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[eveningepiphany]

far from sober | H.S

my masterlist

summary: you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people (including close family members), fluff, sexual tension, brothers best friend, drunk crying lol

a/n: sorry I haven’t posted properly in a while! here’s a shorter piece while I work on some more stuff <3 plenty to come x

———

Saying you were a bit drunk was a drastic understatement.

You were stumbling all over the place, heels becoming impractical now you were so intoxicated.

Harry, who knew you were going out with some of your family and friends tonight at the bar, had no idea what he was coming back to.

You don’t remember actually intending to get this drunk, but your Aunty had been egging the group on to do some shots, and before you know it you’re well past tipsy. Even your mum was getting drunker than you’d seen in years.

So all the other boys who’d gone out— including Harry— walk into the hotel bar. It was as chic as the lobby, just adorning some more neon signs and rustic bar stools.

Harry had gone out with them to look at a heap of shit that you and your female family members had little interest in. They’d insisted you all stay and just have a couple cocktails, since it was a holiday after all.

It was to their surprise when your same eager aunt bounded up to them when they popped through the door to the bar. They had expected tipsy, but not hammered.

“Oh my god!! You guys will not believe how good the cocktails are here!” She swooned, and they all glanced at each other with an amused chuckle.

“I think I just might believe it.” One of the boys piped up.

Most of them dispersed to find their significant others, family or friends amidst the bar, and see how much chaos was being caused.

But you’d b-lined straight for Harry, regardless of whether he was seeking you out.

His brows shot up when you collided with his side, “Harry!”

Your arms wrap around his middle and you end up latching onto him, practically using him to keep yourself upright.

“Oh!” He speaks in surprise, hands jumping up to brace around your lower back.

“Are you absolutely hammered too, love?” He chuckles and you bury your face into his chest.

“Yeaaaaa…” you drawl, a smile spreading onto your face.

“Everyone else is rounding up their partners. Suppose I’m in charge of you, yea?” He suggests, rubbing your back.

“Wanna—“ you hiccup, “have a drink with me?”

He shakes his head with amusement, “I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart. We should get you back to your room.”

Most of your drunk family were getting escorted out by their respective people, being taken up to their hotel room before they can drink themselves any sillier.

This included your brother, Leon, who had his longtime girlfriend pulled into his side, holding her half up and laughing a little at her drunken slur.

He came to a stop when he seen both of you, eyes flitting between your two figures. A small twitch of his brows suggested he wasn’t sure of how he felt about the sight.

“You got her?” He asks, a protective edge to his voice. One that drunken you missed easily as you stayed plastered against him— which is something sober you would not do in general, let alone in front of your brother.

Harry nodded straight away, understanding his defensiveness over you since he feels the same about Gemma. He said softly, “Of course, I’ve got her mate. I’ll take her up to her room.”

Leon glanced at you again. Harry and him met when they were 9, and they’ve been best friends since then. He trusts Harry with his own life, and knows he’d never ever do anything that would hurt you, but his protective side is still flaring up.

Only when his girlfriend, Brie, complains of feeling nauseous he curtly nods, and continues heading for the door.

You are again, oblivious to all this, running your fingers along the tattoos exposed on his forearm— his sleeves rolled up to his elbows— putting his gorgeous skin out on display for you.

“I loveee your arms.” You slur, and his eyes shoot from the door back down to you.

He rarely sees you this drunk, and you’re suddenly very close— making comments that for many reasons are bringing a flush to his face.

“Y/N, Jesus you’re hammered.” He shakes his head, still smiling.

He slowly starts walking, “Cmon, let’s go. Y’brother is expecting me to get you back to your room in one piece.”

“You definitely won’t have a drink with me?” You whine, taking a few steps backwards trying to tug him in the direction of the bar instead of the door.

“Nope. Maybe tomorrow if you can even stomach alcohol.” He pushes the doors from the dimly lit bar open, and leads you into the back of the lobby that it’s connected to.

You squint at the dramatic change in lighting, which is hardly helping your sense of perception, or lack thereof, from the alcohol.

Harry’s hand has taken yours though, leading you to an elevator.

You noticed how warm it was, smooth against yours, aside from the rougher pads of his fingers from the years of playing guitar.

Being so off it, you could not keep that thought to yourself.

“Your hands are so soft, H. Like silk.” You say as you walk into the first elevator to open, squeezing his hand.

“First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered.” He smiles, squeezing back.

“what floor are y’on, by the way? D’ya even remember— or are we a bit too wasted for numbers?” A teasing lilt is in his voice.

You half-laugh half-hiccup, “it’s… 7…?”

“You hardly sound certain about that.” He nudges you with a laugh, “It’s 12, we’re on the same one, remember.”

You laugh much harder than any sober person would, which makes it funnier to him. Since it was a mediocre joke at best.

You’re still laughing as you touch his chest with your palm, “you’re not funny.”

His gaze travels down to it, and he’s shocked at how touchy you are. You never do shit like this when you’re sober. His own amusement quickly takes the back seat, even though you’re still giggling.

However your face falls shortly after, laced with a curious gaze as you slide the neck of his long sleeve to the side, in search for the swallows inked onto his collar bones.

He watches as your eyes wander the small expanse of skin there, and how your fingers brush the tattoos.

“Having fun?” He asks, trying to joke again, but really he’s undeniably a little worked up.

“Yah, heaps.” You snap your gaze back up to him as you enthusiastically nod.

He hates the fact he’s blushing so hard right now over this, since you’re drunk and not completely in control, but he at the end of the day is a man with a very pretty girl— which happened to be you— pulling at his top like she wants it off him.

You hum to yourself, “Have such a pretty neck.” And you trail your hand up it, running a finger over his adams apple.

The elevator door opens like a blessing, and he quickly moves to make distance between the two of you.

“Can you remember your room number, darling? That’s one thing I actually don’t know.” He looks to you as you follow him out with clumsy moments.

“Uh… I dunno— wait I think the keycard is in my purse.”

He laughs at this— wondering if it will come to you in time once you sober up.

“Fuckkk.” You groan. “My purse is in Molly’s big handbag.”

The groan soon turns into a whine, because drunk and being slightly inconvenienced is not a good pair.

“It’s ok!” He amends quickly, trying to keep from having a drunken meltdown on his hands, “We’ll just got back to mine, only if you’re comfortable?”

He quickly prepares for you to not want that, “otherwise— I’ll call her, she didn’t seem too wasted, I’m sure she can—“

He’s interrupted by you, “I don’t mind going back with you.”

You say it with a confused look on you face, a tiny pout on your lips.

“Why would I be uncomfortable going with you?”

“Because… well— I’m not sure. I just wanted to leave you with other options.”

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone together before— you’ve actually spent plenty, but just never with you drunk.

And so touchy.

“No. It’s ok. I love being with you!” You chuckle.

He leads you down the hall, pulling the keycard from his back pocket once he reaches his room, 3313.

The door clicks open, and he holds it open for you, following you in shortly after.

You’re still unstable on your feet, and one look at those heels, he’s surprised you haven’t ended up on the floor in the last ten minutes

They’re practically a health and safety issue. He can not imagine you getting them off right now— which is exactly what you’re about to bend over and attempt.

Before you can throw off your centre of gravity, he quickly says, “Go sit on the bed.”

You glance back over your shoulder, face only lit by the light from the lamp in the corner of the room.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think, Harry?”

He toes off his own shoes, shaking his head immediately at your drunken misconception of what he asked.

“So I can take your shoes off.”

You make the few steps left to the bed safely, and you sit at the edge of it, still giggling as you say, “just my shoes, huh?”

“Yes.” He walks over, kneeling down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto the strength of his thigh.

He fiddles momentarily with the laced up string, warm hands splayed on your calf, and choosing to ignore the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Christ. This is harder than he thought.

“I forget how hot you are sometimes.” You deadpan, and his jaw goes a little lax.

You’re usually playful, yes, but never do you breach into territory like this.

It was only others, like those at a family gathering, or your close friends, that would push to get stuff like that out of you like they were matchmakers.

There were many times that barbecues or some kind of event held at yours, Leon would invite Harry over. And if the two of you even interacted for just a second, someone in your family circle would tease you. Especially your own damn brother— it was a constant streamline of snarky comments from him.

“You are so drunk.” He mumble while pulling up your other foot.

You ignore his statement, thinking back to when he was a boy to now. He was cute— always was— but the way he looks now is just unmatchable.

“Have you always looked so… like… this?”

He chuckles, almost nervous, “what does question that even mean?”

“So pretty.” You clarify after a moment of trying to find the word.

“Ah, you’re only saying that because you’re plastered up the walls.” He laughs, and a dimple popped on his cheek, and your hand jumped into action before you could even think about it.

“Noooo, sober me thinks that too. She thinks you’re more than pretty.” You say, cupping his jaw, gently tracing the dimple that popped up.

He doesn’t know how to interpret any of this. His heart is jumping in his chest, and he’s trying to reason its genuinely just the alcohol in your system.

He holds eye contact as he slips off your other shoe, placing in neatly next to the other.

He stays there for a moment, unprepared for your next question.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk…

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.” He says, and it’s painful— because he wants to, so fucking bad, but you’re not in a state to consent to literally anything at the moment.

And especially not in the mind frame to be making decisions like this.

You lean forward anyway, before he has a chance to avoid it, managing to meet his lips on your own terms.

He caved for a brief flash of time, and allows a second for himself to feel it, no longer than that though. Just a mere moment to take in the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. It takes so much strength for him to not kiss you back, he has to focus on the task at hand— sobering you up and getting you safely asleep.

He pulls back after that single moment, leaving his forehead against yours, “baby, I know, I really…” he cuts himself off.

A deep inhale and he stands up, “Not tonight. Cmon, let’s get you out of your dress. You can wear something of mine.”

He walks over to his suitcase, anything to remove you from his sight for a moment, to reset his thought process. He pulls out a tshirt and pair of gym shorts, hoping they won’t be too big on you.

Turning back around, he convinces himself he’s fine. Placing the clothes from his bag on the bed beside you, his hands come under your arms, helping you stand up on flat feet for the first time in hours.

You lean into the touch, turning around so he can undo the back of your dress.

The feeling of his fingers brushing your back have you going wild, and the way they gently slide the zipper of your dress down.

His eyes lock with the back of your lacy bralette and he chooses not to follow your skin any further down.

You use your hands to slip the straps off your shoulders— and very quickly the dress is pooling at your feet.

A shaky inhale passes through his nose as now you stand in just your underwear and a seemingly very pretty bralette.

He reaches and picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed.

“Do you want to… take this off before…?” He gestures to your bralette when he catches your eyes.

You nod, reaching behind you to undo the clasp and allowing it to slip from your shoulders to the floor.

Harry puts all his focus on getting the tshirt over your head to cover you up.

Once it’s over your whole frame, you can’t help but smile.

He’s so nervy and cute around you.

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of adoration for him hit you.

It inflated up in your chest, and bubbled deep into the pit of your stomach.

It killed Harry to watch it happen, and although he had no idea what kind of thoughts were going on in your head, just seeing you light up like that…

You wrapped your arms around his middle again, just like you did when you ran up to him in the bar.

He placed his hands in your hair this time, taking in your scent— which was mixing with his own now that your were in his shirt.

“Love, if you were sober right now. God.” He confesses.

“Im sober enough.” You beg, even though it’s such a lie.

He still shakes his head against you, “‘M not gonna be that guy, Y/N. I have waited years just to have you. I can wait another night. Or week. Or a whole ‘nother year if that’s what it takes.”

This hits you hard.

And it felt like your 15 year old self could hear it up in the confines of your head it rung through you that loudly.

She loved him then, more than she’d ever admit. And sure, you’ve grown up from 15, but yet never once did you grow out of him.

As noted early, being drunk and inconvenienced is not a good pair. But being drunk and having someone say or do something sentimental like that is another level.

Tears immediately start to fall from your eyes, and he feels your chest shake at the sudden outburst of emotion.

He pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong, or said the wrong thing, and an apology was immediately on the tip of his tongue.

But relief thrums through him as you tug him right back into the hug, “that’s— that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“The nicest thing a boys ever told me.”

“Sweetheart.” He coos as you cry, his own voice wobbly with emotion.

He feels like he’s on a roller coaster. 5 minutes ago it seemed all he could think about was the unspeakable things wanted to do to you, and now he just wants to lay you down and hold you until you fall asleep.

He forgets the shorts on the foot of the bed, shuffling the two of you up to where the head of it is— which was still unmade from last night when he’d slept in it.

He tugs you into it, pulling you tightly too his chest as your heads hit the pillows.

And he just hugs you.

Eventually, your crying subsides off, and you enter an indescribably calm state.

“I love you. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember this in the morning.” He sighs, “but fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You whisper, before your eyes begin to fall heavy, and those words were the last to leave your lips before you fell asleep.

———

a/n pt2:

back again guys, hello!

this is like an extended a/n, but I have a lil update. I saw harry for the very first time live 3 weeks ago. it was so so incredible, and the experience was by far the best time of my life. I miss harry so much i just feel sick ugh. he is perfect. auslot was amazing, he absolutely gave us his all.

that’s why I’ve been so absent on here, literally coping with my pcd a day at a time. I’ve written heaps but nothing I’m 100% happy with haha.

but anyways I just thought I’d share, thank you so much for your continued support and know there is plenty in the works x

all my love, <3

[eveningepiphany]

no because it’s what’s possibly running through his head while doing this that has me spiralling

he’s literally watching himself on the screen he’s so sick

[eveningepiphany]

my show.

I can’t even with this man. Teasing the best ride ever and never selling tickets.

[eveningepiphany]

lessons | H.S

my masterlist <3

summary: sitting on harrys couch, he gets it out of you that you have never intimately touched someone else, and he offers straight up for you to learn off him.

warnings: SMUT, m receiving handjob and blowjob, heaps of dirty talk and praise, gentle dom! harry, virgin! y/n

a/n: I have to be up early in the morning so I haven’t done a final proofread since it’s nearly midnight, so sorry for any mistakes. this trope with h makes me weak at the knees 😵‍💫

———

“No way…” His tone is hard to dissect, it’s filled with emotions.

You purse your lips, looking to the grey of his couch beneath you— immediately regretting admitting the truth to him.

He’s your best friend, but god you do not venture into territory like this. Hence his shock, and disbelief at the admission that had come out of your mouth.

You were close next to his side while chatting that evening, a romantic comedy playing unnoticed in the background.

He joked briefly about himself, something about his… size. You hardly recall what he’d exactly said about it, other than him remarking about how ‘large’ he is.

Your eyes widened at the words, and he smiled a bit at the reaction.

