meetmymouthrecs

[meetmymouthrecs]

Rich Part 17

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The couple come to agreements on their relationship and have their first date.

Warning: None! This is an age-gap romance, do not read if you don’t like it.

Word count: 8.9k+

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There was something about kissing Harry that made you feel like everything would be okay. A comfort or warmth, a connection that always stayed there even though your heart was still mending itself. The physical connection and chemistry would always be there between you two, no matter the situation or what happened between you.

Harry knew how to navigate your body and kissing was part of that. It was such a welcomed feeling too. To feel so intimate again after weeks of hatred and lies. You could read his emotions by how he kissed and you could feel the longing and apology. 

“That was…” Harry trailed off, pulling away only once you two were practically gasping for air.

“Yeah.” You smiled, leaning back in your chair while looking away as you breathed through a laugh. 

“Are you blushin’?” He teased, using his hand on your cheek to try and guide you back to him. 

“Noo” you protested, forgoing his hand and dropping your forehead to his shoulder instead. You were nervous and feeling quite giddy now that things were progressing. You couldn’t help it, really. 

“‘M sorry.” He laughed, threading your fingers together and settling them on your knee. “Actually, I’m not. I love making you blush.” 

“If you’re just going to tease me all the time I’m gonna have to rethink this whole relationship thing.” 

“Now that is offensive.” He tutted. You looked up at him with a smile, finding a similar one on his face. “You’re stuck with me y/n. Can’t get out of it now. We have a binding contract.”

You liked when Harry joked. When he was happy. He was an all-around serious guy. Charming, but serious. So this… seeing him this happy and carefree meant a lot to you. You loved this side of him. 

“Oh really? And what does this contract say?” You mused, playing with his fingers with your other hand. 

“That you need to give me at least 30 days before you try and run away.” 

“Oh at least?”

“Yep.” He grinned, kissing you quickly before looking around to see if anyone familiar had shown up. 

You hated that aspect of it, the hiding and keeping watch over your shoulder for who might be around. Part of you thought it might be easier. If no one knew about you two, you could establish a stable relationship without anyone else’s influence. But it also made things harder. 

You couldn’t exactly casually see each other, not around your home area anyway. Too much interaction would make people suspicious, especially your parents. When you were working with Harry there was a reason for you to be at his house all the time. Now… well you weren’t sure how your dad would feel if you went over for dinner just to ‘catch up’. You never did that with any of his other friends. 

“I wish we didn’t have to start anew like this.” You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out to the ocean. 

“What do you mean?”

“Hiding. Keeping it a secret. It makes it a lot harder to take things slow.” 

“I know. But it won’t be forever. Once we’re… once we’re settled we can figure out how to tell people.” He squeezed your hand gingerly, looking down at Archie while giving him a little scratch behind his ear. He was happily lying on the grass near your feet, tail wagging as he watched the other dogs and people. 

“Yeah…” 

You weren’t so sure that was going to go down well. But you were trying not to think about it and get ahead of yourself before you two talked about it. 

There was still a bit of disconnect between you two and you could feel it. The walk back wasn’t awkward per say and you talked in a relatively normal way, but nothing else about it felt normal. This whole situation was so new and you could practically feel the hesitation and nerves from Harry.

Archie seemed to be the safe topic which you were happy with. After weeks of barely seeing the little gremlin, you wanted to know everything you had missed. In classic Harry fashion, Harry shared animated stories about Archie in the way you loved; with lots of hand gestures and detours that lead to something completely random. 

He shared the time Archie jumped in the pool with Harry’s freshly ironed work shirt in his mouth and when he dropped his fluffy toy in his water bowl and dragged it through the house in a wet, slobbery trail.

He was well trained, clearly. 

Harry said that he had been acting out since you returned to uni. Archie had been going to the doggy daycare he went to before you took care of him and always seemed happy with it, until you left him that is. 

At first, you didn’t believe him. That was until he explained that Archie had been trying to escape to get to your house nearly every day. Apparently, he even weaselled his way underneath Harry’s fence once and made his way into your backyard where your dad happened to be mowing the grass. 

Harry had to dog-proof that entire side of the fence, something he had never even worried about before. It was a funny story, but once all the anecdotes of the little devil child were over, small talk took its place. 

There were so many topics that seemed avoidable. If it were anyone else you’d ask about his work and friends, light topics that opened conversation for something else. 

But Harry’s work would lead to Ethan. You wanted to know the aftermath of it all, but it didn’t really feel like the right time to talk about it. Tracey was another topic you wanted to know more about and again, felt like it wasn’t the right time for. 

You thought about asking how Niall and Jed were, but was it too soon to talk about the two people who helped Harry investigate the guy who had a hand in ruining your relationship? Maybe you were just overthinking everything. You probably were. 

Harry could sense this and he was feeling the same. He was good at leading conversations so that’s what he did, but he could see how you weren’t really reciprocating with a lot of questions nor were you chatting as freely as you used to. 

“Y’know I was thinking,” Harry spoke up after a moment of silence. 

“Mmh?” 

“I want to take you on a date.”

“A date?” You repeated, turning your head to look at him. Those words were the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. 

“Yes.” He nodded, “An actual date. Like dinner or a movie or something else. Just you and me.” 

You felt your stomach flutter with excitement and nerves at the thought of going on a real, proper date with Harry. A date. A date where you actually knew what was going on between you and that it was leading to something more and not a confusing, hypocritical night that left you with more questions than answers. 

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious too when there was so much you hadn’t said yet. 

“There’s so much we haven’t spoken about. Like my parents or the distance or who gets to know about us or anything. Shouldn’t we speak about how it’s all going to work first?” 

He smiled softly, “We can do that on our date. That’s what dates are for, love. To figure things out and talk about what we want.”

He had a point. 

“Yeah, that’s true.” 

“So.” He prompted, waiting for you to actually agree to go on a date with him. 

“Yes. I’d love to.” You smiled. 

“Good. What are you doing tonight?” 

“Oh. Tonight?” Again, you didn’t expect that. 

“Is this repeating thing of yours new or is everything I’m saying that shocking?” He teased, nudging you. 

“Stop it.” You blushed, bumping your shoulder against his. “I just didn’t expect you to want to go so soon, that’s all.”

“Of course I want to.” He replied quickly, before a beat of doubt trickled through him. “Do you not want to?” 

“No! I mean, of course, I do.” You corrected quickly, looking at him quickly before focusing back on the path. “Of course I do.”

