he cupped your tits together and kept his eyes on your flesh and nipples with mouth dropped open, “Goddamn, sweetheart…” He dipped down again, wetting the skin all around your breasts with his lips and tongue until you bucked upward and your wet pussy kissed his belly button.
Popping off from your nipple he looked down at you underneath his large frame and smoothed his hands down your sides and over your tummy then to your hips. He thumbed at your clit and looked up at you, not an ounce of humor on his face, “I can eat your pussy all night. Want my mouth again?” He licked his lips.
“Want to feel it, Harry…” you breathed out.
“Want to feel my mouth again?”
You moaned and slid your palm down his chest and felt the bit of hair on his pecs tickle your skin, “Your cock.”
“Is that right? Sweetheart wants her handyman to stuff her full tonight?” Now you could see the small smirk on his face as he looked at your tits and then back up to your eyes.
“I want you to stuff me full, Harry. I want to feel it.”
Harry wet his lips again as he moaned at your words and tore his boxer briefs down his thighs and to the floor.
He sat back onto his haunches, eyes on yours as he held himself at his base. His thick ruddy tip smooth and ready to pierce into your cunt had you groaning, “Please.”
“You wanna be my girl, Y/n? Be mine? Cause I don’t fuck unless I know I can keep coming back. I don’t do casual, sweetheart.”
You shook your head, “I don’t either. I’ll be yours. Your girl.”
“You sure? You want to date a small-town handyman, make me dinner every night, and get fucked into this soft bed until you’re passed out?”
“Oh my god, Harry,” you moaned and nodded, “Yes. Please…”
Harry scooted in toward you, and his massive cock was just throbbing before your eyes. That thing was going to do some damage to you but you would happily receive it. Take it every night like he said, looked forward to feeling how much he’d fill you up and how deep he’d get, how much it’d ache when he pounded into you.
His hand slid behind your neck, fingers wrapping around the back side as he hovered over you, “Pussy’s so little, sweetheart. Might need to hold on at first okay?”
The dimple popping into his cheek told you he was playing with you. And while, yes, he was quite large, that bulbous tip and thick shaft would definitely be felt entering you, there was no question it’d tuck nicely into your slippery walls.
You gripped his biceps as you kept your eyes focused on his. He glided his fat tip through your pussylips with the slushy wet sound of your arousal coating his cock, drenching his leaking slit until he was sticking the crown at your opening, his lips parted as he pressed into your muscle and penetrated you slowly.
“Mmm… fuck me, sweetheart,” his voice was hiked up a notch in a whine as he clenched his teeth upon entry, “Y’mine now? Yeah?”
You nodded and whimpered, “Harry… oh god I’m yours…”
Harry nodded with you, his eyes focused on your face as he opened you up, and spread you apart inch by inch. When he’d gotten in halfway he reared himself back, that wide tip sliding out of your cunt just before he pressed himself back in, nudging in deeper. The intrusion was all-consuming. Harry’s hard cock was long and thick. But of course, it was. A man like him with a body like that… But it was his demeanor that had tipped you off at the beginning that he had a big dick. That personality that oozed with natural confidence.
“Oh, my fuck!” You wailed as he drove into you again, this time with a bit of force that had his hips grinding into yours.
“Yeah? It’s big in there isn’t it? Need me to be gentle?”
You could just see it in his eyes. He did not want to be gentle. The man above you, fucking into you was holding himself back. He was taking it easy for your sake. But you wanted him to ruin you. Wanted your pussy wrecked by that thick cock, needed to let him have his way with your body so he could get off.
“No… fuck me like you want. Harry…” you whimpered his name as you cupped his jaw, stubble scraping your palm as he slowly thrust into you, “Make me yours. Show me how you do it.” You wanted to feel his strength. Wanted to know what it felt like to have him completely destroy your pussy.
Harry let out a deep groan then hissed as he ground into your cunt, his cock grazing that achy spot deep inside that you knew was gonna be bruised once he was done with you, “Don’t want to hurt your cute little pussy, Y/n. Can already feel I’m in as deep as I can go.”
“Harry, make me yours. Please.”
“Fuck…” he gritted out as he adjusted his knee placement, lifting himself with his thighs and readying his position to rail into you like you wanted. He pulled your hands up and placed your palms onto his lats as he leaned over you, “Hold on here. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
You gripped your fingers into the muscle of his back and felt him flexing as he drew his long cock back and bucked in with one harsh thrust. The wind nearly knocked from your lungs as he did it again. He was still taking it easy. Long heavy strokes into your guts, hips slapping into yours in thuds until he got into a rhythm and your high-pitched moans told him you were loving it.
Soon your bed was loudly creaking, the mattress springs bouncing heavy and his balls were whacking into your bum. Wet patting of skin colliding and heavy pants filled the room.
“Like this?” He gritted as his pelvis repeatedly smashed into your clit filling your veins with damp mushy heat as your pussy clamped over him.
“Fffffuuu…” you cried out. Not a word but an answer. You did like it. Every time he filled you to the brim with his fat cock and your pussy parted for him, spreading apart to accommodate his hefty girth it brought you closer and closer to the precipice.
Harry choked out a moan when he felt his own orgasm edge toward the brink slowly. The way you gripped around him, the perfect warm and wet hole attached to the sweetest thing he’d ever met made his heart thrash in his chest harshly.
He couldn’t believe that he was getting to fuck you. That you promised to be his. That things had worked out the way they had. Because he’d started falling for you since day one. He had been impressed that you wanted to salvage the old house and to him, that meant you were already special. A city girl with a heart of gold who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. And when you told him you ripped out some of the rotted boards from the porch on your own his cock twitched in his pants. The image in his mind of you doing that was hot.
And as the days and weeks went on he learned more about you and he became obsessed with making everything in the house just perfect for you. He often daydreamed of living in it with you. Getting to see you every day after work with a kid or two running around. While it was too early to think about all that, he couldn’t help it. Harry was a sincere and deeply emotional man who prized deep connections and love over everything. He’d never been able to do casual.
He was brought back to the moment when your face began to screw up in pleasure and your punched breaths began to grow into loud moans with every snap of his hips.
You, on the other hand, were thinking of nothing but that big cock sliding through your insides and ramming into your depths, your tummy aching at the stretch and the way he filled you so completely. Your brain was empty as he sliced through you, fucking you down into your soft blankets as his chest and arms and shoulders tensed.
“Ooohh, sweetheart… like that yeah? That what you need? Right there?”
Your arousal had dripped from your hole and drenched your ass and the blanket under you, your gushy wetness slopped out with every push of his cock into your pussy.
Harry could feel your thighs quivering and shaking as you started to arch into him, loud bursts of moans belted from your lungs on each plunge.
Harry was losing his mind at the noises you were making and how good you felt squeezing around him, “Gonna have to move myself in here so I can have you like this every day… look at you taking me so well… fucking creaming all over me…” his string of consciousness continued as he railed into you deeply and you felt your insides snap suddenly, your orgasm erasing all working thoughts from your brain.
“Yes! Fuuuuck! Yes! I need you!”
“Need you too, Y/n. I fucking need you baby… come all over me, show me how good that is… fuck… fuck…” Harry clenched his jaw as you squelched around him, your slippery hole clenching so hard you nearly pushed him out but he was stronger as he continued to pound into you, bringing you through your ecstasy until he couldn’t go another moment without coming.
He began unloading into you, heavy, thick pumps of come filled your insides as he coughed out a groan and stilled his hips with your pussy milking him, pussy fluttering and squeezing every drop from his long shaft. You’d both lost your good senses in that moment. No thought about what was responsible or reasonable, it was only about how good it felt to be connected, new lovers enjoying one another and not giving a damn about the consequences.
Harry’s mouth pressed into yours and he moaned sloppily against your wet lips, bodies throbbing and shaking and lungs gasping for air as you wrapped your legs around his waist and hummed in bliss.
Harry’s heart was going wild as he dropped his chest to yours and licked into your mouth, one final push of his cock into your cervix for good measure, pressing his come deeper yet.
“Oh my god,” you breathed out in a mumble as his lips still smeared against yours.
“I know…” he responded with his eyes closed as he continued kissing you.
Your fingers wound into his hair and he rolled you both to your sides, still connecting and simmering and reeling.
“I think now you have to stay,” you parted from the kiss and looked at him with a small smile. Hoping he’d agree to it. You weren’t ready to let him go home yet.
“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. You’ll have to forcibly remove me from you now.”
You giggled and cupped his cheeks, “Good. Means you aren’t gonna be leaving then.”
Harry’s soft smile and his big hands on you felt like home. More than anything had before. The old house was your home, yes, but ever since Harry walked into your life you were a changed woman.
“So you’re mine now? Can I call you my girlfriend?”
You puffed out a laugh through your nose, “Of course. Long as I can call you my boyfriend.”
“Of course. Been dreaming about it since I first met you.”
You licked your lips, “Yeah? Guess we both wasted a lot of time beating around the bush didn’t we?”
Harry shook his head, “Nahh… we didn’t waste time. Every moment spent with you was exactly what was supposed to happen. Got to know you real well. Got to learn all kinds of things about you. I feel like the way it happened wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”
You nodded and bit your lip. He was probably right. The time you two spent chatting and flirting and getting to know one another slowly made you both open up and feel more comfortable in each other’s presence. And it all led to that very moment right there in your bed.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”
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solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n)
summary: harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it?
words: 6.4k (she's long)
warnings: smut in this one: p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cursing, dirty talk, fingering, creampie.
"Just lay down on the table and relax. I'll take good care of you."
Y/N tried to keep her voice steady and professional as she greeted her new client, the one and only Harry Styles. The famous former athlete turned singer was lying face down on the massage table, a towel draped over his lower body.
Y/N had been a masseuse at this high-end spa for two years, but she had never worked on someone so famous before. She was intimidated but determined not to show it. Treating Harry just like any other client was the only way she could get through this.
"You're the expert," Harry's muffled voice came from the face cradle. "I'm in your hands."
Y/N gulped at the unintended innuendo. Get it together, she scolded herself. This is strictly business.
She warmed up some lotion in her hands and began working on Harry's muscular back and shoulders. Almost immediately, she could feel the tightness and knots from years of intense athletic training.
"You've got a lot of built-up tension in here," she commented, digging her fingers in to loosen a stubborn knot. "What sort of athletic background are we working with?"
"Footie, if you go by my English roots," Harry said, sucking in a sharp breath as she worked a particularly tender spot. "Played striker on an academy team as a kid before my interests shifted to music in my late teens."
Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea Harry was such a talented athlete on top of his musical skills. Somehow that made her former crush on him even more intimidating.
As she moved down to his lower back, she tried to keep her touches clinical and impersonal. But she couldn't help noticing how toned Harry's body was, the muscles rippling beneath her hands.
Stop ogling him, you're being completely unprofessional! She gave herself another firm mental rebuke.
For a while, the only sounds were Harry's occasional groans as Y/N dug into his tight knots and the relaxing spa music playing softly in the background. But eventually, Harry broke the silence.
"You know, you seem a bit nervous around me. Is it because I'm....well, me?"
Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She should have known he would pick up on her awkwardness.
"I'm just trying to stay focused," she mumbled, unable to keep the embarrassment out of her voice entirely. "I don't want to slip up and disappoint an important client like yourself."
To her surprise, Harry let out a low chuckle. "Love, I may be famous but I'm just a regular bloke like any other. No need to be nervous."
His voice was warm and full of humor, putting Y/N more at ease. She realized she had been building him up as some intimidating celebrity in her mind when really he seemed down-to-earth.
Feeling emboldened, she decided to open up a bit. "To be honest, I may have...had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Your music was a big part of my teen years."
"Is that so?" Harry sounded both flattered and amused. "Well, I'll take it as a compliment from a pretty lady like yourself."
Y/N felt her traitorous cheeks heating up again. Were they...flirting now? She couldn't tell if he was just being charming or if there was real interest there.
She tried to keep things professional as she moved on to his arms and legs, though her lingering shyness made it difficult. Harry seemed to sense it, not pushing things but keeping up his friendly banter that had her laughing in spite of herself.
By the end of the ninety minutes, Y/N was disappointed for the massage to be over. Some of the intimidation had faded, replaced by an easy rapport. Almost as if...they could really be friends, or more, not just client and masseuse.
As Harry redressed and prepared to leave, he paused and gave her a heart-stoppingly charming smile. "Same time next week? I'll need to keep these knots at bay."
Y/N couldn't resist smiling back, a warm flutter in her belly. "I'll be here. It's a date."
Wait, did she actually just say that?! She wanted to cringe at her awkward choice of words.
But Harry just chuckled easily, not seeming bothered at all. "A date it is, then. I look forward to it."
As he sauntered out, Y/N exhaled a long breath. Suddenly, her job had gotten a lot more...interesting.
Over the next few months, Y/N looked forward to Harry's weekly appointments increasingly more. They had fallen into an easy, teasing back-and-forth during their sessions peppered with plenty of flirtatious banter.
At first, Y/N firmly kept things within professional boundaries, no matter how strong her crush was growing. Harry may be a laid back, regular guy, but he was still a client at the end of the day.
However, the more she got to know the real Harry beyond his famous persona, the harder it became not to develop deeper feelings. His sharp wit, endless warmth and care for those around him, and genuine humility all endeared him to Y/N enormously.
For his part, Harry seemed to be growing quite fond of Y/N as well. He playfully requested she work extra hard on his "problem areas" and loved to tease her about her technique and bedroom eyes whenever she was really concentrating. Y/N would pretend to be flustered, but secretly loved their charged back-and-forth.
One week, Harry didn't show up for his usual appointment. Y/N tried not to feel too disappointed, figuring he must have just been busy. But when he missed his spot the following week as well with no notice, she began to worry something was wrong.
"Everything okay with Harry?" she couldn't help asking the spa receptionist. "I haven't seen him for his appointments lately."
The petite blonde receptionist gave her a sly grin. "Haven't you heard? There was an issue with his latest music release, so he's been dealing with that whole mess the past couple weeks."
Y/N frowned, concerned. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about work issues. Then again, she realized they had become so comfortable with each other that she always viewed him through a friend's lens rather than a client's now.
Making a snap decision, Y/N pulled out her phone and drafted a text to the number Harry had given her months ago, just in case she ever needed to reschedule his slot.
"Hey there, just checking in! Missed you the past couple weeks and wanted to make sure everything is alright?"
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart fluttering nervously. This was wildly unprofessional to text a client like this, even if Harry had become more of a friend really.
To her surprise, Harry texted back almost immediately.
"Y/N! Was just thinking about you, funny enough. I'm so sorry for going MIA, it's been a madhouse with this new album mess. Let me make it up to you with dinner this weekend?"
Y/N's eyes widened as she re-read the text. Was Harry...asking her on a date? Or was he just being friendly and suggesting they grab a bite to catch up? She wasn't sure, but her heart was pounding either way.
Throwing caution to the wind, she typed: "It's a date. Looking forward to it!"
If her massages with Harry had been growing increasingly charged lately, Y/N could only imagine how electric an actual date with him would be...
The rest of the week dragged by interminably for Y/N as she counted down to her dinner with Harry. She agonized over what to wear, settling on a slinky red dress that walked the line between casual date and fancy night out perfectly.
When Saturday evening finally arrived, Y/N felt uncharacteristically nervous as she pulled up to the chic restaurant Harry had chosen. What if she had been misreading everything and this was just a friendly dinner after all? She didn't want to make things weird if that was the case.
But the second Harry opened the door to greet her, looking unfairly handsome in a slick black button-down, her worries melted away. He was giving her the same heated look he got when she was working out a tight knot in his muscles - unmistakably attracted and intrigued.
"You look positively stunning, love," he murmured, taking her hand and giving it a delicate kiss. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, you always manage to blow me away."
Y/N felt her face heating up at his unabashed flattery, her pulse racing. She couldn't resist giving his bicep a playful squeeze.
"You're not looking too bad yourself, popstar. Now are we going to eat, or did you just invite me out to shamelessly flirt?"
Harry grinned wickedly. "Why can't we do both?"
The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, sinfully good wine, and the most scintillating conversation Y/N had ever experienced. She and Harry swapped stories, teased and joked, and delved into surprisingly deep philosophical discussions, all without missing a beat.
By the time they were splitting a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Y/N felt more relaxed and giddy than she had in years. Despite all her nervous buildup, the date was turning out perfectly.
"You know," Harry began conversationally as he licked some icing off his fork in a way that made Y/N's mouth go dry. "When you started as my masseuse, I'll admit I figured you were just another pretty face hired by the spa. Starstruck and nervous around me because of my image and all that rot."
Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but Harry grinned teasingly to show he meant no offense.
"But you proved me absolutely wrong in the best way possible, darling. Your skill and your spirit both blew me away. You're always so professional, but with this amazing warm heart and sharp wit just beneath the surface."
Y/N couldn't help smiling bashfully at his earnest compliments. "Well, you hardly made it easy to stay focused and impersonal, Mr. Cheeky Flirtmaster. I'm just glad we were able to become...friends."
She said the last word tentatively, wondering if Harry felt the same growing sense that they had become something more than that recently. His heated gaze and body language said as much, but she didn't want to assume.
Harry seemed to pick up on her hesitancy, his green eyes crinkling at the corners fondly.
"Y/N, I think we both know our 'friendship' has evolved into something deeper, at least for me. I've fancied you for months, maybe longer if I'm being honest with myself. You're bloody brilliant - smart, talented, caring, with a rocking body that drives me spare in the best way."
He reached across the table to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. The tender intimacy of the gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat.
"What I'm asking is...would you want to make this official? Give us a real go as more than just mates?"
Y/N felt like the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She had imagined hearing those words from Harry's lips more times than she could count. But now that he had actually said them, she was temporarily stunned into silence.
Seeing her speechlessness, Harry chuckled warmly. "No need to answer right this second, love. I know it's a lot to process coming from your formerly famous client-turned-mate. Just think it over, yeah?"
Y/N finally managed to find her voice, emboldened by the caring warmth in Harry's eyes. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together decisively.
"You don't have to give me time, Harry. I've been crazy about you for ages if I'm honest. Of course I want to give us a real shot. I can't think of anything I want more."
The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face sent tingles down Y/N's spine. He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there.
"Then it's official. We're a couple now."
Y/N felt giddy, like the words were a dream. Her and Harry Styles, the man she'd fancied for years, were entering a relationship together. What were the odds?
"Should we, uh, keep things professional at the spa still?" she asked, suddenly wondering if their new situation would make things weird.
To her surprise, Harry shook his head adamantly. "Actually, I was thinking of finding a new masseuse. I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position having to work on your boyfriend's body every week, tempting as that sounds."
He gave her a heated look and Y/N felt a rush of arousal, imagining all the new layers their massages would take on now.
"Fair point. I don't think I could keep things totally professional anymore either," she admitted with a coy smile.
Harry signaled for the check, keeping Y/N's hand linked with his posessively. "Then it's settled. I'm all yours now, darling. Though fair warning, I'll expect my massages in private from here on out."
The tone of his voice made Y/N shiver pleasantly in anticipation. Oh, this romance was going to be incredibly fun.
***
Over the next few months, Y/N felt like she was living in a wonderful dream. She and Harry were inseparable, their bonds of friendship strengthening into an unbreakable foundation as their passion grew.
They went on romantic dates, attended glamorous celebrity events, and spent long cozy nights together at Harry's place. Y/N felt herself falling harder and harder for the kind, charismatic man who never failed to dote on her or cheer her on.
One evening, Harry surprised her by having a limo pick her up from work at the spa. Y/N raised her eyebrows in amused confusion as she slid into the sleek black car, wondering what her doting boyfriend was up to now.
To her delighted shock, Harry was waiting inside wearing a dashing tuxedo. He held out a rose to her with a warm smile.
"My love, you look as breathtaking as ever. Are you ready for our night on the town?"
Y/N laughed giddily, feeling like a princess in a fairytale as Harry showered her with kisses. "You'll have to tell me where we're going, love!"
"Well, first we have dinner reservations at the city's most exclusive new restaurant. And afterward..." Harry trailed off teasingly before pulling a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket. "I've arranged for us to have a private vip loge at the opera!"
Y/N's jaw dropped. She knew Harry took great pride in planning thoughtful, romantic gestures, but she was blown away by this grand occasion. The evening was straight out of a storybook.
"Harry, this is...I can't even put into words," she breathed in amazement. "You are the singularly most incredible, thoughtful man in existence. How'd I ever get so lucky?"
Harry just grinned boyishly, giving her a wink as the limo pulled away from the curb. "You deserve all of this and more, darling. Tonight is just a start."
The rest of the evening passed in a blissful whirlwind. Y/N and Harry sipped gourmet cocktails as candles flickered between them at the restaurant. Their heated looks and brushing footsies beneath the table made the anticipation crackle deliciously.
After the stunning five-star cuisine, Harry surprised Y/N again by hiring a violinist at the opera to serenade them privately in the vip loge while the show played out on stage. He held her close as they swayed to the rich, emotive music, looking into each other's eyes adoringly.
By the time they arrived back home in the limo, Y/N could barely keep her hands off her romantic prince of a boyfriend. She attacked his mouth hungrily as he lifted her into his arms, stumbling inside as they continued to devour each other.
That night was a blur of frantic lovemaking, tearing at clothes and tangling in the bed sheets as release was desperately chased between them. Y/N had never felt so thoroughly worshiped and cherished as when Harry was passionately laying claim to every inch of her body, branding her as his own with his scorching caresses.
"You're everything, Y/N," he groaned into the slick skin of her neck as she writhed beneath him. "My whole bloody universe, all the stars in the sky. Nothing means more to me than you, my perfect girl."
After, when the frenzied haze cleared, Harry held Y/N with indescribable tenderness like she was the most precious thing in existence. Which to him, she absolutely was. Her hands stroked through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks as he pressed fervent kisses to her collarbones, her sternum, everywhere his full lips could reach.
"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, more to himself than her as he gazed up at Y/N reverently. "My entire world in these arms."
Y/N had no words, rendered speechless by the depth of love emanating from her man's bright green eyes. So she simply held him closer, letting her touch express everything her heart was too overwhelmed to put into phrases.
Of course, there were still hints of Harry's internal struggles with fame and the immense pressures of his career. The more Y/N got to know him intimately, the more she saw the tightly-wound tension that still crept into his muscles and posture frequently.
It killed her to see Harry in pain or overwhelmed, dealing silently with the weight of Hollywood's demands. So she made it her mission to take care of him, just like when she was his masseuse but in more intimate ways now.
After an especially grueling day of meetings and recording sessions, Y/N would draw Harry a hot bath infused with relaxing essential oils. She would gently undress him, unable to resist pressing soothing kisses along the protesting knots in his shoulders and back. Harry would let out deep rumbles of pleasure at her therapeutic touch.
One draining evening after he had done promo interviews all day followed by a high-energy concert, Harry came home to their penthouse utterly spent. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, shoulders hunched under the weight of his weariness.
Taking one look at her love in such a depleted state tore at Y/N's heartstrings. She quickly sprang into action, knowing just what he needed to recharge and find his center again.
"Go have a long, hot shower, babe," she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's furrowed brow. "I'll take care of everything else."
While Harry dragged himself to the bathroom, Y/N set about creating the perfect soothing atmosphere in their bedroom. She dimmed the lights to a warm golden glow and lit a few spicy aromatherapy candles. Then she pulled out her professional massage table and arranged it with all her favorite oils and lotions.
By the time Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a plush robe, Y/N had the space utterly transformed into a private spa oasis. Soft nature soundscapes played lightly in the background, blending with the flicker of candlelight to create an ambiance of pure tranquility.
Harry's brow unfurrowed slightly as he took in the scene, a small smile playing at his lips. "You're too good to me, darling," he rumbled in that gruff, sleepy tone Y/N adored.
"Mmm, not possible," Y/N assured with a soft smile, helping Harry shrug off his robe so he could climb onto the table completely nude.
She warmed up some of the aromatic sandalwood oil between her palms before beginning her sensual ministrations along the perfect terrain of Harry's back and shoulders. His tight muscles instantly began loosening under her skilled touch.
Harry let out a deep, relieved groan as Y/N's strong hands found each knotted snarl and gently worked them loose. He practically melted into the table, boneless and pliant beneath her.
"S'why I love you so much," he slurred, the profound tension seeping from his body. "Always know just how to take care of me, dove."
Y/N hummed in contentment, leaning down to press a line of soothing kisses along the dips of Harry's spine. Between her mouth and her fingers spreading hot oil into every bunched muscle group, he was soon utterly liquid and relaxed.
This went on for almost two blissful hours, Y/N taking her time to reverently cover every last inch of Harry's body in her healing touch. At one point she gently turned him over to tend to his chest, abdomen, and the handful of other areas he accumulated strain.
By the time she was finished, Harry was borderline unconscious - eyes hooded, face perfectly lax, breaths coming in deep and even pulls. Y/N trailed one last stroke down the miles of inked and toned skin he had exposed to her. Her beautiful boy, wholly at peace once more.
Pressing tender kisses to each of Harry's closed eyelids, Y/N carefully covered him with a plush duvet before slipping out of the bedroom. As much as she would love to stay and watch over him, she knew he needed to fully surrender to restorative sleep now.
Y/N headed to the kitchen, deciding to prepare one of Harry's favorite home cooked meals for when he woke feeling replenished and ravenous. As she moved around the space chopping vegetables and searing chicken, her mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the wonderful man in the other room.
She felt so unutterably lucky to be the one person in Harry's life allowed to take care of his weary body and soul in such an intimate way. All the fame, fortune, and success in the world was meaningless to Y/N, compared to earning his unwavering trust and being able to soothe away his struggles whenever they arose.
When Harry finally padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, he looked noticeably refreshed and at peace. There was a soft, dazed expression playing on his features as his bright eyes landed on Y/N in an oversized shirt cooking away.
"There she is," he rasped in that deep, gorgeously gravelly morning voice of his. "Most beautiful sight in the world."
Y/N grinned, warmth blossoming in her chest at the open adoration on Harry's face. Even after going through a draining day, he still couldn't help being an outrageous charmer with her.