It’s rare he gets to see you flustered, and if an opportunity has presented itself he can’t help but use it.

“What? Does that rile you up a bit?” He’d smirked, green eyes trying to find yours.

“No!” You’d hissed, glancing at the TV.

“Why’d you go all shy then?”

“Because you’re talking about your dick, and I don’t wanna know!”

He laughed at your rushed response, “anyone would’ve thought you’d never seen one in your life.”

Your response is delayed, in all truth you had— briefly, an unwanted showing at a college party, one of your ‘friends’ drunkenly trying to get in your pants. He’d pretty much flashed you before you got the fuck out of there. So how much it counts, is more the part you were hardly sure about.

“Of course I have.” You’d said, trying with your all to sound convincing— like as if you’d done more than just see one.

But the energy had shifted the second you’d paused, and the words pouring out your mouth were not helping your case.

“Wait— have you not actually seen a dick bef—“ his brows were furrowed, lips quirked, still unsure how serious you were until you cut him off.

“God, no— yes— shut up!“ you’d cupped your hands over your eyes, wishing to go back and just laugh at his stupid joke instead of getting all flustered and ending up here.

“You haven’t?” He pushed a more little.

A sigh had pushed out your nose in defeat, “hardly.”

So now it leaves you here, staring anywhere but at him as he mutters a ‘no way’ to you.

You felt more than embarrassed, you were mortified at this point. You and Harry had been friends since your first year of primary school, so to have him find out something you have kept to yourself for so long and was so personal was terrifying.

Having never really covered this topic with you, he was undeniably curious, “so you’ve never touched one…?”

“You’re making this so much worse.” You scrunch your eyes closed.

“Ok… so that’s a no.” He laughs a little, and all you could do was nod. He nudges you with his shoulder. “Hey, yknow it’s ok right? M’not judging you or anythin’”

You take a careful glance to see his expression, it’s sincere and you take in a careful breath.

“I know. It’s embarrassing though.” You advert your gaze back to a thread on the soft fabric of your sweatpants.

“S’not embarrassing love, I was just surprised. You’re a gorgeous girl— y’know I think that— so I just assumed some guy was lucky enough to have been with you— intimately that is.” He says casually, then adding, “and y’ve had a few guys, so I just thought…”

Your stomach fluttered at his compliments, even though he never shied away from giving them to you.

“Those relationships never lasted long enough for us to, uh, get to that point.” You clarified, clearing your throat.

“I don’t wan’ you to feel uncomfortable, or like I forced you into talkin’ ‘bout it by the way.” He quickly clarifies, “jus’ was curious, is all.”

You find the courage to lock eyes with him again, “i wish I wasn’t so… inexperienced— I really do. But it’s beyond the point of awkward when people find out, you know?”

You were on a rant now, he’d officially opened the door to all your thoughts, “and now it’s like, I have no real way to learn. Unless I go out and hookup with a random, but I’m not desperate enough for that yet— nor comfortable with the idea.”

“And being a uh, a virgin this late in college is— not really common. So automatically people kind of get weird about it.”

He wished he could say the hardening of his cock was just from the fact they were talking about sex— and that he had been sticking to his hand for a while now— but he knew that the real reason was much more related to you, which he felt almost guilty about. You sitting here opening up and all his prick can think about is how gentle and unsure your hands would be around him.

Keyword being almost.

“Y’know you can always touch me… right?” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, a vague innuendo laying between each syllable.

“I- pardon?” You stuttered, uncertain if he meant what he just said in the way your brain had processed it.

“Like, if you ever want to learn or do anything. I’m here.”

Your eyes fell to his groin without a thought behind it, and you could see he was perked up in his sweats. He watched immediately as your gaze travelled down there.

“Just an offer. Don’t have t’take up on it now— or ever if y’don’t wan—“

In the few seconds of him talking you’d got a rush of confidence to do this. He’s practically handing himself to you on a silver plater.

“Can I?” The words were a fast question, a lingering hope behind them.

He almost groaned at them, the fact you were comfortable enough to be seemingly following through with his offer.

“‘Course you can, darling.”

You shuffled a little next to him, reaching to brush your hand over the fabric covering his groin, watching as he lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down.

You did it carefully, and your lips parted with a little gasp as his cock slipped out— he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

The tip of him was flushed to the same colour of his lips, and he wasn’t kidding about his size. At the base he had neatly trimmed hairs with a tiny curl to them.

You glanced back up at him, unsure what to do now. You almost had whiplash, because a minute ago you have never thought you’d see— let alone be able to touch his cock— and now you seem to have freedom to do whatever you please with it.

“S’alright darling, touch me however you want.” He reassured you, pressing his shoulder into you again. Solidifying the fact you really could do whatever you wanted with him.

Your hand hesitated a bit as you reached out to run a gentle finger on the underside of him.

Your hands were so fucking soft, softer than he even imagined, so he knew already this was going to kill him.

Going off the only kind of sexual experience you had— which is obviously with yourself— you didn’t want to be too gentle, so you wrapped your hand around the base of him and gave an experimental pump of his cock.

He groaned at the contact, not expecting it in the slightest. You were surprised at the sound that you’d just elicited from him, and the way he jutted his hips up to your touch.

“Fuck, sorry.” He carefully apologised, not wanting to scare you off. You were anything but scared though, more so fascinated, and frankly a bit turned on.

You said nothing as you continued to touch him, trailing your fingers up to the head of him. A small drop of precum seeping out.

He looks at you intently as you stare, “taste it, if y’want, love.”

With his prompt, you swipe your thumb gingerly across his tip, gathering up the few beads and lifting it to your lips.

It was a small portion, but he watched to see your micro-expressions at the taste. It was nice—really nice, in all honesty— compared to what you expected.

It was easy to see on your face you wanted more.

“Can I, uhm…” you paused, trying to figure out a way to word it, “taste you…?”

He pinched his eyes closed, running a hand through his now unruly hair. It was hard to control himself, he just wanted to pin you down and please you himself— thank you for making him feel so good already. Wrap his mouth around your probably puffy clit and make you come before he showed you what it feels like to be fucked.

Obviously he couldn’t do that. And not that he wanted to act like you were a delicate flower, but he was trying to keep you feeling comfortable— and that everything could progress at your pace.

“Jesus, love. ‘Course y’can.” He groaned, struggling to peel open his eyes.

“Can you tell me how you… how you like it? Show me even?” You ask, gently.

He shifts his hips, “Anything you give me I will like. But I can kind of direct you, tell you what feels good, I guess? If I can form a coherent thought with y’mouth ‘round me.”

You nod slowly, feeling the wetness gather between your thighs at his praise.

Deciding it would be easier, you slip off the couch onto your knees, placing yourself between his legs. You felt intimidated a little, the sight of his pulsing cock this close infront of you.

Yet still, you were salivating over it. Grateful you had a secure enough relationship to be able to do this. Especially with someone you felt so much for.

You glanced up at him, watching as he tracked your every move. He could’ve moaned aloud at your soft eyes looking up at him like that.

Your hand runs up his leg, resting to bracket the side of his thigh as you lean forward, gently kissing his tip.

A puff of air sounded from his lungs, egging you on just enough to keep going. You swept your tongue over the same spot you kissed, but trailing it down along his shaft.

You felt a little clueless as to what you were doing, in all honesty. So you glanced up, looking for a prompt on what to do next.

You wished it would just come to you naturally. Obviously in all the porn, they took the cock all the way down their throat, bobbing their heads and sucking like it was on their life. But you had no idea what your limits were, and how realistic half that shit is anyway.

“Sorry…” you muttered looking away, feeling your face flush with a tinge of embarrassment.

“God, Y/N. Don’t apologise, doing well for me baby. Just take me into your mouth, if you can.”

“Ok, I just want to make you feel good. So please tell me if I do something that has the opposite effect.” You sigh.

“I will, even though I highly doubt I’ll need too. Y’have such a nice mouth. Never knew it’d feel so good wrapped ‘round my cock.” He says this while cupping your cheek, and a part of you wants to just bend over and let him take you right there on the floor.

You never knew it could be like this. So open and filled with reassurance.

You lowered your lovely warm mouth back over him, sliding his tip past your lips, flattening your tongue on the underside of his smooth head.

“Fuck, so warm.” He whispers before continuing, “try and suck on me, hollow out those pretty little cheeks.”

You slide further down before you do, filling up your mouth with him, “don’t take more than you can handle sweet girl, use your hand for the rest.”

You nod around him when he says that, merely to show your taking his advice, but he groans loudly as you do.

So you do as he asks, wrapping your hand around what’s left of him and begin to suck.

He’s immediately lost in the sensation, digging warm fingers into the grey of the couch beneath him.

He can’t lie, you’re an attentive learner. You listen to the sounds he makes as you try something, like pulling your mouth all the way to the tip before gliding back down— or how you take note the way his body reacts with a shudder when you squeeze the base of his cock with your warm hand.

His directions are quickly falling away, into the back of his brain as you let your mouth explore his cock. It seems you’re fairing ok, now you’ve had proper encouragement.

You had been so in your head about making a mistake, now that you finally weren’t as worried about that, you could just focus on his body. Be intune with his reactions.

“Baby, you are so good at this.” He moans, driving his ass into the couch to keep from bucking up into your throat.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the image of him fucking your throat comes to fruition, and he has to shove it away. Leave it as something to jerk off to later, when he starts to miss your hot mouth, which probably won’t take all that long.

“Told me y’never touched anyone like this before. Think that’s a lie, how good your little tongue is working me. Y’gonna have me coming soon.”

His words bring a flutter to your core, the way his accent is all husky from pleasure. Pleasure you’re giving him.

“Such a good girl f’me, hmm?” He asks, and you hum a yes. The vibration of it flys through his cock, constricting around his spine as he moans out.

He stares down at you, eyes glazed with pleasure. Spit is glistening around your chin, and no doubt when you pull off his cock will be coated in a thick layer of it.

“Christ, faster for me baby. Moan all around my dick.” His thoughts start to spill from his lips, and your brain lags trying to process how filthy they all are.

Not that you’re surprised he’s like this whatsoever, but to be hearing it with your own ears, and it to be directed toward you makes it a whole other ballgame.

“This mouth is mine.” He curses, and you dig your fingers into his thigh as you feel your cunt throb.

“All fuckin’ mine. Trained up just for me.” He groans, and you slip off him just enough to get a few words in.

“Yours, Harry. Please… pull my hair.” You plead, wrapping your mouth over him after a short second, quickly jumping back into the fast rhythm you’d built up.

“Fuck, not sure gonna be able to be gentle f’you if I do that, darling.” He hisses, clenching his fist, imagining your hair between it.

You whine around his cock, looking up at him, desperate for it.

At this point, you don’t care. He can be rougher. You pretty much have instilled every ounce of trust you have in him— which you had done prior to this, but especially now.

Your hand scrapes up his shirt, nails clawing at his taut abs, pleading for this.

He thinks he could almost just die, seeing your needy side quickly being unleashed per his undoing.

His resolve caves, his hand coming to nestle into the hair close to your scalp. You moan at the feeling of it merely being there, his cock pulsing on your tongue.

“More dirty than I ever could’ve thought, Y/N. Wanting me to pull your hair like this, begging. M’trying to be gentle with you— making it so hard for me.”

You suck harder, and he sticks to his word of being careful, his hand tight around your hair— but never forcing you down.

Even though you don’t think you would have minded if he did, he was clearly getting close.

“Love, shit!” His legs were shaking, and his face was flushed a gorgeous pink.

“You’re gon’ make me come.” He grunted, “Hard.”

He told you this so you could pull off, maybe finish him with your hand or something. But you didn’t budge, you just kept sucking and sliding your perfect tongue all over him.

He couldn’t imagine finishing this fast with anyone else but you. Your messy, virgin mouth making him nothing short of a train wreck.

“Y/N, baby, I’m— holy fucking shit—“ you squeezed his balls in you hand, and he was hurtling toward his high.

“If you don’t pull off I’m, god, god I’m gonna come down your throat.” He rushes out, whole body ready to snap.

You don’t budge, you take as much of his dick as you can, wanting to feel his warm come shoot into your mouth.

The second he realised you wanted him to finish in your mouth was the same second he felt an indescribable pleasure hit him.

His jaw dropped, and stomach muscles clenched so hard he would’ve keeled over if he was standing up.

You pulled back. Hand coming to stroke where your mouth had left. But you kept his tip in, which was still spurting his come, placed on you tongue.

It coated it, dripping down onto your bottom lip and chin. And just the sight of it would be enough to get him off for the next 5 years.

His Y/N, his best friend, who he not even 10 minutes ago found out was a virgin, had just taken his load half down her throat and half smeared all over her tongue.

“Fuck me, baby. That is so unbelievably hot.” He almost whined, completely out of breath.

“Rub it in with my cock. Then swallow it, love.” He said, watching as you immediately did so, coating your tongue with him.

“Such a good girl. Swallow.”

You did that too. Placing a little kiss on his thigh after, and standing up.

Your knees felt a little weak, and you sat down next to him again.

He reaches over, kissing you without shame of where your mouth just was.

His hand slipped to your waistband of your probably soaked-through sleep shorts, and you halted it, “You don’t have to, Harry.”

“I know love, I want too though. But if you don’t, then that’s ok.” He caresses your hip.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking. You do. But at the same time, maybe not just yet.

Despite what just unfolded on his living room couch, you still feel almost shy. Not ready.

“Maybe not yet… that was— it was a lot. And very unplanned.” You purse your lips, worried he’ll be offended or something.

“Of course, darling.” He scoots his hand away, laying it on your cheek instead.

“We’ll take it at whatever pace you want.” He smiles, kissing a quick peck onto your lips.

“How about, i turn that off,” he gestures to the TV, “‘n we go cuddle?”

“That sounds great, H. Thank you. For everything.”

He chuckles, plucking his sweatpants from the floor and slipping them over his legs, “I should be thanking you. Thank you for trusting me. And for giving me probably the best orgasm I’ve had in ages.”

You flush, harder than you’d like to admit. Maybe this won’t be a bad impulsive arrangement after all.

———

[eveningepiphany]

learn to knock | H.S

my masterlist <3

if you have any requests, send them here

summary: not knocking on your door has led to harry walking in on you… with your hand between your legs.

warnings: f and m receiving hand job, some nipple play, a lot dirty talk, mix of praise and degradation to represent their love hate relationship.

a/n: literal filth I’m sorry I have nothing to say for myself.

———

It was mid-afternoon and you were laying in bed, scrolling and enjoying your rest day from your usual hectic schedule.