“Then?…” he prompted, brow a tad raised while he waited for your response. You kept looking forward before replying with an apologetic tone. 

“I can’t. I’m seeing Lucy tonight.”

“What about tomorrow?” 

Harry was eager to take you out on a date. To actually start your relationship. He felt like the first date was the official start of you two rebuilding things. Of him earning your trust and forgiveness. 

If he was honest, he didn’t really know how to do that. Harry was always so sure about everything and he didn’t have a single clue on how to actually fix things with you. Being honest was a start, which was already going to be hard. But it was a start. 

“My parents are throwing a BBQ so I have to stick around for that then I’m driving back straight after. I’ve got an assignment due Monday and I promised Jay we’d study together.”

His heart sank, but it wasn’t your fault you were busy. This was going to be the reality of your relationship, especially given how far you two lived from each other. 

“That’s okay. We’ll sort something out.” Harry smiled softly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah…” this is the part you knew was going to be hard. Finding time for each other in the first place to even start the relationship building. “Anyway, I’m sure they would’ve invited you. Didn’t they?” 

“I think it was mentioned at some point…” he barely remembers the invitation to be honest. It was one he gained when he walked past your house while your dad was mowing the lawn. He threw it over the fence and Harry replied with a nod, promising nothing like he usually did when one of the neighbours extended an invite. They all wanted him there and he never reciprocated those feelings. 

Harry didn’t really want to go to a barbecue at your house again. Given what happened last time, it was like they were cursed and he didn’t really want to be reminded of running out of your house then having a panic attack on his front lawn. But things were different now and anywhere you were, he wanted to be too. Plus, it might’ve been a good idea to cozy up to your parents a little. 

“So come!” You pressed, smiling at him. He looked down at you, a smile playing on his lips. He thought you were so cute. Couldn’t help it, really. “I know it’s not a date but at least we can talk a bit more. I’d extend our walk but.”

“I know. Your mum wants to spend time with you, I get it.”

“Yeah…” 

It fell silent for a moment and you were a little worried he’d say no. It was understandable if he did considering what happened last time. But you hoped he’d come so you two could talk a little more. 

“Maybe I’ll swing by,” Harry spoke up again, sparking that ounce of hope again. 

“Maybe?” You grinned slyly, catching his little glare and a chuckle that rumbled through his chest at your attitude. 

“I’ll swing by.” 

“Good. Bring the rat too.” 

“Rat?” Harry laughed in astonishment, face expressive and shocked like he’d never heard that before. 

“Yeah.” You grinned, “he’ll be a butterfly rat once I give him his harness.”

“Alright, love. Alright.” Harry bellowed out a laugh. 

//

“I’m surprised Harry is here.” Sherry mused, eyeing him over her cocktail. 

“You know why he’s here. He only ever comes to these things when y/n is home.” The woman beside her replied. 

“It’s too bad, too. He’s so delicious-looking. Ugh, I could just lick him.” Sherry giggled, eliciting a similar response from her friend. 

God, did these women not have anything better to talk about? 

Rolling your eyes at the conversation you overheard, you made your way towards him. He was standing near the back door that led to the deck where everyone was gathered. His outfit screamed wealth, all dark linen with his signature jewellery and tattoos on display. 

His eyes scanned the room, a less than enthused expression on his face until he saw you. His expression changed the moment his eyes landed on yours and you could see his chest rise as he inhaled a deep breath. 

Those familiar butterflies fluttered in your stomach at how his whole demeanour changed. It was an instant switch, like just seeing you made him happier. No one had ever looked at you like that before. 

“Hi, darling.” Harry smiled once you got within earshot. He looked you up and down, taking in your little dress. You had worn it before. He even remembered how taken aback he was the first time he saw you in it. That reaction never changed. 

“Hi.” You smiled, reciprocating the hug when his arms wrapped around your waist and he ducked in to kiss your cheek. 

“You look really pretty.” He murmured before pulling away, causing a shiver to run through your body. 

“Thank you.” Smiling softly, you looked at his feet briefly, you noticed the absence of your favourite gremlin. “Where’s Archie?”

“Oh, he’s inside. Some of the kids found him and you know how much he loves terrorising children.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure he’ll find you soon, though. He can’t resist you.” 

“He can’t resist anyone who gives him constant treats.” You joked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“That is true. But he loves you most. Even more than me.”

“Maybe I’m just extremely loveable.” You grinned, moving out of the doorway with Harry so your mum could walk past. 

“Don’t I know it?” He murmured, looking at you intently. You barely registered the words until a moment later, when your mum was already talking. 

“Hi, Harry! So glad you could make it.” She beamed, a fruit platter in one hand and her glass of sangria in the other. She always was a good multitasker. 

“Hi, love. How’re you?” He greeted, kissing her cheek briefly.  

“Oh, good! Happy as anything.” She laughed, clearly feeling that sangria already. 

“That’s good. Can I help?” He offered, reaching towards the fruit platter that seemed dangerously close to toppling over. 

“Oh no. I’m okay!” Her attention quickly turned to you. “Get him a drink baby, can’t let a good man go thirsty.” 

“Okay, mum.” You laughed, watching her walk off. His words still rang heavy in your mind, but you ignored them. “So, um. Would you like a drink? Tequila? Whiskey?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He gasped. 

Your eyes widened, “No! I was just-“

“I’m kidding.” He assured, laughing while placing a gentle hand on your arm. “I’ll start with something light, darling. Don’t want to get excited too early.”

“Okay. Okay” you blushed. “Come on.”

He followed you into the kitchen, away from all the crowds and noise outside. You started making him a light spritz, nothing too sweet since you knew he didn’t like that while he stood beside you and tried to take over.

“How was Lucy’s last night?” He asked. 

It was a casual question, but truthfully he was more interested in what she had to say about him than whatever else you two spoke about. Normally Harry wouldn’t care what people thought of him, and he still didn’t. But he wanted to know some of the feedback your friends were giving you on this whole situation. 

If they all hated him, he wanted to try and support you if he could. Or at the very least make amends with them like he was trying to do with you. The last thing he wanted was to cause rifts in your friendships. He didn’t want you to end up with no support system because everyone hated him and your relationship.

“It was good. Maybe a little weird still after the whole Tracey thing but good. We drank a lot which helped, I think.” You laughed, flashing him side eye when he added an extra dash of vodka into his drink that you were still in the middle of making. Harry had a bad habit of taking over any tasks like this. He’d rather make things for you than the other way around. 

“Yeah?” he chuckled, reaching for the vermouth. “Did you go out?”