"Did you get enough beauty sleep, love?" she teased lightly, moving across the room to wind her arms around his trim waist.
Harry hummed in contentment, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her familiar honeysuckle scent deeply, as if letting the aroma soothe his very soul.
"More than enough. I feel reborn, all thanks to you taking such incredible care of me as always." One of his large hands trailed up and down her back. "You spoil me rotten, darling."
"And you love every second of it," Y/N murmured with a soft laugh, tilting her chin up to search his sparkling green gaze.
The tender look Harry returned her with stole her breath away, like it still did even after all this time together. His calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone reverently.
"How could I not?" His low rumble sent tingles down her spine. "When you pour so much love and devotion into everything you do for me. Makes me fall deeper every damn day, dove."
As their mouths slanted together in a searing, drugging kiss, Y/N couldn't dream of a response. Because there were truly no words sufficient enough to capture the cosmic love between them in that moment.
Of course, their intimate times weren't always just about relaxation either. Y/N's massages frequently led to much more heated activities once Harry was completely de-stressed, his desire for her building as she worked her magic on his body.
Harry loved nothing more than to suddenly flip their positions, pinning Y/N to the bed and attacking her neck and collarbone with hot, hungry kisses. His hands would grip her curves possessively as she writhed beneath him.
"You've woken the beast, darling," he would growl in her ear, making her shiver with delicious anticipation. "Now you'll have to tame him."
Their lovemaking was always passionate and intense, the depth of their connection shining through in how perfectly in-sync their bodies were. Y/N never felt more beautiful, powerful, and utterly cherished than when Harry was worshiping every inch of her with his hands, lips, and tongue.
Sometimes their couplings started not from a massage, but simply from them stealing heated looks while going about their day. Like the time Y/N was baking in the kitchen, shaking her hips to the beat of the pop song playing while she rolled out pie dough, careless and free of the world around her.
She didn't notice Harry sidle up behind her until his strong arms wound around her waist, tugging her flush against his solid chest. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a blistering path up to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.
"Look at you," he rumbled in that gravelly morning tone of his as Y/N gasped and arched back into his sturdy frame. "Being all sexy and domestic, tempting a bloke with something fierce."
Y/N bit back a throaty moan as Harry's nimble fingers slid beneath her loose shirt, calloused palms blazing a path up her ribcage. "Harry, what-what are you doing?" she breathed, though she already knew the answer if the hardness pressing into her backside was any indication.
"Having a nibble of my favorite snack," he replied cheekily, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe that made her inhale shakily, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest.
Before she could really process what was happening, Harry had easily turned Y/N in his arms and hoisted her up onto the wide kitchen counter. She reflexively wrapped her toned legs around his trim waist to anchor them together as he attacked her mouth in a desperate kiss.
His tongue plundered deep, tasting every crevice as Y/N clutched at the dense muscle of his biceps and back. One of his large hands cupped her jaw to angle her how he wanted while the other palmed her breast through the thin fabric, brushing a calloused thumb over the peaked nipple there.
Y/N whimpered into Harry's mouth, already spiraling from how quickly his talented hands and lips had her arousal spiking. He was single handedly unraveling her till she was putty in his hands, the only thought in her mind was what he was planning to do to her next..
Finally, Harry broke the filthy clash of their mouths, panting harshly as he pinned Y/N with a look of pure hunger. His green eyes were near black with want, wandering possessively over her flushed state.
"You make me so bloody crazy, dove," he rasped in a low rumble that had her pulse kicking up another notch. "I can't keep my hands off you."
Y/N whimpered at the pure need saturating her boyfriend's deep tone. She squirmed deliciously against him, desperate for more friction.
"Then don't," she managed to gasp out through her daze of arousal. "Take what you want from me, Harry. I'm all yours."
The low, guttural groan Harry let out at her breathless plea, very nearly had Y/N coming undone right then. His smoldering gaze somehow burned even hotter with carnal intent.
Before she could process what was happening, Harry had ridden her of her shirt and shorts in two effortless tugs. His big palms instantly settled at the curves of her waist, thumbs dipping beneath the lace waistband of her underwear teasingly.
"Look at you...so gorgeous and flushed, ready and waiting for me," he praised in a low rasp, leaning in to drag his tongue up the slender column of her throat. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you baby?"
Y/N was too far gone in the spiral of her own pleasure to respond with anything more coherent than a choked-off whine that had him thickening in his pants. She writhed against Harry's solid frame, silently pleading for him to end her torment.
Seeming to take the hint, Harry ducked his head to mouth along the swell of her breasts and sternum, layering nips and sucking kisses until her skin was covered with marks of his devotion. Y/N arched her back hair sticking to her rapidly dampening skin as breathy moans tumbled from her parted lips.
"So responsive for me, dove," Harry grunted in approval, his big hands sliding around to shamelessly cup and squeeze her backside. "So perfect at taking everything I give you."
With one swift movement, he tugged her skimpy panties aside and plunged two ring clad fingertips through her dripping folds. Y/N cried out shamelessly at the long-awaited relief, her hips bucking forward uncontrollably to maximize the delicious stretch and burn.
"Christ, so wet and tight," Harry ground out, sounding utterly wrecked as he swirled his fingers around her throbbing entrance teasingly. "Made just for me, isn't that right lovely? Made to take my fingers, my tongue..."
His voice dropped to a sinful baritone as he slowly pumped his thick digits in and out of her fluttering, slick heat. Y/N let out a shrill whine of complete surrender, eyes rolling back as she fully gave herself over to the glorious sensations sparking along every nerve-ending.
"Made to take every hard inch of my cock, pushing deep inside this perfect little cunt," Harry continued in that gravelly and raspy tone, leaning down to whisper the obscene words directly against her damp skin.
True to form, his skilled fingers had Y/N right on the edge of shattering with dizzying speed. Her thighs quivered with the coiled tension, inner walls fluttering madly around the deliciously intrusive stretch of his thick digits.
Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the exquisite torment, when stars were bursting behind her eyelids, Harry abruptly curled his fingers upward in a devastating stroke against that magic spot inside her. Y/N's entire body convulsed as she broke into a thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, a strangled scream of pure euphoria ripping free from her throat.
By the time her vision finally began refocusing, her loose limbs were draped bonelessly over Harry's shoulders, her head spinning in dizzy bliss. She clearly registered the achingly slow push and pull of his fingers continuing to work through her fluttering, overstimulated cunt.
Harry's burning gaze was locked onto her sweat-slicked, flushed skin as he methodically wrung out every last spasm of ecstasy from her boneless frame. The soft, reverent look of awe on his handsome face stole what little breath Y/N had managed to recapture.
"Look at you, darling...absolutely wrecked for me," he husked "So stunning like this, falling apart on my fingers. All fo’ me"
Despite feeling completely satisfied, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at Harry's words. He always had been equal parts tender and filthy in his erotic praise and endearments.
Case in point, his next words as he slid his glistening fingers into his mouth to taste her essence were absolutely scorching.
"Clean that essence up for me like a good girl, dove...because I'm going to need you soaked and begging again in about five minutes."
Y/N let out a breathy moan at the promise in his words, knowing full well her legs were going to absolutely sore tonight, her knees wobbly and unable to walk by morning.
She nodded around the slick digits, swirling her tongue around the fullness of them as he sighed at the way she sucked his fingers.
“God, I wish it was m’ cock behind those pretty lips, dove” he pulled them out, placing his hand right over her naked thigh, “but I want it inside your pretty pussy for now”
She nodded, too awestruck to actua;ly process her mind to his words.He shook her head at her, pulling down the pants he had put on earlier.
“Got me so hard. Could’ve burst from listening to you being so filthy for me”
Her cheeks flushed at his risque words, thighs pushing together as his cock sprang free, the angry, red tip throbbing as he took himself into his palm, stroking his length to relieve some of the tension.
She pushed her thighs above each other, feeling utterly flustered and dizzy. He was gong to fuck her, and memories of all the times he had, flooding her mind like ocean water.
Finally, he let go of himself, parting her thighs and slotting himself in between. She let out a broken gasp, mouth going dry as she took a look at her own desperation, red and swollen, yet, so needy and wet.
“Could never get enough of you” he said into her mouth, swallowing her gasp as his cock stretched her open deliciously. A broken moan made its way past her lips, her quivering legs wrapping around him as he slid himself inside her. Her wetness swallowed him up, her pussy gushing with arousal as he angled her hips higher.
“Good, fucking–so damn tight for me” eh cursed, her mouth parting open into another broken sob as he thrust in and out of her, her wet walls taking him in so well. He felt so heavenly, his cock buried inside his pretty, so pretty and perfect girl.
“How did I stay so long without you? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, and she opened her closed eyes. His hand reached between her parted legs, his skilled digits teasing her clit, while his practised strokes made her fall apart under him.
“Oh fuck, yeah–right there” she begged him to keep fucking her, his cock hitting the deepest of spots inside her. It had her mind going numb, her toes curling as he fucked her with delirious intent.
“Pussy’s so good–:” he praised her once again, his fingers finally landing on her clit, a sharp spank that made her cum right then and there.
She arched her back, her head falling back till it touched the counter. She grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he rubbed circles over her clit, his cock fucking her at a pace that had her screaming and begging for more.
“Oh fuck, Harr–Harry, oh my fucking god”
He grabbed her hips, laying her down flat as she choked on another sob, her wetness gushing out and wetting the cold marble counter. Harry was grinning and smirking, watching her fall apart beneath him. He was the only one who could make her mind go absolutely detached, the only thought in her mind being of him. His name. His cock. His hands. The way they made her feel.
“Her orgasm prolonged as he kept her on the edge, her pussy short circuiting is the overstimulation kicked in. She was sore, two orgasms after a day of work would do that to her.
“Harry–” she pouted, her hands reaching out for his, to which he immediately complied, intertwining their fingers.
“Just a little longer, Almost done”
He promised, and began fucking her at the vicious pace again. The room echoed with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, her hips bruised as he sucked a breath in, teetering on the edge of sweet, sweet release.
He came inside her that day, his cock leaking inside her warm, warm cunt till he was fully spent and empty, her cunt full of his load as he stayed inside a little longer, relishing in the way she fluttered around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all he had.
He kissed her knuckles, murmuring sweet words of love as they lay on the counter for a while, her bake affair long forgotten, since she had already gotten a taste of something much sweeter.
***
The next morning, as Y/N was featherlight kissing her way down Harry's chiseled torso with the intent of rousing him for another sensual round, her lips brushed against something unfamiliar on his skin. Frowning, she pushed back the bedsheets to get a better look.
There, etched in thick black ink just above Harry's hipbone, was a new tattoo she had never noticed before. It was a series of numbers, almost like...coordinates?
Y/N felt her breath catch as she recognized the distinctly precise numerical patterning. She had taken enough coding classes to spot geographic coordinates when she saw them.
"Harry..." she gulped, tracing the new ink with a trembling fingertip. "What is this? Why do you have map coordinates tattooed on your body?"
The sleepy, blissed-out expression on Harry's face instantly shuttered closed as soon as the words left Y/N's lips. He seemed to almost freeze for a moment, grimacing ever-so-slightly as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.
"It's...nothing to concern yourself with, darling," he finally replied in a tone that was just a bit too overly-casual. "Just a drunken mistake from a mate's stag night a few weeks back. Doesn't mean anything, I swear."
But Y/N knew her boyfriend too well to be convinced by his nonchalant dismissal. She searched his bright green eyes, unable to shake the feeling that there was much more to this strange new tattoo than he was letting on.
What secrets could Harry possibly be keeping from her? And just where exactly would those map coordinates lead if she dared to follow them?
The delicious haze of their previous intimacy was shattered, replaced by a gnawing sense that Y/N was missing out on some important truth about her boyfriend's life. And she knew their relationship could never regain that blissful closeness until she uncovered what Harry was hiding...
(next part)
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tell me if you like this! i want to do a part 2, but this one's long, so we'll see! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)
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“Sunkissed”
boyfriend!harry x you
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, size kink and unprotected sex
Plot: You and Harry are spending the day at the Masters, but he can’t wait to get you back to your airBNB.
⛳️ • ⛳️ • ⛳️ • ⛳️
Harry’s arm was tight around your waist as you smiled up at him underneath the Georgia sun. You had to tilt your head back a little further to see him under the brim of the hat of his that he insisted you wore to keep the sun off your head.
“Can’t have you getting too hot,” he told you. “There’s going to be some shade, but we’ll be out there all day. I’d feel awful if the heat made you sick.”
So you wore his dark blue cap with the Augusta National Golf Club logo embroidered on the front over the top of your ponytail that you pulled through the hole in the back. You were grateful that it matched the blue of the flowy, pleated athletic skirt you chose for the day - a white halter top hugging to your torso with sunglasses perched on your nose.
“You seem to be having fun,” you told Harry, and he returned your smile - dipping his head down to plant a kiss against your lips.
“Of course I am. I’m with my favorite girl, watching one of my favorite sports on this beautiful day,” Harry tapped his nose gently against yours before standing up straight again.
You couldn’t get over how good he looked. His hair that was steadily growing out was styled perfectly, and you couldn’t stop running your fingers through the front where it had grown out a little more than the other areas. Black Gucci sunglasses were pushed perfectly onto his face, and a dark blue pullover covered up his lighter blue polo.
“Glad I convinced you to not only wear that hat, but also this little number,” Harry stated as he tugged at the white cardigan that he talked you into bringing along. “I told you that you would maybe get chilly once we were out here.”
And he had been right. There was a little bit of wind, and if you were underneath the trees in the shade, it was quite cold.
“And you were correct,” you told him with a nod. “About both.”
He reached his hand down to glide over one of the globes of your ass - causing you to sink your teeth down into your bottom lip.
“You look so good today, baby,” Harry lifted his other hand to slide his sunglasses down so you’d be able to see his eyes as they trailed over you.
“Yeah?” You smirked as you curled into his side a little more, and you pressed onto your tiptoes so you were speaking into his ear. “How good?”
It was as if you could almost feel Harry shudder as you spoke, and then you felt a small squeeze on your ass cheek. “So good that I’m willing to miss seeing the last few golfers finish their rounds in order to get you back to the airBNB.”
Now you were the one who shuddered - a tingle festering in your spine as you knew what he was alluding to.
“Shall we have another cocktail and then go?”
“I think that’s a grand idea.”
⛳️ • ⛳️ • ⛳️ • ⛳️
You and Harry stumbled over each other as he unlocked the front door to the airBNB, and he was immediately tugging the cardigan off your arms - tossing it to the side with your cap soon following. His lips were attacking yours. Your mouths were filled with absolute lust and hunger, and you only disconnected them so that you could tug his pullover up and over his head. It was quickly discarded with the clothing he had already pulled from your body, but your hands were gripping to his biceps again in an instant.
He started walking the two of you backwards and into the kitchen, and you let out a mix between a squeak and a gasp as you found yourself draped over the cold marbled countertop.
“Look at your skin,” Harry hummed as his lips grazed the back of your neck - his body hovering lowly over yours. “All sunkissed from being on my arm all day. You like me showing you off to all those men? All those older men who know they can’t have you. And they can’t have you because you’re mine, yeah?”
“All yours,” you nodded, eyes struggling to look back at him from the angle he had you in.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised you with a kiss right below your ear before the pressure of his body on yours dissipated.
You were practically holding your breath as you waited for his next move, and you smirked as you felt him flip the back of your skirt up. You were wearing the tiniest thong you owned, and you knew that’s what elicited the groan that left Harry’s mouth.
“This perky little ass,” Harry’s large hands began to knead the rounds of your bottom, and you couldn’t help but moan at how good it felt just to have his hands on you.
But that’s how it always was. The slightest touch from him could have you wet in an instant.
And right now you were dripping.
Harry’s fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, and your breath caught in the back of your throat as you felt his lips trailing down one of your ass cheeks as he lowered himself to the ground. His lips continued their assault onto the back of your thigh - teeth nipping to the junction of your knee before you stepped out of the underwear.
Harry was silent for a moment, and just when you were about to ask what was wrong, his mouth was pressing an open mouthed kiss to your cunt.
“Oh,” you whined, nails scratching against the counter top as you moved your head to rest your forehead against the cool surface. “Harry, you should let me take a shower first if you want to do that.”
You were met with a three finger smack to your clit once his lips left you - causing you to buckle at the knees.
“You’re silly if you think I don’t love it when you’re like this,” Harry scolded before you felt his tongue dragging between your folds. If you listened closely, you were sure you heard him smacking his lips. “Better than any fucking cocktail I had today.”
After that, he dove in full force. Licking, sucking and teeth grazing your clit as hands cupped right underneath your ass - Harry using his thumbs to keep you spread open.
Your whimpers and mewls bounced off the walls and the high ceilings, and you couldn’t help but to bring a hand behind you to tug at his hair. You earned yourself another groan from Harry as you pulled at his soft locks while pressing yourself slightly onto the balls of your feet.
It was everything you could do not to rut your eager pussy back onto his face, but you liked when he determined the pace at which he feasted on you. He had it down to a science at this point - you were convinced.
Once you felt one of Harry’s thumbs slowly enter you, you knew that you’d be succumbing to an orgasm soon. Your pulse quickened as heart shaped lips sealed around your aching bud, and the tip of his digit dipped in and out of you.
“Harry,” you whined, only gaining you a low hum in response that vibrated in the best way possible. “I’m about to come.”
Harry’s worship of your body only became more precise at your confession, and you felt your thighs starting to jump - the familiar pulling in your lower stomach growing tenfold.
Your climax washed over you faster than you could actually process that you were approaching it. Trembling against the counter, Harry didn’t let up until he knew the grip on his scalp was now one to pull him away - not one encouraging him to keep going.
With your chest heaving up and down, you pressed both hands against the counter to lift yourself a bit so you could look at Harry over your shoulder as he pushed himself off his knees.
His eyes held yours with his lips parted as he reached down to undo his belt. Once that was off, he quickly undid the button of his trousers, and pulled down the zipper. He pulled his leaking cock from above the waistband of his briefs, not even pushing his clothing down to his thighs so as not to waste anymore time.
“You ready for me, baby?” Harry breathed as he gave himself a couple of strokes. “‘M cock is begging to be inside you.”
“Please,” you laid back flat against the counter, and soon you felt Harry’s hand tugging at your ponytail before he wrapped it around his palm.
A gasp left you once you felt the pressure of his tip against your needy cunt, and it quickly turned into a moan as he pushed inside of you. You bit down on your bottom lip with a hum as he rocked his hips back and forth - getting you accustomed to his hefty size.
“Feels good,” you babbled subconsciously, and you heard Harry let out a soft chuckle.
“Yeah? Like me teasing you with just a little bit first?”
“Mhmm,” you nodded, eyes slipping shut as you basked in the warmth of him - one that was warmer than the actual sun you found yourself under with him all day.
“You’re already squeezing me so tight, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit all the way.”
You knew he was just saying it to get a rise out of you. He liked it when you begged, and to be honest, you liked begging.
“No,” you pouted, eyes shooting open as you reached back to grab one of his wrists. “It will, I promise.”
“I don’t know,” Harry clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth as he shook his head, eyes flitting down to focus on where he was barely entering you. “Your pussy’s so tiny, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Squirming now, you had to keep yourself from stomping your foot on the ground.
“Harry, I don’t care if it hurts. I want it to,” you demanded, and his eyes met yours once again as you felt your own darken. “Make it fit.”
Harry’s lips curled into a smirk at that, and you knew you were going to get your way.
“Just remember,” Harry leaned forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss before letting them just hover. “You asked for it.”
With one full thrust forward, Harry’s hardened prick entered you completely. It pulled a garbled moan from you, and a lewd one from Harry as he stilled. Heavy breathing surrounded the two of you, and soon Harry began to massage his thumb into your lower back.
“You okay?” Even when in your deepest pits of lust, he always made it a point to check on you. It always made your heart soar no matter how blinded you could be with a hunger for him.
“Full,” you smiled as you made eye contact with him again.
He sent you a crooked grin, moving his hand down from your hip to give one of your ass cheeks a couple soft pats. “That’s my girl.”
Harry took this as his ‘okay’ to start moving, and he pulled all the way out to his tip before pushing in fully once more. From there he started up a fluid pace, his eyes honed in on the jiggling of your ass every time it met his pelvis.
“God, I wish you could see what I get to see,” Harry’s hold on your ponytail tightened, and he began to pull it just the tiniest bit to have your torso barely meeting the marble underneath. “Taking me so fucking well, baby. Soaking my cock.”
The sounds of your arousal filled the kitchen, and with the way that Harry was hitting your spot just right, you knew your second orgasm was just a few thrusts away.
“Already gonna come again?” Your jaw went slack as Harry’s movements picked up, and you wondered if this was the deepest you had ever felt him. “About to push me out - you're squeezing me so hard.”
“Fucking me so good, Harry,” you moaned deliriously. “So big.”
Harry gave your ponytail another swift tug, and soon your back was meeting his chest. He bent his legs just a bit so he could fuck up into you at a better angle - his hand falling from your hair to reach down and play with your clit.
“I knew you could take it,” Harry sponged a kiss against the side of your neck. “Just wanted to have you beg a little bit.”
“I know,” you nodded before dropping your head back onto his shoulder. “I like begging.”
“You’re the most perfect girl, you know that? ‘M so fucking lucky to have you like this,” his other hand left your hip to caress one of your breasts through your top. “I love you so much, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Harry,” you whimpered as you leaned your body back into him even more as you felt euphoria creeping up on you again. “Oh god.”
Your second orgasm took over completely, and Harry quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you steady and upright. His fingertips continued to circle your slick pearl until he knew he had worked you all the way through it.
You took his hand away from your mound, placing yours on top of his and loosely linking your fingers together as you pressed his palm against your lower stomach.
“Feel,” you told him breathlessly, and Harry choked out a moan as he felt his tip bulging out against his skin.
“That deep, yeah? I’m about to get you all nice and full with my come - tucking it all the way up in there for you.”
“I want it,” you nodded. “Please, Harry. Fill me up.”
That’s all it took for Harry’s jaw to drop, and you felt his prick pulsing inside of you as he started to do just that. You could feel his orgasm coating you from the inside - causing goosebumps to cover your skin.
“Fuck me,” Harry sighed as he rested his forehead against your temple. “That was so good.”
“It was,” you agreed, giving his hand a squeeze. “But you’ve tired me out. We’re going to have to have a lazy day tomorrow.”
Harry chuckled as he pulled his head back to properly look at you as your eyebrows narrowed with confusion. “Baby, today was just the first day,” he sent you a soft wink before pushing his hips forward, causing you to gasp as his tip brushed your delicious spot one more time.
“We’ve got three more days of this.”
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OLD GRUDGES (part 1)
A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.
Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar.
And that person is music producer, Y/N.
The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved.
Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again.
Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.
“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”
Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.
It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.
She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.
“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.
But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief.
He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.
Return what he was getting.
Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.
And going against each other became their thing.
They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.
“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.
Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it.
“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”
“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say.
She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.
Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him.
Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery.
“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.
“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it.
He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what.
His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension.
An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face.
Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.
“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”
Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…
Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him.
“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack.
When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…
“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.
“You weren’t here when I went out.”
“But you knew I was coming.”
Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.
It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.
It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.
He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading.
That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.
Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry.
Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.
“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.
She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin.
He has to fight the urge to touch her.
Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.
Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.
Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.
“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him.
“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence.
“Hey. Long time no see.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind.
Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?
“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind.
“You sure?”
“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.
“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”
“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout.
He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best.
Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go.
The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.
Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had.
He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people while enjoying how under the radar he is currently.
The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her.
Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him.
From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.
Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her.
She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.
As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance.
“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him.
They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.
“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.
“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.
“Have you tried to put it down fully?”
“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way.
“What?”
“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”
“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”
She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.
It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms.
“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.
“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”
“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”
“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time.
“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”
She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.
But then it all changes.
If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.
It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already.
Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body.
He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing.
Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it.
It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle.
The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes.
They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.
“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.
He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air.
“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.
“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”
Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.
“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”
“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall.
This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.
A stupid, giant one.
NEXT PART
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut
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More Harry Styles Fic Recs
------------ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍓🍒🍄 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ------------
FOR JANUARY, FEBRUARY, AND MARCH
One Shots:
Y/N is a CEO, Harry is also a CEO - @sumptuoushstyles-blog
five seconds - @autumn-sunflowers
knight in skinny jeans - @stylesharrys
Partners in Crime - @watchmegetobsessed
Golden - @hunflowers
Quid Pro Quo - @talesofstyles
Casual - @cupid-styles
Swan Lake - @enthusiasticharry
Serendipity - @justlemmeadoreyou
Afterparty - @chaoticloving
Sweet Symphonies - @smuttyaf
Baby Steps - @enthusiasticharry
Uptown Girl - @thestoryofusstan
Series:
Your Love AU - @theydontknowaboutusimagines
The Royal Series - @harrylilies
Eight Count - @hsdiaries
Portfolio - @nationalharryleague
Petal - @autumn-sunflowers
Now You're In My Life - @justmystyles
Old Grudges | Part 2 - @watchmegetobsessed
Secret Little Rendezvous - @justlemmeadoreyou
All that you are - @stylesharrys
#harry styles fan fics#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic rec#harry styles imagines#harry styles masterlist#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#harry styles au#harry styles#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x actress!reader#harry styles x famous!reader#harry styles x makeup artist! yn#harry styles x oc
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ILLICIT AFFAIRS
Summary: You and Harry have a secret affair.
Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader (cheating together) Main characters x original characters.
Word Count: 4.5kish
Warnings: Cheating (Harry and Reader together), raw sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, slight dirty talk, undertones of dom!Harry if you squint, anything else? Let me know!
A/N: I’ve had this idea brewing in my head for a while now, had about maybe 500 words written, and then decided to finish it last night. And I love the way it came out. Hopefully you do as well!! Song inspiration: “Illicit affairs” by Taylor Swift.
Also thank you for 500 followers. 🥹🫶🏻 Thank you all for showing me so much love!! 💓
All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.