Nothing in particular had led you to start doing what you were doing. Just the random urge. And future you will be thanking you for that.

One hand was placed between your legs and the other pushed over your mouth. Short snippets of fantasies flowing in and out of your mind— nothing certain— just little things, words and ghosts of touches. Pleasure was building in your stomach from the fast circles you were rubbing onto your clit, and it was hardly long until you’d be biting into the palm of your hand and riding out your orgasm.

That was until the door to your room flew open.

Your legs flew shut around your hand as a mutual gasp was shared.

I mean, you knew it was Harry, not only because he’s the only other person you live with, but more going by the no knock on the door, barge the fuck into your room for whatever reason he initially was coming in here for.

But whatever he’d come to ask you had obviously died in his throat at the sight. The sheets were half pulled over you, outlining your now clamped-together legs and the arm tucked between them.

No getting out of this one.

“You need to learn how to fucking knock.” You hissed immediately at him, whole face flaming as you pulled the twisted sheets to fully cover your upper half.

“What the fuck— it’s like 1 o’clock in the afternoon I didn’t think you’d be jerking off!” He immediately jumps to defend himself, pushing a hand through his long hair.

“What am I not allowed to?” You sigh, slipping your hand from your clit, laying it on your stomach.

“Not what I’m saying. Just was caught off guard”

You stare at eachother, and despite the embarrassment that naturally should come when you get caught touching yourself, your eyes are eating up his tall figure and stern face. A voice in the back of your brain wondering how good he could make you feel.

He’s not blind to the way you’re looking at him, hunger laced deep into your eyes, and it’s unmistakably for him.

“What, need some visual stimulation to get yourself going again?” He deadpans at your completely obvious act of checking him out.

You roll over, face pushed into you pillows, your cunt aching to be touched again, “Can you shut up, Harry?”

He walks over to the side of your bed, “sorry love, didn’t hear you, say it again for me?”

It was a challenge the way he said it, even so much bordering on a warning— but god you couldn’t find it in you to care. He can expect you to go polite all he wants, but he knows very well from living with you that is not what he’ll get. And maybe that’s how he wants it to go.

You push your body to face him, “Shut up. That is what I said.”

His cock has hardened in his jeans, and desire is starting to take the wheel on his actions.

His hand comes up to your chin, “Don’t stop on my account darling. I can even help you out if you want.”

His voice is like honey, but both of you know the intent behind that is yet again a challenge. To see how far you’ll take it.

“I was doing just fine before you barged in here.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“But I bet you’d love to get your hand between my legs.” You cave in, slipping your hand back down, sighing at the contact of your fingers to your clit.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” He sits on the edge of your bed, watching the silhouette of your hand under the sheets.

“Already know you do, can see how hard you are from here.” You tease.

“Well are you gonna do something about it?” He raises his brows.

“No. I’m just gonna keep doing what I’m doing. You deal with it yourself.” You glare, pushing a finger into your entrance, and you realise you’re almost dripping now.

This entire situation is hot. You cant deny it, and neither can he.

He palms over himself, the tightness of his jeans making him almost ache. You’re staring at him with that fucking defiant look on your face and he just wants to kiss it off.

So he does just that, leaning down to capture your lips with his. He holds your chin, humming in the back of his throat as you open your mouth for his tongue to slip in.

He unbuttons his pants with his free hand, shucking them off his long legs, leaving him in just black briefs.

Your fingers are still pumping in and out of yourself as his tongue maps out your mouth.

He reaches into his briefs, quickly pulling back, “this ok?”

“Yes.” You replied without a second thought, watching as he slips himself out.

His cock flicks up to hit his stomach, hard as a rock.

You try not to let the shock show on you face as you see it, it’s large. Of course it fucking is. It’s pretty too. The head is same flushed pink as his lips, with neatly trimmed hairs at the base.

His hands are twitching to pump himself, and you clock it like a hawk.

“Go on, touch yourself.” You prompt.

“Pull down the sheets.” He states, “then I will.”

“Need the visual stimulation?” You laugh, waiting for him to smile a little at the tease.

“Mmhm, wanna see you fucking yourself.”

You push them down, exposing you panties that had been impulsively pushed to the side, and your hand thrusting slowly in and out of you.

“Fuck sake…” he curses at the sight, palm moving to wrap around himself— squeezing.

You both watch each other for a minute, taking in the movements and little noises that were being sounded.

You were the first one to breach the gap, reaching over to stroke your thumb over his tip and have his head thrown back.

“Thought it was a hands to ourselves policy.” He moans.

“Decided I want you to make me come.” You boldly state, sitting up and pulling him closer to you.

“‘Course you do, knew y’would cave. See you looking at my hands all the time, know you want them in y’cunt, needy little slut.” He says, voice gravely and making you clench around your fingers.

“Whatever, you probably want my mouth around your dick just as much.” You kiss his neck, biting the skin there.

“Bet you’d love a bit of throat fucking.” He grabs the tank top you were wearing and pulls it over your head.

“No fucking bra either. Jesus Christ.” He takes a breast into his hand, tweaking the nipple between his fingers which has you struggling to hold back a moan.

His hand has finally slides down to your cunt, pushing your own out of the way to take over.

You follow suit, wrapping your hand— fingers still damp from your own arousal— and stroke over his cock.

You’re both panting, it feeling so unbelievably good to be touching each other like this. His fingers flicking over your clit and yours squeezing his cock.

“Your fucking soaked, bloody dripping all over y’sheets.” He curses, rubbing his fingers through your slit.

“Well you practically edged me by coming into my room when I was about to come.” You griped.

“Oh yea, I bet you can totally make yourself drip like this. Don’t lie love, it’s from me. You probably weren’t half as wet before I came in.” He was hardly wrong, but he doesn’t need to hear you confirm that.

“You’d love to hear me- fuck- say that. Tell you I’m soaked ‘cause of you. Egotistical son of a bitch.” He pushed a finger into you, sliding all the way in, the chunky ring around the base of his middle finger hitting your entrance.

“Such a fucking brat you are, have quite the mouth on you, yknow that?” You squeezed around him, already feeling like you could come.

“I do. Bet you just wanna fuck it quiet.” You said, sounding a bit out of breath. Still trying to keep up, stroking his cock faster.

“Hardly could be considered a punishment since you’d enjoy it so much.”

His hands were speeding up at your words, one moving to play with your clit while the other fucked your entrance, slipping in another long finger.

It made you tingle, “Fuck— Harry!”

He hummed, “There we go, good girl. Finally have you moaning f’me.”

It was hard to figure out if you loved or hated how good his hand felt. Well, mentally you weren’t sure, physically though you were pushing into every movement he made.

Your hand had stuttered from stroking him, so you quickly made to move it again, to outdo him. You tightened your grip on him, stroking faster— swiping over the beading precome on his tip.

“Jesus, trying to make it a competition darling…” he grunted

Everything with you was always a competition, and especially this. Your hand kept pumping him, hearing his moans fueled you to keep going— to keep pushing him closer to the edge. He wants this as much as you do, and even though he would never admit it with his pretty pink lips, it’s true.

“Bet you want to make a mess all over my hands.” You whispered into the shell of his ear, licking a stripe along it.

“Maybe I do, darling. Maybe I wanna wreck your pussy too.”

You whimpered at the thought, rolling your hips with his fingers curling inside you.

“Ohh.” He coos, “listen to you now, whining for me, acting like such an angel. Trying to be a good girl now I’ve put that on the table.”

“You’re not though, are you? You’re a slut.” He speeds up his fingers, and your jaw is going lax.

You can’t even feel your hand, let alone keep moving it on his cock— the only sensation you have is the burning one in the pit of your stomach.

“Please, please.” You beg.

You’re teetering on the edge of bliss when his hand pulls away. You cry out, clenching your legs together, squirming at the empty feeling.

“I hate you, hate you so much,” you whine, “please, let me come.”

He doesn’t listen, “Open your mouth.”

You part you lips instantly, despite wanting to punch him in the stomach.

He puts the fingers covered in your arousal onto your tongue, “Show me you can be a good girl and suck.”

You oblige, not without the frown on your face though.

“Taste yourself?” He asks, and you nod around his fingers— his eyes darkening a little at the sight.

He slides them from your lips, “get on my lap.”

“Stop being so pushy.” You snap, frowning at him.

He chuckles, “acting like you aren’t into me bossing you around.”

Another moment where he couldn’t be more correct, but you are not going to admit it out loud.

You slide onto his thigh, and he sighs out a breath, taking a short moment to slip his tshirt over his head.

“You’re so wet, baby. Feels s’nice.” The mix of praise and degrading has your head spinning, it’s such a jump from one to the other. And fuck is it hot.

You rub yourself on his warm skin, “lay between my legs, actually, wanna make sure you can see my fingers fucking you.”

He doesn’t give you time to move yourself, he just pulls you there— cock resting on your bare back.

He strips your panties off you, moving to gently tease your clit. Your legs part wide for him.

“You gonna be a good little slut now?”

You stare at him, biting your lip to keep the moans from slipping out.

“Keep your attitude in check for me baby? Reckon you can do that?”

When you still say nothing, his finger rubs down your slit to trace around your dripping hole.

“Can make you feel so good, love. I’ll have your little pussy clenching so hard around my fingers if you just be good.”

“Fine.” You say breathlessly, hating having to submit to him like this.

He hums, rewarding your reluctant agreement with his finger filling you up again.

Suddenly, your pride was worth the feeling.

“Fuck!” You moan as he pushes another one in.

He isn’t messing around now, he fucks your hole with fast strokes, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit perfectly.

“Taking it so well, letting me fuck your pussy with my fingers.” He praises into your ear, his other hand sliding up to play gently with your breast.

“Harry— oh god.” You cry, squirming in his grip. You were ready to snap after being edged twice.

“That’s right, darling, watch my fingers fuck your cunt.”

His filthy words being uttered are enough to have you coming alone, paired with the euphoric feeling of his fingers in you has you a mess.

“I’m— holy shit I’m gonna come. Please!” You beg, worried he was going to pull away.

“Tell me you hate me.” He says, grabbing your chin— making you look down at his movements between your legs.

“I hate you! Please, H.”

Your peak held for that blissful, breathless moment. Expecting to be deprived of that final push for your orgasm.

“Come for me, Y/N.” He’d said, and you cried out— a tidal wave of pleasure hitting you.

You were clenching so tight around his fingers, spots coating your vision as he didn’t let up his pace.

He fucked you through your orgasm, “can imagine how good my cock would feel getting squeezed by your pussy.”

You were pushing his hand away, once the pleasure ebbed and you couldn’t handle his fingers anymore. Panting as you laid your head back into the crook of his neck, eyes meeting his.

“Look at you, all beautiful and fucked out.”

You blinked slowly, brain scrambling for a witty comeback.

“I hate you.” Was still all you could say.

Your hand nonetheless found it’s way to his cock, pressing hard into your back.

“Don’t have to if you’re tired, babe.” He smiles, gently holding your wrist.

You shake your head, “you made me feel so good, can’t leave you high and dry.”

Your hand wraps around his head, immediately stroking down— causing him to moan.

He was definitely vocal, and god did you find that hot.

You picked up the pace of your strokes, fully turning your body to watch his reactions, and how his stomach muscles rippled with pleasure.

“Are you gonna come on my hand, Harry?” You cooed, squeezing him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He cursed, bucking his hips up into your warm palm.

He was clenching his jaw as you rubbed him rhythmically, quickly coming undone with your movements.

“Darling— god—“ He groaned, hands threading through your hair and pulling at the roots.

“Mmm, you’re so gorgeous.” You hummed, placing a kiss onto his lips as he was shaking with the pre-pleasure of his release.

It didn’t take much more to have his stomach muscles contracting under you, a moaned curse falling from his lips as white ropes of his come spurted out his tip, painting your fist and his chest.

His muscles all relax, and he slumps onto the bed, and you join him, flopping down.

“God, you’re so…” he sighs out, sentence trailing off.

You trace his tattoos with your pointer finger, “Hate you. Hate how pretty you are, H.”

He smiles, eyes half-lidded, “Hate you just as much, love.”

“We can clean up soon. Just wanna lay for a bit.” You whisper.

“Whatever you want, darling.”

———

[eveningepiphany]

I’m so excited for part 2 of mistletoe !! Any updates? ☺️

thank you so much for your support and patience!! I just posted it. hope you enjoy xx

[eveningepiphany]

bestie i definitely want a part two of the mistletoe!

Mistletoe | H.S, part 2

my masterlist <3

if you have any requests, send them in here

summary: Y/Ns flight gets canceled last minute after their morning BBC show, and without anywhere to go she calls harry— and it’s their first time alone together after the kiss they’d shared under the mistletoe.

warnings: smut, soft/bestfriend harry, oral f receiving, PIV unprotected, riding, praise kink, fluff, and dirty talk.

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on part one! I hope you enjoy this just as much, and thank you for your patience in waiting for this— hope your holiday season was filled with fun. I <3 soft harry.

———

The morning show had gone great, despite the mountains of tension between you and Harry. Maybe no one else picked up on it, and you were just hyper aware of his every glance and touch.

Hell, maybe you were even reading into it. Maybe last night was just a one off thing. A spur of the moment—never to be talked about— kind of thing. It could’ve meant nothing.

You’d woken up together, his alarm blaring from his phone further down the his mattress. You’d groaned together, collectively complaining about how fucking early it was. But not once mentioned last night, or the fact you woke up together.

But you didn’t have another chance to talk about it— when he and Anne dropped you all off at the airport he hugged you last out of the boys— it was a tight hug, paired with a whispered, ‘I’ll call you when you’re home.’

So you are unsure where everything stands. And you’d been left to mull it over in the uncomfortable airport chairs that you’d already been in for far too long.

You’d been in this damn airport far too long.

You suppose now though, the whole thing with you and Harry is the currently the least of your problems.

The rest of the boys are probably home by now.

“Assholes.” You mutter, cursing them for that exact reason.

Your gate had begun to quieten down since the announcement of the delay.

The boys flights were hardly an hour after you got to the airport, yours on the other hand was about 5.

Within those 5 hours, a storm had came crashing over this part of the UK.

Now you were without accomodation for the next 16 hours, which was apparently the earliest they could reschedule.

It was already 9:30pm– so you didn’t know what to do with yourself, it’s a long time to wait around in the airport.

You knew it was gonna be hard to get a hotel room, given how many flights had been delayed this last minute.

So, you sat for a minute and contemplate it. Without many other options you opened your phone and rung the only person who you could think of. The only person you had been thinking of.

You pressed your lips together as it rung, and on the fourth ring his voice came through.

“Y/N, love?” He sounded a little raspy, tired.