“No. I just went to hers and- would you like to finish these? Since you seem to think I’m incapable of making you a drink?” You asked with your arms crossed, now getting irritated when he measured out the vermouth instead of letting you do it. You turned to rest your bum against the bench, now looking at him instead of the drinks since it was clear he wasn’t going to let you do it.

“I would actually.” He smirked, pouring the vermouth his glass. Because you had to drive home, you opted for a non-alcoholic version. Seeing your pout, he looked briefly over your shoulder before standing in front of you. He kept a safe distance so it wasn’t inappropriate looking from a distance, but he let the counter hide his hands on your hips. “And it’s not because you’re incapable. You’re plenty capable. It’s because pretty girls should let the men serve them. Fuck the patriarchy or whatever.”

You gasped out a laugh, practically wheezing as you pushed him away to bellow out a laugh. “You did not just say ‘fuck the patriarchy’?” 

“What? Am I not allowed to support women?” He grinned, letting you get your laugh out while he went back to making the drinks.

“That is the wildest thing I think you’ve ever said. And I’ve heard you say a lot” You inhaled a deep breath, fanning yourself to try and calm down. He thought he was quite funny, to be fair. 

“Anyway,” he stressed, stirring the drinks, “did Lucy have any choice words for me? Or about me?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t um, I didn’t tell her about us. I haven't told anyone that we’re actually together, or working through things at least. Didn’t want to until we spoke about it.” You shrugged, looking down at the bench and tracing a random shape with your manicured nail.

“No one?” Harry was surprised, “Not even Jay and Maeve?” 

“I asked Jay and Maeve for their opinions before our walk since they kinda knew most of it, but I never told them what we spoke about yesterday.” You looked up at him, wanting to be honest with how you felt about the entire thing. It was hypocritical to want Harry’s honesty and then lie to the few people who actually helped you through his betrayal. But at the same time, this was as much Harry’s choice as yours. “It feels wrong to lie to them about us, but if you want to keep things really hush I'm okay with that.”

“No, don’t do that.” He shook his head, grabbing some fresh mint straight from the little plant your mum had on the kitchen counter. She was a cocktail freak and mint was her garnish 90% of the time. “I don’t want you to lie or hide from the people who have been there helping you through everything. It wouldn’t feel right.” 

He washed the mint thoroughly under the sink, acting like it was his own in classic Harry fasion. Considering how long you two had known each other, he hadn’t actually been in your kitchen more than a handful of times.

“So you’re okay with them knowing? Lucy and Priya too?”

“Yes.” He assured, smiling at you softly while he placed a few connected leaves of mint on each glass before sliding yours to you. “Y/n, I want you to know that this is not something I want to hide forever. I think keeping it quiet for now is smart because we can just sort things out between us without other people getting involved. But I also think it’s important for you to have people you can turn to for support. At some point everyone will know about us and when that happens, it’ll be good to have people that already support us.”

He had a good point.

“Thank you.” You took a sip of your drink, knowing it tasted 10 times better than anything you’d be able to make. “Maybe you’re right. If it all turns to shit at least I’ve got my friends.” You chuckled to yourself, looking away for a moment. It wasn’t funny, but you didn’t really want to think too deeply about your entire family going against you. You weren’t even sure how your friends would take it. “And what about you? Have you told Niall and Jed? Anyone else?”

“Not yet.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve only spoken to Niall a little bit since we dealt with Ethan but I’ve been giving them their space. I’m not even sure if they’re a couple, to be honest.”

“Oh, you… you dealt with Ethan? How did that go?”

You had been thinking about it a lot actually but you didn’t want to bring it up. 

“Fuck, y/n.” He sighed, “I didn’t want to talk about that today. I wanted to talk about us.” He sounded apologetic and he was. He never wanted to bring up that son of a bitch again around you but it just slipped out without him meaning it. 

“It’s okay. I want to know.” You assured him, flashing a small smile. On the inside, you were a bit anxious about it. Moreso about who else had access to your photos. It was a thought you pushed far into the back of your mind. You weren’t actually sure you wanted to know. 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded. 

“Let’s sit down then, yeah?” 

You agreed and the two of you ventured outside. However it wasn’t as simple as finding a chair or bench seat to sit down and talk, nor could you just stay inside and chat. When you actually got outside, both of you were dragged into conversations with other people.

You tried to end them, to find a way to get back to Harry without raising suspicion but nothing seemed to work. It took Archie running in with a bunch of kids on his tail, covered in mud since they seemed to be playing in the front garden in the sprinklers to get you two alone again. 

There was screaming, a neighbour yelling about her pavlova she made because Archie ran too close to the desert table and a whole bunch of dirty kids who had to be cleaned up by their parents. It was quite funny actually. You found it fucking hilarious even as you and Harry dragged him to the laundry to wash him off. 

“This isn’t funny, y/n. He dirtied your entire house and you and- fuck. I’m embarrassed.” He cursed, glaring down at his son while he scrubbed him down. 

“Harry, don't be embarrassed.” You laughed, “it was so funny! He looked so happy too. Didn’t you Archie?” He barked in response, making you giggle in response. 

“I’ve trained him so damn well and now he’s acting out. In a damn teenage stage or something, I swear.”

“He’s just a puppy, Harry.” You tried to defend him, even though your dress was ruined and covered in mud. 

“He’s not. He ruined your dress and the barbecue.” 

“It’s fine.” You assured, placing your hand on his. “Don’t worry.” 

He just hmphed in response, not convinced about anything. It was silent for a bit while you both washed and conditioned Archie. You wanted to bring up Ethan again since your conversation was cut short, but at the same time you didn’t want to ruin the peace. 

But then Harry was the one to speak up. 

“Ethan won’t be a problem anymore.” 

Your head snapped to him. “What?” 

“I dealt with him.” He shrugged, looking at you with that intense eye contact he likes to do. “He's not in my life, or yours. Ever.” 

You hated how vague he was being. 

“Soo, what? How did you get him to leave his job? Your friends? What are Will and Matthew going to say?” 

“He didn’t quit.” he looked back at Archie to avoid looking at you. 

Harry didn’t say anything about Will and Matt, because he hadn’t seen them since talking to Ethan aside from work. Truthfully, he was just hoping Ethan would never show up to any social events by his own choice. And if he did, Harry would make him go away. 

“What?” Your brows furrowed. You were confused. “What do you mean? You’re still working with him? Harry-”

“You wanted to know, y/n.” He cut you off, his voice short and eyes drawn in sternness. He didn’t want to elaborate, nor did he want to talk about how it felt to see that asshole every day. Not today. Not when today was meant to be about you. “It’s temporary. But he won’t hurt you, I won’t let him.”