I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.
Masterlist
You knew you shouldn’t have come.
You fidgeted in your seat, trying not to overthink about the situation as you feel the back of your neck start to sweat, you mumble a cuss word as you take a peak at yourself in your compact mirror, and let out a stiff sigh.
You adjust the top of your satin orange dress. You fell in love with this dress the moment you saw it at the shops. It was a different color than you were used to wearing, but it looked lovely on you. It had semi-thick straps to hold your breasts up nicely, a corset style on the waist that hugged your curves, it cut down up to your shin, and flowed beautifully.
You admit you wanted to look good today. And you did. You felt stunning.
You feel your fiancée’s arm wrap around your shoulders, trying your best not to flinch at his touch, because his touch isn’t the one you want.
But you can’t have the other.
“Geez, you’re freezing!” He exclaims in his full blown American accent, rubbing your shoulders with his warm hands as he places his lips on your forehead lightly.
You laugh, “Bloody church is so damn cold.” You give him a smile, leaning yourself into his embrace, as you both watch the people around you fill the seats.
You look up at him, guilt pooling into your belly, and you give him a small smile.
Feeling guilty for loving him and for loving Harry. For loving them both.
Your fiancée isn’t a bad man. No, never bad. Has never been bad. You don’t think he has one bad bone in his body.
He was the sweet, golden, all American boy. He is a wonderful man and isn’t rough on the eyes either.
He’s tall like Harry, maybe an inch or two shorter, bright ocean blue eyes, chiseled jawline, tanned skin from all your beach trips, blonde hair that is styled to his liking, but you love when it’s freshly washed and falls down his forehead.
He’s a beautiful man. You loved him so much, you had been dating him for two years now, but yet… a part of you was in love with Harry.
Your first love. You dated Harry before he went to X-Factor, way before that, you were in an established relationship with him. You both had kissed other people before you got together. But nothing ever went farther.
You got together and it was as if the world suddenly made sense. You fell in love with Harry so fast and it was everything a teenage relationship could be. Then it grew into something stronger, more passionate, and stronger as you both got older.
You were each other’s firsts, taking the time to find out what made you squirm, and what made you cum the hardest.
You were with him through X-Factor, his one direction days, even during his first album.
But then… things happened. Life changed between you two. You both had never been with anybody new. Nobody different. You had broken up on good terms back in 2017. You promised that if it didn’t work out with anybody else, you’d come back to each other somehow.
That didn’t happen.
You dated a few different people, some amazing, and some assholes. Harry did the same. You both kept communication with each other, that never faltered.
Harry released his second album in 2019, a few songs about you that he never wanted to admit, and when you were both single at the same time… you’d end up in the same bed.
Nothing more.
2020 happened and you felt tired of the same routine. You wanted something more. You wanted a family. You were going to speak to Harry about what you felt and how you wanted this with him.
Then… you met Asher.
It was like a movie. You were texting Harry, walking down the NYC streets to your apartment, not paying attention to your surroundings, when you bumped into Asher, who caught you before you hit the floor, and you remember the feeling of when you first laid your eyes on him.
You remember your heart fluttering in your chest at this blue eyed man with a wicked smile. He literally swept you off your feet. Long forgotten the text you were typing to Harry about meeting up the same day.
Instead, you went for a coffee date with Asher. Your belly was hurting that night from all the laughter you shared together.
He was amazing with a sense of humor so insane, he kept you laughing all day. You have been wrapped around his finger since day one. Now it’s been two wonderful years with him.
That’s why when Harry reached out to you six months ago, while Asher was away on business, you hesitated.
You remember staring at the phone, rereading his text message, and biting your lip in thought.
“Can we meet up tonight? I really want to see you xx” said the text. You were already out and about in the London streets with your girlfriends. Having moved back to your home country with Asher. You were buzzing with liquid courage and replied, “Yeah. Where are you? xx”
He had sent you the address to his secret London hotel and suddenly, there you were outside the baby blue door.
Harry had opened the door, messy brown curls, a bewildered look on his face, and wearing only black shorts.
You stared at each other. Hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. Not since you had dinner at some fancy restaurant in LA when you both had managed to be in the same city for once. There were a lot of lingering touches and twinkling eyes that night in a secluded booth.
Nothing happened that night. But that was a year ago.
You with Asher and him with Vivian. Vivian was a model, she was stunning, and you swore you weren’t jealous of her.
“I’m getting married,” he says, his eyes dropping to your lips.
“Asher proposed,” you reply, your heart racing, and lips parting.
His eyes leave your face, taking in your red mini dress, your bare thighs, and suddenly you’re in a passionate kiss.
The night is filled with kissing, touching, fingers everywhere, tongue in places you love, positions he loves to see you in, and countless orgasms.
That was six months ago and that night ran through your thoughts endlessly. The way his hands touched you that night made you feel on fire, the way his kisses felt as if it was what you had been missing, and the way he felt inside of you… it made you feel whole.
You snap out of your thoughts when Asher pinches your exposed thigh.
“It’s staring,” he whispers as you both stand up when the bridal music starts playing. Asher moves you to be in front of him to see the bride better and you instantly tear you when you see her.
Your heart feels heavy as you watch Gemma walk down the aisle in her beautiful wedding dress with Harry walking beside her, her arm wrapped around his, and tears in her eyes as she watches all the people she loves here for her today.
Her handsome husband to be, Michal, waiting for her at the end with a breathtaking smile and looking starstruck.
Harry kisses her cheek as he hands her to Michal at the end, wiping a quick tear away from her cheeks, and you can see the whispered “I love you”.
Harry moves to stand in the empty seat in the front row, a few rows in front of you, but across the aisle and Vivian wraps her arm around his.
She looks beautiful. Her long blonde hair falling down her exposed back in ringlets, her tanned skin glimmering underneath the lights, and her perfect body in a long baby pink dress with a slit to show off her never ending legs. You hate the way your gut fills with jealousy.
But Harry doesn’t look down at her.
Instead, he slowly tilts his head to the side as the bride and groom exchange vows, while the whole crowd is watching them, and he’s looking for you.
You glance up at Asher who’s staring at the couple with a big smile. You look back at Harry and his eyes are already on you.
He smirks, his eyes taking in your outfit, and his expression darkens. He winks at you when you both make eye contact and you blush under his stare.
You quickly look away from him when you feel Asher wrapping his arm around your waist, on instinct you lean your body back into his, and jump when you feel how hard he is against you.
Your eyes go wide as he leans down to you and whispers, “I can’t wait to fuck you in your wedding dress.”
“Asher!” You whisper at him with a gaping mouth, but a smile nonetheless.
Your sex life with Asher was anything but boring. It was never boring with him.
He was just like Harry in the way that he was a giving lover. He’d rather give, give, give and then take.
That’s why a part of you feels torn as to why you feel so happy with Asher. So content and lucky. But yet… when you’re with Harry, you feel whole. You feel as if he’s what you’re missing in your life. A part of you can’t let him go.
You want to tear your heart out for feeling this way because it’s a constant battle with your brain. Because you know what you did was wrong. In so many ways. But somehow, you know you don’t regret what happened.
You only wish for it to happen again.
You proceed to sit down, crossing your leg over the other, and listen intently to the couple saying their vows.
Your eyes glancing between the couple and to the back of the head of curls. The curls you love. The curls you can still feel underneath your fingertips when you’d tug on them.
Your skin breaks out into goosebumps, Asher notices, and kisses your shoulder. “Gets you nervous too, huh?” He whispers into your ear. You nod without taking your eyes off the couple. He slips his hand into yours and you hold onto him to try to distract your mind from Harry.
You have no idea how you’re going to make it through the night.
It happened after midnight.
You were already four drinks in, sipping on your fifth cocktail of the night, and standing up as you watched Asher dance with Anne with a big smile on your face.
You feel someone pat your shoulder, you look over to see a young brunette waitress holding a folded up piece of paper, she hands it to you quickly with a smile, and goes back to serving drinks.
You hum, holding your drink in your hand, and sprawling the note open.
Meet me in the bridal room in 10 xx
Your eyes widen as you crush the paper in your palm, eyes searching for him, and you still when you meet his own.
Harry is standing across from you, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink, and he smirks at you. Vivian is at his side, laughing at something Gemma said, and without a single clue.
You lick your lips, drown your drink in one gulp, and go to the dance floor to Asher. The song had just finished, Anne was laughing and waving at her face, and reached to you to kiss your cheek when she saw you.
“He’s a gem, baby!” She says as she pinches Asher’s cheek and proceeds to walk away.
You nod at her words, looking up at Asher, “I’m going to pop to the restroom, okay babe?“
He kisses your lips quickly, nodding, his eyes searching for something. “Go ahead, babe. Searching for my next dance victim.”
You giggle as you watch him taunt off to one of Harry’s aunts, who immediately falls into Asher’s hold for the next song, and you search the room for Harry.
Who had already left Vivian’s side.
You start to walk off the dance floor when you feel someone catch your arm.
You stop when you see Vivian holding onto you, you smile quickly, and she does the same.
“You look beautiful, honey.” Her pink tinted lips expand to show her beautiful white teeth. Her posh southern English accent flowed out lavishly.
You hold her hands in yours, “Don’t flatter me! You look breathtaking.”
“Harry went off for a smoke, yuck.” She says with a childish grin and sticking out her tongue in disgust.
“Gross habit, huh?” You joke as you try not to show how awkward you feel.
“Has he invited you to the wedding yet? We set the date for October.”
You nod your head, “Of course! I can't wait!” You lie through your teeth as she sighs happily and hugs you unexpectedly.
You stumble in your heels, hugging her back, and patting her shoulders slightly.
She hums in content in your arms, “I’m so happy we can be so civil with each other.” She pulls away and holds onto your elbows. “Especially with you and Harry’s history,” she whispers as if it’s some secret.
You laugh and wave your hands at her, “Nonsense! But I do have to run, Viv. I have to freshen up.”
She immediately lets you go, smiling, and she waves you off. Then she continues to go back to speaking to another group of guests.
You stare at her for a second, second guessing your upcoming actions, but then proceed to go down the long hallway towards the bathrooms.
You had no idea how to get to the bridal suite. You fumble with a door in the back, which leads you to a stairwell, you shiver with nerves, and start walking up the secluded stairs.
You manage to get to the second floor, the music sounded muffled up here, and the carpet hid the sound of your heels. You walk slowly as you peer into the doors down the hallway.
You suddenly feel a hand on your wrist, pulling you into a dark room, you let out a low gasp, and the door shuts quietly behind you.
You're pushed against the door, the light flickers on, and Harry’s standing in front of you. You hear the lock click behind you.
“What took you so long?” He says breathlessly, his big hands falling onto the curves of your waist, pressing his hips against you, and you can already feel how hard he is against you.
His gaze fixed on you, green eyes piercing into yours, and his hands caress your waist.
You bite your bottom lip as you take him in, “Your fiancée did,” you reply bluntly. The alcohol flowing in your system makes you feel brave.
He hums in response, but doesn’t falter at your comment. His eyes taking you in.
“You look bloody fantastic,” he says as he places his hands on your cheeks and pulls you into a rough kiss. His hands on your face making your skin feel as if it’s on fire. Goosebumps erupt over your skin and you feel flushed already.
You immediately wrap your hands around his shoulders, pulling him into you, and opening your mouth for him. Your tongue fighting against his, moaning into each other's mouths, his hands bundling up your dress higher and higher. His hand moving down to your core, he gasps when he feels you bare against him, his fingers touch your smooth and soaked core and his knees weaken.
“Fuck, baby. You’re not wearing any pantries?” He asks in shock, his mouth open in a pant, you’re sucking his bottom lip, shaking your head, and hitching your hips to him so he can touch you. You can feel yourself throbbing and aching for him already.
He slips a finger into your drenched folds, you moan in pleasure, feeling his cold fingers against your hot skin, he starts peppering your neck with open mouthed kisses, leaving a trail of saliva and licks on you.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he moans against your covered breasts, he slides down the straps of your dress, you help him, tugging down your dress to reveal your naked breasts, and he moans as he sees them. He immediately pulls one of your nipples into his mouth, his finger still working you open, he slips in a second finger, and you tilt your head back against the door in pleasure.
“Fuck,” you mutter as your hands go into his gelled up hair, tugging at his curls knowing he loves it, and his fingers move faster in you. His thumb slips to touch your clit, you jump at the sensation, and he starts rubbing you.
He slips another finger into you, curling them in, you let out a deep moan as he works up his speed, you move your leg to wrap around his waist to give him better access, and he continues to lick your breasts. Sucking each nipple into his mouth with pleasure.
You’re already a panting mess underneath him as his fingers work you open, curling at the perfect angle, his thumb moving delicately at the right pace against your clit, getting you closer to your release, and he knows you're almost there.
“Your pussy is fucking drenched for me,” he whispers, licking up your neck, pulling your lips into his as your leg thightens against him.
You start moving your hips faster, knowing his cock must be aching right now, he hisses at the contact, increasing his speed, and you cry out in pleasure.
“I’m close,” you say with a shaky breath.
“Let go, baby. Come for me,” he growls into your ear, “Soak my fingers,” he demands. As soon as he speaks your body reacts to his words. Your entire body seizes with your release.
You feel your entire body shaking against him, your wetness drenching his hand, down your thighs, and Harry continues to praise you.
“That’s my good girl.”
“So fucking good for me.”
“You’re fucking mine.”
“Such a good fucking girl,” he says as he manhandles your body towards the nearest surface. He slips his fingers out of you, you cry out at the emptiness, he shushes you, and lifts you up by your hips onto the bathroom countertop.
He shoves your dress up to your waist as he starts unbuckling his belt. You take this time to admire him. His white button down shirt was buttoned down to reveal his butterfly tattoo, the sleeves were rolled up, his hair was disheveled by your touch, his skin was flushed, and his eyes were blown out in pleasure.
You moan when you see him shove his pants down along with his underwear, his hard cock fumbling out, thick and throbbing. The tip of his cock red and angry, leaking precum.
“I want you,” you moan at him with grabby hands. He pulls you into a kiss, licking the roof of your mouth, and he pulls away to align himself to your entrance.
You both take a second to look at each other, staring into each other's eyes, and he enters you slowly. Your jaw falling slack as you feel him enter you.
His cock spreads you open, slowly and tightly, never getting used to how huge he is. Your walls are burning around him, feeling him throbbing inside of you, you pull your legs to your side to allow him better access, one of his hands on your waist to hold you and the other against the bathroom mirror.
He bottoms out inside of you, his public hair rubs against your bare core, you moan at feeling him so deep inside of you, and you wrap your arms around him. Pulling him closer to you as he starts to move.
He starts off trusting into you slowly, letting you adjust to him, you can feel him so deep in you, both panting, he puts his free hand underneath your dress on your lower stomach, he moans when he feels himself there, “Fuck. Can you feel me here, baby?”
His raspy breath is on you as you nod against him. You push your hips against his to show him how deep he is, his hand grips your naked thigh, “Fuck!” He curses out in a whisper.
You clench your teeth together to stop yourself from being too loud, his thrusting becomes faster and more erratic, he allows himself to get lost in your pussy, feeling blissful and euphoric as he thrusts deeply into you.
You kissed him frantically, savoring every second you have with him, his hands never stopped touching your skin, and he continued to thrust into you at a relentless pace.
“Harry,” you moan out, “You’re so deep.” You cry out, your head tilting back against the mirror, and letting the feeling of pleasure overtake your body.
“That’s it, sugar. Let the pleasure take over you,” Harry says slowly, letting his cock thrust into you, admiring the view underneath him, your chest heaving up and down, your nipples perked up and hard, and your skin flushed in a slight coat of sweat.
You whine as you continue to roll your hips against him, “I’m close,” you whisper. Your hands moving to his shoulders, holding him in the right position, his hands moving down to grip your waist, allowing you to move on his cock as you wished.
“Come with only my cock, Princess.” He demands, his lips swollen by your mouth, and you can only nod. Drunk off his cock.
“I..” you start, feeling your release coming closer, “I’m almost there,” you whisper sweetly to him, you pull his face to yours, kissing him, and you feel yourself come undone underneath him.
Your mouth falls open with moans, eyes squeezing shut, your walls clenching around his pulsating cock, and he continues to thrust into you.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” Harry praises you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, he follows your release as he lets his orgasm take over him. He releases into you, his cock pumping his seed into you, your pussy clenching on him, and you both pull into each other. Lips wrapped together.
“Fuck-such a good girl. Taking all of my babies,” he whispers into your mouth as your pussy continues to milk him dry. You both slow down, letting yourself come down your orgasms, and you smile when he peppers your face with kisses.
He slips out of your sensitive pussy slowly, he walks over to the spare sink, wetting down a washcloth, he walks up to you, eyes never leaving yours, and he reaches down to clean you up slowly.
You gasp at his touch, his finger slipping into your wet pussy, and he pushes in his sperm deeper inside of you. His eyes watching you drunkenly, “Filled to the brim with my babies.”
You kiss his cheek when he pulls out, cleans you up nicely, and you slide off the counter. You adjust your dress, fixing your straps, and wiping away any makeup that got messed up.
Harry is standing behind you as he watches your every move as he cleans himself up. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips himself up. He washes his hands, with a smirk on his lips, and you do the same. It’s quiet now. No more moans or cries or whines anymore. But it’s a calming silence around you.
You both finish cleaning yourselves up. You turn to look at each other, eyes locking, hands intertwining, and you both lean into each other. His big palm on your cheek, lips brushing against yours, and he pulls your lips against his.
Kissing slowly.
His forehead leaning against yours, “Just say it.”
The unspoken words he wants you to say. You know you can’t. Because you know the minute you say them, he'll do it. He'll leave Vivian without a second thought and you can’t bear the thought of you both breaking the hearts of people you love.
But are you really doing any better?
You’re still fucking Harry every chance you get. You just had sex with him with both of your fiancés downstairs.
“We can’t,” you whisper sadly, gripping his hand on your cheek, and you give him one last longing kiss.
His lips reach for yours when you pull back, his thumb on your lips, his eyes open back up, and you give him a sad smile.
“Let’s get back to them?” You ask. He nods and unlocks the door.
“You go first,” he says. You can hear the hurt in his voice, but decide to not comment on it. Knowing what he will say.
You grip his hand tightly then let go. You fix your dress one last time and give him one last look before heading back downstairs.
You stop at the bar to get a drink to not look too suspicious before finding Asher.
Your eyes move along the dance floor to see Vivian dancing with someone you don’t know and Asher is sitting at your table, talking to a friend, with a drink in his hand.
He’s leaning against his chair, sipping his drink, and looking flushed from all his dancing. He notices you immediately and stands up when you reach him.
His hands going to your shoulders, eyes worried, and you fake a pout.
“You okay?” He asks, concerned. His puppy dog eyes wide with worry.
You nod, kissing his cheek, and whisper, “That lobster ravioli did not sit well with me.” He laughs at your comment and rubs your belly.
This would be funny if it wasn’t so horrible.
“Oh, baby.” He pouts at you and you both sit down. You sip on your drink as he continues his conversation with the person next to him.
Your eyes catch Harry as he walks down the venue, buttoning his suit jacket in a swift motion, fixing his hair with his hand, and he cuts in with whoever is dancing with Vivian. He wraps his arms around her, her doing the same, and his eyes meet yours.
He dances around the dance floor with her, but his beautiful green eyes never leave yours.
You feel jealousy pull the pit of your stomach as you watch them.
Asher notices the song playing, “Let’s dance, baby.”
Before you can say anything, he’s pulling you up to your feet, you’d stumble to set your drink down, and you fall into his arms in a slow dance.
His back is facing Harry, arms around each other, and you continue to dance together.
But now in a slow song, your eyes never leave Harry’s.
And you wish it was you in his arms.
Harry wishes the same.
But you both know it’ll never happen. No matter how badly you both want it.
It’s an unspoken acknowledgement between you two.
You wish things were different.
You both do.
#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles smut#harry styles x y/n smut#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles au#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fic#Harry smut#harry styles fic rec#harry styles fic
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hiii just wanted to say i love ur posts so much. ur so good at writing pls never stop😫 i just finished reading punk 57 and the whole “tell me something true” line has me in a CHOKEHOLD. pls pls pls write about assholery being cold and distant with y/n out of nowhere even though they’re friends. can the reader be fem and have bunny as a nickname too? it’s been on my miiind and i just know you’ll write it to perfection <33
i fucking ADORE this suggestion sm. whoever you are, message me pls bc i wanna rack your brain for more lmao
lmk if you wanna be tagged in part 2 when—if—it comes out <3 i hope y’all enjoy this part though bc it’s truly one of my favourites so far.
i recommend listening to these two songs while reading: wet dream - wetleg, desire - meg myers
•••
dirty dancing. pt1
word count: 4.4k-ish
disc. nsfw content ahead. mdni. brief coke mention—in passing, includes fem! reader n harry styles, bold ass language, kinda slow burn but not really, some sexy dancing ig n aaaangst. enjoy my whores <3
•••
Things have been weird with Harry for a while now. You’re not exactly sure how or why the rift even started, but it did. And it’s only been getting worse.
You’ve been friends for what—two years now? Never too close, but close enough to be able to communicate about any issues you’ve had with each other. You and Harry don’t really argue, he’s not the confrontational type. Not with you, anyway. And not when he’s sober.
You aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation either. When things get too heated or overwhelming, you cry. It embarrasses you—being unable to handle your emotions. You know that you’re only human, and you’d never judge someone else for crying in the middle of an argument, but because it’s you, because you know yourself so well, you judge yourself over it. Weird pattern, but hey, it’s real.
Right now, you’re out at a bar with your friends—the same group you’ve been hanging around since high school. Mitch and Sarah have been highschool sweethearts for as long as you can remember, they’re like the parents of the group. The cool parents. The parents everyone secretly wishes they could have. Niall and Lewis are attached at the hip, too—platonically. Been best friends since the day they met.
You’re the closest with Niall since you’ve been living with him through college, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You have other girlfriends but they’re not as close to you as Niall and Sarah are. Sarah’s like a diamond you’ve always loved. They all are. They’ve always been by your side when you needed them—Harry included. You got lucky, sure. Not everybody has the luxury of picking the good ones before college and life gets in the way.
The bar is slowly coming to life. People who came for a meal are leaving, and people in the mood for a night of drinking and dancing are all piling in. You’re excited. It’s been way too long since you’ve let loose. You’ve been too stumped with work and college lately, you’ve barely had any time to breathe without someone breathing right there with you. And of course, you enjoy the company of others. But when you have to be sober for it all? Eh.
Harry’s similar to you in that sense. He loves socialising. Absolutely adores it. He’s an extrovert. But after weeks of constant company, he gets burnt out. The only thing that helps toughen the blow is alcohol. Or coke, but he’s stopped that for a while now.
You prop your elbows up on the edge of the bar and lean against it, looking around for the bartender. He has his back to you, mixing someone else’s drink. You clear your throat and he turns his head to the side, catching sight of you and nodding his head to let you know he’ll be a moment. You nod back and wait, turning to face your friends.
“Anyone wanna shot with me?” You arch a brow at your five friends, and they all smirk and nod their heads. Harry included. “We all good for a vodka?”
Everyone nods a second time in response, and you turn back to face the bartender.
“What can I do for you, gorgeous?” He shoots you a warm smile.
“Five shots of vodka, please.” You smile back at him and he nods.
“Straight?”
“No, gay,” You murmur a witty reply and he laughs, beginning to fill five shot glasses for you. You swear you can hear Harry coughing back a laugh from behind you too, but you don’t pay him any attention.
You double tap your phone’s off switch, activating the apple pay, and you hold it up to pay for your drinks.
“No need, beautiful,” The bartender holds his hand up, “This round’s on me.”
You shrug, exhaling dramatically, “I won’t try and convince you to let me pay.”
“I wouldn’t let you try.” The attractive bartender plays along, smirking at you.
You mouth a quick thank you to him and he gives you one final wink before turning his attention to the small group of girls next to you, catering to them now. You grab the shot glasses off the counter and hand them out to everyone, and you all hold them up and clink them together before downing them in seconds.
“Fuck,” Sarah sticks her tongue out as if that’s going to help the taste in her mouth, “Never gets easier does it?”
“Doesn’t need to,” Niall grins proudly, setting his shot glass down on the counter, “You’re just weak.”
“Yeah we fuckin’ get it, you’re an Irish heavyweight. We should all bow down at your feet, you’re a king and we’re peasants who can’t handle a measly shot.” Lewis rolls his eyes and pretends to worship him.
Niall frowns in confusion, “Who you calling a heavyweight?”
Harry snorts at the two men bickering. They’re like two peas in a pod, and typically, people who are so close tend to argue every now and then.
The group has that dynamic. Sarah and Mitch, Niall and Lewis, you and Harry? You’re not sure if you and Harry count. You’re not as close as the others. You wouldn’t call him a best friend. A friend, yes. A good friend? That’s pushing it, but still, yes. A best friend? No.
It’s not that you wouldn’t like to be closer. You’ve just never really been given the chance. Harry’s always kept a safe distance from you. You’ve hardly ever spent time alone, always speaking and engaging with each other the most when others are around to witness it. Sure, a part of you wishes that Harry would pay you more attention, but the other part of you doesn’t think he deserves it. If he wanted to, he would, right?
“And aren’t you Irish too?” Niall questions Lewis, continuing on with their unserious bickering.
“Yeah like a third,” Lewis shrugs, “From my dad’s side, but you already knew th—stop deflecting. Y/N, tell him to stop deflecting from how much of a cock he is.” He points towards you and tries to get you involved.
You giggle and shrug your shoulders, “You are a bit of a cock sometimes, Ni.”
“Both of you can suck me, honestly. I’m fuckin’ great.” Niall flicks his hair dramatically and you and Lewis snicker.
“I’m with Niall,” Harry lightly nudges Niall’s chest with his elbow, joining in on the joke, “Both of you can suck him.”
“You fucking weirdos,” Mitch shakes his head at the lot of you, not surprised in the slightest by your antics, “Miss Jones and I are gonna go dance, you lot can either keep bickering or come join us. Choice is yours.”