“Harry, im so sorry— you weren’t asleep were you?” You say, quickly feeling apologetic.

“No, no— jus’ laying down on the couch watching friends, why? It’s like 9:30 shouldn’t you be on your flight?”

“Yea uh… I am supposed to be.” Your voice faltered a little at the end, you just wanted to go home. You were already emotionally exhausted, and this on top was proving to be a bit much.

You glance outside the airport windows trying to distract yourself— not wanting to start having a mental breakdown in the middle of the airport and draw unwanted attention your way. It had got dark hours ago but it was clearly bucketing down rain.

“What happened?” He asked, immediately sounding concerned at your wavering voice.

“Is it not raining at your place? It torrential here, my flight got delayed.” You laugh a little, without humour.

“No it’s not— how far back was it pushed?”

“16 hours, not till 1pm tomorrow.” You sigh.

“Holy shit…” He audibly gasps through the speaker.

“I hate to be asking, but is it ok if I catch a taxi or an Uber back yours? I don’t think I’m gonna find anywhere to st—“

“Y/N, you are not catching a taxi or an Uber, I’m coming to get you.” He states, and you hear him shuffling in the background. Keys getting pulled from a drawer.

“You don’t have to come get me, I’m fine to get there—“

He cuts you off again, “Nope, I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Harry, I swear I’ll be ok!” You feel terrible, knowing he is probably just as tired as you are.

“See y’soon, stay warm. Buy somethin’ to eat and drink while you wait, love. Call you when I get there.” You hear the engine start, you don’t even have time to protest anymore because he hangs up on you.

You groan aloud, frustration mixed with gratitude coursing through you.

Standing from the chair you’d been sitting in, you stretch. Sunglasses and beanie pulled over your face to try and prevent people from recognising you.

Even though you felt guilty he was driving all this way to get you, you were also relieved. trying to get an Uber somewhere, especially with your status is anxiety inducing to say the least.

You just hoped he drove safe in this weather.

You decide to go and buy food, sourcing a place that served your favourites.

The hour dragged on after you’d ate, and you felt drowsy. You were sitting at one of the tables closer to the exit, charging your phone when it rung.

When you answered, Harry of course was on the other side of the line.

“Hey sweet, sorry for the wait. I’m out the front.” You smile with relief, glad he was here safe.

“Thank you so much, H. I’m coming out now—“

“I parked in the 5 minute ones, you’ll see my car.”

You quickly chuck your charger into your bag, grabbing your suitcase and head straight for the sliding doors.

A blast of freezing wind hits you as you walk out, and you feel it to your bones.

True to his word, you spot Harry’s car a few metres away, and you were grateful he got such a close park.

He gets out the moment he sees you, popping the trunk.

“Are you ok?” He asks the second you’re close enough to hear him over the wind and rain, grabbing your face between his warm hands.

“Mmhm— just emotionally burnt out. Thank you for coming to get me.” You smile, his concern endearing.

He nods, relief thrumming through him. He picks up your suitcase, placing it into his trunk.

You both hurry into his car, trying to get out of the cold.

It’s perfectly warm in there, and you strap into the passenger side.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. I appreciate it though.” You whisper.

“Yes I did. I know you’re safe, and that we’ll get home together in one piece. That is worth endlessly more than an hour drive.”

You feel his words seep into the centre of your chest, warm and soft. You reach your hand over to grab his, squeezing it.

You don’t move it and he starts to drive, and you both talk about random stuff as you usually do together. It half lulls you to sleep, your head leaning against the window.

This hour went much faster, the highway was quiet and his home town even quieter.

You pull into his childhood home, and he turns the engine off.

You force your head up, shaking your limbs out. “I’m awake.”

He laughs at you trying to convince yourself. You slide out the car door, legs feeling a little numb as they try to hold you up.

He grabs your suitcase out for you, wheeling it to the access door and unlocking it.

The lamps are dimly lit, and the TV not properly turned off— it was clear he had left in a moments notice.

“Thank you.” You say, for what had to be the 12th time.

“Stop thanking me, Y/N.” He chuckles.

It was nearly midnight now, and he walked over to flick everything off.

“Is Anne asleep?”

“Yea, mum went to bed pretty early— was too early a start for her this morning. Or yesterday, seeing it’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m feeling her, I could’ve fell asleep at the damn airport.”

You trudge towards the stairs, carrying up your suitcase.

He quickly follows you up once everything downstairs is off.

You stop at the top, placing your bag down with a quiet thump and a pant— it was physical workout, considering how much your bag weighed. It baffles you how Harry carries it like it weighs nothing.

Your eyes flit over to the window without even thinking, straight to where you’d shared that kiss. The one you’d been replaying in your head since it happened.

Your first, and very perfect kiss together.

He’s standing behind you quietly, clocking where your eyes are looking. And he’s reliving the exact same memory as you.

He draws in a breath, trying to stabilise his emotions— his fingertips burning with the pure need to touch you.

You swallow at the thought of stumbling into his room last night, realising you just assumed you were staying in there tonight as well.

“Forget where you’re going, sweet?” He runs his hand down your back.

The touch leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“No… just- distracted.” You mumble, allowing him to slip past you and lead you into his room.

It smells just like him as you walk in, and it will never fail to overwhelm you. How perfect his scent is.

“Mmm, I bet.” He says ambiguously.

“What is that supposed to mean.” It slips out of your mouth shyer than you intended.

He turns, locking eyes with you, “I think you know exactly what I mean by that.”

“I don’t.” You say, defiantly.

He moves carefully closer, “you don’t?”

It’s a challenge when it comes from his mouth, you can only shake your head.

He kisses the pulse point on your neck, just how he had under the mistletoe— except this time he takes the skin between his lips, giving it a harsh suck.

“Remind you at all?” He pulls away an inch, and the blood has rushed into your cheeks— so much so they felt like they were on fire.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know how. Your lips move, but nothing comes out.

“How about this…” he trails up to your parted lips, ghosting over them.

You were awake now. Your whole body pulsing with the thoughts of where his hands— and lips— could touch.

“Harry…” you whined, and the noise was enough to have him seeing stars.

He slid his hands down to the small of your back, tugging you as close as possible.

“I swear, you are unreal, Y/N.” He sighs into your cheek.

You push your lips back into his, and he parts them for you straight away.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, savouring the feeling of it. Allowing yourself to map it out with gradual strokes.

He’s panting already, and he pushes you back, both of you stumbling into the middle of his bed.

He ends up taking the lead again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth— knowing the kind of reaction it spiked in you last time.

You moan into his mouth, and glide your hand into his soft hair, pulling at the roots.

His have found their way up your shirt, cupping your breasts through the bra you’re wearing.

“If you want to stop—“ he says, breathlessly, “now is the time, because I don’t know if I can do this again.”

The room around you falls quiet and you cautiously look to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” You ask— little to no clue what he’s implying, a little panic rising in your chest.

He stares at you, serious, hands roaming down to your lower back.

“Kiss you like this, have you moaning like this— and not have you come because of me atleast twice.”

“Leaving you to fall asleep next to me— wet enough I could feel it through your sleep shorts, and not have anything done about it— is something I am not having happen again.” His words made you shiver, and his admission last night to how bad he wanted to make you finish on his face was ringing in your ears.

“What about Anne?”

“To hell with it.” He huffs, peeling his tshirt over his head, “She’ll be dead to the world at this hour— just try to keep quiet.”

“If this is what you want to do, anyway?” He clarifies, “And if y’wanna stop at anytime y’know y’can.”

“God, Harry you don’t understand how bad I want to feel you.” You affirm, pulling your own sweatshirt off, “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you, darling. As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans…” his sentence trails off, kissing the top of your breasts as he lays you down.

“Want your mouth on me.” You plead, the thought of it being enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“I’m sure you do, ‘specially after I put it in your head last night. Have you been thinking about it all day, hmm?” He teases, shifting down your body.

“Yea— yea I have.” You confess with a whine.

He raises his brows, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

“What about before? You ever got off to the thought of my tongue in your pussy?” He smirks, knowing he’s venturing into uncharted territory— admissions of want, prior to your first kiss.

“Your ego would love to hear a yes wouldn’t it.” You tease a little, even though it would be a lie to say you haven’t conjured up small fantasies of him late at night. Ones where he’s got more than just his head between your legs.

“Oh, it would. But I think I already know the answer, going off how hot and bothered I’m making you.”

Which is true, you’re squirming beneath him, unconsciously arching up your lower half trying to get any kind of friction.

“Can I take these off?” He asks with warm hands tucked into your waistband, waiting for your curt nod before he shucks your pants down, your panties half going with it.

The energy shifts, his hands coming to a halt.

Like the realisation of what he’s doing and who he’s touching like this has come crashing down, just from seeing your lower half laid bare for him.

Harry is your best friend, your bandmate. Someone who you never thought would actually have their hands on you like this.

“Fuck. Look at you.” The sight of you looking up at him like that, all doe-eyed and shy had his cock aching.

His hands slip back into motion, but this time with less urgency.

He pulls both your pants and underwear off your legs, tossing them somewhere on his floor.

He pushes a finger through your slit, “This why you’re so wet? Been waiting for me to get my mouth on you for longer than you admitted.”

“Please, Harry.”

You push your hips into his touch, groaning into the sheets of his bed as he draws slow circles on your clit.

He leans to press a kiss into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him most.

Licking a stripe along the same spot, you begin to plead, “Please just touch me. Need it…”

“My poor girl is so needy. Cant even wait a second for me to get my tongue on her.” He coos, but gives in either way, letting his tongue push through your wet slit.

You’re trying so hard to hold back the moans as he flicks and sucks your clit, but fuck is this the best oral you’ve ever had.

Most guys you’ve been with rush through it, wanting to get it over with because it does nothing to please them. But Harry is clearly a giver, and gets a lot out of pleasing someone like this.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me come so fast.” You cry, an arm getting thrown over your face as you arch into every movement he makes.

He smiles into you, moving his mouth to your entrance, pushing his tongue in a bit before dragging back up to you clit— his nose bumping it in just the right spot.

Another moan comes out of you, unbridled as your cunt flutters in sync with the licks he’s placing against you.

He swaps between your clit and entrance, making sure both are getting the attention they deserve. Fast firm strokes along you— paired with kisses and sucks — are having you come undone faster than you’d expected.

“Shhh, baby, been doing so well f’me, can feel how close you are.” He pushes a finger into you, and you have to bite down on your lip to try and keep yourself quiet.

Pushing in another finger, he grunts, “God, you’re tight.”

“Been awhile…” you spoke, voice wavering— it sounding distant in your own head.

He hummed into you, the vibration of it pulsing through the whole of your body.

Curse words were flying out your lips, which you were trying so hard to keep shut. But every lap of his tongue against you had your resolve to keep quiet slipping through your grasp.

“I’m going to come, H. Hard.” You moaned— it was tearing out of you loudly, and you tired to muffle it with the crook of your arm.

“You can come, darling, ‘round my fingers and mouth like a good girl.”

His permission and praise was all you needed to tip over the edge, your cunt spasming around his fingers that were still pumping in and out of you.

He licked through your slick until you couldn’t breathe, your legs closing around his head trying to get him off your sensitive nerves.

Your breath was laboured as he pulled back, placing a final kiss on your stomach before making his way back up your body.

“Thank you…” you tiredly said, laying with your eyes half-lidded on his bed. And although you felt like you could fall asleep, there was no way you could not let him fuck you properly after that.

You pushed yourself up, and moved onto his lap.

He watched you carefully, a question in his eyes.

That was answered as you ground your hips carefully into his, the fabric of his sweatpants sending a zip up your spine.

“We don’t have to, sweet. Not if your tired.” His hand fell to your hip.

But when his mouth is still glistening with your arousal and cock is so hard underneath you, how could you not?

“I know, Harry. I really want to though.” You sigh into his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself along his fabric-covered boner.

All of the little noises coming from the back of his throat were sounded into your ear, and knowing how good this must be making him feel charged you to keep going.

“That’s right. Rub yourself through it Y/N. Over my cock, dripping all onto my pants.” His tone was deep, dipped in honey as he spoke to you.

You moaned as he snapped his hips upwards to meet the movement of your own.

“I’m clean and on the pill.” You say into his ear, shuddering. You have never wanted anything more.

He pauses, realisation at what your insinuating.

“Are you a hundered percent sure? Because I trust that you’re clean. And so am I.”

You start moving your hips again, “a thousand percent.”

“Can just imagine how easy m’gonna slip into you.” He traces patterns along the base of your spine.

“Just want to make you feel good, H.” You kiss the warm skin of his neck, taking it into your lips and biting it gently.

“Fuck, well y’already doing a good job of that.”

Your hand travels to his waistband, and he allows you to pull him out of his boxers.

He’s thick in your hand, heavy just as you’d imagined. But it’s so much better than you’d thought. He’s warm and smooth, head of him as pink as his lips.

You stroke along it, thumb brushing over his tip, dragging the pre-come that had leaked out down his shaft, indulging in his grunts that are sounding in your ear.

You shift up on your knees— unable to wait any longer, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds with a mutual gasp.

You rub a few circles on your clit with it, until your knees feel like they’re going to buckle. Which no better a time to line him up with your entrance.

“God— are you going to ride me?” He moans, holding you still with his hands for a moment.

“Is that ok?”

“That is so fucking hot.” He states, eyes pinching closed.

You sink yourself into him, feeling the stretch of your cunt as it tries to accomodate his large size.

You scrape your nails down his back as you get to the base of him, moaning in sync with one another.

“Oh my god.” His stomach muscles are clenching, “don’t move.”

The walls of his room seem to be spinning around him, and he inhales a deep breath in attempt to ground himself.

His hands rest on the peak of your hips, as he shudders out the same breath he just took in, “Sorry— you’re just so fuckin’ warm and tight.”

“You’re huge.” You whimper in response.

“Taking it so well. Knew you would, knew you’d be so snug around my cock. Always wanted to have you moan like this for me.” The words spill like a lust-drunk confession from his mouth.

You can’t even find anything to say back, just a passionate kiss over his lips.

“Can move now.” He says into your mouth.

Your hips gradually begin to move, starting with slow and precise rolls that have you both panting against each other.

His cock twitched inside you as you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on him— your fingers finding their way down to your clit.

All you could feel was the hot burning pleasure in the pit of your stomach, and so much was coming from your mouth but you couldn’t even tell what it was. Just a mixture of swearing, moans and his name.

“Shh, sweet girl— fuck— know it feels so good but you have to stay quiet.” He cups your jaw, sealing your lips with another kiss.