You were a little taken aback by his tone, considering he was the one to bring it up. Even though he said he didn’t want to talk about it, you weren’t the one to ask again. You left it. Only one damn day of this ‘new start’ and he was already making you feel bad, in a situation he created. 

“Okay. Fine.” 

Harry was quick to regret his tone immediately, especially with the way you reacted. 

“Y/n…” 

“Harry.” you stopped him, pulling a convincing smile. “It’s fine. Let's just finish this so I can change, okay?” 

Letting out a sigh, he just nodded and continued to look at you for a little longer. One day… one fucking day and he was already screwing up. Fuck. 

//

“Oh my god.” Jay gasped, stopping abruptly right outside the entrance to your university building. 

“Jay!” You scolded, walking right into his back. 

“What?” Maeve managed to stop before bumping into him because she wasn’t distracted on her phone like you were. 

Y/n: I still don’t understand how you stand seeing him every day. His face gives me the ick

You had been texting Harry on and off since Sunday. He wasn’t a huge texter, hated it, really. But he was the one to start the conversation in the first place and from there you two had just been talking. About anything, everything, really. 

Today’s topic was Ethan. You left that initial conversation about it feeling a little down, to be honest. Harry didn’t necessarily hurt you, but it was a situation you found yourself dwelling on. After he gave that vague and offputting explanation of it all, he reached out again and explained it properly which you were thankful for. You needed the closure. 

It was something you never thought he’d do, explain something like that over text of all things, but he seemed to take a liking to it. He found himself quite enjoying it, more than he thought he would. It gave him time to actually read your response and process before thinking and drafting his own. In person he couldn’t do that.

He never left your messages without a reply for very long. He couldn’t do that to you. Even found himself texting in a meeting once under the table because he didn’t want to miss a second of talking to you. 

It was kinda therapeutic for both of you to talk about Ethan more consistently. The thought of him still made you extremely uncomfortable, but it was helpful to speak about him. Kind of. 

Harry: if ‘the ick’ means wanting to punch him then yes. 

You let out the smallest laugh at his age showing until Maeve nudged you to get you to look up. When you did, your eyes widened at the reason Jay stopped in the first place. 

“Oh my god.” This time it was your turn to be surprised.

“Look. I still hate the guy but that is really fucking cute.” Jay sighed, finally stepping out of the way so you could move past him. 

“Mhmm.” Maeve agreed. 

You ignored both of them to focus on what was in front of you. There he was, the gorgeous, tall dilf of a man standing in front of his expensive car. In one hand, a bouquet of daffodils and the other his phone. He hadn’t seen you yet and seemed to be looking intently at his screen. 

Even though he hadn’t seen you, you weren’t the only one who saw him. You couldn’t blame them really, the girls on girls walking by and checking him out before giggling to themselves. It’s something you would’ve done too after seeing a handsome stranger; a clearly rich handsome stranger holding flowers. 

He took your breath away a little, to be honest. You and Harry were still trying to figure out a time where you could meet in the middle somewhere and have your first date, and here he was. You didn’t want him to take time off work or drive all the way to you just to see you, even though he was adamant he wanted to. 

He agreed not to, but Harry always did what he wanted like usual. So apparently here he was on a Wednesday afternoon looking gorgeous as ever in cream linen pants and a matching shirt. It was only buttoned up part way and though you couldn’t see all the details from here, you could see the light reflect off what you guessed was his usual cross and banana necklaces. 

Divine. 

Harry looked up a moment later then looked down at his phone before double taking when he saw you in front of him. He immediately perked up, a smile forming on his lips as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. 

You were still frozen in shock, feeling those butterflies you used to feel anytime he looked at you in the pit of your stomach. It was nice to feel that again. It didn’t fix that big piece of you that broke through the entire process, but it was nice he was making an effort. 

“Go on, y/n. Don’t leave him hanging.” Jay nudged. You rolled your eyes at him and ignored the comment, finally breaking from your haze to meet Harry halfway. 

Up close he looked a little… nervous. You were the same. 

“Hi, darling.” He smiled, greeting you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

Ugh, darling. Just the pet name had you getting a little nervous. You were nervous about this entire thing, truthfully. 

“Hi.” You smiled while pulling back and adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “This is a surprise.”

“Mhmm. Wanted to take you on that date.” He mused, looking you up and down a little. You weren’t wearing anything special. It was a hot day so a little skirt and basic tank top was the choice. To Harry, your ‘nothing special’ was making him practically drool onto his shirt. God, you looked good. 

“That’s romantic of you.” You blushed a little, trying to conceal your excitement. 

“I’m glad you think so. Wasn’t sure if this would be…” he looked over your shoulder briefly, looking at Jay and Maeve who were both watching him intently. “Too much for you. Showing up like this.”

“It’s not. I’m glad you’re here.” You looked down at the flowers, noticing that he hadn’t given them to you yet. “Are those for me?”

“Oh!” It was like he suddenly remembered their existence and passed them to you. The fact he was clearly nervous was so endearing to you. It was a different side to Harry and you really liked it. “Yes. They’re daffodils.”

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you.” You looked down at them then hugged them to your chest, finding the bright yellow colour so pretty. They meant a lot to you and you could feel the giddiness display in a red flush on your chest. 

The way you looked at them with adoration filled Harry with so much damn happiness. He wanted to kiss you badly, so badly his lips were practically tingling for it. But he wasn’t sure if you’d want that here in such a public place with all your peers around. 

“Daffodils represent rebirth.” He spoke up, gaze a little more intense than a moment ago. “They’re one of the first flowers to bloom at the end of winter to transition to spring. A new beginning after cold, dark days. New beginnings.” 

“That’s…” you paused, looking at him while trying to find the words from how speechless you were. That would have to be one of the most thoughtful things, the most thoughtful gesture someone had ever made. “Wow. Thank you.” You looked down at the flowers again, playing with one of the many yellow petals. “New beginnings. Like us, huh?”

“Like us.” He repeated, looking down at your mouth. He leaned closer, hand finding your waist in a gentle grip. “Can I kiss you? I really want to but I don’t want to cross a boundary around your friends.”

Harry didn’t care what other people thought and you knew that. You knew he couldn’t have cared less that Jay and Maeve and your classmates were around, but the fact that he knew you cared meant a lot to you. You both already established that kissing was okay, but it hadn’t happened in front of your friends before. He wasn’t assuming what was okay, or going off what was okay when it used to just be you two in his house. 