With that, they both head for the dance floor together, holding their hands in the air and laughing.
“I’m joining those twats,” Lewis gestures to them, looking at the rest of you, “You three game?”
Niall nods, “Course. Harry, Y/N?”
“I’ll be there in a bit,” You nod towards the bar, “I feel like some more drinks.”
Everyone’s attention shifts to Harry. He clears his throat as he thinks for a moment, “Yeah, me too. Be there in a bit.”
Lewis and Niall both nod at Harry and beeline for the dance floor, already beginning to bicker again on the way. You giggle at the sight of them and shake your head, turning to face the bar again. Harry joins you, standing by your side. Neither of you look at each other, you keep your eyes in front of you at the neat array of liquor set along the counter.
“Nice night, don’t you think?” You break the awkward silence threatening to form between the two of you.
You catch sight of Harry nodding his head, “Always a nice night with this lot.”
Dry as fuck. You might not be close with Harry, but you aren’t stupid. You know the way he speaks to people, you’ve seen it. Harry could have an hour long conversation with a tree. But with you, it seems like a fucking chore.
You want to scoff. You want to scoff at how fucking childish Harry’s acting with you. Why can’t he look at you or have a normal conversation with you?
You sigh, not wanting to overreact over such a minor reply and ruin the night for yourself. Although Harry seems to be doing a decent job of that himself.
“Can’t argue with that.” You murmur.
“Mhm.” Harry murmurs and you wait a beat for him to say something else, anything else.
He doesn’t.
That’s it.
“I feel like I don’t know you.” Your words spill out before you can stop them.
Harry’s taken by surprise. He turns to face you. Now he’s looking, at least. “Sorry?”
“I feel like I don’t know you.” You sigh, repeating yourself.
“What is there to know?” He furrows his eyebrows at you, gesturing to the bartender that he wants a glass of something.
“You tell me, Harry Styles.”
He sighs, running a hand through his curly hair, “Y/N, what are you trying to get at here?”
You shrug, “I dunno, I feel like I click with everyone else. I’ve got a connection with everyone, H. Everyone but you.” Your words come out harsher than you intended. You’d feel a little guilty if they weren’t true. But they are.
“That was unnecessary.” Harry murmurs so quietly that you almost don’t hear him.
“You asked me a question and I answered it.” You stand your ground, sick of Harry’s half-assed efforts to conversing with you. You’re a catch, your friendship is amazing, and you’re great to talk to. What the hell is Harry’s problem?
He laughs, scoffing at you in disbelief, “Fuck, you’re such a bitch sometimes.”
You almost choke on your own saliva, “Excuse me?”
“You fuckin’ heard me, Y/N. I called you a bitch. Because that’s what you are half the time when shit doesn’t go your way.” Harry doesn’t know where this is all coming from, but it’s coming.
He doesn’t mean it, obviously. He’d never mean that. He doesn’t think you’re a bitch. Again, never. But he’s angry. He’s angry and you’re angry and you’re both speaking without thinking it through properly and you’re both making an absolute mess of the situation and each other—
“What the fuck?” You stare at Harry in shock, your eyes wide with disgust.
He’s confused by your offended reaction, “What, are you surprised or something? Come on, Bunny. You know better than that.”
“You don’t have to be such an ass,” You scold him, “We used to get along. We used to be closer. We’ve never been as close as the others but at least we used to speak. At least I was able to walk into a room knowing you were there and look forward to it.”
His face relaxes at your words. He knows you mean well. You’ve both been hotheaded for a moment but now you seem to be calming down. You’re bringing your point across well and he can’t fault you for it.
“But what now? What fuckin’ now, H? You never speak to me when we’re alone, and then when you finally do, it’s this. It’s an attack on my character. Does this shit get you off or something?”
Never mind.
Harry scoffs at your sudden change in tone, feeling agitated again, “Fuck you.”
You slam your hand on the counter, “Fuck you, Harry!”
He glares at you as you continue scolding him, “What the hell are we even doing here? Go spend time with your actual friends.”
“Hey, wait a second. What?” He leans his head to the side in confusion, not knowing what you mean, “We’ve known each other for years, Bunny.”
“I don’t know a single thing about you.” You point out, making him roll his eyes. “Don’t roll your—“
“Where’s my favourite place to eat?” Harry cuts you off with a question. A question that you know the answer to.
“That’s not—”
“Where do I go when I’m upset?” Again, another question you can answer.
“Harry—”
“How did I get the scar on my chin?” That’s a special question. You gave it to him the day you met.
You sigh, knowing where he’s going with this. He’s not understanding what you’re trying to tell him and it infuriates you.
You tap the tips of your fingers on the countertop, feeling anxious, “That’s not what I—”
“You do know me, Y/N. we don’t need to speak every two seconds or braid each other’s hair to know each other well.”
Your eyes begin to prick with tears. That isn’t what you meant and he knows that.
“That’s not what I meant.” You lower your voice as it threatens to crack.
“Then what did you mean, Bunny?” He crosses his arms and stares at you, waiting on an explanation.
You groan, throwing your head in your hands.
The truth is, you can explain. You can explain everything you’re feeling well. But is that going to get you anywhere right now? Maybe. Maybe not. You have a better idea.
“Do you consider me a friend?”
Harry’s face drops. You can tell that he’s upset and borderline offended that you’re even asking that question.
Of course you’re friends. You’ve been friends for years. He adores you. Why can’t you see that he adores you?
“Bunny..” He takes a step towards you, and you take one back.
“Do you?” You insist on getting a solid answer.
“Of course I consider you a fr—”
“Don’t lie.” You cross your arms over your chest.
“I’m not—”
“Tell me something real, Harry. Please. God, please just tell me something that isn’t base level for once,” You beg, “Tell me something true.”
He raises his eyebrows slightly. He’s taken back. He wasn’t expecting that from you at all.
He stays silent.
“You can’t, can you?” You scoff at him, not knowing why you expected anything to come from this conversation. You should’ve known better than to be hopeful about how things were going to go with Harry..because it’s Harry, “I don’t know why I thought you’d—“
“I still smoke cigarettes.” Harry cuts you off, blurting out an admission. He tenses his jaw in realisation—he’s just as shocked as you are.
Oh.
Your eyes widen at his confesion. Harry’s been gloating to everyone about how he so easily quit smoking three months ago. You’re all so proud of him, considering how difficult it is to quit something cold turkey the way he did. The rest of you haven’t been able to shake the bad habit. Apparently, neither has he.
“You do?” You question.
He nods, “Less. But I do.”
“Why?”
He almost smiles at your question, “Why do I smoke?”
“Why did you lie about it?”
He sighs, looking down as he answers you, “Everyone’s got something, right? Sarah and Mitch have their relationship, Niall has his singing, Lewis has his stand-up every Friday, you have your double degree. I just wanted something that everyone could be proud of. Felt like something small like that would’ve been manageable to keep hidden from everyone.”
You frown, “Harry..”
“No,” He shakes his head, refusing to let you feel sorry for him, “No. Seriously, no. We’re not about to do pity. That’s not what we do with each other.”
“Okay,” You clear your throat and agree to let it go, grabbing a now filled shot glass and handing it over to him, “Drink?”
He smirks at you, silently thanking you as he reaches forward and takes the shot glass from you.
“Sorry for calling you a bitch.” He murmurs, offering you a small, sincere smile.
You give him one back, “Sorry for being one.”
His small smile turns into a grin.
“To the truth.” You hold your glass up to cheers his with.
“To the fuckin’ truth.”
You both down your shots and tap them down on the counter to gesture for the bartender to refill them. He complies and neither of you waste a second to down the next ones. Over and over, shot after shot, you continue to drink until you’re buzzed.
You’re both good at handling your liquor, and you know how much you can take. By the time you’re done with your shots, you’re over the moon. Buzzed and aware. Aware of what you feel, aware of where you are, aware of who you’re with. Aware.
Harry leans down, his face dangerously close to yours. He’s never been this close, you don’t think. You’ve never seen his face so clearly, you’ve never seen his chest tattoos so well, his necklace dangling, his—
“Should we go dance with the others now, you think?” He speaks into your ear and you feel your stomach beginning to erupt with nerves.
“Yeah,” You inhale sharply, nodding, “Sure.”
Harry grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd, keeping a hold of you even when you reach where your friends are. The contact is strange but you welcome it, liking the new barrier that’s being broken between the two of you.
Over the years, you’ve noticed how touchy he can get when he’s under the influence, so you have an idea of what you’re getting into. You like being on the receiving end for once. You could get used to this side of Harry. You like being his friend. His real friend.
Once you get to where the others are, you quickly gauge what they’re all doing. Mitch and Sarah are in their own little world as usual, dancing together as if it’s their wedding night. Niall’s dancing with a random girl he’s probably going home with later tonight and Lewis is making a fool of himself in the middle of them. Ah, friendship. You love to see it.
“Nice song, yeah?” Harry leans over to your ear, speaking over the music. The song playing is one of your all time favourites—Wet Dream by WetLeg.
Anyone who knows you, knows the way you feel about this song. It’s become tradition to play it everytime you carpool. A fine tradition, you think.
“Oh, the best.” You start bopping your head to the beat of the song, singing along with the lyrics you know and love.
“I was in your wet dream driving in my caaar, saw you at the side of the road, there’s no one else around you’re touching yourself, touching yourself—“ You start yelling out the words along with everyone else on the dance floor, shaking your head side to side and dramatising every word. Harry watches you and smirks, letting you have your moment.
“You said—“
You’re about to keep singing the next part when he beats you to it, “Baby do you want to come home with me? I got Buffalo ‘66 on dvd!”
You let out a surprised laugh at the fact that Harry even knows the words to the song, loving that you’re seeing this side to him. You’d never expect to have something as simple as loving a song like this in common, but here you are.
Beam me up—beam me up!
Count me in—count me in!
Three, two, one—three, two, one!
Let's begin!
The song continues and you realise that you’ve both been staring at each other for a good ten seconds in silence, just taking in the sight of each other. Harry really is beautiful. The way his hair hangs perfectly below his shoulders. The way his dimples show at the smallest hint of a smile. The way his eyes burn into yours. You never want to see anything else. Just him. Just Harry.
“I was in your wet dream, driving in my caaaar!” Harry’s voice breaks you out of your daydream, and you laugh as he grabs your hands, dancing with you to the beat of the song.
“What makes you think you're good enough to think about me when you're touching yourself?” You continue the song and he pretends to be shocked, acting out the song with you.
“You climb onto the bonnet and you’re licking the windscreen! I’ve never seen anything so obscene!” You both sing the next part together, leaning in close to each other’s faces and practically screaming with the biggest smiles on your faces, “It’s enough! To make a girl blush! It’s enough! It’s enough to make a girl blush!”
The rest of the song plays and you both continue to scream out every word, making the most of the moment you’re having and hoping it never ends. Neither of you are sure what’s going on but neither of you are complaining. You’re both witnessing a new side to each other and you’re enjoying it. Perhaps you were made to be best friends like the others. Maybe it was meant to happen like this.
The song eventually comes to an end and you both let out a deep sigh, catching your breath for a moment as another random song plays.
Harry looks down at you with parted lips, “Nice singing, Bunny.”
“Could say the same to you, H.” You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The move is natural and you don’t put too much thought into it. Neither does Harry.
His hands find their way to your waist and you both sway in time with the music, singing the lyrics into each other’s faces and having the time of your lives.
“I haven’t had sex in 5 months!” His voice is just loud enough for you to hear over the music.
Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”
He leans closer to your face, “I said—I said I haven’t had—”
“No I—I heard you H,” You chuckle, “I’m just a little—”
“Surprised? Yeah me too.” He grins at you, suddenly seeming to be completely comfortable with you in a way you never expected, “I stole that chocolate bar from you last week by the way, it wasn’t Niall.”
You laugh for a moment at his strange confessions until you process what he just told you, “Wait that was you?”
“Loud ‘n proud, bunny.” He grins proudly.
“You—you fucker!” You gasp, playfully hitting his chest with one of your hands, keeping the other where it was around his neck.
He chuckles, playing along, “Did you forget what I just—”
“Shut up!”
You both laugh, continuing to move your bodies together.
“What about you? Tell me something true.”
You purse your lips together, trying to come up with something to tell Harry. There’s a million things you could tell him, but you want to catch him off guard. You want to see an honest, raw reaction from him.
“I think you’re really pretty.” You finally say, shrugging your shoulders.
Harry raises his eyebrows at you, unsure if you’re being serious. “Pretty?”
You nod.
He tilts his head for a moment, “Weird choice of words.”
“I don’t think so,” You smile at him, “You’re a pretty boy.”
He smiles back, “You’re a pretty bunny.”
“We’re pretty.”
“We are.”
You both smile at each other and share a brief moment. A moment of what—you’re not sure. Two friends being supportive of each other? Two friends suddenly becoming closer and making the most of it? Two friends two friends two friends—
The next song begins playing and your heart begins to pace more. Desire, Meg Myers.
The two of you exchange a look, knowing that you won’t move together to this song the same way you have been for the others.
You know that you won’t be singing along with this one. You’d rather feel it. Feel Harry.
You move your hands away from around Harry’s neck, and he keeps his on your waist, holding you close. You move your hands down and place them over his, feeling electric all of a sudden.
Baby, I wanna fuck you
I wanna feel you in my bones
The song is loud and the coloured lights are flashing red. The atmosphere has changed—not only in the bar and on the dance floor, but between you and Harry. The way he’s looking at you is different. The way you’re looking at him is different. The way he’s touching you is different. The way you’re touching him is different.
I’m gonna tear into your soul
You begin to sway your hips to the beat of the song, holding your eyes over Harry’s. Neither of you dare to look away. You wouldn’t dream of it.
How do you want me?
How do you want me?
You begin to turn your body in time with the music, turning your back to Harry. He leans his head down, resting his head on your shoulder and keeping his hands by your waist as you continue to move against each other. You feel a surge of confidence—you’re not sure if it’s the song, if it’s the alcohol, if it’s Harry’s random confessions, if it’s the feelings you’ve been suppressing from him for years—but it’s here. It’s here and you’re about to make the most of it.
Yeah I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear it from your mouth
Boy, I wanna taste you, I wanna skin you with my tongue
I’m gonna kill you
You lean your ass back, moving it against Harry’s crotch. He sucks in a breath, and the only way you know it is because you feel his teeth graze the skin of your bare shoulder. Your eyes close at the feeling and you grow bolder, moving the same way a second time.
He tightens his grip on your waist. You can feel the bulge of his cock against your ass and you can only imagine how much it’s straining against the band of his jenas. You almost pity him. Almost.
I wanna feel you
I want it all
I wanna feel you
I want it all
You continue moving against Harry, enjoying his little reactions to your touch. To the way you feel. He begins trailing kisses down your neck, applying pressure and sucking on your skin. You still. You can’t focus on anything but the way his lips feel against you.
What’s going on between you both? What the fuck is happening? Why the fuck has it taken so long? Why couldn’t it happen sooner?
So many questions.
“Bunny,” Harry groans against your shoulder, placing one last kiss to your neck before moving his mouth to your ear, “Tell me something true.”
You know exactly what you want to say. Again, there’s so much you want to tell him. You want to tell him how good he feels against you, how much you love the way he moves his body against yours. You want to tell him that you feel the connection now. You want to tell him that you know he can feel it too. There’s so much to say, but you settle for the most simple thing. The most important one.
“I want you.”
•••
aaahhhh!!! i’m sososo proud of this one. idk why but this shot has a special place in my heart. the smut will be included in the second part. and believe me, it’s gonna be SMUT. i’m such a whore for angst n this friendship trope is just chef’s kiss.
anyway enough chat. i hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 if you liked what you read then please reblog n comment. feel free to suggest ideas for new posts too.
have a good day or night wherever you are n stay safe, always <3
- k
#smut#one shot#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x y/n one shot#harry styles x y/n smut#harry styles x you#harry styles x you one shot#harry styles x you smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles x reader smut#harry styles x reader one shot#harry styles x oc#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles one shot#one direction smut#frenemies#frenemies smut#angst#harry styles angst#harry styles dirty one shot#harry styles dirty fanfiction#harry styles dirty imagine#kilistina#kilistina <3
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HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D
CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics
WC: 8.6K
“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes.
It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there.
Harry blinks.
It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look.
In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout.
The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte.
She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera.
There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.
Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe.
I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back.
Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting.
“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification.
Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte.
“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...”
That barista is definitely fucking peering over.
“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito.
For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink.
“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe.
The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera.
There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this.
“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”
Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused.
“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.”
“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth.
“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.”
The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face.
“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.”
Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture.
She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal.
He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm.
That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now.
Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty.
Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with.
It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen.
The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”
Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together.
“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head.
She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan.
She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed.
“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline.
He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.
“Yeah. It does.”
Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down.
When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too.
“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing.
Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits.
“Very nice.”
It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge.
“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.”
He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock.
“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.”
He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green.
Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?”
“F’course.”
The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.”
His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.
“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?”
“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it.
“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new homage from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”
Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting.
Yeah. He can work with that.
“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows.
Tiger is much more subdued in this setting.
“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.”
The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”
Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.”
Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.
“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“
The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods.
“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him.
Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad.
“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”
Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more.
“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.”
Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.
“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“
Her thighs press together.
“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”
She swallows.
“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.”
Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way.
“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?”
His strawberry mouth curls a little.
“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.”
It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom.
It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording.
There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier.
“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger.
Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into.
“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.
And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms.
“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.”
Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over.
“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too.
“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding.
The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank.
“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet.
The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there.
A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.”
He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.”
Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up.
This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out.
Authenticity.
Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out.
“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles.
His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates.
“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash.
“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens.
Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly.
“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out.
Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags.
“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?”
When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.”
It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart.
“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself.
The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits.
It’s kind of game over from there.
There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement.
“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh.
The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug.
And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?”
Gameovergameovergameovergameover.
Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.
Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing.
Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe.
And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”
Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose.
That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy.
Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”
A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth
“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip.
“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.”
Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train.
It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur.
She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands.
It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”
The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead.
“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?”
Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.
“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.
“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.”
Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even.
“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow.
He bites.
At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused.
“You want my cum painting your pretty face?”
“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah? That’s what you want?”
His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands.
And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”
Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic. It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording.
His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera.
“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof.
And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals.
Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.
“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment.
He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds.
“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”
She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums.
“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.”
The words coax her to clench over the plug.
“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim.
Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss.
“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible.
“Hm?”
“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s.
Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?”
The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.”
And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering.
“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?”
And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs.
“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“
His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth.
“Good girl.”
Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle.
Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?”
“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”
Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego.
“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”
A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?”
And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.”
That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words.
“Christ.”
Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.”
When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash.
“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance.
Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks.
“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”
Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips.
“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.”
She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs.
“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.”
He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off.
Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.
“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”
Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“
And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.
“Get that mouth back on my cock.”
Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”
And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur.
Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.”
Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.
“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.”
Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly.
“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”
His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages,
Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans.
The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down.
A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.”
Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?”
His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”
She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased.
“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit.
She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters.
“…Hm?”
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camping [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]
synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry and Y/N leave the air base to go on a camping trip in July and their feelings are all over the place.
word count: 13.2k (!?)
contains: friends to lovers, opposites attract, violence, nightmares, flirting, smoking, fluff, smut (breeding kink, size kink, she's on top, cockwarming *if you squint*), forced proximity
this is part 2 of the aviator, you can read part 1 here
. . .
“Leave me alone Harry!” Y/N stormed several paces in front of him, hugging her arms around herself to try and keep herself warm.
“Birdy, c’mon now, it’s not what y’ think it is.” Harry kept his distance behind her but had been following her home since she stormed off after she’d caught him with her housemate, Nancy.
“Quit calling me that! And will you stop following me?” She spun round and he immediately froze in his steps.
“Promised I’d walk y’ home,” He shrugged, “Not gonna let y’ walk home in the dark alone.”
“I’d probably be better off,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms.
“Will y’ let me explain?” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Y/N opened her mouth to say something but he carried on talking, “I won’t quit following y’ if that’s what y’ gonna say and the view of the back of y’ head is just as pretty as the front so there’s no way y’ gonna stop me. I just… Will you let me explain? Please?”
Y/N scoffs like she can’t believe what she’s hearing right now. What would it take for him to take a message and leave her be? “You’re not used to hearing the word no are you?”
“I respect it but doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying. God, especially not with you.” Every part of him seemed serious. Y/N’s shoulders dropped and he took it as a sign to continue, “Me and Nancy we have history tha’s for sure,” He started and the words made Y/N’s chest ache, “But we only slept together a couple times before Christmas tha’s all. She came out and found me smoking and I realised she was a ‘lil drunk. I tried to pull her off me but she wasn’t having it, said she saw me outside with y’ and got upset.”
Y/N frowned, unsure of whether to believe him or not, “Listen, I know you’ve heard things about me but-” He dug his heel into the ground and chuckled lightly, “I ain’t ever felt the way I did back there when I kissed y’ Y/N and I’m not jus’ saying that.”
Y/N felt some of the anger dissipate from her body, replaced by pure frustration. She hadn't come to Offutt to get tangled up in a mess with a man she barely knew, yet here she was. Nancy's revelation about having her sights set on a man hit Y/N like a ton of bricks. If she had known it was Harry, she might never have kissed him in the first place. She hardly knew Harry beyond their brief interactions and the hearsay from her housemates. How could she trust him? Yet, despite her doubts, there was one undeniable truth: the kiss they had shared lingered vividly in her mind. The taste of peppermint and cigarettes still clung to her lips, a tangible reminder of their brief encounter. It was a moment that now intertwined her with him in a way she wasn't expecting.
Y/N huffed, “And what? I’m just meant to believe you now. Take your word for it and run into your arms and kiss you again?”
“That’d be nice, yeah.” Harry smiled, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
Y/N shook her head, trying to process everything Harry had just said. Despite her frustration and confusion, there was a part of her that wanted to believe him. She knew deep down that she couldn't deny the chemistry they shared during that kiss, but she also couldn't ignore the uncertainty punching at her gut.
"Harry, I... I don't know what to think," Y/N admitted, her voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "I want to trust you, but it's hard after everything that's happened and what’s been said. I-I don’t know you that well is all."
Harry stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I understand, Birdy. And I don't expect you to trust me blindly. But hey maybe we could start as friends, get to know each other better before anything else, if that would make y' comfortable."
Y/N raised an eyebrow, considering his suggestion. The idea of starting as friends seemed more sensible, given the circumstances. "Friends?"
"Yeah, friends," Harry confirmed a hopeful glint in his eyes. "No expectations, just getting to know each other without any pressure."
Y/N nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Alright, I like that idea.”
Harry grinned, relieved that she seemed to be willing to give him a chance. "Well, you need more of ‘em.”
Y/N’s smile disappeared, “I do not! I have plenty of friends.”
“The girls at the nursery don’t count,” Harry smirks, “And neither does Elise.”
“Whatever,” Y/N muttered, spinning on her heel to continue her journey home. She heard Harry’s footsteps jogging up to meet her and was surprised to feel his jacket being placed over her shoulders.
Harry put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Y/N’s heart stuttered, “Friends don’t do that you know.” She grumbled, pretending to act grumpy around him in hopes it would hide the fact that she was most definitely swooning inside.
“Oh? I do it with my friends all the time. Sometimes I kiss them on the lips too, we can try if y’ want-” Y/N looked up at him, glaring, “Alright then, another time.”
Y/N let Harry walk her the remainder of the way home, feeling a little more at peace with the fact she would be welcoming him into her life, even if it was just as friends for now. She hoped it would be enough to get to know him and eventually, she’d trust him enough to allow their relationship to blossom into something more and hopefully sometime soon because when Harry had left her on the doorstep of her house, she knew she’d be dreaming of that kiss every time she looked at him.
Y/N closed the door as gently as she could, pressing her forehead against the wooden frame. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding before walking into the kitchen where Nancy was standing, “How’d you get home so quickly?” Y/N asked, unable to meet her hard stare.
“Harry must have taken you the long way home.” She shrugged pushing her chair back from the table, the legs of her chair scraping against the tiled ground.
“I-I didn’t know Harry was the guy you were talking about Nancy,” Y/N said truthfully.
“Would it have made any difference?” Nancy asked, a bite to her tone.
Y/N sighed, “All this was never my decision. Harry asked me to the dance, I-I didn't know it was going to be such a big deal.”
“Harry loves attention from any girl who bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair.” Nancy glared, “You don’t make the exception.”
Y/N straightened her shoulders, “What if I do?” She wasn’t going to allow herself to be belittled by another woman over a man she had just met.
Nancy snickered, “Are you that entitled?”
“Harry’s smart enough to make his own decisions Nancy and I’m not going to be involved in whatever petty game you think this is. Not only is it up to him to decide who he likes but it’s my decision too and if he’s not with anybody then I can decide whether I should be allowed to get to know him or not.” Y/N declared.
Nancy narrowed her eyes, “I’m not trying to compete with you but I’d be careful if I were you. If you’re planning on standing so close to the fire prepared to get burnt. Those Styles boys have their things going on. Harry hasn't the faintest idea of what to do with a girl outside of the bedroom. I've known him long enough for that.”
“Maybe you don’t know him that well.”
“Maybe,” Nancy shrugged, “Maybe you can tell me all about it when you realise he’s not all he says he is.”
“Why do you want him if you have no faith in him?” Y/N asked.
“I said I had my eye on him, not that I planned on settling down with him. Every girl wants to sleep with him and not only because he’s Offutt’s best pilot, he’s the only man who knows what he’s doing.” Nancy stands from her chair, “I won’t compete but I don’t particularly enjoy being proven wrong.” She moved past her, leaving Y/N standing in the kitchen.
. . .
As winter turned to spring and spring into summer, Y/N and Harry's friendship seemed to blossom with the seasons. They had developed a type of bond that neither of them had with anybody else and through it they learnt more about themselves and each other. Ever since the night they began their relationship, there was never a moment where Y/N wasn’t seen with the brunette aviator walking beside her.