The heat radiating off both of your bodies was searing, paired with the fiery pleasure in your stomachs, it could fight off even the coldest of December days.

His other hand replaced your own, and worked your clit better than you ever could. His long fingers swirling your bud in fast circles that matched your every bounce.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, desperately trying to hush his own groans. It was a sight to see him, his flushed face and messy brown curls— how he was trying just as hard to hold back.

“You’re so warm. Riding me so well.” He praises you with a grunt, stroking your clit with more pressure. You couldn’t even manage to respond, your thoughts were beyond muddled, and they only got worse as he increased the speed of his fingers.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your walls had your jaw fall completely lax, your hot breath fanning across his damp skin.

His only free hand travelled to your breast, kneading the warm flesh there, tweaking your nipple with gentle fingers.

“Oh god, oh god— Harry!” Every touch was clashing together into one euphoric feeling, your whole body shaking.

Your muscles were clenched taut, like a rubber band getting pulled tighter and tighter— and you were about to snap.

“Fuck, come around my cock— wanna feel it.”

His hips are bucking up to meet your bounces, he’s hitting every spot inside you.

“Harry— I’m going to— I’m gonna come.” You cried into his shoulder.

Praise is pouring from his mouth, and all it takes is a final flick of your clit too have you knocked of all your air.

Your jaw drops, teeth hitting Harry’s sharp collarbone, mantras of his name coming breathlessly from your mouth.

“God you’re perfect— squeezing so perfectly around me.” He moans, still playing with your clit.

“Please come, baby. Want you to fill me up.” You plead— tugging the roots of his hair, trying to keep up the pace of your bounces despite the blinding pleasure.

“Fuckk.” He comes within seconds of hearing you beg for it, his hips stuttering to meet your thrusts— his abdomen flexing under your fingers.

You ride him to the point your eyes are tearing up with the overstimulation, ensuring you get every drop of warm come you can from him.

Eventually you come to a halt at the base of him, now that both your orgasms have dulled out and he’s softening inside you.

You kiss his temple, hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

“You were so good for me, love.” He whispers.

You slip out of him, missing how he filled you up immediately. He rolled you both over before you could think about it too much, and your legs wrapping around his middle.

You looked down at the moth tattoo situated between your legs, and boldly you state, “I’d ride this too if I wasn’t so tired.”

His brows shoot up as you say that, your fingers beginning to outline the tattoo gingerly.

“You’re gonna give me another boner if you keep this up.” His voice falling a tone deeper.

A laugh sounds from you, and you cuddle up into his chest, “Sorry, but not really.” You say.

He plays with your hair, “Asshole.”

Your falling into a drowsy state, “Are you plaiting my hair?”

He hums a yes, “d’ya have a hair tie for it?”

“On my wrist.” You huff out a laugh, and you pull your hand from around his neck so he can pull it off.

He ties it, and kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispers, seeing your shut eyes.

“Goodnight Harry.” You whisper back, pausing for a few seconds— then daring to say what’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue all night.

“I love you.” It’s a hush confession, one your too tied to care if you’re gonna regret it.

He looks down at you, through his own half-lidded eyes, “fuck, I love you too. So much.”

———

[eveningepiphany]

I am going feral

HARRY STYLES & FLORENCE PUGH Don’t Worry Darling (2022)

[eveningepiphany]

hey! i absolutely love mistletoe, the best thing ive read all day. will you be making a part 2?

this is so sweet, thank you :,)

a part 2 of mistletoe is currently in the works, and should be out soon! thank you for all the love x

[eveningepiphany]

masterlist ✭

hello and welcome to my official masterlist! this will be updated regularly with every new work i post. thank you for all your ongoing support, all my love <3

the list is rather short at the moment, however it will continue to grow over time and we’ll definitely get a few series in here!

feel free to send in requests here

[*] indicates smut

—ONESHOTS (2022)

sick

Y/N is looking after harry when he’s got a bad case of the flu, and even though they’re both just friends, it’s clear they see each other as more than that.

and they were roommates*

when harry and Y/N have gone from longtime best friends to roommates, the lines that have been slowly blurring since their teen years are beginning to disappear altogether.

hotel room*

harry & Y/N are friends but it’s a love hate relationship with so much tension you can hardly breathe. this tension isn’t any better when they get stuck in a hotel room together for the night. and it only has one bed.

mistletoe*

[part one] [part two*]

you’re with the band at anne’s house the week of christmas and harry points out you’re both standing under a mistletoe.

—ONESHOTS (2023)

learn to knock*

not knocking on your door has led to harry walking in on you… with your hand between your legs.

lessons*

sitting on harrys couch, he gets it out of you that you have never intimately touched someone else, and he offers straight up for you to learn off him.

far from sober

you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

[eveningepiphany]

Mistletoe | H.S

summary: you’re with the band at anne’s house the week of christmas and harry points out you’re both standing under a mistletoe.

warnings: swearing, friends to lovers, kissing, soft harry, suggestive sexual material (no smut, but part two does have!)

a/n: this was originally not going to have any sexual stuff in it but I couldn’t help myself. I also think I’m gonna write a few christmassy imagines because they are absolutely adorable and I love the vibe they have. <3

part two!!

merry christmas everyone x

———

Giggles from all the boys echoed across the lounge.

Cups of cocoa were held in everyone’s hands, blankets draped over us in bunches. Christmas was only 5 days away— life was good.

“‘M nearly out of hot chocolate.” Harry pouts from your left.

A Christmas movie made quiet background noise, and Anne chuckled from across the couch.

“You’re a whiner,” she teased, standing up from where she sat.

She was sporting a green Christmas sweater, “Well, early morning for us, don’t forget.”

She was definitely headed off to bed, and everyone had to be up and ready to get on the road to the BBC breakfast morning show you had. Practically a One Direction pre-Christmas special, since it was still 5 days till Christmas.

You and the boys— well expect for Harry, who’d drive back here with Anne— are flying home for your Christmas break after that.

“Yea, think I’m gonna rack down s’well.” Liam says, pushing from the mound of blankets he was under.

And once one of you cave, the rest usually follow suit, specially knowing you had to be driving the hour and a half to BBC, meaning you had to be up early. You’re expected there at 6:30am and ready to preform by 8:00am.

Everyone starts to disperse from the living room, the TV and Christmas lights getting flicked off, cups finding there way into the dishwasher.

Harry is brushing his teeth in the bathroom when you enter to do the same.

He gives you a smile, his pearly teeth peeking through the foam.

You put your toiletries on the bathroom bench, pulling out your toothbrush, layering some toothpaste on it.

You both dance in the mirror, laughter muffled by a mouthful of toothpaste.

He’s in a red Christmas sweater— which is admittedly too cute for you not to fluster a little at the sight.

You’d figured being so close allowed you room for such feelings to linger, even though you never really know where the line was with them.

Where exactly the platonic feelings bleed into romantic ones— and how normal it actually was.

He was easily one of your best friends, so you try not to entertain these thoughts.

He makes that difficult.

Once you’re both done brushing your teeth, he is eyeing your hair.

It’s let loose, and he wastes not a second longer before sinking his fingers into it.

He combs through it with his hands, tongue darting out the corner of his pink lips as he plaits it at the back.

“What are you doing?” You laugh.

“Pass me a hair tie.” He states.

You truffle through your travel bag, finding one at the very bottom.

He loops it around the end of his work, with a proud little smile on his face.

“Gotta keep it in, mkay?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Harry.” You roll your eyes with a grin.

He follows you out the bathroom, and you’re both headed the same way.

“It will! You wouldn’t want me to be tired tomorrow would you?”

“Tired and grumpy.” You add, knowing how he gets in the morning, like he’s got the world on his shoulders.

“‘M not grumpy! You’re grumpy.” He huffs.

“You both are!” Niall calls from the spare room he’s staying in with Liam.

“Shut up Niall.” You both say in sync, laughing as you run up the stairs.

You were taking Gemma’s old room, which had since been converted into a spare room now she’s moved out for college.

Harry was staying in his room, which you’re sure he’s enjoying being back in his own bed for a bit.

Anne’s room was the only other bedroom up here, down the other end of the hall.

“Woah—“ you say, coming to a stop as you see the window overlooking the town lights.

It’s down Harrys side of the upstairs living space, and you find yourself walking straight over to look out.

There’s a small reindeer shaped lamp that’s turned on, lighting part of the area up with a dim bit warm glow.

“You can see the Christmas lights in town from here.” You point out, a small smile on your face.

You both stand and look out, comfortable silence enveloping you. Even though it’s not your home, you feel at home.

Maybe it’s Harry’s presence, or the small town nature, you’re not sure. But fuck does it feel nice.

After a minute or so, you begin to move, but his hand grabs you.

You fumble to a stop, heart jumping at the feeling of his hand on your arm.

Just friends.

“Harry?” You ask, confused.

He’s smiling at you, meekly, “look.”

He points up and you still.

There are a sprig of little leaves hung on the roof above you. Mistletoe.

“Oh.” You whisper aloud.

“Did you— do you— sorry?” You’re baffled, because if he’s implying you follow through with tradition…

He laughs a little, but theres a nervous air around you.

Maybe he was just pointing it out for a laugh— to scare you a bit.

He moves to press his body close to yours, and you draw in a sharp breath.

You can smell him, that warm toasted vanilla smell that is always radiating off him. It’s sweet and woodsy in nature, comforting in a way you just want to bundle yourself up in it.

“Cant break tradition, can we?” He says, arms skating up to your hips.

“You want to kiss me?” You whisper.

The house is hushed around you, everyone pretty much in bed now.

He doesn’t answer your quiet question with words, instead he nudges your chin up with his nose, moving to place a warm kiss on the pulse point of your neck.

You shudder at the sensation, the way his soft lips feel against your skin.

It feels so wrong and so right all at once.

He moves up to the junction of your neck and jaw, peppering kisses along it, slipping up to your cheek.

You catch your lips on his cheekbone, and you feel any resolve against going further slipping from your grasp.

“Harry…”

“Just tell me if you want me to stop.” He murmurs against your skin.

“Tradition. Gotta stick to tradition.” You reason aloud, but you both know this goes far beyond that.

Usually people stuck under mistletoe share a quick peck if romantic feelings aren’t present. It doesn’t get dragged out, no laying soft lips over as much skin as you can. Unless it’s a hallmark movie, you suppose.

“Mmhm.” He hums against you, lost in the feeling.

You’re not 100% sure who makes the first proper kiss.

He’d pressed a kiss that caught the corner of your mouth, and you kissed the dip between his chin and bottom lip. He’d grazed your upper one, you’d pushed into it.

Like neither of you wanted to take the blame for it, be the one to initiate it.

Before you know it you’ve both sealed your mouths together. Let’s just say it was probably a mutual move.

It was slow, perfect and deliciously warm.

Your hand came up to his face, cupping the ridge of his jaw— pulling him infinitely closer.

His own hands are up slipping up to your hair, “Careful, don’t mess up your work.” you say, not wanting him to screw up the plait he did.

He laughs, taking his hands to your torso, beginning to slowly map out your body, feeling the different dips and curves of it.

He gently takes your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it carefully to see your reaction.

Your stomach drops to your feet at the feeling, toes curling in your fluffy socks.

“Shit.” You whimper as he lets it flick back into place with a pop.

“Y’fuckin’ kidding me, Y/N.” He says into your mouth.

“Your lips are bloody perfect.” He pulls back a little, letting his thumb come up to skate over your swollen, wet lips.

You kiss the tip of his finger, and he visibly tenses.

If you hadn’t already breached the point of no return, this would be what did it.

You take it just into the seam of your lips, letting your tongue swipe over it.

He draws in a laboured breath, clocking you like a hawk as you slide your mouth down to the knuckle of his thumb, sucking on it a little.

“Y/N… fuck.” He groans quietly.

You slip a little further down, looking up at him to catch his eye.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Don’t do that— don’t look at me like that.”

You glide your mouth back to the top of his finger to speak innocently, “Like what?”

“Don’t be coy, y’know exactly what you’re doing to me right now, darling.”

He pulls back from you, and it visibly takes a lot of strength not to give into how bad he wants you.

Instead he compromises, taking your hand and leading you into his room without a word.

“As much as id like to lay you down in my bed and lick into till you come around my tongue,” he pauses, watching your reaction as he says that, knowing he’s wound you up good and proper.

“‘M not doing that while my mums just down the hall and our band mates are down stairs. Because you would not be able to keep quiet.” He shuts the door behind you both.

“So, cuddling it is, sweetheart.”

You’re dumbfounded at how blunt he just was. Dumbfounded and incredibly turned on.

“You can’t just say you want your head between my legs and then follow it with telling me we’re just going to cuddle.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a good cuddle.”

“But I’m—“

He cuts you off, “horny, I know, believe me so am I.”

He pulls your hand to feel his groin, where his cock was perked up in his sweatpants— he was certainly hard under your hand.

“Oh. Oh…” you stutter out, before he pulls it away again.

He shucks the sweater he was wearing over the top of his head, leaving him shirtless— and his tattoos completely visible.

You let your eyes wander along his toned torso and back, watching intently as he pulls the soft green doona cover of his bed down to slip under.

You stand for a moment, and he looks expectantly for you to join him.

“Cmon, Y/N, please?” He draws out the please, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re a goof.” You say, getting in with him.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” You ask once you lay down.

“Well unless you want my boner pressed into you, probably little.” You laugh at the situation you’ve thrown yourselves into.

It feels very different, yet very normal at the same time.

“I’d be just fine with that, I just don’t know how your little guy would cope with it though.”

“Little?” He challenges, pulling you into him so you can feel him rut against you.

“Oh stop it, I was kidding don’t take it so personally.” You grin, swatting his hands from your waist. Admittedly, from what you’ve felt tonight, he feels anything but little.

You pull yourself close to him,trying to fight away the December chill, and he smiles. It quiet for a few heartbeats, you both just enjoying each others presence and warmth.

Without warning he captures your lips with his, and you give straight into it. It’s not rushed, just soft and slow.

You kiss and kiss, tongues dipping between both of your mouths and you feel yourself growing tired. They become sloppy and laced with drowsiness— yet are still just as beautiful.

He pulls himself back with a small inhale, and places a final soft peck on your chin before pulling you further into his chest.