This whole thing was new. A new beginning as he said. 

“Yes.” You cupped his face, smiling while reaching up on your tippy toes to cross the distance and kiss him. 

He reciprocated the touch and placed his hand on the side of your neck right below your jaw. His thumb caressed your chin and it sent images of all the times it was firmly wrapped around your neck, his fingers dug into the sides of your esophagus to make that delicious woozy feeling flood your brain.  

The kiss was the opposite of that familiar rough touch. It was soft; a little deeper than a peck but nothing too disgraceful for the public eye. After a couple of pecks to finish off, he pulled away, eyes closed a touch longer while a pleased expression appeared on his face. 

“Mmh, missed that. Missed you.” He squeezed your waist quickly. 

“It’s only been a few days.” You giggled, settling back down on your heels. 

“I know. Doesn’t change the truth.” He smirked, “Now come on.” Grabbing the heavy tote bag from your shoulder, the pressure eased instantly as he slung it over his own. “We’ve got plans.”

Sending a quick wave to your friends, Harry nodded to them before leading you towards his car with a hand on the small of your back. 

“What sort of plans?” you asked, loving the feeling of his hand on your back. It burned through the thin material of your top straight to your skin. 

“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it.” He flashed you a cheeky look, clearly not saying anything more than that. 

You liked surprises and if history said anything, Harry was a good planner. Every restaurant was delicious and every outing was fun or interesting in some way. You had no worries that you wouldn’t like whatever he planned. He knew you better than most people. 

“Is there a time crunch? Or do I have time to head back to my place and quickly change?”

“There’s no booking if that’s what you mean. Anyway, you look gorgeous as you are, love.” He charmed, smoothly quickening his pace to make it to the car before you so he could open your door for you.

What a gentleman. 

That action alone had you getting all squirmy. You were a sucker for chivalry and you loved it even more when it came from Harry. 

“Harry, I’ve been wearing these clothes since 8. I don’t feel gorgeous.” You flashed a look of indignation, only joking but not really. He stopped on the other side of the car door, looking at you over the top as you stopped right before getting in.

You were hot and sweaty and you knew he didn’t really care that much, considering he once ate you out right after a walk, but you cared. He looked so nice and you weren’t sure what he had planned. At the very least you wanted to change to a nicer dress. 

“Okay.” He laughed, giving you a quick once over. “We’ll do a quick stop.” 

He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before shutting the door and then going around to his side. It was that adorable dad jog that always managed to get you amused, but you decided not to say anything about it when he got inside. 

“Seatbelt.” he reminded, feeling your attention directly on him. You rolled your eyes and buckled up, watching him doing his right after.

Once you were on the road and driving, you decided to interrogate him a little between directions. It was barely a five-minute drive so you knew you didn’t have a lot of time. “Did you take a day off just to see me?”

“No.” He looked over at you briefly, “I technically am working today. From home.”

“This doesn’t look like your office.”

“Really?” He asked sarcastically, brows raising in faux shock. “I had no idea.” 

“Harry!” you scolded, trying to hide your smile when he looked at you with that dopey, charming smile of his. “I told you not to do this. I hate that you had to take time off for me.”

“Y/n.” Harry sighed, reaching over the centre console to intertwine his fingers with yours. He left them resting on your bare thigh, right beside your bouquet of daffodils. Ohh. “I wanted to.” His eyes flickered between your eyes and mouth. “When we agreed, well, you agreed to give this a second chance we knew there’d be travel involved. Until we get it figured out I don’t mind taking time off to see you. Your school is important and I remember what it’s like to juggle it with working. It’s hard. I want to ease the burden for you.”

When he said things like that… there was a moment you forgot all the pain he caused. How could a man who’d move his entire schedule for you be the same one to flash those cold, dead eyes and lie to you? 

“I appreciate that. But I get days off and I can skip a class to see you. The city is like a middle point for us and I skip classes when I'm hungover or can’t be bothered sometimes. You’re a better reason than a headache.”

“A better reason than a headache” He repeated to himself, “I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Stop” You whined gently, both loving and hating his teasing. “I’m serious. I want this to be even.”

“And I want you not to stress. Don’t fight me on this.” He flashed one of those famous looks of his. The one that told you not to argue with him. It was one he displayed when you tried to pay for something or go against a simple instruction. 

“Fine. But we’re not finished.” You sighed, giving in like always. “So, where are we going anyway?”

After giving him the final turn, you could see your building coming up ahead and you wanted a bit more information so you knew what to change into. He looked exceptionally put together, but that didn’t really give you much to go off when he always looked put together. 

“I’m not telling you that.” He laughed, squeezing your palm. “It’s a surprise, remember.”

“Can you at least tell me what I should change into?” He went to open his mouth before you spoke again, cutting him off. “And don’t say ‘anything’.” 

Harry smiled to himself because that was exactly what he was going to say. But he didn’t want to give away the surprise. “Wear a dress. Something comfortable.” 

“That still doesn’t help me.”

“Well? I’m not saying anything else.” He laughed.

“Ugh, I hate when you’re cryptic.” You groaned in reply.

“Just-” He laughed again. You seemed a lot more comfortable which helped him feel more comfortable. Harry was honestly quite nervous, but he had already mastered how to show that so he hoped it wasn’t coming across too much. “Wear something pretty. Which is anything on you.”

“Smooth.” You grumbled, looking out the window instead of at him. 

He said nothing in return and just looked at you a bit. He still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. After everything, part of him expected that he’d never get to be this close to you again and he was okay with that. It would’ve hurt, but he could live with it as long as you were happy and safe.

Now you were safe and hopefully happy. He couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

Once you arrived at your building, he found a car spot and you were quick to jump out with all your belongings including your beautiful flowers so you could get them in the cool air. It was a quick in-and-out activity. A reapply of deodorant and perfume, a minute touchup on the minimal makeup you wore to class and a change of clothes into exactly what he said. A casual flowy dress and the same sneakers you wore to class.

You were back in his car within five minutes, lipgloss in hand so you could apply it while he drove to wherever he was taking you.

“You look pretty.” Harry complimented once you were settled back in the passenger seat. He let himself look down at your bare thighs for a moment, finally giving him after trying to avoid looking at them the entire time he drove to your building. 

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, “I really like this, by the way. The linen is nice.”

A shiver ran up his spine when you plucked at the material of his sleeve. It was only his goddamn sleeve yet that slight brush of your fingers on his skin had his heart racing. Any touch of yours had his heart racing, actually, but he was keeping that to himself for now.