Even Harry’s brothers had come to enjoy Y/N's company. Somehow she had taken on this maternal presence within their family dynamic that none of the siblings had ever really had before. Sonny had taken a particular liking to having Y/N around, enjoying the free time he had now that Y/N would sometimes volunteer to put Elise to bed in the evenings.
Along with Harry’s brothers, also came Y/N’s housemates Molly and Patsy. She had become good friends with them too in the last few months and now she finally had her own little girl group to hang out with (they’d often include Elise in that group too).
The group had become their own little, dysfunctional family on Offutt.
Even though their friendship was meant to be the start of something more, Y/N and Harry hadn’t spoken much about that night at the dance since it had happened. Even with Harry’s flirtatious teasing from time to time, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that something had happened between them like this friendship had created a strange liminal space between them that held so many questions. She loved the current dynamic - the comfort everyone shared, even amidst their occasional bickering. It made her wonder if this was how it was supposed to be, and perhaps Harry thought so too.
However, her feelings for Harry continued to grow stronger with every passing day. She would dream of the kiss they shared and wake up with a strong ache in her chest at the idea that it would never happen again. Every day she tried to coax herself into talking to him about how she felt and every day she’d get distracted or put off by doubts and the voice in the back of her head warning her, telling her enough time had passed that maybe Harry didn’t have feelings for her anymore which is why he never bought them up.
It was July now and the girls were sitting eating breakfast in the kitchen. Y/N was nibbling on a piece of slightly burnt toast as Molly rambled on about how busy her day was going to be down at the hairdresser with her hair rollers still in her hair.
Opposite Y/N at the table sat Nancy, who had hardly spoken since waking up. She was dressed to the nines, her hair perfectly curled, and her uniform immaculately pressed. The tension between the two girls lingered from the dance night. It was clear Nancy was prepared to do anything for Harry's attention, even if he didn't see it. While Nancy seemed distant, Y/N tried to keep things friendly, despite the awkwardness between them. They had to live with each other after all.
Y/N had seen Nancy and Harry alone together a few times and even if it filled her with an insatiable amount of jealousy, she wouldn’t allow herself to get involved with whatever went on between them. This wasn’t a competition she was taking part in, her feelings were her own and so were Nancy's. What mattered was her own relationship with Harry because it had slowly become the most important thing in her life.
The front door burst open, Sonny’s voice boomed down the hallway, “Good morning ladies!”
“Is anyone ever going to teach those boys how to knock?” Molly grumbled, standing from the table to lean against the kitchen counter, “I oughta start locking that front door before I go to bed.”
Y/N looked down to hide her smile as three grown men, dressed in overalls and white t-shirts walked into the room, one of them holding the small toddler in his arms. “Give me the baby!” Patsy launched from her chair and reached for Elise, smothering the girl in kisses.
“Can I have a turn, Patsy?” Sonny asked, batting his eyelashes playfully.
“You wish,” Patsy glared.
“Morning Nancy,” George grinned, only to receive a curt nod in return, “Good morning George, y’ sure are looking mighty fine in tha’ uniform of yours,” George remarked, his voice slightly mocking, delivered in a high pitch to tease her.
Nancy stood from her seat, glaring up at the tall brother in front of her, “Good morning George, do you mind getting out of my way? I’ve got work to do, unlike some people.”
“How could y’ say that? I’m always working,” He argued.
“Cigarettes and arm wrestling during work hours do not count as working.” Nancy picked her bag up from under her chair.
“Know y’ like watching though darlin’.” He smirked and Nancy scoffed, shoving past him and leaving the house.
“Y’ oughta be careful with that one George,” Molly smirked, taking out a cigarette and offering one to him.
“She’s all good,” He shrugged, his eyes on the seat Nancy had been sitting in.
Y/N’s smile dropped when someone snatched the piece of toast she was eating from her hand. She looked up and was met with green eyes looking down at her, a lazy grin on the face she saw every day, “Hi birdy,” His voice was always deeper than usual in the mornings
“Hi Harry,” Y/N grinned.
He grabbed the empty chair that Nancy had been sitting in and lifted it from the tiled floor to sit next to her. His eyes flitted around her face, and the corner of his lips turned upwards, “You’ve got jam-” He reached his thumb out and wiped away the jam from the corner of her lips. Y/N’s cheeks tinged pink, “There y’ go.”
“Thanks,” Y/N murmured, looking away from his intense gaze.
“No problem,” He smirked, “Y’ look beautiful by the way.”
Harry said the same thing almost every morning and Y/N never failed to blush whenever he told her the compliment. “I only woke up thirty minutes ago, I haven’t even run a brush through my hair.”
“And you still look beautiful. It’s unfair birdy, truly it is.” He sighed, shaking his head dramatically.
Y/N giggled, “You’re such an idiot.”
“So what brings you boys here so early? Ran out of food back home?” Molly asked, reaching for Elise since apparently, it was her time to hold her.
“We’re going off base with some of the guys later to the town to buy camping gear for the trip,” Sonny explained, taking a sip of black coffee from Patsy’s mug.
“What happened to the stuff from last year?” Molly quirked a brow, “It was perfectly fine when we left it.”
Harry reached for Y/N’s hand and mindlessly played with her fingers as people spoke. George shrugs, “There’s more of us going this year so either way we need more tents.”
"What are you talking about?" She asked, turning to Harry for an explanation.
All eyes turned to her, then to Harry, their expressions puzzled. George's frown deepened. "You never told her?"
Y/N's gaze remained fixed on Harry, waiting for his response as he dropped her hand onto his lap.
"Every year on the last week of July, a huge group of us go camping down at Harpers Lake," Sonny explained. "It's a five-hour hike, and we camp out for two nights. We're all going this year, and we thought Harry over there already told you about it, but clearly he didn't."
Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought Molly would have told you," Harry admitted, scratching the back of his neck.
Y/N's eyes darted around at everyone's faces as they looked at her expectantly, "I-I don't know if I'll get time off at the nursery," Y/N stuttered, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her.
"Hey, I'm sure someone'll cover for you," Harry reassured her with a shrug. "If you don't go, I won't go either."
"Harry," she huffed, unable to resist the warmth in his eyes. "What about Elise? Who will take care of her?"
"Elise is coming, of course," Sonny piped in. "You think the Styles go anywhere without each other?"
Y/N glanced at Harry, her heart softening at his earnest expression. He gently picked up her hand again, squeezing her fingers lightly as if to persuade her to come with them. Harry's gaze held hers, his voice soft but determined. "If you’re worried about skipping work, it’ll be fine. We'll figure that out together, Birdy. I promise."
“I hate camping,” Y/N confessed, the corner of his lips quirking.
“But y’ haven’t camped with me yet.” He smirked as if doing anything with him was the solution to everything.
Y/N’s shoulders sagged, “Okay, fine.” She relented, falling into their persuasion. Though the idea of camping was her worst nightmare, being with Harry off-base seemed to make it bearable.
Eventually, everyone left to start their day of work. Y/N took Elise into her arms and made her way down to the nursery, “Y/N!” Harry called, she turned and saw him running up to them from down the road. “Y’ not mad at me are you?”
Y/N frowned, “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Y’ know,” He stood straight, scratching the back of his neck, something he always did when he was nervous or about to say something sincere, “Because I didn’t tell you about the camping trip. I was meant to but every time I’m with y’ all the things I plan to say just seem to slip from my mind.”
Y/N’s face softens, “No I’m not mad at you Harry. I mean, I wish I could have found out sooner, but if you say it’ll be fine, I’ll believe you.”
Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Y’ believe me huh?” He took a step forward until he stood directly in front of her.
Y/N’s heart stuttered at the proximity, “Y-yeah, I do.” She murmurs.
Harry’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Y’ might be the only one.” He whispers his breath minty from the gum he was chewing on.
His eyes darted to her lips and then back up again. Even though they were outside, Y/N felt the oxygen slipping from the space around her until a tiny, chubby hand swatted Harry’s face out of the way, “No!” Elise yells and starts to ramble.
Harry’s expression shifted, his features softening with amusement. He grabs Elise’s hand and starts pressing kisses to the inside of her palm, “What do y’ mean no? Y’ don’t like it when I speak to my best friend? ‘S that because you’re my best friend Elise?” Harry teases, pretending to bite her small hand.
Y/N giggles, “It seems I’m always competing with somebody for your attention.” She jokes but Harry’s smile falters.
“Y’ don’t need to do that,” He murmurs, “Y’ too special to me to do that.”
Elise carried on rambling as Y/N remained silent, surprised by Harry’s words. That classic, flirtatious grin reappeared once more on Harry's face as he pressed a quick kiss to Elise’s cheek and then Y/N’s too, “I’ll see you later, baby girl.” He said to Elise.
He walked backwards, eyes fixed on Y/N, “I’ll see both my best girl’s later!” He winked and then turned around.
“Your brother is stupid,” Y/N said to Elise.
“Ha, Ha!” Elise pointed at her brother who disappeared around the corner, calling him the name she always called him since she couldn’t say his full name properly yet.
“Ha Ha indeed,” Y/N sighed, making her way to the nursery.
. . .
The camping trip had been a tradition in Offutt for the last ten years or so. Harry had been with his brothers ever since he had come to Offutt. He mostly enjoyed it for the fact that he got to spend time away from the Air Base. He didn’t do very much other than smoke cigarettes and maybe sleep with one or two people if he felt like it.
This time though felt different. Harry had never been this excited about a camping trip before, especially not with Y/N. It had been ages since he anticipated anything, but the thought of spending two entire nights with the girl who had completely transformed his life was exhilarating enough to have him willingly sleeping in a tent out in the wilderness.
They were into the final hour of the hike to Harper’s Lake. The sun was beating down on their faces and Y/N and Harry were way behind the rest of the group. Y/N had been huffing and puffing ever since the halfway point of the trail. It had kept Harry rather amused during what was often a long and boring walk.
Harry walked in front wearing a white vest and cargo trousers, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips and a silver dog tag around his neck. Y/N was walking behind him, beating bushes with a big stick as she walked by them.
“Y’ keep beating up those bushes back there darling and they’ll start shouting back to y’.” Harry smiled to himself as he heard her mumbles. “You dawdling back there?”
“No,” Y/N snaps, “I do not dawdle thank you.” Her feet were slipping. She didn’t have decent shoes to wear and Harry had already had to stop twice to put bandages on both her knees which was probably why they were so behind from the rest of the group.
“Why couldn’t we just fly? You’re a pilot Harry, can’t you go get us a plane?”
“Y’ want me to get a military plane to fly us to a lake so that y’ don’t have to get all hot and bothered 'cause you’re walking, is that right birdy?” Harry holds back a laugh.
“Well, I don’t see the point in flying planes if you’re not gonna use them.” She mumbles.
Harry stops and turns around to look at her. She’s wearing a shirt that’s too big for her and shorts on her small legs. He let her borrow his flight cap so she didn’t get sunburnt but it was too big for her head so it covered her eyes. “Are y’ asking for a lift up the hill?”
Y/N fell silent, her gaze drifting past him to the peak of the hill. She nodded quietly. Harry chuckled, dropping his bag to the ground. Turning around, he squatted and gestured behind him, arms outstretched. "Hop on, birdy."
“Are you sure? What if I'm too heavy.” Y/N says.
“I’m only offering once so I’d make the most of it if I were you.” He teased and waited for her to jump on his back.
He heard her feet tread along the ground before stopping behind him. She put her body weight onto him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Y’ won’t drop me, will you? Because it’s not gonna be funny if you do.”
“Never,” he promised, lifting himself off the ground. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and he picked up his bag off the floor. “How’s the view up there birdy?”
“Pretty,” she said, her lips close to his ear.
“I bet,” he said to himself before tracking up the hill.
The lake glimmered in the sunlight, surrounded by birch and willow trees. Y/N had never seen something so beautiful before as she looked over Harry’s head to see where they’d be staying the next few nights. Her feet hit the floor as Harry released her from his grip. There were around thirty people from the base who had come along on the trip and were already deciding where they were going to set up their camping spots.
Y/N glanced around to spot her friends only to find them already bickering with each other in a shaded spot away from everyone else. Patsy and Molly were sharing a tent, while Sonny and George were setting up theirs with Elise. Harry had his own tent, and Y/N had bought a separate one as well. “Hey Patsy, have you seen my tent?” Y/N glanced around the floor where everyone had thrown their bags.
“No, I thought you would have taken it.” Patsy shrugged.
“Me too,” Y/N huffed, looking through her backpack to see if she had packed the small tent she had bought.
“Have you lost it?” Molly asked. Y/N frantically shoved some of the bags out of the way, hoping to spot it somewhere, until the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.
It was sitting on the couch in the living room of her house, five hours away from where they were camping.
“You left it at home?” Sonny burst out laughing, Y/N’s cheeks flushing red.
“It’s not funny Sonny,” Patsy whacked him on the shoulder, “Where’s she meant to sleep?"
“With me.” A voice spoke, and Y/N turned around to see Harry standing with aviator sunglasses covering his eyes.
“W-what?” Y/N stuttered as if she couldn’t believe what was happening.
“Well unless y’ wanna sleep with Elise, Birdy, the only other option is with me.” He shrugs as if it was no big deal that he was offering her to sleep in his one-man tent.
“I-I can sleep with Elise,” She noticed how no one was saying anything or coming up with other ideas for her sleeping arrangement. She could have sworn she saw her two housemates giggling in the corner of her eye.
"And I could sleep with Elise too, but you know why I don’t?" Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "It's because all three of my siblings seem to have inherited a gene that I missed out on. Trust me, Birdy, you don’t wanna sleep in a tent with a snoring swing band the whole night."
Harry reached out and gently tugged her hand, “We’ve slept in the same room before.”
“Yeah but you slept on the floor,” She crossed her arms, trying to think of any other way she could sleep without having to share a small space with the guy she had feelings for. Y/N glanced around at her friends who immediately went about fixing their own tents as if they hadn’t stopped to watch the whole ordeal. She sighed, “Fine.”
Y/N brushed past Harry. He quickly snatched off his hat she was wearing and placed it on his own head, grinning, “It’ll be fun,”
By the time they had set up the tent, it had dawned on Y/N exactly what she had agreed to. The tent was barely large enough for one person, let alone two, and with Harry's muscular frame, she couldn't fathom how they were meant to sleep without being practically on top of each other.
As Y/N unravelled her sleeping bag, Harry’s head peaked through the entrance, “A few of us are borrowing bikes to head to the nearest gas station to buy things for the barbecue if y’ wanna come.”
Y/N nodded, “Just give me a second and I’ll be right out.” He nodded and paused as though he wanted to say something else before shaking his head and leaving. Y/N released a sigh and pushed back her hair wondering how she even got into this mess in the first place.
Harry was standing by two bikes, holding Elise in his arms, “A few of ‘em already went ahead.”
“I didn’t know Elise was gonna be here,” Y/N cooed and pinched the two-year-old's chubby cheek. Harry’s eyes warmed before he placed her in the basket of his bicycle. “Is that safe?” Y/N frowned.
“Course it is,” He shrugged.
Soon they were riding side by side with Elise squealing in the basket of Harry’s bike, her small fingers gripping onto the front of the basket as the wind blew through her hair. Y/N’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much as she watched the two year old laugh and scream with excitement.
Eventually they pulled over into the gas station. Y/N held Elise as Harry grabbed the things they needed for the barbecue, “Do y’ wanna ice cream Elise?” Y/N gasped, taking her to the freezer to pick out an ice cream.
Elise squealed and babbled incoherently as she picked the most colourful ice pop in the whole freezer. Y/N picked out two for herself and Harry to have since it was so hot out and they still needed to ride back to the campsite again.
They sat under a grouping of trees, Elise inbetween Harry’s legs as he helped her eat her ice pop. He’d have to wipe her chin every now and then with how sloppy she was when eating, “There y’ go baby girl, that ice pop ain’t going anywhere,” Harry chuckled as Elise gripped the ice pop in two hands.
Y/N smiled to herself as she watched the two of them interact, Elise’s adorable antics continuing to amuse them both. She couldn’t help but think about how strangely normal this all felt. Despite the little time they had known the Styles’ siblings, it felt like they had known each other for much longer. The ease with which they connected, the laughter shared between them—it all felt so natural, as if they were meant to be together in that moment.
Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s face with a hint of a smile on his lips, “What’s going on in that head of yours Birdy?”
Y/N smiled, “Nothing, I’m just happy.”
Harry looked surprised, “Y’ are?”
“Yeah,” She nodded, “I am. Are you?”
Harry thought for a moment, “Yeah Birdy,” He grinned, dimples popping, “I am.”
Their exchanged smiles lingered for a moment longer before Harry stood up, “We should probably start heading back before the sun goes down.”
“Yeah,” Y/N sighs, she could have stayed right there in that moment for a little longer but she knew they needed to get back to feed the others.
They picked up their bikes off the floor and began their journey back, stealing glances at each other when the other one wasn’t looking. Y/N’s heart fluttered everytime he caught her eye and looked away bashfully.
After eating and staying out to talk to her friends, Y/N was already ready for bed and wrapped up in her sleeping bag. She was wearing her pyjamas and an eye mask on top of her head. She wanted to make sure she was the first person in the tent so that she could be the first one to claim her space.
She tried to relax but her heart was racing when she heard Harry’s voice from outside as he said goodnight to his little sister in the tent next door. Y/N randomly picked up a book she had bought with her and pretended to read as the entrance to the tent lifted open and Harry crawled in.
He was in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tattooed torso completely bare, “Normally I’d wear less than this but since the lady’s present,” He smirked.
Y/N scoffed, “How kind,”
There was nothing but the rustling of his sleeping bag as he crawled into the tight spot next to him. Y/N’s eyes widened when she felt his arm right next to hers as they lay side by side in such close proximity. She immediately sat up, looking down at his relaxed state, “What?” He frowned.
“Can’t you move over a little?” She huffed, even though they both knew there wasn’t exactly anywhere to move.
His head turned, “Where exactly?”
“I-I don’t know!” She exclaimed.
Harry smiled as though he were amused by her franticness, “Oh c’mon Birdy, I don’t bite. I mean I may get a little bit touchy in the night but that’s no fault of my own.”
“Harry,” She sighed.
His expression faltered. "Fine," he muttered. Reaching beside him, he retrieved the blanket he had stowed away. Sitting up, he rolled it up and placed it between them. Y/N settled back down, the blanket now forming a barrier between them. Though it sacrificed some space, she found herself feeling a bit more at ease with the added distance.
“Thank you,” She sighed.
“Mhm,” Harry huffed.
A silence settled between them. Y/N, exhausted from the hike, found herself unable to drift off to sleep quickly. Her mind raced as she listened to the man beside her breathing softly. "Y' trust me, don't you, birdy?" he whispered into the darkness.
She thought for a moment, “More than I did before.”
“But not completely?” Harry’s voice seemed sad, almost defeated.
She said nothing, wondering what she could say. Of course she trusted him, he had been nothing but good to her these last few months and proved to her he wasn’t what most people said he was. Even if he was a flirt and enjoyed attention from time to time, he was loyal to the people he held close in his life and she adored that about him.
“You’re getting there,” She whispered but the truth was he was already there. She just didn’t know if she trusted herself.
Y/N woke up in the middle of the night when she felt something jolt next to her. Groggy and disoriented, she blinked in the darkness, trying to make sense of her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted, she realised that Harry was stirring restlessly, his breathing ragged and uneven.
“H-Harry?” Y/N sat up, the sleeping bag falling to her waist. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm to shake him, “Harry wake up,” She urged, voice laced with concern.
She noticed how he had begun to shiver, his arm covered in goosebumps. Y/N reached to put her hand gently against his forehead and hoped that her touch would provide some warmth to his shivering body. “Harry, you’re dreaming, it’s just a dream.” She tried to coax him out of his sleep without scaring him more than he already was.
Harry's eyes snapped open, wide with fear as he gasped for breath. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, and Y/N could see the remnants of tears glistening in his eyes.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Y/N murmured soothingly, her heart aching at the sight of Harry's distress, “You just had a nightmare that’s all.”
Harry's breathing gradually slowed as he focused on Y/N's voice, the warmth of her presence calming whatever dark thing that lurked inside of him. With a shaky exhale, his head fell, “Fuck,” He hissed, “Did I wake y’ up?” He looked up at her, his eyes tired and sad. Y/N warily nodded her head, “M sorry, M so sorry.”
“Hey, Harry, it's fine. It’s okay.” She reached out to wrap her arms around his shoulders, she could feel a thin layer of cold sweat on his back as her palm pressed against his shoulder.
Harry took the opportunity to bury his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the floral scent of her perfume as if it would be enough to bring him back from whatever memory he was trapped in. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she whispered words of reassurance. She gently stroked his hair, feeling the tension slowly melt away from his body.
“It was real,” Harry whispered.
“W-what?” Y/N pulled away, still holding him.
“M-my old man left me out in the cold one night when I tried to stop him from hurting my Mama. He kicked me out in the backyard and locked the door behind him like I was some old dog.” He spat the words out, full of anger.
Y/N’s eyes welled with tears, “He hurt you?”
Harry exhaled shakily, as though he was trying not to cry, “Y-yeah he did Birdy, real bad.” The way he said it made Y/N believe it wasn’t the only time his father had hurt him.
Y/N swallowed back her tears, her throat burning. She held his face in her hands and forced him to look right at her, “Y’ might have to be big and brave for your brothers and Elise but y’ can be whatever you want with me.” She murmured, “I won’t let anything hurt you, Harry.”
His eyes softened, something flashed in them as Y/N moved her face closer to kiss his cheek, tasting the saltiness of his dried tears. “God where have y’ been all my life birdy?” He whispered, their lips inches apart.
“It doesn’t matter,” She shook her head, “I’m here now.”
Y/N made space for Harry to lay back down, but he couldn't seem to let go of her. She noticed how he held onto her hand whenever she tried to move away. So, she removed the rolled-up blanket between them and unzipped the tops of both of their sleeping bags. Once they were lying next to each other, she placed the blanket on top of them for extra warmth.
Harry’s arms reached out for her and he didn’t even ask before he was holding her close to his chest. She could hear the beating of his heart as her ear pressed against it. “Y’ not afraid are you?” She asked, peering up at him to see his eyes closed gently.
“No, that's just how it goes whenever I’m around you. Y’ get used to it after a while, don’t worry.” He murmured.
Y/N’s heart seemed to pick up pace until it matched his own, “Okay.” She whispered and fell asleep in his arms.
The next morning, Y/N awoke in the embrace of Harry who was still fast asleep. She thought back to last night and how she had never seen him so afraid before. She pressed a kiss to his cheek when she sat up and tried to leave the tent without making much of a noise.
She reached for her sweater and pulled it over her torso so she wouldn’t get cold from the morning air. “Good morning sunshine!” Molly grinned, “How’d your first night with the pilot go?”
Patsy giggled, “Yeah how’d it go?”
Y/N bit back a smile, “It was nothing like that and you know it.” She said but they weren’t accepting it as an answer.
George smirked, “I better not wake up an uncle by tomorrow morning.”
Y/N’s mouth gaped open, she hit him on the arm playfully and grabbed a carton of orange juice from the crate, “I’m two months older than you so I’d be careful!” She glared.
“Ha! Ha!” Elise grinned, her mouth covered in yogurt as she stood and stumbled over to Y/N’s tent.
"Good morning, baby girl," Harry's raspy voice greeted, a hint of strain evident as he lifted Elise into his arms, “Y’ sure are a little mess, madam.” He chuckled.
Y/N tried to resist the urge to look at him as everyone greeted him with a good morning. She settled into one of the camping chairs, folding her legs beneath her, but soon a shadow loomed over her, blocking the sun, “Good morning Birdy,” His voice was deep and raspy.
She looked up at him through her eyelashes, “Morning Harry.”
“Where’d y’ go? Left me cold in tha’ tent this morning y’ know?” Multiple snorts came from the group around them.
“I-I was-” She didn’t know what to say and she was pretty sure her face was the colour of a tomato.
“Wake me up next time, yeah?” He smirks, leaving her to grab some of the coffee Molly had made.
“Oh, so there’s a next time huh?” George winked.
Y/N cleared her throat, feeling flustered from the interaction. "So, what's everyone doing today?" She attempted to change the subject, wondering if there would ever be a moment on this trip where she wouldn't be embarrassed by something she wasn’t expecting.
. . .
Y/N didn’t see Harry for the rest of the morning as the girls got ready to go swim in the lake for the afternoon. Due to the tent mishap, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten her bathing suit as well but luckily found it at the bottom of her bag.
Molly was already in a blue, plaid halter one-piece that tied around her neck and Patsy was wearing a yellow one with a bow on the front. Y/N stepped out of the tent after getting changed, “Oh no, you can’t wear that.” Molly was the first to comment.
Y/N frowned, looking down at her plain black and white striped swimsuit, “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” Molly pulled the cigarette from her lips, “Honey y’ look like a crosswalk in upstate New York.” Patsy snorted.
“It’s not that bad,” She huffed, reaching for the suntan lotion only for Molly to snatch it from her grasp.
“Honey, this trip isn’t just a relaxing break for our pilots - it’s also the chance for us ladies to get a little something out of it. Think about it, all those men do is work and all we do is sit around waiting for some excitement. Y’ think Patsy and I want to camp in tents? Y’ think we want to hike up hills? No of course not, most of the ladies here come because they want a little fun. They want to flirt and be romanced by a pilot who we might never see again.”
Y/N’s eyes widened, “Really?”
“Really,” Patsy nodded.
Molly brushed past her and walked to her tent to pull out something from her bag, “Y’ lucky I’m an overpacker.” She unfolded the material and held up a red, polka dot swimsuit with a sweetheart neckline and a scoop back.
“I can’t wear that!” Y/N almost gasped, she couldn’t help but look around to see if anyone saw.
Molly rolled her eyes, “You don’t think we’ve all seen you with Harry? He’s head over heels for you! Put this on and I guarantee you’ll be thanking yourself for forgetting that tent.”