“Night, lovely.” He whispers, sounding blissful.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

———

you can find part two here <3

[eveningepiphany]

i loved the "and they were roommates" story so so much. the way you write the tension between them is so good. love this whole friends to lovers theme in general. the build up and anticipation usually is the best part to me and you write that so well in your stories

stop, thank you so much to whoever sent this in. it’s so nice to actually hear what people like about your writing, and it honestly means the world to me. I also enjoy the lead up to the actual romance the most, it makes you like— properly invested in it if that makes sense! so thank you again anon, lots of love x 🫶

[eveningepiphany]

no one let that man anywhere near a pair of scissors pls

His hair is getting so long 😩😩😩

[eveningepiphany]

hotel room | H.S

summary: harry & Y/N are friends but it’s a love hate relationship with so much tension you can hardly breathe. this tension isn’t any better when they get stuck in a hotel room together for the night. and it only has one bed.

warnings: SMUT! hand job (f+m receiving), PIV unprotected, sloppy morning sex, teasing, swearing, praise, friends to lovers.

A/N:I have opened my requests! and I’d love to write some from you guys, so send them in here <3

———

“So there’s only… definitely only one room for us?” I say slowly, and the lady behind the counter nods.

“Y/N,” Harry says, “we’ve shared a room before—“

“I’m so sorry the inconvenience— Since the multitude of delayed flights from the storm we’ve had an unexpected influx of last-minute bookings…” her hands are zipping along the keyboard as she is clearly under the pump.

“You’ve been booked under a single room.” She glances up, face turned up apologetically, confirming.

I nod, knowing there’s so many other people needing somewhere to stay right now, there’s no point being picky.

It’s just one night.

Because Harry and I live in the same part of the UK, we usually catch the same planes to and from when we get short breaks from touring with the band.

So of course we flew out for our Australian leg of the tour several hours ago and got stuck at our layover destination, Abu Dhabi.

The storm rolled in quick, putting hour— even day long— delays on flights. So now people are scrambling to book hotels for the next few nights.

Luckily our management got on it as soon as we’d called them about the delay of out flight, but I suppose they only could get us the one room for two.

We get our room key and head up the elevator to the 7th floor.

When we walk into the room there is a single queen bed in the centre of it, and I glance at Harry out the corner of my eye. We are always close to one another being in the band, but never “share a bed” close.

“Don’t stress.” He says.

“I’m not stressed.” I quip.

“Yes you are, don’t try and bullshit me.”

“Harry, we’re adults it’s fine.”

“Hardly adults.” He chuckles.

I scoff at his constant digs, there is a fineline of how much Harry I can tolerate in a day and we are really pushing it.

“Well if you think that then I implore you to take the couch.” I know just by looking at the couch he’d hardly fit on it, and I’m not that much of an asshole to let that happen.

“Oooh, you’re just trying t’get the bed all to yourself? Bloody bed hog.”

I open my bag up, pulling out fresh clothes and my toiletries, “Was just providing you the options. I’m going to shower.”

“Too bad if I wanted one first.” He sighs dramatically, with a little smirk that usually indicates he’s teasing.

“Too bad indeed.” I smile sarcastically at him as I shut the door.

It’s so nice to wash away the gross feeling that sticks to your skin after long flights like we just had.

When I come out of the bathroom he’s laying in the bed, crisp white doona pulled back.

“Dude you’re getting airport germs in the bed.”

He glances up from his phone, eyeing me for a split second— I’m just in sleep shorts and a plain tshirt.

“It’s fine, I’ll just have this side.” He replies, a smile breaking out over his face.

He leaves me no room to respond as he stands up, “im gonna have a shower as well, and then we can order room service, how’s that sound?”

I nod, “I’ll get the menu and have a read through.”

It’s weird how we one minute can’t stop sarcastically niggling and the next we’re back to being normal friends.

I browse through their relatively large menu as the shower runs in the background. If I strain, I can hear Harry gently humming.

I’m happy to see my favourite foods on there… and heaps of deserts.

He comes out shortly after while I’m still reading the menu, and he’s clad in only grey sweatpants, adorning damp hair.

I choose to tear my eyes away from his bare chest, “I’ve figured out what I want to get, have a read through.”

I chucked him the menu and he comes to sit down next to me on the bed.

Im surprised we don’t end up in another debate about the sleeping arrangements, but I think we’re both so exhausted from the flight. The 8 hour plane trip settling deep into our bones.

“They have y’favourite.” He says with a smile playing on his lips.

“Yea, I’m so glad. It’s all I’m craving right now.”

“What are you gonna get?” I lean to look over his shoulder at the menu.

“Maybe I’ll try their tacos?”

“I’m gonna order some of the desert stuff too.”

“Y’gonna be so full.” He laughs.

“It’ll be worth it.” I say, as I stand up to go over to the phone on the desk in the corner of the room.

I ring up and order an unnecessary amount of stuff before giving them our room number and hoping back into bed.

It’s so cozy, and if it weren’t for the food I knew was coming, I’d probably curl up and fall asleep straight away.

We lay together, talking about the plan for the next few days until the food gets delivered with a knock on the door.

I get up to open it, taking the trays of food from the kind waiter.

He groans, “God it smells good.”

We both spread the dishes of food on the bed and quickly start eating.

The TV starts playing reruns of friends, the episode where Ross makes the paste with his leather pants, trying to get them up.

We’re both tearing up with laughter, stuffing our faces with our first proper meal since dinner on the plane over 5 hours ago.

“Holy shit.” He says, and we’re are letting out fits of giggles, as Ross says “—and the lotion and the powder have made a paste…”

“I swear— why did he listen to joey.” I scoff, shoving a bite of food into my mouth.

“No, because the way it just keeps getting worse.” He buries his face into his hands with a pained grin.

We watch a few of the episodes that were playing, sharing the last of the chocolate cookies that I’d ordered.

I stood up to move all the trays our food came on over to the small kitchen bench, leaving them for the morning.

“That was so yum.” I sigh out, content and full.

I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and finish up my night routine, ready to honestly just go to sleep.

I come out with a small smile on my lips, excited to get back into bed where it’s cozy. Slipping back under the crisp white sheets, Harry turns off the TV.

The room is now dark, “fuck… can’t see now— I gotta brush m’teeth as well.”

“Have my phone.” I chuck it in his general direction, and clonk him straight in the side.

“Ouch.” He huffs, grabbing it and turning the flash on.

He pads over to the bathroom while I roll my eyes at how dramatic he is.

He turns the lights on in there, coming back over to give me my phone now that he can see.

I text a few of my immediate family members to let them know we’d settled into our hotel, choosing to leave out the fact we’re sharing a bed.

I mean assuming that’s what the plan is. I highly doubt he wants to sleep on the couch.

Being the only female in a band of boys leads to lots of assumptions throughout my family unit. Especially with Harry.

They mistake our arguments as ‘pent-up sexual frustration’. Which is far from how I like to think of it.

He steps out from the bathroom, and I turn my torch on so he can flick the light off.

He scrapes a hand over his face, looking to me with tired eyes.

The hotel was relatively quiet now, only a few drunken laughs echoing down the hallway as it nears 12am.

He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over himself.

I tug my pillow down a bit before turning off my flash.

“Y’tired?” He asks quietly, sounding already kind of groggy.

I hum in agreement, rolling to face him. It’s quiet a few beats.

I can just make out his outline next to me,

I can feel the warmth of his body from where I’m laying. And it feels like I’m being enveloped by it in a strange— yet lovely way.

The thought floats around in my head, images conjuring from the darkness.

I blame this on the 8 hour flight and sleep deprivation.

Usually I can ignore it, but as much as he’s a proper pain in the ass sometimes, I’d have to be visually impaired to say he wasn’t good looking.

And hell he’s laying in the same bed as me without a shirt on.

“Y’staring at me.” He chuckles softly, and I startle a little.

“How can you even see me?” I ask, amused.

“I can’t, can just feel it.”

“As if you can feel it.” I scoff, “I’ll roll over if my eyes being on you makes you too uncomfortable.”

“No, no, wait come back.” He whines as I start to move.

I huff out a laugh, and roll back over to him.

I keep my eyes shut, “better?”

He whispers a yes, and I smile.

I keep that very smile as I drift off, listening to Harry’s slow breathes from beside me, allowing them to lull me to sleep.

———

I can only half remember waking up.

I was warm, heavy, and I felt his body before I saw it.

My eyes had only opened a tiny bit—there was light creeping through the thin curtains, making his unruly hair just visible.

My leg was thrown over his hip, and I was pressed right into his chest. We were fully intertwined, and fuck did it feel nice.

I close my eyes again, I can feel his morning wood. My heart jumps a little in my chest. Maybe I can just roll over— pretend I didn’t feel it, and go back to sleep.

I carefully strain to make the movement, but I instead get pulled closer to him.

He pushes himself against me, a sigh slipping from his nose, and I realise moving may have been a bad idea.

“Fuck…” I hear him mutter against my hair, bucking his hips up again.

“Harry.” I say, voice croaky with sleep. Of course this does nothing.

I have no idea how awake he is, I’m not even fully awake yet. But Jesus, this feels better than it should.

I feel like a horrific person for enjoying the way his clothed-length is pressed into me. But by god I am not strong enough to remove myself from this situation.

“Harry, wake up.” I groaned, squirming a little in his grasp.

He seems to come to it, just enough to realise whatever the fuck is happening in a couple seconds.

“Y/N…? Fuck. what is—“ I feel his body tense underneath me as it hits him, and he probably feels his boner pressed between my legs.

His hand flys up to my thigh that’s resting on his hip, “Holy shit—“

“It’s fine, H.” I whisper, and I’m not really sure why I say that, or what I’m implying by doing so.

Or what it means paired with the fact I haven’t protested to his dick practically grinding against my cunt.

“What do you mean?” He asks, groggily.

“Not sure.” I confess, whimpering a little as he still is hard underneath me. I push into him a bit out of unspoken desire and I hear him swallow.

He doesn’t say anything as he slides his hand up my leg, cupping it on my ass.

I glance up to see his face, his eyes still half-lidded, and his cheeks have a gentle flush to them.

I feel myself getting wetter as he keeps rubbing himself along my thin sleep shorts.

He moans a bit, and I slip my hand between us to palm his cock through his sweatpants.

“This ok? Want me to help you out a bit?”

“God— yes please…” he groans.

I push it underneath his waistband, tugging him out.

He’s heavy and hot in my hand. Glancing down, its bigger than I expected. The tip is flush and red, glistening with the damp beads of precum. Hardly surprising he’s got such a pretty cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ— look at y’little hand wrapped ‘round me.” He swears.

I slowly squeeze the head of it, and that quickly has him bucking into my palm.

His own hand travels between my sleep shorts, “Mind i return the favour?”

I hum in agreement, but he doesn’t do anything, “Gotta hear you say it, tell me what you want.”

I roll my eyes, of course he’s like this in bed, wants to hear how bad I want him.

“What do you want me to say to you Harry? How bad I want your fingers in my wet cunt right now, or how I want you to fuck my clit with your tongue?”

“Want my tongue do you? Because yes that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.” He says, smirking as he dips his hand under my shorts, running his fingers through me.

“No panties… been next to me all night with your pussy so easily accessible. Such a little slut.”

He collects my arousal, carrying it up to my swollen clit. I moan with the action, trying to keep my hand pumping rhythmically.

This proves to be a challenge, as he’s very clearly skilled with his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Hardly even touched you.”

“Been grinding your dick into me for a bit, actually.” I hiss as he slips a finger into me.

“Sorry, Baby. Did my hard cock get you all worked up?” He teases, and I hate the fact that he’s right.

I give a particularly hard squeeze and he grunts, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He quickens the pace of his fingers, fucking them in and out of me.

“Hard to hate me when I’m making you feel so good, hm?” He kisses my forehead, curling his fingers in me.

I cry out. Fuck— I was going to come.

“Wait, wait, wait— don’t wanna come yet, please…” I clench my thighs around his hand and it stills.

I look up at him, his green eyes burning with desire.

He doesn’t say anything, just leans his head down and places a wet kiss on my lips.

He keeps his fingers pumping slowly in and out of me as we start to kiss.

He brings me close to coming again a few times, just to tease me, but he keeps his focus on my lips— pulling my bottom one between his and sucking on it.

It’s messy and sloppy, edges of it blurred from the morning haze still over us.

“Harry.” I say into his mouth, legs shaking a little.

“Want you in me.” It comes out of me as an unbridled thought.

“Jesus…” he murmurs, stunned by hearing the words fly out of me so openly.

He pulls his lips away, cock twitching in my hand, “you want…”

“You want me to fuck you?”

I nod, grabbing the hem of my shirt and slipping it off.

He’s enamoured by me, it’s clear in his eyes.

He reaches his hand up, out of my sleep shorts and he cups my breast with it gently.

He moves his mouth down to place gentle kissed over them.

“You’re perfect, yknow that?” He says against my skin, tugging me closer to him as I smile at the flattery.

“I’m on birth control too.” I state.

He glances up, and it appears I’ve shocked him yet again, “you wanna take me raw?”

I haven’t gone without I condom in ages… but I trust him.

“We’re both clean, right? I trust you.”

He smiles, “I’m clean. As long as your sure.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of something.

He pulls my sleep shorts off, and I help shuck his sweats the rest of the way down his legs.

We’re warm between the sheets, and he’s peppering open-mouthed kisses along my neck as he lines himself up with me.

He locks eyes with me as he pushes in, and both of us moan at the feeling.

“Fuck— you’re tight.” He squeezes his hands on my hips.

I am blinded with the pleasure of him filling me up, I can’t even think about how bad an idea this could be.

“Feels so good, H.” I groan, scraping my nails along his chest.

“Can feel you clenching around me.” He reaches a hand down to play with my clit.

He’s gonna make me come embarrassingly quick— especially considering he sort of edged me a bit while we were kissing.

He was thrusting into me, a perfect pace to have me squirming in his arms.

I can tell he’s getting close, my name flying out his mouth paired with vulgar words and moans.

“I- fuck- I’m not gonna be able to drag this out if you keeping squeezing m’cock like that.” He pants.

“I’m close, so just come with me.” I plead, the thought of him finishing with me adding fuel to the fire in the pit of my stomach.

“God H, I’m gonna come— hard.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, keep talking.” He says, his skin slapping into mine, chasing his orgasm.

“You’re so pretty.” I blurt, spewing the first thing that comes to mind as I look at him.

He really is, his hair is tousled from sleep and my hands, his eyes half lidded from pleasure and tattooed chest slightly damp.

He swears, bottoming out and coming hard without warning. His hand circles my clit fast, bringing my crashing down with him.

“Harry!” I cry, burying my head into the crook of his neck as I ride out the waves of pleasure.

“Good girl, Y/N.” He groans, still thrusting into me trying to prolong his orgasms.

The high slowly ebbs away, and he stays in me for a bit. Nothing but the sounds of our laboured breathing filling the room.

I think we don’t know what to say, after something like that happens— when it all comes on instinct and you’re without any clue on what it changes.