“Thanks, darling.” He smirked, intertwining your fingers again. He held them on the centre console again, which you were happy about.

The rest of the drive was silent aside from little comments here and there. It wasn’t awkward per se, but much quieter now than the initial excitement had calmed down. 

It wasn’t a very long drive, maybe 15 minutes before Harry pulled up to the nice part of the coast. You were exceptionally lucky with the location of your university. It was a waterfront campus so practically every class had waterfront views. Not the best place for swimming, but it didn’t take much effort to get to a good swimming spot where a lot of cafes were. 

Harry had taken you away from campus and towards that swimming area. Your first thought was a nice lunch along the water which would’ve been very Harry-style since he was as much of a water baby as you were. But when he parked and led you towards the grassy area instead of towards the cafes, you weren’t sure what to expect.

“What are we doing?” You asked, looking around trying to spot something.

“You’ll see.” He smiled, grabbing your hand in his. 

Down here, he wasn’t worried about anyone seeing you two or knowing you at all. They may have known you, sure, but they wouldn’t have thought twice about you two holding hands or on a public date. It was one of the reasons he quite liked the idea of driving down to see you. There was no stress or anxiety about who was watching. 

After walking a bit more, you finally saw it. 

“Is that for us?” you asked, eyes a little wide. You looked back at Harry to find him looking at you with a tight-lipped smile. He simply shrugged and pulled you forward.

“Come on, y/n.”

“Harry. That’s- oh my god” 

You were a little speechless because Harry was pulling you right to one of the gazebos where your eye was first drawn to. But it wasn’t just a gazebo. The gazebo was open without any permanent fixtures and right in the middle was a big picnic blanket decked out with pillows and an assortment of food. 

There was a delicious-looking charcuterie board and chocolate-covered strawberries, little sandwiches and finger food, champagne and plastic wine glasses. Two plates with cutlery were all set up in front of two little easels. Accompanying them were a range of paints, two paint palettes and paintbrushes. A painting picnic date. It was all set up perfectly and the amount of detail Harry went into to plan this just made you feel so appreciated. 

“Do you like it?” Harry asked nervously, stopping right in front of the gazebo.

Harry had picked everything out himself. From the activity to the champagne to the exact food he knew you’d like. He couldn't set it up and have it be a surprise so he had a little bit of outside help, but he put a lot of effort into making something fun for your first date.

Never had he organised a date like this. His experience wasn’t enormous, as you knew, but even in his last relationship, he never put this much effort into a date. Harry wanted something he knew you’d like. Painting wasn’t exactly his forte and he wouldn’t say he was particularly good at it, but he knew you were a creative person and after so much turmoil between you two, he thought it would be good to have an activity that could fill the silence just in case.

So far things were going pretty well, but at the very least an activity gave you two something to talk about that wasn’t serious. An icebreaker perhaps. It was more for Harry, something to ease his nerves if he got stumped on what to say. 

“Like it?” you paused, turning to face him. “I love it. This is so incredible. Thank you.”

The weight was instantly pulled off his chest and he felt like he could breathe again. “I’m so glad. I thought an activity would be fun. Thought about paint-by-numbers since I've seen that online, but this way you can paint anything you want.” 

Online. Harry went online to look at ideas? 

“You went online to look at ideas?” You asked, biting your lip to hide your smile. 

“No.” he defended, looking away. That was a clear yes. “Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked back at you. “Maybe. I’m new to all of this and I wanted to do something nice. Sue me.”

You grinned and clasped your fingers together around the back of his neck, reaching up on your tippy toes to give him a quick kiss. He was initially a little shocked, but quickly gained composure and rested his hands on your waist. “I’m not making fun of you. I love this all and I think it’s cute you put in so much effort for me.” 

You reached up to kiss him again and mumbled a ‘thank you’ against his mouth before settling back down on your heels. 

“You’re welcome.” There was a faint blush across his cheeks and you only found that more endearing. “Now come. I’m starving.”

He led you to the picnic and sat down across from you, immediately offering wine and plating you a few things while you spoke. Now that you were sitting down like this, in such a ‘date’ setting, you were both a little nervous. Excited but nervous. 

Harry felt lucky just sitting in front of you, to be honest. He still couldn’t believe it. The date could’ve been awkward and uncomfortable or the best day of his life and he still would’ve enjoyed it, loved it. Loved you. With everything that happened between you, he was just thankful. And happy. 

The talking came naturally, like old times, but there were still moments where it felt a little too official. Neither of you had been on a date in a long time, well, you had never been on a proper one that felt like this and it was showing. Still, you were having fun. 

You were laughing and proper laughing where your stomach ached and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Despite how serious Harry could be sometimes, he never failed to make you laugh. There was no talking about the past, or Ethan and Tracey, or anything that could sour the mood. It was just fun. 

The painting helped to brighten the mood as well and it did exactly what Harry hoped it would. It was a bit of an icebreaker to help ease some of the nerves and it helped both of you to relax more than you already were. 

What Harry liked more though, was how excited you were for it. You even went as far as suggesting that the paintings were for each other and he could tell you already had an idea based on that mischievous glint in your eye. He had an idea too, though he was far more nervous about executing his than you seemed to be.

“So what are you painting?” You asked, peeking at Harry over your canvas. He looked up at you for a moment, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked back down to his work in focus. 

“It’s a secret. What are you painting?” 

“If yours is a secret, so is mine.” You grinned, placing your brush down on the little paint palette to switch to another. 

“It better go with my decor” he joked, looking at you again. He kept doing that. Looking up and down between you and his canvas. 

“It’s not black and white so I doubt it. But if you hate it you can always hide it in a cupboard” 

“I would never.” He defended, “It could be the ugliest artwork and I’d still love it.”

“That’s a lie.” You snorted, “We both know you’d call it ugly and hide it somewhere. Or regift it to someone else.”

“Y/n” He tutted. “I’d do that to anyone but you. Though I’d still call it ugly. In a nice way.”

“In a nice way.” You repeated, laughing. “Sure.”

He laughed then the two of you fell into comfortable silence while you finished your paintings. You didn’t set a time frame but kept checking in on each other until you were done and Harry was doing his final touches. It was such a nice atmosphere. Just painting in nature with this gorgeous man in front of you. Part of you still couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 

“Okay. On three?” you asked, holding up your canvas. Harry nodded and held his up, the back facing you. Now that it was in the light, you got a glimpse of an outline and colours he had used. They were all shades of blues and greens but you couldn’t really make out what it was exactly. 