Y/N hesitated, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. The thought of Harry's reaction to seeing her in such a swimsuit sent a flutter of anticipation through her stomach. With a playful roll of her eyes, she took the swimsuit from Molly's outstretched hand. "Fine, but only because you're relentless."
Harry was already by the lake with his brothers and some of the other pilots working on Offutt. He was lying on a towel with his sunglasses on and swimming trunks hanging on his hips, smoking a cigarette. “Oh shit, I didn’t know Nancy was coming on this trip,” George said, taking a swig of his glass bottled beer as he sat down. Nancy was sitting with a group of friends, lounging on the dock, “She sure is something in that swimsuit, H. Would y’ look at her- pure sunlight she is.”
Harry chuckled, “Yeah, sunlight, sure. Think you’ve had one too many of those beers George. Why don’t y’ go over and talk to her?”
“Are you kidding me? She spews venom every time I try to talk to her.” George says, “And she likes you more anyway. I don’t know why though, everybody knows you’re with Y/N.”
Harry’s ears perk at the mention of her name, “What are you talking about? We’re not together.”
“Uhuh, keep talking and your nose will get bigger than it already is,”
Harry sits up to lightly hit his brother but he pauses when he sees his mouth drop open, “What are you staring at?” Harry turns around, following George’s gaze.
That's when he notices Molly and Patsy approaching, both clad in their swimsuits. Yet, it's not them who have captured the attention of not only George but seemingly everyone else as well. Y/N walks in between them in a swimsuit that reveals the soft skin of her thighs and the curve of her breasts from the low neckline. Her hair is pinned up and tied with a red ribbon, her smile so bright it overtook the light from the sun.
Harry felt a rush of breathlessness as he removed his sunglasses, unable to tear his gaze away from Y/N. "Have mercy," he muttered to himself, rising from the ground and striding over to the girls, with Sonny and George trailing behind him.
The girls laid their towels out on the ground as the boys were walking over, “Looking swell Patsy,” Sonny’s eyes were fixed on her cleavage.
“My eyes are up here Sonny,” Patsy spoke, monotonously.
Harry ignored everyone else as he stepped in front of Y/N. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him. He felt his cock stir in his swim shorts as she licked her bottom lip, sending a jolt of heat through him. Harry knew he needed to get a grip on himself before things got out of hand.
He glanced around and noticed eyes staring at the girl in front of him, “Hi Birdy,”
Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “H-Hi Harry,” She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Are you saving this swimsuit for someone or?” He smirked, wanting to get a rise out of her. He liked seeing her cheeks turn red whenever he attempted to flirt with her.
“M-Molly and Patsy wanted me to wear it. I wasn’t sure at first but they thought it looked good. I feel like it’s a little too much, what do you think? Do you think it’s too much?” Harry’s eyes softened as she rambled nervously to him.
Sensing her self-consciousness, he put her at ease by saying, “Y’ look beautiful Y/N,”
She took a deep breath, “Are you sure?”
“Never been more sure about anything in my life,” He murmured, reaching his hand out to hold her own. Y/N offers a shy smile.
“I don’t know about you all but I’m just about melting from how hot it is. Are any of you going in the water?” Molly asked, receiving a nodding of heads in response.
“What do y’ say we go for a swim huh?” He smirks.
Y/N suddenly gets all embarrassed again, “H-Harry, I need to tell you something,”
“What’s wrong?” He was immediately concerned.
“The thing is, I don’t know how to swim all that well.” She confessed, “We don’t have anything like this back home so I never really got the chance to learn.”
Harry snickered, “How’s about I teach y’ hmm?”
She purses her lips and then nods, “Okay Harry.”
They walk hand in hand to the dock. Harry notices Nancy’s glare as they walk past her and gives Y/N’s hand a small squeeze in assurance. He’s first to jump in the water, submerging underneath and swimming up to the surface.
Y/N stood on the edge of the dock with her toes hanging over the edge, “Oh I’m not so sure about this Harry,” She said, uncertain as she realised how deep the water was.
“It’s alright darling, I’m right here,” He holds his arms out, ready for her to leap right into them, “I’ll catch you before your head even goes underwater, wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty hair now would I?”
“No,” She says and he knows she wasn’t paying attention to anything he was saying, too busy worrying about jumping in.
“M right here Y/N, you can do it. Get in the water darling, c’mon.” He coaxes her and thinks she’s about to do it but she hesitates.
“I can’t! I really can’t Harry.” Y/N shakes her head.
“C’mon Y/N, you can do it!” Molly and Patsy cheer for her, already swimming in the lake with Elise in their arms.
“Alright Birdy, on the count of three,” Harry’s smiling even though he knows it’s hard for her. “One…”
“I can’t!” She bends her knees slightly.
“Two…” He shouts, people clapping and cheering now.
“Harry seriously!” She giggles, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Three!”
“I can’t do it,”
“Birdy get in the water!” He yells and then laughs because she’s laughing too at her own silliness, “I’m sorry daring, will you please get in the water.”
Y/N closes her eyes, bends her legs and screams, using one foot to leap into the water. Harry’s already there waiting to catch her and drag her up. It’s almost instinctive as he grabs her hips and feels her legs wrap around his waist beneath the water. Her head emerged and she quickly wrapped both her arms around his neck. “That’s m’ girl,” He cheered, everyone joining in as Y/N emerged with a smile.
“It’s cold,” She laughed, water coming out her nose.
“It’s not so bad,” Their faces were close, if he moved any closer he’d almost be kissing her.
“Are you gonna teach me how to swim now?” Y/N asked, her teeth biting her bottom lip.
“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, grinning, “I kinda like having y’ like this.”
Y/N splashed him with water, “What if I drown?”
“I won’t let you,” He said as though it were a matter of fact.
Y/N rolled her eyes, “But what if I’m eighty and you can’t swim anymore but I wanna swim instead.”
He knew she was being silly but he liked the fact that she considered him to be a part of her life for that long. A spark of hope flashed within him, “I’ll probably just swim with y’ anyway. I mean it would be a sight to see Birdy but wherever you go I go.”
Y/N huffed, “Fine if you won’t teach me to swim, you’ll just have to carry me around in the water.”
“Sounds like a dream,” Harry joked, “Where to first Birdy?”
She pointed to her two friends who were keeping Elise entertained in the water and Harry grinned, understanding her silent request. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he scooped Y/N up into his arms and waded into the water towards Molly and Patsy, Elise's delighted squeals echoing around them.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the lake, they reluctantly made their way back to shore after spending the whole afternoon swimming. As it was the last night, people had been preparing for a bonfire - a tradition created to commemorate the end of the trip. Sonny and George were already sitting with Nancy’s group of friends as they waited for the bonfire to be lit, the other’s going to join them.
Elise was napping in Patsy’s arms as they sat together, wrapped in towels and talking. Harry pulled Y/N down to sit next to him on one of the logs, pulling her into his side. He noticed she was shivering as the air turned cooler and silently reached for the sweatshirt he had brought with him to pull over her head. She thanked him quietly in return.
Eventually, the evening air was filled with the scent of woodsmoke and the sound of laughter as they settled in for a cosy night by the fire. Someone pulled out a guitar, and soon the sound of music filled the air, blending with the sounds of voices and the crackling of the flames.
Harry excused himself from Y/N's side for a moment to join his brothers and friends for a smoke. Despite the distance, he couldn't help but steal glances at her now and then, his heart warming at the sight of her. Each time she took over from Patsy in looking after Elise as she slept, a sense of peace settled within him.
It had always worried Harry that Elise wouldn’t have another woman in her life to provide the things she needed that Harry and his brothers knew nothing about. There was something profoundly comforting about seeing Y/N with his baby sister. It wasn't just the way she cradled Elise with such care, or the gentle sway of her movements as she rocked the sleeping girl. It was the way Elise seemed to instinctively trust her, snuggling closer to Y/N as if she sensed the warmth and safety she provided.
Harry turned his back on her momentarily to extinguish his cigarette in the dirt. But when he faced his friend again, his attention was drawn to someone approaching the girls. It was a man he recognized, someone Nancy and her friends had been conversing with for most of the day. He observed as Y/N smiled, but he could sense her discomfort as she subtly retreated while he continuously tried to get closer to her.
Harry began to slowly walk towards them until he could make sense of some of what the stranger was saying. The closer he got, the clearer it became that the man's words were laced with suggestive undertones, and Harry's protective instincts surged to the forefront.
As he approached, he caught Y/N's eye, and he could see the silent plea for help in her gaze. “Hey fella, I think you’ve had enough,” Harry said, his tone firm as he confronted the guy.
The thug sneered at Harry, clearly not appreciating the interference. "Mind your own business, pretty boy. The lady seems to be enjoying my company just fine," he retorted, a smug grin on his face.
Harry’s jaw clenched, “I don’t wanna have to ask y’ again to leave her alone.” He warned, his voice laced with a steely edge.
The man stood up and Harry tried to keep calm when he saw the frightened look in Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t going to fight in front of her and he wasn’t going to wake his sister who was now in Molly’s arms. Although Molly, as though sensing there was going to be a fight, backed away and bought Elise somewhere away from the campfire.
Harry looked behind the man who was a few inches shorter than him, “Was he bothering y’ birdy?” He pointed at the thug who was trying to intimidate her.
“H-Harry-” Y/N stood and tried to reach for him but he held up a hand to stop her.
People were watching, the noise had quietened down as a thick tension fell over the camp, “I just wanted to talk to the pretty bitch over here. You know she was asking for it the way she was wearing that swimsuit all day.” The sick thug chuckled.
“You think that’s funny huh?” Harry faked a smile, stepping forward until he was right up close to the man, “Y’ know, my old man told me that when a guy makes comments like that to a young lady, it means something.”
“Oh yeah? What does it mean?” The thug spoke, as though he was in on some kind of joke Harry was making.
Harry’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “Their cock’s too small to find.” With a swift movement, he clenched his fist and swung, the impact landing squarely on the man's jaw. The thug stumbled back, stunned by the force of the blow, and Harry wasted no time in delivering another punch, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“Harry!” Y/N gasped as Patsy screamed in shock.
People gathered around to watch as the two men delivered punch after punch at each other. Y/N’s eyes welled with tears as she watched Harry get hit repeatedly, his entire face covered in blood.
“George!” Y/N ran over to him, “Y’ gotta stop it,”
“What am I meant to do? That guy’s huge!” George exclaimed although he also looked worried for his older brother.
“Please,” Y/N begged, “He’ll kill him.”
George hesitated for a moment, torn between the instinct to protect his brother and the fear of intervening in the dangerous fight. But the sight of Harry, bloodied and battered, spurred him into action.
"Sonny, help me!" George called out to his younger brother, who immediately rushed to his side. Together, they managed to pull Harry off of the thug he was punching, their combined strength enough to separate Harry from him.
Breathing heavily, Harry glared at the man lying on the ground, spitting out blood from his mouth as he did, before turning to face Y/N. Despite the pain etched on his face, his eyes softened as he reached out to her. "I'm okay," he assured her, his voice hoarse.
“Y-you’re hurt,” She was in shock, unable to believe this was real and not just some nightmare she was having.
“I’m okay baby,” He heaved, spitting out more blood onto the floor.
Before the man could get up and try to hit him again, Sonny, George and Y/N led Harry away from the bonfire. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of Harry's injuries, her hands trembling as she gently touched his bruised cheek. "We need to get you cleaned up," she murmured, one of his eyes already beginning to swell.
They managed to lead Harry away from the chaos of the campfire, guiding him towards their tents where they could tend to his injuries in privacy and ignoring the gossip that was whispered amongst everybody. Y/N caught sight of Nancy who stood up and looked over at Harry with concern etched on her features.
“Put him down here,” Y/N pointed to one of the logs for him to sit on and ran to grab a first aid kit she had packed in her backpack as a precaution and a wet cloth to wipe his face with. Harry groaned at the impact, hunching forward and clutching his ribs in pain.
Y/N knelt in between his legs in front of him and opened up the kit, “You two should head on back, make the most of the rest of the night,” She told them as she placed the wet cloth to remove the blood from Harry’s face.
“Are you sure Y/N?” Sonny scratched the back of his neck, “We can help if you want.”
“And do what? All I’m gonna do is fix his wounds and then go to bed. I don’t want you two to miss out and ruin the rest of the trip.” It was only ten thirty so there was still plenty of time to spend at the bonfire. “The girls are leaving Elise with one of the families and I’ll pick her up in the morning. Everything is fine, you two go and have fun.”
Harry hissed as she applied disinfectant to his cuts, “Well alright,” George said, still unsure, “But you’ll come get us if something goes wrong?”
Y/N nodded, trying her best to smile, “I promise I’ll come get you.”
They soon left and Y/N was left alone with Harry writhing in pain, “I’m sorry Y/N.” His voice came out a whisper.
Y/N’s jaw clenched, “That was silly, y’ could have easily diffused the situation without delivering the first punch.”
“He was asking for it and I won’t allow anyone to talk to y’ that way. I saw how scared you looked when he was talking to you. God Y/N,” Harry exhaled heavily through his nose, “I think I saw red - I’ve never been so angry before.”
Y/N sighed, “I know you were just trying to look out for me but you frightened me and I-”
“I did?” His voice sounded hurt, taking Y/N aback.
“A-A little,” She admitted, “I thought you were gonna die.”
“I can’t die, you know that,” He tried to crack a smile but his face hurt too much, “I never want to scare you, you know that right?”
Y/N said nothing, “Hey,” He cupped her face in his hand, “I never want to scare you, ever.”
“I know,” She shrugged him off, “Just don’t ever do that again.”
Harry looked at her with a furrowed brow, unsure what to think of how she was feeling, “Alright,” His shoulders dropped, “I won’t.”
Harry thought better than to interrupt her as she tended to the cuts and bruises on his face and hands. His eyes stayed fixated on her as she focused on fixing him up. He was pretty sure his pupils had carved themselves into hearts with how much adoration he had whilst looking at her. Her hair was wavy and tangled from swimming in the river, she had caught the sun a little so her face was tinged red and she was wearing his sweatshirt that was much too big for her small form.
“I think that’s as good as it gets,” She whispered, eyes darting across his face.
As she was about to pull away, Harry tugged on the sleeve of her sweater. Y/N looked down as he curled his fingers around her wrist and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her pulse point, “Thank you,” He murmured, doing his best to look at her despite his black eye.
Y/N helped Harry into the tent, trying to make it easy for him to lay down comfortably without feeling any pain from where he had taken a few hits on his torso. She crawled in beside him and lay on her side to look at him, “Do you need anything?” She kept her voice quiet.
Harry shook his head, “Just you here is fine.”
Y/N swallowed, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
A silence fell over them, the tension felt palpable now that they were alone together. There was so much that needed to be said hanging in the space between them - things that had been brushed off or put to one side all so they could build trust. But perhaps as their trust in each other grew, they began to question their own judgement and feel uncertain about themselves.
“Y/N,” Harry whispered, breaking the silence. He rarely said her name now, often replacing it with the nickname he had given her, so hearing it from his lips sounded sweet like a term of endearment.
“H-Harry,” She said back, unsure of what he was going to say.
“My old man used to hurt me and m’ family a lot,” He started, Y/N’s heart hurting for the man in front of her and his younger siblings, “When I grew older, I started t’ fight him back and I got so good at it. Not that that’s something to brag about but… I-I guess when I see the people I love, like my Mama and my brothers and Elise, in pain, I just get so angry. I-it’s like I see red every time and all I can think about is how much I want to hurt the cause of their pain.”
Y/N stayed quiet, allowing him time and space for his moment of vulnerability, “But I don’t think I’ve ever been as angry as I had been tonight. It’s like I saw you flinch and I swore I could have killed him.”
“Harry,” Y/N gasped, wanting to reach out for him.
Harry turned over, wincing at the pain but needing to look at her as he spoke, “I ain’t stopped thinking about that kiss since it happened. When I sleep rough, I picture it to help me get back to sleep. Y’ seem to settle something in me that no one else can and… I don’t know what to do about it.”
Y/N’s heart thundered against her chest like it was trying to leap out, “Watching y’ with my family, being with y’ every day - it is the one good thing in my life. You are the one good thing in my life, the only thing that is wholly and completely mine. I don’t know how to quit y’ Birdy, I’ve been trying because I thought y’ wanted to do this whole friends thing for a little longer but I think about you when I sleep, when I eat, when I’m a hundred feet in the air - Hell, I even think about you when I’m holding Elise, imagining you being there and holding her and how much I want that with you.”
Y/N felt her eyes burn with tears, “Y-you do?” She said her voice barely above a whisper.
“I do darling,” He shuffles forward and reaches a hand out for hers under the blanket.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” Y/N confesses, feeling the weight on her chest ease with each word she spoke, “I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about you since the moment I saw you.”
“You haven’t?” Harry questioned like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I haven’t,” Y/N affirmed, “Somehow it seems you’ve set up camp somewhere in there,” She placed a hand over his heart, “‘S a little annoying really,” She giggled.
Harry grinned, his head moving closer to hers. Y/N’s smile fell when she felt his breath blow across her face. Her eyes darted down to his lips, “Are we going to kiss again?” She asked.
“Do y’ want to kiss again?” He murmured, his lips feathering across hers.
“I do, so badly, I do.” She was almost begging.
“Well alright then,” His voice husky with desire. With that, he closed the remaining distance between them, capturing her lips with his.
The kiss ignited something within them both. Months of longing and watching from afar, releasing into this moment. Harry's lips moved with an urgency as Y/N sighed deeply in relief, their mouths melding together. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as if to bridge any remaining space between them.
Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in Harry's hair as she deepened the kiss, her heart racing with every beat. The world around them faded into insignificance as if they were the only two people remaining in the world and they were all each other had.
Y/N’s hand went under his shirt, feeling his warm body beneath her fingertips as she slid them up his torso. Harry gripped her hips hard enough to move her on top of him. Her bare legs were between his and he remembered she was still wearing her swimsuit beneath her sweatshirt. “Harry,” She whispered, breathless. She was tugging on the hem of his shirt, silently begging him to take it off.
He shot up and she pulled his shirt over his head. Y/N marvelled at his muscular, tattooed body, she’d seen it plenty of times before but she could never seem to get over how perfectly built he was. Harry was eager to kiss her again, but Y/N hesitated. Her fingers went to the hem of her sweatshirt, and she pulled it over her head. Then, she did something that left Harry breathless.
She pulled the straps of her swimsuit down, leaving her upper body completely bare. Harry had never seen something so ethereal. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends falling at her supple, rounded breasts, her nipples hardened from the cold air. Harry felt his cock stir in his shorts and he was pretty sure Y/N knew what was happening from the way her pupils dilated and her lips parted.
“We don’t have to...” Harry wasn’t sure where this night was going to go but Y/N stopped him.
“I want to,” She whispered, “I want you.”
“Y/N,” He murmured, unable to believe this wasn’t all a dream.
“Shhh,” She shushed him and pressed her lips against his again. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed their bodies together.
Harry tossed the blanket to one side with his lips still attached to her. He pressed kisses down her neck, sucking and biting on her skin leaving a mark that would tell him in the morning that this was all real. Y/N could feel the bulge in his boxers beneath her as she straddled his lap. She rolled her hips against him, Harry groaning against her lips in response.
Y/N gasped when Harry thrust his clothed cock against her core. She could feel the dampening of her swimsuit as her pussy grew wet the harder he ground against her, “Harry,” She breathed, his lips ghosting against her jawline, “I want you to put it in me,” She said, her desire overruling everything.
“Yeah?” His voice came out raspy, “Y want my cock in your pussy darling girl?” He looked up at her with hooded eyes.
Y/N immediately nodded, desperate to feel him inside of her, “Take me out then baby,” He ordered.
Y/N swallowed and tugged on the waistband of his shorts, her fingers fumbling to pull him out. Her eyes widened when she saw the outline of his cock against the fabric. She reached into his shorts and felt his cock beneath her hand, wrapping her fingers around it only to realise how big he was as she pumped her hand up and down. Harry clenched his jaw, his head falling back as he released a moan.
“Gonna take off the rest of that swimsuit baby?” Harry murmured, playing with the nylon fabric. Y/N nodded and lifted her hips, allowing him to tug the swimsuit off of her body. Harry’s mouth fell open as her wetness touched his thighs. “Look at tha’ making a mess all over me hmm?” He tutted, his eyes looking down at her bare, pretty pussy. “So pretty, the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“I need you so bad Harry,” Y/N mewled, her head dropping forward onto his shoulder as she went back to pumping his cock. He ran his hand up and down her back, soothing her.
“I know baby, I know.” He cooed.
He helped her a little by pulling his shorts down from his hips. He almost died when he saw how much bigger his cock looked in her smaller hand, “Will it fit?” Y/N asked, eyes looking up at him big and round.
Harry glanced at her pussy, “Dunno baby, y’ pussy’s so small,” He sighed, “Might hurt y’”
“But it’ll fit, I know it will,” She insisted because if he refused she’d probably pass out.
“Oh yeah?” He looked at her with a cocky grin, “Look at you, you’re so desperate for it.” He reached out to wipe the drool from the corner of her mouth as she looked at his aching length.
His lips went to her ear, feeling her shiver beneath his touch as he breathed, “Show me.”
“What?” Her mouth fell open.
“Show me how it fits in y’ baby,” He muttered.
Y/N swallowed and nodded, exhaling shakily. She sat up on her knees, lifting her hips and shifting herself so her pussy was directly above Harry’s cock. Harry waited patiently, moving his hands to her hips and giving them a soft squeeze in encouragement. She grabbed the base of his cock in her hand and lowered her hips until she felt the tip nudge against her hole. She gasped when she lowered her hips a little further and the thick crown of his cock squeezed through the opening of her core.
“There y’ go,” He inhaled, “Tha’s my girl.” Y/N nodded, unable to think as his cock stretched her open inch by inch in the most delicious way, squeezing and pulsing against the walls of her pussy the further it entered her.
“‘S it all the way in yet?” She whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.
Harry looked down and groaned when he saw half of his cock submerged in her tight pussy, “Almost baby,”
“Okay,” She mewled, sinking further onto his cock until he was so deep inside of her. She whined, her head dropping forward when she felt the tip of his cock nudge the walls of her cervix and his balls pressed against her ass.
“Fuck baby,” Harry moaned, pressing a longing kiss to the top of her head.
“Y so deep,” Y/N’s words came out slurred. She rested her head against his chest for a moment, getting used to the feeling of his cock inside of her. “M ready now,” She whispered.
“Yeah? Y’ sure?” He wanted to make sure she was okay and that she was in complete control of the situation.
Y/N didn’t say anything. Instead, she lifted herself up and then sank back down on his cock, feeling it rub against the walls of her sopping, wet cunt as she did. She repeated the action, her head falling backwards, back arching; she had to grip Harry’s calves to keep her from falling back. She was seeing stars every time she bounced on his cock, “It feels so good Harry,” She whimpered.
Harry grabbed her waist, helping her move up and down on his cock, “I know it does baby,” He moaned, “Does it feel good knowing ‘m so deep? Only I can touch y’ that deep baby, fuck,” He drawled.
Y/N pushed herself up and removed her hands from his calves to his shoulders, using them as an aid to help her move up and down. Harry moved his head forward and wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking and biting. He pressed spongy kisses down the center of her breasts, “Can y’ feel me right here darling girl?” He whispered, pressing his hand to her belly where his cock protruded every time she sank back down on him.
“Please Harry,” She whined, unsure exactly what she was asking for but so consumed by the intense pleasure she was feeling.
“Please what?” His lips ghosted against her jawline, sweat coated their skin from how warm the tent was. He tugged on the ends of Y/N’s hair, “Y’ want me t’ put a baby in y’ is that what you're asking?” Y/N groaned, lips parting as the air left her lungs. “Oh you like that, don’t you? Can feel you clenching round m’ cock baby. Darling girl wants me to put a baby in her?”
Harry thrust his hips harder into her when he received no reply, “Want me to fill you up and put a baby in you hmmm? Do y’ like the idea of having my baby inside of you? Making y’ belly all round and swollen and having everyone at Offutt knowing that baby inside of you is all mine.”
“Y-Yes Harry,” She gasped.
“Yeah? Y’ wanna make me a daddy baby? Be m’ perfect mama waiting on me with your perfect pregnant belly?”
“Mhm,” Y/N choked, his words making her heart pound. Her eyes began to water, feeling overwhelmed with how good she felt.
“Do you want me to cum inside of you?” He kisses her chin, “Know y’ ready to cum baby. Y’done so well.” He moves his hand in between them and starts to rub circles on her clit. Y/N’s gasping for breath, whining and writhing on top of him.
“Harry, Harry, Harry,” She says over and over again like some sacred prayer, a stray tear falling from her eye.
“I know baby, I know you’re tired and ready to cum.” His lips puckering to leave a kiss where the salty tear once was on the side of her cheek. He could feel the burning in his belly as his orgasm began to build. He would have cum ages ago if he wasn’t so set on cumming with her. He could feel her cunt tighten around his cock, squeezing him harder. “Cum with me darling.” He murmured.
Y/N felt the coil in her belly burst as she clenched around his cock as she came. Harry’s quiet moans filled the tent as his cum painted the walls of her insides. He makes sure his whole cock is all the way in her even though he knows it won’t do anything, the thought of filling her up with his seed makes him cum even harder.
Y/N collapses into his chest, her head falling on his shoulder. Her eyes flutter shut and her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath from the intensity of her release. She feels Harry’s heart thumping hard against his chest, his hand smoothing up and down her back as he lays his forehead on her shoulder.
Y/N whimpers when Harry moves and shakes her head, “Can we stay like this for a little longer?” She asks, tiredly.
Harry kisses her shoulder, “For as long as y’ want.”
“Thank you,” She murmurs, feeling as though she could fall asleep exactly like this. His cock was still inside of her, she could feel the stickiness of his cum dripping on her thighs, but it felt so good to be so full of him.
“C’mon darling girl,” Harry kissed her cheek, “Time to sleep.”