Our dynamic, though it was a love-hate kind of thing, it was a consistent one. You knew what to expect. Now that this has happened…

“I have no idea what you’re thinking right now.” He whispers, “and that kind of scares me.”

I lay quietly for a few heartbeats, “just… that was really good. And I’m not 100% prepared for what might happen after this, y’know. To us I guess.”

“Well. To keep it simple, I really like you— and that was some of the best sex I’ve ever had so…” he trails off, unsure where to go with the sentence.

“Ok— so this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship?” I sigh in a bit of relief.

“Of course not,” he pulls back to look at me, and a smile spreads across his face, “after all, we are adults.”

———

[eveningepiphany]

and they were roommates | H.S

summary: when harry and Y/N have gone from longtime best friends to roommates, the lines that have been slowly blurring since their teen years are beginning to disappear altogether.

warnings: smut, oral fem rec, PIV (unprotected), praise kink, kind of a size kink if you squint— and sexual mentions throughout!

my masterlist <3

——————

“Dude, why are you drinking out of my coffee cup again.” You groan, after opening the cupboard to find your favourite cup missing for what had to be the third time this week.

You and Harry have been living together for over half a year now, since he got back from touring with one direction and you started college.

It all happened relatively quickly, Harry wanted a place with someone— so it was never alone over the months he was touring— and you didn’t want to stay on campus with a heap of people you didn’t know.

So here you are, living in your 3 bedroom flat, with your best friend while studying to get the job of your dreams. It sounds ideal doesn’t it, till your flat mate starts stealing everything you own I suppose.

“M’sorry,” he laughs from the couch, not meaning it whatsoever.

“It’s just s’cute— reminds me of you with all the little hearts n’stuff on it.” He glances over his shoulder, a guilty smile on his face as he brings it up to his lips and swallows a mouthful of hot tea.

You grab his cup from the shelf, “We live together, there’s hundreds of things in this house that should remind you of me other than my mug.”

“It’s fine, I’ll use yours instead.” You know his favourite, the one Gemma and Anne got him for his 14th birthday, with their faces plastered all over it.

“Go ahead, doesn’t bother me at all.” He says smugly, stretched out on our couch, clad in grey sweats and a black tshirt.

You make yourself a tea, and plop down next to him— since it’s Sunday, you don’t have anything planned other than going to the campus library to study.

As if he read your mind he asks, “what’re the plans for today, sweet thing.”

Him and his bloody pet names.

He’s been doing it since you were in highschool, and he started calling you ‘baby’ as a joke because you said you thought it was a cheesy nickname, and it’s stuck around even years later. Now he has a full list of nicknames, equally as disgustingly lovey.

Yet, coming from his mouth and in his accent, they somehow evoke a blush on your cheeks everytime.

His girlfriends never liked the nickname thing— even though he toned it down a lot, if not completely. You rarely heard them, except maybe when you were alone, another thing that didn’t often happen when he was with someone.

The amount of girls who absolutely despised your existence back in highschool all because of your friendship with Harry.

Plenty of girls made up the most scandalous rumours possible to try and get Harry to hate you, fortunately it never worked.

In the end it never really mattered, his relationships never really lasted particularly long anyway. A lot of girls just couldn’t handle the fact he was so close with you, and to be honest you did understand.

“Not much sugar, just going to the library later to study.”

“Can I come?”

“Are you suggesting I sneak you into our student only library right now?” You say in mock surprise.

“Absolutely i am, and maybe then we can go out and get a bite to eat.”

“You’re just gonna be sitting there doing nothing for like probably 2 hours?” You shrug, unsure why he’d want to come in the first place.

“That’s s’alright, I would’ve just been doing that ‘round here anyway.”

“Alright, better not get me caught then.” You sigh.

“I’ll wear that really baggy college jumper you have, they’ll never know.” He laughs.

“Just another thing if mine you’re gonna start stealing, hm?”

“Oh, well now you’ve suggest that—“ He chuckles and you dig your elbow into his side.

“Ouch!” He yelps, as if it actually hurt that much, and he quickly reaches over to have some payback.

Knowing he’s probably gonna tickle you, you jump up, “Oh god— not with the tea, not with the tea!”

He smoothly slips the mug out of your grip and places it down on the table.

You panic, knowing how brutal his tickling is.

Your legs only get you so far across the room before he catches up, immediately prodding you in the waist— he knows that has you disarmed in seconds unfortunately.

He tugs you into his chest, fingers skating all over your body causing you to squirm.

You’re half laughing half crying as you fight against him, “oh my god— Harry, please—“

“You know I always give good payback, love.” He laughs as you’re both stumbling around in the lounge room.

You manage to knock him into the couch, practically sitting him down. His lips part and you’re left standing directly between his spread legs.

His brows shot up his face, a few brown curls falling over his eyes.

Of course he looks fucking gorgeous right now.

You find plenty of these little moments, where sometimes it takes more strength then it should to pull yourself away from him. Your head muddled with images— fantasies— of your lips on his.

You allow yourself to indulge just a little, letting your hand sweep the curls that have fallen over his eyes back. Pulling them hard enough to tip his eye line to you.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You say breathless, attempting to sound annoyed but you don’t think it would have scared a fly.

And with that, you move from the space between his legs and head back to your room.

Harry is left sitting there, also short of breath, with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

——————

About 2 hours later, you’re laying down on your bed, book in hand when the door to your room opens.

“Hey Satan.” You say, not looking up from your page.

“Hey Angel.” You can literally hear him smiling.

He walks into your walk-in-closet, and starts to flick through the racks.

“And what exactly are you doing.” Sighing, you put the book down.

He comes out, pulling your grey college hoodie over his head. It hardly looks baggy on him, compared to how it is on you.

“Getting ready t’go.”

“You’re uninvited.” You scoff, sounding deadpan, but he knows you don’t mean it.

“Awh, you mad at me hm?” He comes over, grabbing your hand to pull you up off the bed.

You don’t fight him as he tugs you up, nor do you agree or disagree.

“God you’re a bluff.” He laughs as he picks up your bag with his free hand.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, a smile cracking through.

He doesn’t drop your hand as this time you pull him out of your room to grab your keys.

The college campus is luckily only a 5 minute drive down the road, and it’s not long before you’re both walking in.

You scan your student key card to get into the library, and because it’s Sunday afternoon it’s pretty much dead.

There’s two people sitting over by the windows on their computers and that appears to be it.

Harry follows you down to the back of the library, where your favourite spot is, surrounded with shelves and has warm midday sun streaming through the skylight.

You sink into the leather couch, and start pulling stuff out of your bag.

Harry has ended up flipping through the books nearby, and you really take a moment to look at him in your hoodie.

A feeling swells in your chest, that he really wanted to spend his afternoon with you in a library, and how… cute he looks in your jumper.

You assume this is probably how guys feel when girls are wearing their overly baggy shirt and boxers or something.

But instead you can nearly see the bulge of his bicep outlined through the material.

He walks back over, slipping his phone out from his back pocket before he sitting down next to you.

“Thanks for sneaking me in.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Your welcome.” You chuckle.

You open your laptop, beginning to file through notes, and he’s scrolling on his phone.

It’s a comfortable silence, something you’d never get sick of. Just being with one another.

His had slips over the back of the chair, fingers brushing your shoulder.

Heat zips up your spine for no good reason. You want to die a little, hating how you find yourself getting hot and bothered all because of his touch— and since you’ve moved in together it’s happening all the more often.

Like the times you end up cuddling on the couch, watching romcoms, and his hands would fall on the peak of your hip and the dip of your waist, pulling you into his chest. God his hands. Usually adorned with cold rings, at that time of night they’re bare and warm.

Or when you’ve fallen asleep on said couch with him, and woken up— somehow having slept all night without waking— in a tangle of limbs with him, feeling his morning wood poking into you. Him apologising profusely after waking up, even though it’s not the first time it’s happened.

However this isn’t an entirely new feeling. There were the few times as teenagers when you pushed the limits on your friendship. Usually drunk and sneaking back into one of your houses, and ending up against the wall or in bed, getting so close to kissing it physically made your body ache. Till someone laughed, or he tickled you.

That one time you were sitting on his lap at a party and you felt him harden beneath you, and you played into it a little, innocently wiggling your hips against him. And when he’d looked at you— eyes dark and filled with undeniable desire— you’d coyly asked him what was wrong, like as if you didn’t know exactly what the problem was. “Nothing.” He’d cleared his throat, scooting you down his leg with his hands. “Just uh, have t’go to the bathroom.”

You shake you head, physically— hoping to clear your thoughts— and his eyes snap to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a light frown on his face.

You clear your throat, “just remembered I…”

His thumb is stroking your shoulder, really not helping you collect yourself. You clench your thighs together.

“Have a test tomorrow.” You finished slowly, and his eyes narrow for a second before nodding.

He doesn’t say anything as you aimlessly scroll through notes, pretending to focus when all you can feel is his fingers grazing along your shoulder.

45 minutes.

A fully excruciating 45 minutes you sit there, half attempting to focus on the notes as his fingers trace the length of your shoulder, and even ghost over the junction of your neck and upper back.

“I think I’m done.” You blurt, causing his gaze to snap to you and hand to still.

“Wanna get something to eat then?” He asks, a slight edge to his voice you can’t properly place.

“Maybe if we can just go home? I have a headache to be honest, I kinda just want to eat some ramen and crash on the couch.” You ramble, hoping he’s not annoyed you’re not going out for lunch— when In reality Harry would never care about something like that.

“‘Course beautiful.” He nods, a smirk flashing over his lips.

The drive home is just as painful for you, and you feel like you need to have a cold shower to get out of the headspace you’re in.

Because everything he’s doing is somehow being warped into completely non-platonic thoughts— plain filthy thoughts.

Like how he’s fiddling with his ring right now at the red light, slowly slipping his finger in and out of it.

Oh god.

As you get home, you are almost jumping out of the car.

Distance, you need distance— right now.

You leave your bag in the back, ready just to get inside.

You’re fumbling with your keys at the door, trying to find the house key amongst 20 others, and Harry is right behind you.

He reaches over, plucking up the gold key on the key ring, “this one.” His voice sounds gravely, almost sultry as it enters your ears and into your depraved and clearly aroused mind.

You unlock the door, toeing off your shoes, “You’ve really gotten yourself worked up, hm?”

He asks, and you freeze.

You don’t say a word as you stand just inside the doorway, he’s right behind you but you can’t trust that actually just came out of his mouth.

Because maybe you’re hearing things— maybe really horny people hear thi—

“Don’t think I haven’t seen how hard you’ve been clenching those pretty little thighs.”

“Wh…what?” You stutter out as he moves closer to you.

He’s in your space when you turn around, and your stepping back— only to be met with him stepping forward again.

This happens until your back hits the hallway wall, and his hands bracketing either side of your body.

His hands move to rest on your lower hips, gently enough that if you weren’t comfortable with it, you could slip them straight off.

“I’ve seen you like this before.” He states, eyes dark.

“How you get so zoned out, I’d kill to see what’s going inside that head of yours.”

“Harry…” Your hands are hardly an inch away from his chest, tingling to touch him.

You’re reminded— the second time today— of the time when you were teenagers, up against the wall of his bedroom.

“Fuck.” Harry sighed, breath hot against the side of your neck.

You’d somehow managed to sneak back into his house without waking his family, which is shocking considering the amount of drunken giggling coming from the both of you.

Or the stumbling up the stairs as he playfully swatted your ass behind you.

It was somewhat a wonder of how you ended up against the wall of his bedroom, hands all over eachother.

He was half-hard, you could feel him pressed into your side shamelessly as he ran his palms along your figure.

“Am I getting you all hard?” The alcohol in your system gave you confidence to ask outright with a laugh.

He chuckled back without an ounce worry, “Yea, honestly.”

“Didn’t know I did it for you like that.” You pushed your hands up his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his torso.

“Mm, I betcha don’t.” He licked a stripe up the shell of your ear and you let out a little humorous squeak.

“You’re so sensitive.” He started to tickle you and you squirmed under his grip.

That was the closest to kissing the two of you got that night, and although the tension was palpable, you somehow managed to resist it. Even though you both wanted to so bad it made you ache.

Scooping you up, he plopped you onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs.

He chucked you one of his shirts and sweatpants for you to change into.

Nothing more happened, he got into bed with you after stripping down to his boxers and you rolled into his arms.

“Look cute in my clothes baby, as always.” He kissed your temple.

“Mm, you’re cute, H. Think you’re really sweet.” You slurred with sleep.

“Love when you call me baby.” You confess while you play with his hair.

“D’ya?” He smiled into your neck.

“Yea…”

“See, there you go again— what’s got you all distracted?” His calm question snapped you back to reality.

You slide your fingers down to his waist, still not sure what to say, head spinning at his close proximity.

“Or do I have to work it out for myself?” He slips his hand to your waistband, waiting again for a reply.

An uncalled for whimper slipped from your mouth, louder than you’d like to admit.

“Fuckin hell.” He groans, moving to graze his lips on your cheek, not doing anything without asking.

God they were soft. So fucking soft.

You kissed his cheekbone, and you both gently pecked around eachothers face, all but evading lips.

“Please kiss me, H.” You tugged on his hair.

He wasted no time sliding his lips over yours. The two of you savouring that first real kiss.

You both held it for a few moments, the years of tension melting into it. Too far gone to worry about the repercussions this could possibly have on your friendship.

At this point, you’ve crossed the line between your platonic friendship and not so small romantic feelings so long ago— perhaps without even releasing— that although it’s a new feeling, it almost feels natural.

Years of short pecks, and gentle, mostly chaste kisses— not to say you haven’t made out while blackout drunk i suppose— have made you both eager to experience a kiss like this for the first time.

It quickly went from a feather-soft kiss to one you could only deem hungry and exploratory.

The first real taste of his tongue was hooking, he swiped it along your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth and plucking it towards him.

The pop it made as he released it had you groaning into him.

Your hands— which had long since found their way into his curly hair— were tugging at the roots.

He pulled your legs up around his waist, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

“You’re so hard—“ you moaned out, pushing your hips forward to grind against him.

“God, you feel s’fucking good. Bet you’re so wet right now.”

“Touch me, Harry, please touch me.”

He chuckled into your neck, “I am baby,”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Tell me what y’want.”

“Want you. Anything, anything you’ll give me.”

His mouth is back on yours before you can say more, and he’s carrying you down the hallway into his room.

He carefully sets you down on the edge of his of bed, dropping to his knees between your splayed legs.

“Can we take these off?” He clarifies as he grabs the top of your pants.

“Yes,” you sigh out and he slips them from your legs.