“On three.”

“One… two… three.” 

At three, you both turned them around at the same time and you were in complete awe of what Harry had painted. You. And done incredibly well. He had been saying the entire time how he wasn’t the best painter, kept making comments and cursing when he seemed to make a ‘mistake’, but you couldn’t find a single mistake in the entire thing.

It was just your face and hair and you seemed to be looking down with a closed smile on your lips. It wasn’t finely detailed, but rather done in an illustrative way that just made your features pop. Incredible. 

“Harry that’s amazing.” You gushed, basically forgetting your painting to focus on his.

“You think?” He asked, genuinely nervous for your feedback. You nodded.

“Yes. A thousand times, yes. It’s beautiful. I never knew you could paint like that.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. Not really.” He shrugged, placing it back on his easel. “I did it as an elective in college but that was a long time ago. Anyway, yours is much better. He looks just like him.” 

“Mine isn’t better” you blushed, looking down at your painting of Archie. You were pretty proud of it, you’d admit that. 

“It is.” He pressed, staring in awe at your talent. Talent that he’d be hanging proudly somewhere in his home. “I love it.”

“So you’re not going to hide it in a drawer?” You asked, biting your lip to hide a smile. He laughed and shook his head, getting up on his knees and shuffling closer to you. He pressed his fists to the picnic blanket so your faces where in line and you reciprocated by resting your hands on his face.

Ugh… you loved when he looked at you like that. 

“Never.” 

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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[meetmymouthrecs]

The Divorce Masterlist

Y/N takes on her first high profile case as an assistant at a law firm. Her first client? Harry Styles.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

[meetmymouthrecs]

Deal or No Deal*

Summary: You and your stepdad, Harry, make a pact.

And Harry is never one to go back on a promise.

No matter what.

Word Count: 2.2k

(Note: Reader is 25 and Harry is 45!!)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! This is a stepdad fic!! I know that's not everybody's thing and I would never want you to read anything you aren't comfortable with! 💞 You are so much more important!*

Harry is in his home office when you finally return from the library. 

You imagine he’s been in there all day. Working. Planning.

Waiting. 

He doesn’t like when you keep him. Doesn’t like having to expect you. Doesn’t like having to anticipate your return.

After all, you have a deal. A schedule to stick to.

And Harry is never one to go off schedule.

You drop your bag near the wall in the hallway before gently rapping on the doorframe to garner his attention.

His expression is unreadable, eyes focused on his work until he hears you approach. But when he looks up, he seems relieved.

“Hi,” you call sheepishly, taking a step closer while your hands gather in front of your stomach. “Sorry, Felix and I lost track of time. There’s this huge deadline I need to meet for Professor Hastings, and I completely forgot to call.”

He tosses his pen onto the table and leans back in his seat, arms crossing as he studies you. “That’s all right. I knew you’d probably be busy.”

A beat of silence stretches between you as the sound of his clock echoes around the room. You know what comes next. Know what you agreed to, and your heart begins to thump against your ribcage as you stare at him in anticipation.

There’s only one problem.

“She’s home early,” you say. More of a question than a statement.

“She is,” Harry agrees. “She wanted to surprise us with dinner. I would have told you, but…”

You never called. That’s what he really wants to say, and you have to swallow your embarrassment as you glance toward the floor.

“Right,” you murmur, beginning to pick at your nails. You hate how disappointed you feel. “Well…I actually have a lot of work to do before we eat, so…”

“Then I guess you’d better hurry,” he replies, nodding his chin in your direction. “Shut the door.”

You perk up, a sharp chill resonating across your nervous system as you gingerly reach back to close it. “Harry—”

“Lock it,” he reminds you, now rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “Don’t make me ask you again, darling. You know the rules.”

And you do know the rules. Know that you agreed to this. Know that you want this. And you know that the idea of getting caught is ten times more thrilling when the one person you have to hide from is only a floor away.

You flip the lock before facing him. “She’s right down there—"

“I know.” He meets your eye with a coy smile. “But if you really didn’t want to get caught, you would have been home sooner.”

You pout. “I didn’t know.”

“I know. Which is why you’d better hurry,” he reminds you, scooting back in his seat to usher you over.

You consider hesitating, but your feet are taking you to him before you can give it a second thought.

Not for the first time, your conscious attempts to remind you how wrong this is. How completely ridiculous it is that you even agreed to Harry’s proposal in the first place.

But you did. And despite the fact that your mother is in the next room, almost within earshot…you allow yourself to stand before your stepdad with an eager look of intrigue. 

He grins at your obedience before motioning you onto his lap. “Come on, darling. Don’t be shy. Thought you wanted to be quick, hm?”

You nod, slipping off your flats before taking a seat over his thighs, your back nuzzling into his chest as you exhale a deep breath.

He tucks his chin over your shoulder, humming his approval while his arms snake around your waist. “Gonna have to be quiet for me, yeah?”

His fingers begin to pull on the zipper of your jeans, allowing him to loosen the fabric in order to make room for his hands.

Your eyes drift to his computer as he begins to dance his touch down the front of your underwear, desperate to feel the growing damp patch you both know is there.

He’s got some blueprints pulled up. Legal documents and emails. You don’t know what it is he does, exactly, but it seems important. And it does an excellent job of making you feel inferior to the older gentleman as he keeps you trapped against his legs.

He cups you firmly until you gasp and writhe a bit in his hold and your reaction has him smirking against your cheek. “Hold still.”

He does it again, and you try, you really do. But you’re so sensitive, and his teasing grazes certainly aren’t helping.

Finally, he makes his way for the band of your underwear, swiftly slipping inside until he can brush his fingers along your clit.

You tense, a quiet gasp ripping from your throat when he pinches you gently. “Fuck—”

“Easy,” he reminds you. “Thought I asked you to be quiet.”

“Trying,” is all you can manage, lashes fluttering shut. “Promise.”

He hums. “Try harder.”

And he leaves you with no other choice but to do just that. His large large digits slowly begin to slide between your folds, and you hear (and feel) him hum when he finds just how worked up you already are.

It makes him smile.

“Did you miss me today, sweet one?” he asks, lazily running up and down your pussy.

Your hands gather in front of your stomach, clutching together as you pick at your nails. “Yes,” you admit sheepishly.

He chuckles, spreading you open and allowing the air to hit you just to make you huff. “I can tell. Or is this all for Felix?”

He already knows the answer and you pout at the implication as you shake your head.