Y/N shuddered when Harry removed his cock, her pussy pulsing around nothing whilst she felt his cum gush out of her. Harry brought his fingers to her thighs and began to push his cum back into her sensitive cunt. Y/N inhaled deeply, shuddering as she felt his fingers stuffing her empty hole with his cum.
He gently laid her down beside him, her body placid. He grabbed the blanket and laid it across her body to stop her from getting cold, “Your bruises,” Y/N whispered, cupping his cheek in her hand and brushing her thumb over the bruise on his eye.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” He told her, he’d completely forgotten he was even in pain after she admitted his feelings for her.
“Promise?” She whispered.
“I promise,” He kissed the tip of her nose and then laid down next to her, wrapping her in his arms. She hooked her leg around his waist and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. “I love you Y/N.” He whispered.
Y/N smiled, he could feel her lips curving against him, “I love you too Harry.”
Y/N woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. Memories of last night flashing through her mind like each individual scene from a movie reel. Her whole body was filled with warmth, her core aching from the acts she had partaken in just last night.
She turned over, expecting to see Harry still asleep beside her only to find an empty space. With a frown, she sat up and ran her fingers through her knotted hair, searching for her underwear and the sweater she had borrowed from him yesterday to cover herself up.
She crawled out of the tent and glanced around, trying to find the man she had confessed her feelings to. She hoped he was somewhere smoking a cigarette or maybe decided to go for a swim before they had to make the hike back to the Air Base later on.
Y/N stood on shaky legs and wrapped her arms around herself. She caught sight of Sonny and Patsy walking over with a bucket of fresh water. Y/N waved and tried her best to smile at them even though the feeling of dread began to swarm in the pit of her stomach. Sonny’s head turned in her direction and his expression faltered , “Hey guys,” Y/N said, her voice slightly raspy, “H-Have any of you seen Harry this morning?”
The uneasy silence that followed, punctuated by the grim expressions on Sonny and Patsy's faces, already made Y/N regret ever asking the question in the first place.
p.s y/n is on birth control just wanna make that clear heh
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call it fate, call it karma (olderry x alt!y/n)
in which harry's getting an unfortunate tattoo covered up at the shop y/n works at, they're 12 years apart, and they have big, fat crushes on each other. also, harry hates frappuccinos.
word count: 10.1k
content warnings: age gap (12 years), harry's kind of an idiot at first, angst (all is solved in the end), smut (daddy kink, p in v penetration, fingering, dirty talk, choking, slight size kink, crying)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
When Harry was 29, he made a mistake.
Well, maybe not a mistake. Perhaps… a series of poorly thought out decisions.
It started out when he met May. They were seniors in college and for years, Harry swore it was love at first sight — and with the enthusiasm and dopey, loved up grin he had when he told the story of how they met, May believed him for a long time. It always started the same: He didn’t want to go out that night but his friends begged him, telling him it was his last year in college to party before they went into the real world at full force.
Finally, they wore him down enough to the point where Harry agreed, except he felt no desire to drink or smoke once they got to whoever’s house was throwing the get-together. He sat on the couch all night, nursing a warm beer from a plastic red solo cup, waiting for his buddies to decide when they’d had enough so Harry could ensure they got home safe — and then, May Wilkins walked in.
Harry always claimed that it seemed like the weed and cigarette smoke parted the second she entered the room, though he promised to revise the story when they told their future children. As soon as he laid eyes on the clean-cut brunette girl, he insisted that May would be his.
And, by the end of the night, May was his.
In fact, May continued to be his until he was 32 years old.
For the first few years, it was heaven. People doubted them — they said it was stupid to get into such a serious relationship when graduation was looming, just a few months away, but it only fueled them further. After they received their degrees, they moved in together. The following year, Harry proposed. By 25, they were married.
Within a year of marriage, the fighting started.
It seemed that they had a problem with everything the other did — if Harry stayed late at work, May was angry and accusing him of cheating on her. If May went out for a girls night with some friends, Harry was calling her at 1 a.m., demanding to know where she was. They didn’t trust one another, and the insecurities ate at them; first slowly, and then all-consumingly. Eventually, May couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Harry. He started getting tattoos and she hated every single one. Every time he came home with a new one, she rolled her eyes and asked why he couldn’t put that money towards their savings, so they could buy a house in the suburbs like they’d planned to five years prior.
Harry wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet, though. After that, they tried couples counseling. When that ended in a screaming match, they decided to try sleeping in separate beds to put some space between one another. That worked for about three days before May got wine drunk one evening and crawled into his new bed that he purchased for the guest room. By the end of the week, they were back to sharing a mattress again.
And, believe it or not, it’s only then that he made his big mistake.
He thought maybe May despised his tattoos so much because he had so many for other people — his sister, his mum, his godchildren. Maybe if he got her name inked on his skin, she would see how much he really did love her, despite all the arguing and fighting.
Except, when he walked through the door to show her that evening, she was so angry that she stayed at her friend’s house that night.
A week later, May filed for a divorce.
He was exhausted. He wasn’t sure how they got there, but he knew it was time. There was nothing they could do to save their marriage.
The divorce was settled relatively quickly. Neither of them had much more fight left in them. They split all their assets down the middle and since they didn’t own a house together, Harry offered to move out of their shared apartment and let May live there until the lease was up. She didn’t, though. She broke their lease four months early with a mumbled explanation of not wanting to live there anymore.
When it was officially over, Harry’s friends took him out to celebrate. An evening of debauchery filled with enough alcohol and drugs to keep Harry satiated for the next decade.
But that’s when he realized that the hard part was just beginning.
Divorced life in your early 30s wasn’t easy. He threw himself into his job, but he felt lonely and empty without May by his side. It wasn’t even because he loved her anymore — he’d just spent so many formative years with her that he didn’t know who he was without her.
For five years, Harry focused on himself. He worked hard, he bought a house, he spent time with his family. He made himself the best son, brother, friend, uncle, and godfather he could be. And at 37, he was mildly content with that — he owned a beautiful home and was at the top of his company. Dating was so far down on his list of priorities that he didn’t even know how people met anymore. His friends encouraged him to join “the apps”, offering to help create a profile for him, but the only girls he dated had been from his years in school. He could admit that he was a little lonely, but the thought of starting over with someone completely new was intimidating and scary. Plus, there was one very big reminder of his past still inked on his arm.
So, that’s when he came up with his plan: He would cover up his tattoo of May’s name. He’d never gotten a coverup tattoo before but based on his research, they weren’t easy to do. It could take multiple sessions, which he was more than okay with — because, when her name was finally banished from his skin, he would officially throw himself back into the dating pool and try to find someone new.
A month later, he was walking into Jaded Tattoos for his first session.
. . .
Tuesdays are Y/N’s least favorite days.
When she comes into work on Monday, she at least has some sort of energy. She typically feels semi-refreshed from the weekend and always makes sure to stop for an iced latte on her way into the shop. Plus, Mondays are one of the calmer days at Jaded Tattoos — after all, there weren’t a ton of people coming in to get tattooed on the first day of the workweek.
But Tuesdays are just… icky. Y/N works as the makeshift secretary at the shop, so she manages everyone’s schedules and handles client booking — it would all be terribly boring if she didn’t work at Jaded, but she can get a new tattoo or piercing anytime one of the artists has some down time. Plus, no one ever judges her for the existing art on her skin, which she can’t say about other jobs she’s had in the past.
However, on Tuesdays, for some reason, the shop is always bustling. Clients are always canceling or showing up late (or, worst of all, missing their appointments altogether without saying a word), which in turn makes the artists annoyed. Y/N understands that — it’s annoying and rude, but then the energy in the shop gets all wonky and everyone feels tense and stressed out. Even her mid-afternoon break, when she takes a walk around the block to get herself a coffee and a pastry, isn’t enough to pull her out of the weird mindset.
She’s just settled into the last part of her day, using the iPad to look through the schedule when a fairly looking clean cut man walks through the door. At first, she assumes he’s lost, but only an idiot would come in without knowing it’s a tattoo shop. He has neatly groomed brunette hair and wears a navy blazer over a white tee-shirt, complete with matching trousers. It makes Y/N involuntarily quirk her eyebrows, a pesky wrinkle appearing between them as she accidentally stares at him. He offers a tight, awkward smile when he walks up to her desk, placing his elbows on the surface.
“Hi. I have an appointment at 3 with Jan.”
Y/N tries her best not to let her jaw drop. She knows she should really be less judgemental, but based on the slight crows feet wrinkles that creep at the edges of his eyes, this guy has to be nearing his 40s. Was he having some kind of midlife crisis? She supposes it’s possible, but why wouldn’t he just opt for buying a new car or house or something? He looks rich enough.
“Hello?”
Y/N realizes that she hasn’t said a single thing since he approached and parts her lips, mumbling out an embarrassed apology as she scrolls on the iPad to look at Jan’s schedule. Sure enough, she’s blocked off from 3 to 4:45 p.m.
“Um, is this your first tattoo?” Y/N asks, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes quickly roam over his body, but most of his skin is covered. There’s a spiel she says with people who are tattoo virgins — making sure they’ve eaten and they’re hydrated and if they’re not, she gives them snacks and water. It was one of the policies she implemented when she started a few years back, and it makes her happy to know that she helps newbies feel more comfortable before getting jabbed with a needle for an hour.
“No,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, “No, sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. Jan’s helping me with a coverup.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, Jan is great with those.” she replies as she slides the iPad across to him. “I’m just gonna have you fill out this consent form and some other fun stuff. I’ll let her know you’re here, but my name is Y/N if you have any questions.”
He nods and flashes her a bright smile, and Y/N swears her heart skips a beat. She wonders what tattoo he’s getting covered up. She doesn’t often ask clients what they’re having done unless they decide to talk to her about it. It can be a rather personal experience for some — while she has some completely asinine, ridiculous tattoos herself, she also has a few with meaning, and she would certainly be taken back if someone randomly asked her about them.
Jan is busy getting some sketching done when Y/N gently knocks on her open door. She turns around in her wheely chair and smiles before asking her what’s up.
“Your 3 p.m. is here,” she says, leaning against the doorframe, “He says you’re covering something up for him?”
“Yup, that’ll be Harry Styles.” Jan replies with an affirmative nod. “We chatted a decent amount through email. Took the guy like, a month before deciding to come in.”
Y/N raises an eyebrow. “What’s he getting done?”
Jan stands from her chair and stretches her back and arms out, revealing a sliver of her tattooed stomach. “Wants his ex-wife’s name covered up. You know how it goes. You can send him in whenever he’s ready, I just need to photocopy some stencils.”
Y/N nods and hopes Jan didn’t catch the way her eyes widened at the mention of an ex-wife. She supposes she shouldn’t be too surprised — she did figure he was on the older side, at least 10 years her age — but is still a bit shocked that someone who looks that wealthy and put together would tattoo his partner’s name on him. Y/N, despite having a plethora of permanent tattoos herself, didn’t believe in any of that. She felt like it was bad luck. Plus, she didn’t see herself ever loving anyone enough to do that. The thought itself made her shudder.
When she returns back to the front, Harry’s drumming his fingers along the surface of her desk and looking around the interior of the shop. He doesn’t look nervous, but she wonders if he is. She’d seen her fair share of grown men pass out or vomit from being under the needle.
“All done?” she asks, pointing to the tablet. He nods. “Cool. You ate before this right? Hydrated and everything?”
Again, Harry nods, but this time a crooked smirk appears on his face. “Yes. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Just making sure,” she murmurs, plugging the iPad back in the charger, “Okay, you can follow me to Jan’s workstation.”
“Sure. Just one question — is there a place I can put this?”
Before Y/N has a chance to ask him what he’s talking about, he sheds the blazer he’s wearing to reveal two heavily tattooed, very muscular arms. She has to forcibly prevent her jaw from falling to the floor as her eyes roam over the myriad of black ink that swirls over his tanned skin. There doesn’t seem to be much of a theme, but her tattoos lack coherence, too. She swallows like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character, and when she finally glances at Harry’s face, he has a stupid, cocky smirk on.
She narrows her eyes. “There’s some jacket hooks by the door.”
“Perfect,” he grins cheerfully. He turns, showcasing a few more scattered designs on the backs of his arms, and places his jacket on one of the hooks. “Now you can stop judging me like I’m some old man going through a midlife crisis.”
This time, Y/N’s jaw really does drop.
“I’m not!” she immediately scrambles, even though they both know it’s a complete lie. “I just— I didn’t see any tattoos and I wanted to make sure you were prepared—”
“Sure, sure,” he cuts her off, pointing to some of the workstations in the back. “Jan’s is back there?”
“Yes, but I really wasn’t judging you, I have a million stupid tattoos myself—”
“Right, but because you’re half my age, it’s fine, right?”
“That’s not what I thought at all—”
“Have a good rest of your day.”
Y/N’s left standing there, confusion and embarrassment seeping into her bones, as Harry walks over to Jan’s station.
. . .
Exactly one hour and 45 minutes later, Harry leaves the shop.
Y/N spent the entire time nervously straightening up, sweeping the floors and rearranging their supply closet, trying to decide on what she would say to him when he walked by. She wanted to apologize, especially because she hoped he didn’t say anything to Jan. A client had never complained about her — not once in her three years of working at Jaded, and it would ruin her to know that somebody had a poor experience because of her.
Instead, she chickened out and watched him grab his jacket off the hook. Like every tattoo client leaving, he had a clear piece of film wrap stuck to the inside of his left arm. She wished she could see Jan’s work.
A few minutes later, Jan is heading out, too.
“Don’t stay too late tonight, Y/N. The needles and ink can get sorted tomorrow.” she says, nudging her chin the direction of the closet she’s currently busying herself with. Y/N hums and peeks her head out.
“How was the coverup?” she tries her best to make her voice seem nonchalant, as if she’s sincerely curious in how it went as opposed to finding out if he made any mean comments about the nosy girl in the front.
“Fine,” Jan shrugs as she pulls her car keys from her tote bag, “We didn’t get too far. He’ll be coming in for the next three or four weeks. It’ll take some time to cover that shit up. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”
Y/N nods robotically and forces out a “get home safe!”.
Three to four weeks?
Harry Styles is going to be the death of her. She’s sure of it.
. . .
The following Tuesday, Y/N has a plan.
When she arrives to work that day, she double checks the schedule to ensure she hasn’t been driving herself insane for a week over nothing (and maybe she has, considering her brain has been a hamster wheel of overthinking a man who uttered a few snarky sentences to her). Sure enough, Harry Styles is scheduled to come in for his second session of covering up his tattoo at 3 p.m. sharp.
Here’s what she decides to do: She’s going to dig her Doc Marten-clad heels into the (metaphorical) ground and politely but assertively tell this Harry Styles that it wasn’t very kind of him to assume she was judging him. After all, isn’t that more judgemental on his end? He had been acting like a classic, wealthy, powerful man, asserting his so-called power over a young woman who was simply trying to make his tattoo experience as seamless as possible. What a dick!
It goes without saying that when he shows up at Jaded at 2:45 p.m., her eyes automatically narrow his form. She’s slightly hopped up on caffeine (she’ll admit, she’s been waiting for this moment all day). She doesn’t even allow herself to to assess his outfit today, which consists of another white tank top, a dark gray blazer, and a pair of matching trousers. It’s similar to what he arrived in last week — all business and ridiculous and stupid, she thinks, especially in comparison to her cutoff denim shorts, vintage band tee-shirt, and platform shoes.
“Hi Harry,” she says, greeting him with a fake, rage-filled smile, “Do you have a moment to chat before your appointment?”
Harry raises his eyebrows, almost as if he’s surprised that she’s even speaking to him to begin with.
“Sure.”
Y/N nods and stands from the front desk, motioning for him to head outside. He does and she follows him, immediately crossing her arms over his chest the second they’re no longer within earshot distance of the shop.
Instantly, a stormy look comes over her face and she flares her nostrils. “Last week when you accused me of judging you for going through a midlife crisis? Yeah, that wasn’t cool. You can’t just do that to people. I get it, you’re a privileged guy who’s used to getting whatever you want in life, but I’m here to put my foot down and tell you that it wasn’t nice. It actually really hurt my feelings! And, you know what, why does it even matter what—”
“You’re right.”
Y/N’s head snaps up.
“What?”
Harry shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pants pockets. “You’re completely right. The second I left, I felt awful. I wanted to say something when I was leaving, but I felt it was better to give you your distance.”
Confused, she fumbles over her words, forgetting where she was in her speech. She clears her throat and nods curtly.
“Yeah. You should feel awful.”
A small smile appears on his lips. “I do. I even brought you a cookie from my favorite bakery by my office building.”
“Really?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
Harry nods and digs into the work bag on his shoulder. Sure enough, he produces a cookie that’s the size of Y/N’s face. She recognizes the sticker on the wrapping as a bakery that’s downtown — she’ll order pastries and snacks from there for the staff sometimes, but it’s usually too expensive and far away for her to treat them. She accepts it from him, but not before she peers up at him with narrowed eyes.
“What kind is it?” she questions, as if it’s a test.
“Raspberry white chocolate,” he answers. “I didn’t know what you like, obviously, so I went with my favorite. I hope that’s okay.”
She won’t tell him that that’s also her favorite, but she offers him a short nod of approval. She swallows tightly as she looks back up at the taller man. “Thank you for the apology cookie. Do you wanna share it with me?”
The edges of his lips curl up into a grin. “Sure. I have some time to spare before my session.”
Y/N digs into the bag and retrieves the cookie, breaking it in half. She hands a piece to Harry, who murmurs out a soft thank you. Together, they stand outside the shop in silence, each nibbling on their half of the cookie. After a few moments of quiet, Y/N sneaks a glance at his tattoo. Jan was right — they haven’t gotten very far in covering it up since she can still clearly read the three letters that spell out MAY.
Harry must have followed her gaze because he glimpses down at her. “Do you guys get a lot of people covering up dumb tattoos?”
She does her best not to choke on the bit of cookie in her mouth.
“Um, I mean, some people end up regretting… certain things they get,” she replies, stumbling over her words. “You’re, um, definitely not the first to… y’know. Get their partner’s name done.”
He chuckles, but it seems more humorless than anything. “Yeah. Stupid mistake for sure.”
Y/N shrugs her shoulders. “It can’t be that stupid if you learned something from it.”
“What do you mean?”
She swallows the rest of her cookie and leans back against the cool, brick wall of the shop. It feels nice in comparison to the rising temperatures outside. Now that they’re slowly dipping into warmer climates, she finds herself appreciating small instances of cooling down, like an air conditioned coffee shop or the evening draft when the sun’s gone down.
“We all make mistakes or decisions that don’t end up working out. You’re certainly not the first person to get divorced or even get their significant other’s name tattooed,” she explains. “But did you get anything out of the process? Did you learn anything from it?”
Harry thinks for a moment. He hadn’t really considered that — not in the five years since he and May made their divorce official. It was a shitty experience from start to finish, that much was apparent. But when he ponders whether or not anything decent came out of it, he wonders if she has a point.
“I mean, I guess I did. I don’t think I would be where I am, standing here now, if it hadn’t happened.”
She hums. “It wasn’t a complete waste then.”
He shrugs. “I guess not.”
Y/N pulls her phone from the pocket of her shorts and glances at the time. 2:58 p.m.
“We should probably head back inside. Your appointment’s starting soon,” she says, straightening out her posture. “Thank you again for the cookie.”
“Sure,” Harry nods. “Thanks for the advice.”
She shoots him the smallest of bashful smiles in response.
. . .
The following Tuesday, Y/N feels far less intimidated about seeing Harry.
In a weird way, she’s actually looking forward to his 3 p.m. appointment. He’s way more talkative than some of the other clients that come in, and she’d be lying if she said his little cookie stunt from last week hadn’t placed him in her good graces.
She also felt as though it was a crime not to acknowledge how attractive he was — she’d noticed it from the first moment he stepped into the shop, but now that they were on better terms, she was more open to recognizing it. Beyond the plethora of tattoos that covered his skin, he didn’t look much like other people Y/N had gone after in the past — not that she was going after him in any way.
Her exes consisted of a rough roster of less than satisfactory partners: There was Declan, who she dated in college, but they broke up after he got kicked out for doing stick-and-poke tattoos in his dorm room.
After that was Alice, but it turned out she was just using Y/N to figure out her sexuality and, after three months of dating, decided she didn’t like going down on girls.
Lastly and most recently there was Jonathan, who had so many tattoos he lost count. He had big dreams of becoming either a professional skateboarder or a drummer in a punk band, but he didn’t own a bed frame so his mattress took permanent real estate on the dirty, hardwood floor of his loft, and he was constantly sending Y/N Venmo requests for money with captions like “pls babe haven’t eaten in 2 days.” (It’s safe to say that all of those relationships ended for good reasons.)
While she didn’t have any plans to approach Harry romantically, there was something about him that piqued her interest. Well, maybe it was multiple somethings. For one, he was 12 years older than her. She’d never thought about dating someone that much older, but she happened to sneak a glance at his consent form to see his date of birth just out of plain — and legal — curiosity. Harry seemed to have his life together. Every time he came to the shop, he was coming straight from work in what appeared to be a put-together, expensive suit. He always tipped Jan well (30% for each session — Y/N knows because she did the math) and he was kind to all the artists, even if he’d never spoken to them before. And, she had to admit that the communication and vulnerability he offered last week had been a stark change from the treatment she was used to.
Yeah, so maybe she had an eensy, tiny, miniscule crush on Harry. But she’s sure it’ll fade away once he’s finished with his coverup — he only has two sessions left, anyway. How much damage could be done in that small of a timeframe?
. . .
“Y/N, I need you to postpone Harry’s session today!”
Jan’s haphazardly running around and grabbing her things, mumbling out nonsense as she looks for her car keys. Confused, Y/N gets up from her seat at the front desk.
“Is everything okay?” she calls out as she walks over to the jacket closet, grabbing Jan’s keyring off the hook. Shutting the door behind her, she finds Jan scrambling through her office. When her eyes flit up to see the keys in Y/N’s hand, her eyebrows relax as she grabs them.
“Not really,” she mutters, yanking her phone out of her pocket, “You know that girl I’ve been seeing? Lizzy? She was at my place with my dogs today and apparently one of them must’ve eaten something bad because now they won’t stop throwing up. I’m meeting her at the vet downtown. Tell Harry I’m really sorry, okay?”
Jan is gone in a flash, running down the sidewalk to get in her car. Y/N can’t blame her — her dogs are her entire life, so her stomach sinks as she thinks about something bad happening to them. She makes a mental note to text her and check in with her later, but not before she messages Harry to let him know that his appointment is canceled.
When she heads back to her desk, she brings up Harry’s digital paperwork to retrieve his number. They don’t have a phone specifically for the shop, so she has to text him from her personal number, which makes her heart beat a little too quickly for her own good. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she types out a message: Hey Harry, this is Y/N from Jaded. I’m just texting to let you know that Jan had an emergency and can’t tattoo you this afternoon. She’s really sorry about the inconvenience.
She places her locked phone down on the dark mahogany of the desk and tries to ignore the pit of disappointment that settles in her stomach. Had she spent a few extra minutes primping her appearance this morning in preparation to see him? Maybe, and there’s a teensy, tiny part of her that despises herself for it. Harry doesn’t want anything to do with her. She’s 12 years his junior and she’s nothing more than the nice receptionist at the tattoo shop he’s getting a piece done at.
With a self-deprecating sigh, she picks at her fingernails when her phone lights up. She reads Harry’s name across the screen and assumes he’s probably responded with something kind and unassuming; something that will make her heart beat embarrassingly fast in her chest.
That’s okay. Thanks for the heads up.
Are you still at the shop? Maybe we can get together instead.
Y/N’s eyes are the size of saucers as she quickly replies: okay! Where should we meet?
. . .
Harry chooses a coffee shop that’s within walking distance of Jaded. He’s never been there before but each week he noticed Y/N sipping on iced drinks with the name of the cafe sprawled across the cup, so he figured she must like it.
It’s been a long while since a girl has been Harry nervous, and he’s somewhat surprised that she comes wrapped up in a body with sprawling tattoos and piercings, always in cute skirts and platform Doc Martens. She’s sweet — he likes that her shoes are so heavy that he can hear her walking before he sees her and that she fiddles with her nose ring when she’s bored. He likes that her wardrobe is a rotation of baggy band tee-shirts and black jeans or plaid skirts, that her soft, smooth hands are covered in nonsensical designs that likely have stories similar to his — a friend with a tattoo gun, a boring Tuesday afternoon. She’s nothing that Harry has ever been attracted to and yet, she’s everything he wants.
He’s made careful efforts not to put her on a pedestal. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was just horny and depraved — I mean, what kind of guy would walk into the shop and not drool over the pretty, young girl working the front? And while he’s not entirely proud of what he did next, he found it to be a necessary next step: He sorted through his rolodex of hookups, texted his most foolproof girl (a tall, leggy brunette who modeled on the side), and invited her over.
It turns out, Harry could only come when he pretended she was Y/N.
In hindsight, it made him feel gross and icky; lusting over a girl who’s certainly at least 10 years younger. It’s why he forces himself to try — if she rejects him, he can move on with his life and find someone more age-appropriate.
But she doesn’t. In fact, she replies within a minute and asks where she should meet him.
It’s how Harry ends up clutching a small Americano in his hand, sitting in a back booth at Buzzybee Cafe.
He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, nervous and jumpy, keeping his eyes glued on the front entrance. Every now and then, he’ll glimpse down at his phone on the table to check the time. He halfway expects her to text and let him know that she’s not coming — an understandable and believable excuse about getting busy at work or, Harry doesn’t know, maybe not wanting to meet up with someone who’s older. Why would she? She’s capable of getting nearly anyone she wants in this world, she’s pretty and funny and smart and stands up for herself and—
“Hey, Harry.”
His spiraling thoughts come to a screeching halt when he glances up to see the object of his affection standing over him with a small, timid smile on her lips. He blinks, somewhat surprised that she’s there.
In front of him.
And he hasn’t said a thing yet.
“Hey,” Harry finally forces out, his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously, “You made it.”