He tosses them aside before coming to solely focus on you.

You’re only in plain black panties, and you open your mouth to apologise for it,

“Sorry, didn’t really think I’d—“

“Don’t you dare apologise. This is bloody…” He leans to press a kiss on the inside of your knee before ghosting his hand over the fabric covering your core.

Moving forward he lays an open-mouthed kiss on top of where your clit is, and you moan out softly.

He could feel how damp the soft cotton of your underwear was beneath his lips, and he looks up to you.

“Can these come off too?” He asks, hooking his fingers around them, eager to get them off.

Another keen yes slips from your mouth, and he tugs them from your hips.

He’s quiet for a moment, as your lower half is laid on display to him. His eyes are flitting over every detail possible, taking in what has to be the only part of you he hasn’t seen in your years of friendship.

“You are phenomenal.” He says, his filthy praise has your head spinning.

“And so wet…” he licks his lips carefully, “all for me?”

You groan again at his words, hardly able to form a coherent sentence to answer such a question.

“Use y’words, darlin’.”

“Yes, Harry— just for you. All this just for you.” You whine, pushing your hips up into nothing, aching for any kind of friction.

He kisses everywhere, just under your belly button, the crease of your inner thigh— everywhere except for where you want him most.

“Harry, don’t tease me, just want your mouth on me.” You say outright, moaning at his finger that’s slipped up to your entrance, gently rubbing the outside of it.

“Want my mouth?” He smirks, his ego taking your begging personally.

He leans forward, jutting his tongue out to where his index finger was just circling. But instead of staying there, he drags it up, bringing your arousal to your clit.

You never imagined the first thing the two of you would do would be this. Him burying his face between your legs, licking into you like he was getting payed.

But fuck was it perfect. It felt like everything was clicking into place.

The way he’s lapping at your clit has you already fluttering around nothing.

“Taste s’fucking good. Like a dream.” He says into you, the vibration of his words causing you to arch into him.

“Thought about you like this so many times.”

Images of him touching himself to the thought of you flash to life in your brain. In his room, on this very bed. His warm hand wrapped around himself, uttering your name quietly with every soft tug he does. You wonder what else he thought about, if he was imagining your lips wrapped around him instead, or maybe being buried within you.

“Me too,” you admit, breathless.

“How good you’d taste— or how tight your little cunt would be around me.”

“Shit, Harry—“ you moan, his lips moving to suck on your clit, and his two fingers slipping into you.

He pulls his face back a fraction to look at the fingers he just pushed into you.

“And I was right. Aleady fuckin’ squeezing around my fingers like it’s too much hm? How’re y’gonna take m’cock?”

His perfect curly hair is being mused by your hands and you’re practically trying to tug his mouth back to your swollen clit.

“I’ll take it, I will.” You promise.

“Mm you will, that’s right. Good girl.” Your belly tightens and you know you’re not going to last long.

Harry knows it too, picking up the pace of his tongue and fingers.

“Keep talking,” you beg, not only enjoying the dirty words coming from his mouth, but the way they vibrate into you.

“Bit busy.” He states— and you can almost feel him smirk before his teeth ever so slightly graze over your pussy.

“Fuck.” Your cry, bucking your hips at the sensation of it.

He takes note, and does it again. Eliciting another just as loud moan from you.

“Harry, please—“ your head is begging to fog, every other thought dissipating, only mantras of his name paired with curse words seem to be left.

“Holy shit, Harry.” Your jaw is slack, legs splayed as wide as they can go.

He moans into as you clench around his fingers, and the words ‘good girl’ are muffled into you again.

“Im gonna come— I’m so close.”

He sucks on you with another moan almost as loud as your own— you can help but love how vocal he is—and it feels like it was vibrating your whole body.

With his fingers curling in you he pulls back just enough to draw in a deep breath, “come on darling, that’s it, come around m’tongue.”

“Wanna feel you clench around my fingers before you take m’cock.”

He flicks his tongue fast along your clit, moving it in sync with his fingers and it all comes crashing down.

Your thighs almost cage his head between your legs, and it proves the deep breath was not just for nothing, because there is no way he could breathe right now.

You’re moaning his name as you finish, grinding your cunt against his movements to ride out your high.

As your breathing begins to level out, he pulls his head away with an inhale, and you look to find his mouth glistening.

“That was so… so good.” You whispered to him, body gone completely deadweight on his mattress.

He’s smiling wide with his swollen pink lips, “took my mouth so well.”

You move to sit up, and it’s a true sight to see him on his knees like that.

You pull him by the back of his neck to your lips. No shame in where his mouth just was.

“Can you taste yourself?” He asks, hands going to cup the junction of your neck and jaw.

You hummed in agreement, and you start pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“Off, please?”

“‘Course.” He pulls it over his head, briefly breaking the kiss.

You stare at his chest, and your eyes dip to the symmetrical ferns that highlight his v-line— drawing special attention to the line of hair that starts under his bellybutton, and disappears into the black boxer briefs he’s wearing.

He’s watching your eyes trail along his body, quietly noting the clear effect it has on you.

You reach out a hand, gently brushing it down his abs. Locking your eyes with his, you gauge his reaction as you slide it further down, resting over the top of the hardness in his jeans.

Goosebumps prickle across his arms, and he looks at you with expression filled with pure lust.

“This ok?” You check.

“Yea…” he seems curious, almost unsure of what you plan on doing— yet that excites him all the more.

You brush along the fabric, and he audibly swallows.

A squeeze and he’s already bucking his hips up into your palm.

“Y/N—“ he moans.

“Look at you, I haven’t even touched your bare cock yet and I’ve gotten you all riled up.” You tease, taking a swing in the dark that he likes it as much as you do.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “stand up so we can take these off.”

He quickly lifts from his knees, hand going to the button of his jeans and slipping them down his legs.

Clad in only his black boxer briefs, you stroke your hand over the fabric again.

“Please, don’t tease me.” He echos your own words from earlier and you chuckle, hooking your hands into his underwear resting on his hips, and tug them down.

His cock springs towards his stomach, and you still completely.

Whatever post-orgasm confidence you’d gained has dissipated immediately.

You knew he’d be big, having felt him hard against you earlier and on those few other occasions. But seeing it in front of you right now has you lost for words.

“Don’t go all shy on me.” He practically pleads.

“Can’t touch me like that and then…” his sentence trails off unfinished, hand twitching near the base of his length.

You take him into your palm carefully. He’s heavy and warm in it.

He moans at the mere contact, and you start to stroke him, thumb swiping over his tip where precum has long since started to seep out.

He’s literally swaying on his feet, “H, sit down.”

You laugh a little as he sits as close as possible to you, connecting your lips when you start moving your hand again.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He whispers against your mouth.

You are careful not to push him too hard, but enough to really get him going.

“Feels s’good— y’bloody hands, could cum all over them.”

“Wanna fuck you first though, s’tha ok?” He asks, hands coming to rest by your hips.

“Yes,” You whine, “wanna make you come in me.”

“God you’ve got a dirty mouth.“ he starts to get up off the bed,

“You getting a condom?”

“Yea, unless you…” he stares at you a moment, cock twitching at the idea of taking you raw.

“I’m clean. If you’re using—“

“I’m on birth control… and I’m clean— haven’t been with anyone since my last test.” you say.

“You sure?” He asks a final time,

You nod, “I trust you.”

He wastes no time settling back next to you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

He slides you up his lap, taking your top off— which had been on for far too long.

He places a kiss on the top of both your breasts before unclipping your bra.

“Not a single flaw on your fuckin’ body.” He sighs, taking in the sight of your bare chest.

He pulls you forward a little more, so you’re chest to chest as he lines himself up with you.

You feel the hard head of his cock slide through your slit and press just into your entrance.

You’re both already panting and Harry looks at you, saying tenderly, “I’ll be careful.”

He’s somehow so hot and so sweet all at the same time. It’s hardly fair that he can be both.

His hands on your hips are lowering you down slowly, and he’s groaning at the feeling of you stretching to fit him.

It’s a bit of an effort to get to the base of him, but fuck once you do, you feel so full.

“Fuck… don’t— don’t move.” His head is spinning, you’re so tight around him that even the slightest movement could have him cumming into you.

It takes you both a moment to ground yourselves, “Sorry— god you’re just so fucking warm and tight… nearly came just getting in you.”

“Can move now, love.” He says, still sounding a little shaky.

You roll you hips gently, and the pleasure of it is overwhelming.

It kickstarts his movements, because after a few more pushes of your hips, he starts to thrust into you.

You’re already trembling, “Harry—”

“You’re a good girl, Y/N, keeping y’promises. Taking me so well.” His praise has you clenching around him.

It’s clear to him how much dirty talk and praise effects you, so he keeps it up.

“Feel good, hm? Like the feeling of my cock stretching you all out like this.”

“Yes!” You cried out, heart thundering in your chest.

“Lettin’ me fuck me so good…”

“Got such a nice little cunt, I want it all to myself now.”

“Have it, Harry— it’s all yours.”

“Sweetheart, you’re too good too me. Gonna make y’feel s’good.” He reaches his hand down to your clit.

He’s fucking your clit with fast circles that feel heavenly paired with the way he’s pushing his cock into you.

Your bouncing into his thrusts, and a heat blooms rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

“Harry! I’m so close, please.”

He moans, “fuck— your cunts clamped ‘round me so tight. Gonna come.

“Come in me, please.” You whined, the thought almost enough to tip you over the edge.

But what really does is the way he grunts “good girl” into your ear a final time.

You both cry out in sync, and it’s euphoric, pure bliss really.

You’re both breathing hard, still spasming and twitching as you feel the pleasure from your orgasms ease off. He slips gently out of you, and lays you into his chest.

“Thank you.” You whisper, feeling exhausted yet so grateful for him.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes are closed and he stokes the small of your back, “Five more minutes, then we’ll go clean up and cook some ramen, hm? How’s that sound.”

You smile tiredly, “Sounds good.”

——————

A/N- this has been sitting in my drafts for ages— I’ve reread it that many times idek if it’s that good but decided to post it anywayyy <3 hope you enjoyed!

[eveningepiphany]

sick | H.S oneshot

A/N: harry’s post on Instagram about the cancellation of the LA shows inspired this— the amount of times he said sorry was so so sweet. I hope feels better soon. anyways this is my first post on here, so I hope you enjoy!

summary: Y/N looking after Harry when he’s got a bad case of the flu <3

warnings: mentions of illness and harry takes some painkillers. other than that just cute fluff between best friends that are totally inlove with eachother.

“Harry?” You knocked softly on his hotel door, hands struggling to balance the bags full of medicine, groceries and other necessities you bought for him.

A groan sounded from the other side, “coming… coming.”

The door swung open to reveal your best friend, his hair rumpled and a doona cover wrapped around his shirtless frame.

“Wow— you look like you’ve gonna through the wringer, H.” You say gingerly, taking in his eye bags.

Somehow, as much as you can tell he looks sick, he still looks cute.

“Feel like I’m dying.” He croaks, walking back into the room, allowing you to follow behind.

“Y’didnt have to come though.” He says, laying back down on the bed as you begin to unpack the many things you bought over for him.

“Don’t be stupid, of course I did. You’re sick.” You roll your eyes.

“I don’t want you getting sick aswell, Y/N. This is awful.”

“I know, but you would do the same for me.” You sigh, grabbing some pain relief and water as you head over to where he lays.

The TV is playing your favourite show, the one you both watch together, and he’s clearly been binge watching it.

You sit down next to him carefully, reaching your hand up to touch his forehead. It’s uncomfortably warm.

“Take these.” You prompt, and he half opens his eyes.

He takes the two pills from your palm and moves to sit up a bit.

He slips them onto his tongue, and you bring the cool glass of water up to his lips, letting him wash the pain relief back.

He thanks you before laying his head back down, hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

“Feel so bad for not being able to play.” He sighs, and you knew this would have been on the forefront of his mind.

You smiled sadly, it’s just too sweet how dedicated he is to his fans. Placing the glass on his bedside table you scoot closer to him.

“C’mere.”

“Noooo—“ he drones, “you’ll get sick.”

“Jesus Christ Harry, you’re too bloody caring.” You laugh as he tries to roll away from you.

You pull him into a hug, that he’s trying with his little energy left to resist.

Your hand goes to his hair and he immediately begins to cave, body slowly sinking into your arms.

“You did everything you could, and everyone will appreciate that so much.”

“It’s more than ok to put yourself first, Harry. Especially when it’s regarding your health.” You whisper to him.

“Yea, you’re right. There’s no way I would’ve been able to play tonight anyway, but I still feel terrible.”

“I know it really sucks, but it’s pretty much done now, so let’s just focus on getting better hm?”

“Hate seeing you like this.”

“Hate you having to see me like this.” He groans, eyes closed.

“Come on, not the first time I’ve done it.”

“That does not make me feel better.” He chuckles.

“I mean you’ve probably dealt with far worse from me.”

He smiles, knowing where you’re going with this. A handful of stories you rarely bring up to save your dignity.

But your desperate to have him feel even just a little better, so self-deprecation it is.

“Least you’re not nearly shitting yourself.”

Last year you had picked up a stomach bug on a family holiday, which Harry had come to, and it hit you out of no where.

Poor Harry was sharing a room with you, and had to deal with the constant running to the toliet, crying and clingy-ness— because of course you’re not only an emotional wreck when sick, but you crave comfort.

He stayed inside with you for half the holiday, looking after you, making sure you stayed hydrated.

“The amount of times you cried when that happened.”

“Whatever, you’re just as clingy when you’re sick though.” You tease.

“I don’t remember inviting you over here.” He sniffed.

“Yea but you would not even actually try to make me leave. You want me to look after you.”

He let out a yawn, “I like when you’re here. So I guess that’s true.”

“I’ll make you some soup, that way you’ll like me even more.” You laugh, looking down at where he’s practically curled into your side.

He stayed quiet for a few minutes, his breathing slowing out— god knows how much sleep he’d gotten last night, probably stressing about the shows.

“Y/N.” He sounded gravely as he spoke, voice riddled with sleep.

“Mmhm?”

“I love you.” He slurred, and you’re not sure he even means to be telling you this right now.

Sure, you say it all the time to eachother in passing. But the way he’s telling you now feels all the more personal, tucked into your chest.

“Like really do love you.” He reaffirms, and your heart flutters.

“Tell me again when you’re not delusional from your fever, m’kay?” You whisper.

He nods gently.

“I love you too, H.” And you can’t help but follow the words you just uttered with a kiss to his cheek.

[eveningepiphany]

whoever is writing my life has got mad writers block bc wtf am i doing