“Of course!” her eyes light up and he feels his heart thump noisily in his chest, “What’d you get to drink? Do you need anything?”
“Just an Americano,” he answers, trying not to feel lame about his boring drink choice. Y/N wrinkles her face in response.
“You would be one of those manly ‘I-only-drink-espresso-and-black-coffee’ kind of guys, wouldn’t you?”
She says it with a teasing smile and it offers him permission for a small scoff to leave his throat followed by a joking roll of the eyes.
“What, was I supposed to get one of those sugary drinks you always seem to get?” he fires back, making Y/N’s eyes widen.
“They’re not that bad!” she exclaims through plush, lipstick-stained lips, “Here, now I’m gonna order one and make you try it. You’ve dug your grave, Styles!”
She’s turning on her Doc Marten-clad foot to order before Harry has the chance to offer to pay for her order. That had been the plan, but like most things about Y/N, he realizes, those pre-decided upon strategies get tossed out the window the second she pops up. It makes Harry jiggle his leg beneath the table, both as an expression of unfamiliar excitement and nervousness.
She returns to their table with some sort of coffee-hued concoction with whipped cream piled high. It makes Harry’s nose crinkle, and he doesn’t notice that Y/N smiles at the way his skin ripples underneath the cute expression.
“Okay, since you were kind of a dick to me the day we met, you have no choice but to try it.”
Harry’s eyes instantly form into rounded saucers, apologies quick to make it to the tip of his tongue. Before he can start, she puts her hand up.
“I don’t care about it now, you’ve already apologized for it. But the only way for us to move on is if you try my white mocha frappé.”
“Y/N,” Harry sighs. He scoots his elbows forward and peers up at her. “What the fuck is a frappé?”
She giggles before wrapping her lips around the straw, taking a hearty sip of the drink, “It’s like a blended coffee. It’s my go-to when I’m having a shit day.”
“You drink this when you’re having a bad day?” Harry asks as she pushes the cup in his direction. “You don’t think this will fuck your stomach up enough to absolutely ruin your day?”
“No, because it’s a fun treat. And a little treat will brighten up anyone’s day.”
Y/N answers his question like it’s plain and simple science. He wants to continue on about the sugar content, how this is likely a heart attack neatly compiled into a 16-ounce cup, but he can’t — not when he looks at her and she stares back with an expectant expression, waiting for him to take a sip.
“Fine,” he mumbles, flexing his fingers to wrap them around the cold plastic cup, “But promise you won’t bring up my… shortcomings anymore?”
Y/N grins. “Scout’s honor.”
It tastes exactly how Harry expected — sugary, way too sweet, and slightly nauseating. But when he sees that puppy-like look of excitement painted over her face, he can’t help but let out a quiet laugh and shake his head.
“See? That wasn’t too bad.” Y/N replies as she takes her drink back.
“No,” not when you look at me like that, “Not at all.”
. . .
Harry and Y/N sit tucked away in their booth at Buzzybee for far too long.
It’s easy to talk to her, Harry finds. She’s receptive and kind and lets him finish his stories without interrupting. She doesn’t judge him for his divorce, not even when he tells her that he played just as much of a part in ruining his marriage as May did. He tells her about his job as a museum curator, his affinity for playing tennis on the weekends, his six year-long trek with veganism, and his secret passion for hunting down vintage band tee-shirts from the 1970s and ‘80s.
Y/N isn’t ashamed to reveal just as much which, if she’s being honest, is quite uncharacteristic for her. It typically takes weeks, if not months for her to completely warm up to a person and start telling them about her hobbies, family dynamic, and the time her grandma cried when she realized she got her nose pierced. She tells him about how much she loves playing cozy video games on her Nintendo Switch, the myriad of plants and greenery that decorate her loft apartment, and how she actually started working at Jaded to become a tattoo apprentice, but ended up falling in love with working the front instead.
By the time the cafe is closing up and the nice employees are now glaring at them, silently pleading that they leave, Harry feels like he’s known Y/N for a million years. In some weird way, he doesn’t know how he’s gone this long without her bright smile and saccharine laughter in his life. It’s all he can think about as they throw their empty cups away and slowly stroll down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the tattoo shop. He doesn’t mean to be lost in his thoughts as
Y/N chatters on about the latest game she’s been playing in her down time, but he can’t ignore the small shining pit of happiness that’s glowing deep in his belly right now. He’s missed this — this hopeful feeling with the promise of someone special on the other end.
It’s all he can think about as they approach Y/N’s car and, when she turns to face him to say goodbye, he’s already blurting the words out without a second thought.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
She blinks, parting her plush lips as her tongue peeks over the ridges of her two front teeth. “Oh… I thought— this wasn’t a date?”
Harry’s eyes widen, “Oh! I mean— it could if you wanted it to be. I just— I didn’t ask you beforehand and I’d want to do that. And pay for you and all that.”
“I’m sorry if I misunderstood, I just thought— I don’t know what I thought—”
“No, you were right, I was just being dumb—”
“No, no!” Y/N shakes her head and the smile that edges at her lips makes Harry’s chest pulse with relief. “We’re both being silly, I think. I would love to go on a date with you, though.”
“Yeah?” he asks, the slight disbelief apparent in his voice, “Are you free this weekend?”
She nods with a small smile.
“How about Saturday? You can come over and I’ll cook you dinner?”
She has to bite her lip to hide the growing grin on her lips. “Okay. I’ll see you Saturday.”
He watches as she starts her car and pulls away from the curb to make sure she’s safe on her way home.
. . .
On Saturday evening, Y/N shows up to Harry’s house. She wears her favorite black midi dress and matches them with a pair of clunky boots. When she arrives, the smile that encompasses Harry’s face makes her chest glow.
He’d texted her earlier that day to make sure she didn’t have any dietary restrictions and made them a delicious pasta dinner. Afterwards, they cuddle on the couch, Y/N’s heart thrumming quickly in her chest at the close proximity. When it’s finally time for her to go home, Harry seals the deal by smearing his lips against hers. It’s warm and soft and his large palms splay over her hips as she wraps her arms around him, gently playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
By the time she gets home that evening (texting Harry to let him know she got back safely, per his request), they both know they’re head over heels for one another.
. . .
Perhaps quite predictably, Harry and Y/N start seeing each other more regularly after that first afternoon at Buzzybee Cafe. It’s slow at first — Harry’s nervous about scaring her away, so he sets boundaries with himself, only pledging to text her a few times a week. She’s receptive, though, and he’s thrilled that her messages start coming in more often: Sometimes pictures of dogs that come in with clients to the shop, other times it’s memes that remind her of him. (She’ll sometimes have to explain them to him because he, embarrassingly enough, doesn’t always understand.) Weeks of casual texting complimented by his weekly appointments with Jan tumble into daily good morning texts accompanied by selfies and outfit shots. When his tattoo of his ex-wife’s name is finally covered up by a detailed illustration of a sailing ship, he’s anxious in his realization that he’ll have to come up with new ways to regularly see her, but she’s already two steps ahead of him with an invitation to their second (official, third unofficial) date for the upcoming weekend.
The rest is somewhat history.
Well, sort of.
It’s a month and a half in when Harry asks Y/N to accompany him to a work event at some smarmy art museum in the city. His office had had a huge hand in sourcing the pieces and there were a ton of donors involved, so the museum’s director was throwing some type of soiree to celebrate the opening. Inviting Y/N as his plus one was a no-brainer — call him old fashioned, but he had plans to ask her to be his girlfriend sometime soon. He wanted to make it special, though, maybe with a candlelit dinner at her favorite Thai restaurant or a well thought-out picnic in the park they loved to walk through on the weekends.
“This isn’t, like, on the level of the Met Gala or something, is it?” Y/N asks that evening as she swipes a q-tip beneath the sharp cat eye of her eyeliner. Harry snorts and shakes his head from his spot in the doorway, where he watches as she diligently finishes up her eye makeup. He’d picked her up from work and eaten an early dinner together before they planned to head out to the museum.
“It’s really not a big deal, it’s just a small event with a bunch of snooty art people,” Harry replies nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a fashionable set tonight, consisting of a powder blue undershirt and a navy blazer with matching trousers. As usual, his fingers don their usual jewelry. When Y/N saw what he was wearing, she’d wanted to match him, but she didn’t have any dresses in her closet that weren’t black. He insisted that it was fine, but there was a teensy sliver of her that felt bad about it.
“How snooty?”
He thinks for a moment. “I mean, no one will be mean to you if that’s what you’re worried about. I’d never let that happen anyway.”
She ignores the way her cheeks warm as she sweeps some bronzer over the structure of her face.
“It’ll be fine, baby,” he murmurs, coming up from behind her. He knows better than to disturb her while she’s doing her makeup, so he waits for her movements to still before he drops a kiss to the top of her head. Her heart stutters at the pet name. “Almost done, yeah? We gotta leave soon.”
“Mhmm,” she nods, picking up her freshly sharpened lip liner, “Just gotta do my lips and put my dress on and we’re good.”
“I don’t know why you’re putting lipstick on when I’m not gonna be able to keep my mouth off yours all night.” he instantly fires back as he issues a squeeze to her waistline. Y/N squeals and bats him away, eager for some peace from Harry’s playful teasing. He chuckles, presses a kiss to her temple, and murmurs out something about calling the Uber as he leaves the bathroom.
Y/N has to force the smile off her face so she can finish applying her lip liner.
. . .
Apparently, when Harry meant “snooty”, he really meant to say, “the most annoying, judgemental, snobby people on planet Earth”.
From the second Harry and Y/N had stepped into the museum that evening, she was on the receiving end of horrified stares. From the colorful ink that decorated her arms to her arm being threaded through Harry’s, it seemed like everyone had something to gawk at. Truthfully, she was used to people looking at her — not in an arrogant, “pick me” kind of way, but in the way where she understood she had tons of tattoos that some people liked and others hated.
But the snide eyes weren’t just because of her ink, and she knows that. It’s because she’s here with Harry.
Harry, who knows nearly everyone at this event.
Harry, who’s apparently one of the most high up curators at his job and Y/N had no idea.
Harry, who’s capable of rubbing elbows with even the rudest of people while Y/N just stands there, unsure of what to say, because when the first person asked her what she does for work and she said “I work at a tattoo shop”, they replied with a simple, disgusted, “oh.”
She feels like an idiot.
She feels small.
She feels judged.
And the person she came here with is doing nothing, aside from the occasional grimace when the conversation finally ends.
Y/N’s last straw comes in the form of one of the museum’s assistant directors, who comes over to thank Harry once again for all of his hard work. When her eyes dart to Y/N, who has one hand curled around yet another glass of fizzy champagne, they widen and pingpong back to Harry.
“Harry, you didn’t tell me you had a daughter!” she exclaims as her lips stretch into a huge grin. Immediately, Y/N’s arm drops from Harry’s and she swallows as bile begins to build in her throat.
“Oh— Gwen, no, this isn’t— t-this isn’t my daughter,” Harry stutters nervously, blinking as he watches the horrified look in Y/N’s eyes. “Um, this is Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other.”
Gwen’s eyebrows raise, “Oh, my mistake. Apologies to you both. I just assumed Harry would spend his time with someone a bit more… savory.” her gaze flits back to Harry. “You must understand.”
Y/N doesn’t allow herself to hear Harry’s response. She knows he’s too kind and professional to chew her up and spit her out the way she wants him to. Instead, she simply slams her glass down on the nearest waiter’s tray, turns around, and rushes out of the building.
The words continue to replay in her head as tears flood her vision. All she wants to do is go home. She never should have entertained this relationship — who does she think she is? Someone a bit more… savory.
You didn’t tell me you had a daughter!
You must understand.
Fat, salty slip down her cheeks as she walks outside, her platform heels clicking against the concrete sidewalk. She doesn’t know where she’s going, instead just picking a direction and walking in it as she uses the back of her hand to wipe the wetness away.
You must understand.
You must understand.
You must understand.
Because everyone, including Y/N now, gets it — she doesn’t fit in to Harry’s world. She never has and she never will, and it was pathetic for either of them to think she ever would.
Gripping her silky dress in her hands, she continues walking as far as she can get from the museum. As her vision begins to clear, she makes half-baked decisions: She’ll order an Uber when the distance from Harry is decent enough to feel comfortable. She’ll block his number. She won’t even care to pick up any of the clothing she’s left at his house, and she’ll simply throw away the few tee-shirts and sweatshirts he’s left at hers.
She doesn’t know how long she’s been walking but she’s ripped from her thoughts when she hears loud calls of her name. She recognizes the voice — how couldn’t she, not when he’s the only person that’s seeped through her psyche and into cotton candy tufts of her dreamland — and tries to quicken her pace. She mentally curses the heels on her feet, sniffling as she begins to limp from the pain of the high platforms.
“Y/N, please! Stop!”
The sound of his shouts only makes her eyes blur with tears once again and suddenly, the tall figure is beside her, panting and breathing loudly. He wraps a careful arm around her shoulders as he matches her slow pace and shushes her, caroling them over to the side in front of a business that’s already closed for the night. Through weepy eyes, she can hardly make out his face, but she can tell it’s Harry just from his touch and scent alone.
“Baby, please,” he says, slowly smoothing his hand down her back. It’s comforting and she wishes it wasn’t. “You have to breathe, honey. C’mon, inhale and exhale.”
Y/N’s brain is a wash of noisy static so she welcomes the direction, quickly abandoning her plans to remove herself from Harry’s life. It helps that he’s reminding her of how to do the most basic of human functions, guiding her in slow, deep breaths that start to regulate her speeding heart.
“There you go, sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”
When she finally manages a glimpse up at him, his eyes are bleary and red-rimmed. She finds it difficult to believe that he would’ve been crying over her, too, so she quickly blinks and looks away.
“What happened back there?” Harry asks, his throat bobbing with a swallow, “I know that was weird, but why did you run? Why couldn’t you have talked to me?”
Y/N can’t fight the scoff that forces itself free from her chest. “All night, people were staring at me like I was some kind of alien. As if my tattoos weren’t enough of a reason to gawk, they were looking at me like I didn’t even deserve to be standing next to you. I felt pathetic, Harry. I just— I don’t fit in with this lifestyle and I think it’s better if we just… just leave it.”
“What lifestyle?” Harry demands as his eyebrows thicken with anger, “I’m not like them, you know that—”
“I don’t want to go places and have people think I’m your daughter, Harry!” she yells with wide eyes, “I don’t want to be looked down upon if we go to a work thing for you! People acted like I was your fucking sugar baby. Do you know how demeaning that is?”
“And do you realize how disgusting that makes me feel?” he seethes. “Bringing someone 12 years younger than me? Being in love with someone who wasn’t even around for the first part of my life?”
“You don’t mean that,” Y/N breathes, shaking her head in angry dismissal. “You’re just saying that.”
Harry takes a hesitant step closer and reaches out to cradle her elbow. “Yes, I do. I would never lie to you, Y/N. But I love you— I love you so much that it’s killing me that you would ever think you don’t have a place in my life.”
“I don’t, Harry—”
“You do,” he cuts her off and reaches to take her hands in his palms, squishing her cheeks together. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone else says or thinks. I don’t care what they think of us. I love you, Y/N. I want you in my life.”
Y/N swallows harshly. She can’t escape his locked-in gaze, but she doesn’t want to. It’s all she needed, even if she didn’t realize it until now — the verbalization that he wants her there. And that’s enough.
“Okay,” she whispers, nodding her head in his grasp. His eyes widen. “Okay. I want to be in your life, too.”
“You promise?”
A small smile curls at the edges of her lips. “I promise,” she says, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips. “Take me home now, please.”
. . .
The second Harry and Y/N walk through the doorway of his place, it’s a blurry scene of spit swollen lips, wet kisses, and sprawling touches.
Harry imagined their first time being far more romantic than this, but he doesn’t care. Neither of them do. Now, more than ever, they need each other.
The air is thick with tension when Harry momentarily breaks their kiss only to shed Y/N of the straps on her shoulders. He gently tugs them down to her shoulders before slowly traveling down her body, sliding his large palms over the silky fabric of her dress to meet her platform heels, where he diligently unbuckles them and slips them off her feet.
“Thank you,” she breathes, watching as he gets back up from his knees. He hums and cups her chin with his fingers, bringing her closer to lightly kiss her lips.
“I want to show you that you’re not making a mistake,” he whispers as he gently leans his forehead up against hers. “That giving me a chance is something you won’t regret.”
Immediately she shakes her head. Despite the close view of her face, Harry can tell her eyebrows knit together; a familiar furrow whenever she’s particularly determined.
“I know it’s not. You don’t have to show me anything.”
He notices that her fingers shake as she brings them up to his neck, winding them around to the back of his head. He swallows, allowing her the space to experiment, both verbally and physically.
And then: “I love you, Harry.”
At first, he doesn’t say anything. His heart races and his chest feels warm as he blinks, repeating the words in his brain.
Finally, raspberry lips part.
“You don’t have to say that just because I said it,” he murmurs, thumbing over the apple of her cheek. “We can go slow. There’s no pressure.”
“I know,” she nods, “I know. But I do. I love you so much.”
A pause.
“I love you,” Harry says, sliding his hands down the curves of her sides and to her waist. “Fuck, I love you, Y/N.”
“Don’t stop saying it.” she whispers. His fingers dip below the material of her dress and she swallows when he finds the bare skin of her hips. Exhaling shakily, she allows him to pull her lacey underwear down over the bend of her bum, letting them pool uselessly at her feet.
“I love you.” he says again, his hands suddenly at her wrists. He uses his gentle grasp to lift her arms up so he can push the dress up and over her body, leaving her in just the strapless bra she’d fit herself into for the evening. Just as quickly, his skilled fingers pop the clasp open, and they’re in a futile pool of Y/N’s clothes while Harry stands before her, still in his navy blue ensemble.
It’s a vulnerable place to be but she doesn’t hate it — not when he stares at her with soft eyes, dragging his gaze up and down the expanse of her form. She wants to cover herself, but she doesn’t. Instead, she reaches forward and thumbs open the button of his blazer before sliding the fabric off his torso. Just as he did to her, he watches as she slowly sheds him of his shirt, then his trousers, and finally, his briefs.
His cock is thick and long and Y/N’s hand immediately loops around it the second it slaps up against his lower belly. He hisses and grabs her hips, pressing blunt fingernails into the soft skin as he pushes her back against the couch. All too flawlessly, he’s now given himself the upper hand, hovering over her naked body, his biceps bulging as he keeps himself up.
“Please,” she says breathily, “I want you. No teasing.”
Harry huffs out a guttural chuckle as he begins to plant kisses along her collarbones and down to her chest, landing just above her belly button.
“I’m big,” he murmurs into her skin. “‘M not trying to tease. Just don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can do it,” Y/N insists, her voice growing whiney with need. “Don’t wanna wait any longer.”
"You're cute when you beg." Harry mumbles out in response as his lips curve into a smirk. Her jaw drops a smidge, prepared to respond, but he quickly stretches over her body to press his lips to hers again. Just as it was the moment they came home, the kiss is frantic and driven with energy, filled with tension and electricity.
Harry catches each of her noisy whimpers with his lips, a groan of his own on the verge of tumbling out. He feels her squeeze her thighs together and assumes it’s an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building in her core, making his cock continue to swell between their bodies. If he wanted to, he knows he could get them off just like this — him grinding against the soft skin of her stomach while he dips a few fingers into her sopping pussy. But they both need more than that.
Again, he breaks this kiss, this time resulting in a rather frustrated Y/N. Her lips are slicked with spit and swollen from the frenzied kissing, his likely appearing the same.
"Is this okay?"
"Yes," she breathes, nodding her head like a bobblehead, "Yes, I want you. Please."
"You want me?" he teases, and she has to resist rolling her eyes at the sudden uptick of arrogance. "That's awfully forward of you. What happened to my sweet good girl?"
"I'm still here," she whines, "Harry, please, you're— you're being mean, you know what I want."
He ducks under her jaw to press soft kisses along her neck, gently sucking at spots of skin. Light splotches appear from the welcomed assault, ensuring that they remember this long after it’s over. She instantly weaves her painted fingernails into his curly hair.
"Tell me what you want." Harry demands, placing his hands on either side of her head. He keeps his palms flush against the throw pillow, caging her in. Her face begins to flush and her lips flutter over the words, so he leans down to brush his nose against hers; a reminder that she’s safe. "Go ahead, bun."
"I want you to fuck me," she mumbles, her bottom lip nearly quivering with need. She looks like she could cry all over again — only this time, for good reasons.
He reaches his hand up to her mouth, jutting his thumb out to pull at her lip. Immediately responsive, she parts her lips, making him smile as he pushes his finger inside. She sucks at it lightly.
"You're so good. So cute, so good," he says softly, watching her. "I want you just as bad, sweet girl. Y'sure you're ready for my cock? I haven't even seen your pretty pussy yet—"
"Shut up," she mutters out, his thumb laying heavy on her tongue. "I can take it. Promise.”
He lets out a laugh at her sudden boldness. He removes his finger from her mouth, mumbling out a greedy girl as he leans down to wrap his lips around a nipple, moving his hand down to her mound.
At risk of her snapping at him again, he presses a thumb to her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. He begins to circle his thumb tightly, her muscles suddenly tightening underneath his grasp. Selfishly, he takes joy in watching her slowly crumble underneath him, her soft whimpers growing into moans when he dips his finger further down, circling her hole once, twice, before dipping in.
"H," she whined, her eyes screwed shut."What, bunny?"
"I— please, need your cock, no more teasing."
He stills his fingers inside of her, gently pulling them out. On any other day, maybe he would have persisted with the slow burn of pleasure, but he’s feeling just as desperate as her. He wraps his fist around the head of his cock, using strings of her arousal to slowly pump, relieving some of the built up pressure.
"Y'still good, baby?" he asks, resisting the groan at the tip of his tongue.
"Yes, daddy."
His head snaps up to see an arrogant smirk painted on her features.
"Are you gonna fuck me now?"
This time, he finally does let out a moan.
Shuffling his knees forward, he rubs his cock against her core, painting the tip from her clit to her hole, up and down, until she wiggles her hips down. He smirks as she lets out a pathetic whine.
Slowly, he pushes forward, the tip of my cock instantly encased by her tight walls. He hisses at the feeling and reaches down to grab her hip, his hand gripping her skin tightly.
"More," she chokes, nodding her head eagerly, "Please, more, daddy."
Once he knows that she’s not in any pain from the intrusion, he keeps going until his hips are flush against her warm skin, his cock buried deep inside of her. Her plush lips form a soft 'o' as she reaches forward to rake her nails down my chest, a silent plea to move.
"You feel so fucking good, bunny," he mutters out as he begins to snap my hips, slowly building a steady pace. He’s careful not to push her too quickly, but the fear of coming too fast is consistent in his brain. Despite sleeping with his fair share of people, he’s never felt so complete inside of someone. The way her pussy is so snug and tight around his cock makes him feel like an addict.
She’s a moaning mess beneath him, her fingernails pressing harshly into his back. Her eyes are wide and teary now, making him smirk as he lifts a finger to wipe the liquid away.
"Don' need to cry, babe, you're doing so good for me." he says, leaning down to pepper kisses over the surface of her face.
"Yeah?" She gasped, her hand snaking down the length of her body. Her fingertips quickly find her clit and he looks down to watch her make tight little circles into the skin.
"So fuckin' good," he mumbles, entranced by the sight of her touching herself, "y'gonna cum all over daddy's cock, angel girl?"
She nods eagerly and he speeds up his thrusts, desperate to make her finish before he manages to explode. He can feel his muscles clenching, her pussy somehow getting even tighter with every movement.
"What do you need?" he grits out with a clenched jaw.
She’s moments away from finishing now; he can feel and see it, but he’s determined to push her over the edge. Swallowing harshly, her jaw drops as she mumbles out, "c-choke me, please."
Groaning, he wraps his hand around the column of her throat, pressing gently against her windpipe. He watches as her eyes roll back and feels the way her muscles instantly contract around his cock, triggering his own orgasm to approach. At the sounds of her moans, he quickly pulls out and pumps his cock twice before finishing all over her stomach and chest, a splatter of come painting itself on her soft skin.
They’re both breathless and Harry resists the urge to completely collapse against the girl beneath him. He would have, if not for Y/N’s closed eyes as she catches her breath. In the silence of the moment, he takes in the appearance of her naked body covered in his come. Grimacing slightly at his softening prick, he grabs his boxers and shuffles them over his hips. He stands from the couch and straightens his posture when he hears a sleepy mumble from below.
"Where are y'going?"
"Gonna clean you up," Harry says softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, "be right back, 'kay, bunny?”
Y/N asleep before he returns a few minutes later with a wet washcloth. He sits at the edge of the couch and gently runs it over her body, wiping away the remnants of their intimacy. Her eyes blink open when she realizes he’s returned, granting him a small, lazy smile. He returns it.
“You did so good for me,” he murmurs, tossing the dirty cloth on the floor. He’ll throw it in the washing machine later, but right now, taking care of this sleepy, fucked out lump is the top priority. “Do you wanna go upstairs and change? Go to sleep in my bed?”
She shakes her head. “Let’s sleep down here. Too tired to move.”
And yeah, maybe Harry hasn’t slept on a couch since he was in his 20s because he has back problems. Yes, his hips will surely ache from sharing the space with the girl he’s been crushing on for months. Surely, they’ll shift positions multiple times throughout the night as they attempt to find something that’s semi-comfortable for the both of them.
But he’ll do anything to see Y/N smile.
“Sure, baby,” he replies, grabbing a soft throw blanket from the end of the couch. He wiggles himself into her side so he’s holding her from behind, tossing the cozy material over their bodies. “G’night. Lemme know if you need anything.”
She hums, and then it’s silent.
Harry allows his eyes to fall closed, sinking into the comfort of the warm girl beside him.
It’s only then that he hears her inhale, followed by seven soft words: “I love you, Harry. I mean it.”
He tucks his face into her shoulder and hides the grin that stretches over his face.
“I love you, Y/N. I mean it.”
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