“No,” you whisper. “Because I knew I was coming home to you.”

It’s the answer he’d wanted. To make sure you always think about him—about your deal—even when he’s not around.

Because that’s what you agreed on. That's why you're here.

He'd offered a proposition months ago. A stipulation that after you've come home, you aren't allowed to do any of your work, chores, or anything else that might need your attention…

…until you come first.

The basis of your pact. At least one orgasm per day (excluding the other deal he likes to enforce from time to time where you aren’t allowed to go to sleep until you’ve made yourself come).

And it was a rather fair trade, you decided. After all, he does an excellent job. And it does give you a clearer mind as you continue about your evening. Helps you get your homework done. Helps you sleep better. Keeps you focused.

So, that's what you do. Everyday. Rain or shine. No matter how busy he is, no matter how busy you are...you find him. The second you walk through the door.

And you let him make you come.

It’s wrong on every level. You know that. It’s inappropriate, and uncouth, and just fucking wrong. But that’s why you like it, you suppose. That’s why you’re drawn to him. You don’t understand it. Wouldn’t dare rationalize it or excuse it.

But…your body thrives off the idea. And who are you to deny pleasure?

“She’s sensitive today,” he muses, glancing down at your cunt as his fingers continue slipping to the subtle sound of your arousal as he pushes it around. Just to test you. “Why is that, darling?”

Your lashes flutter as your head rolls back across his shoulder. “These jeans…the seam kept rubbing me.”

“Oh?” His other hand comes out to splay across your thigh, squeezing it gently. “Is that why you wore them?”

You feel the blood drain from your face as you pull your lip between your teeth. “No.”

“No? I hope not. Know your orgasm belongs to me, baby.”

“Promise,” you breathe, eyes falling shut as he circles the tip of his thick digit around your opening. Once more teasing you with a taste. “Please…”

“What?” He pushes in for half a second before pulling back out and returning to your clit. Guiding it around before pressing down. “You aren’t in a hurry, are you?”

You grab onto his arms for balance and leverage. “Please,” you try again, lungs quickly running out of air as your desperation sucks them dry. “Need…she’ll hear—”

“Then you should have called,” he tuts, finally moving back down to slide in to the middle of his finger. Soft strokes meant to torment you. “And I would have obliged. But you’re on my time now, darling. And I’d like my dessert before my dinner.”

You writhe a bit, face turning into his neck to hide as you drink in the scent of him. Familiar and oddly comforting, and you melt in his embrace as he continues.

“Good girls let their Daddy take care of them,” he reminds you, cheek resting against your forehead as he watches his hand disappear between your thighs. “And don’t I always take care of you?”

He does, and you nod as you whimper, allowing your muscles to become pliable while he smirks.

“Then I guess that makes you a good girl,” he whispers, suddenly thrusting to the knuckle as you gasp.

His other hand raises, palm slapping against your mouth to muffle your cries. But it allows you to be a little louder as you moan at the way he begins pumping you. Pushing and pulling at the wetness your cunt provides while the heel of his hand rolls down your clit.

It’s magic. Pure, unadulterated magic, and you’re surprised by how quickly you find you need release.

“So be my good girl,” he says now, sliding in a second digit to stretch you open as you whine. “That’s it, darling. Still fucking tight for me, yeah? Just for my fingers. Fucking gripping me, aren’t you?”

He groans as he waits, feeling the way your pussy flutters around his hand, endlessly proud.

The other stipulation was nothing but fingers and tongues. He wants to keep you tight, he claims. And he’d never consider fucking you. Not with the position he’s in, as your father figure. It doesn’t feel fair. Giving you pleasure is what he wants. It’s not about him. 

He plans to keep it that way.

So, he takes care of you. Makes sure you take care of yourself. End of.

But you’re not to use any toys. Or use anything else that might ruin your pretty cunt for a future partner.

Another condition.

You hadn’t argued, hadn’t complained. If all he offered was his fingers and his mouth from time to time, you’d be happy.

Which…you are.

“Oh, sweetie, are you close already?” he hums, working you a little faster. Until the sounds of your wet cunt begin to echo around the room. His sloppy pace growing fervent.

Your legs shake beside his, chest heaving and back arching. You barely have the strength to nod, but he understands anyway. You’ve been doing it long enough that he knows your tells.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at your cheek. “Wanted to have fun with you today.”

The salacious purr has you whimpering into his hand until the pleasure becomes a bit more prominent. 

“Maybe I should,” he adds. “Maybe I should keep you on edge all fucking night the way you kept me.”

Your eyes roll back.

“Make you sit at that table with me and your mother as you soak your pretty panties,” he whispers. “While you try to grind against the seam in your jeans to get some relief. And maybe I’d fix it for you later…but maybe not.”

You’re shaking in his hold, undone by the way he fucks his digits into your cunt. Mercilessly and hard. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His lips trail along the edge of your jaw not covered by his hand. “Like to be punished—”

“Harry?” Your mother. Calling to him from down the hall, and you freeze in his hold before desperately trying to break free of the ministrations. “Dinner’s almost ready, are you about done?”

You mewl against his hand—which refuses to unstick from your mouth—while squirming along his lap. But he keeps you trapped to his thighs, continuing to work you toward your orgasm despite the situation.

“Not quite,” he calls back. “Got one more email I need to send, and I’ll be down.”

“All right. I see a bag out here, so I assume our daughter is home. Grab her on your way, will you?”

He smiles. “Absolutely.”

With that, he goes faster. Plunging into your incredibly wet and loud pussy as you suddenly lurch forward, back arching, and body trembling with need.

You cry into his hand, completely and utterly ruined. And it takes you quite a while to breathe again as he finally lowers his arm and pulls his fingers free.

But instead of offering them to you, he takes the taste for himself. Moaning as it coats his tongue and winking before shooing you off his lap. 

You stand, legs wobbly, and cunt still throbbing. He’s already rolling closer to the desk, returning to his work to finish the email, and you can do nothing but blink as you redo your pants.

“Go wash up for dinner, yeah?” he instructs, peeling his eyes away from the computer to watch you head for the door. “Did good, darling.”

You nod mutely as you fix your hair and your shirt before slowly cracking the door open to make sure the coast is clear.

“Oh, and one more thing?” he calls, making you turn back around.

Your brow raises and he smirks.

“Next time…fucking call.”

I HAVE NO IDEA WHY OR WHAT THIS IS TBH BUT I HAD TO WRITE IT TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM, I'M OKAY NOW

(Also, I’m assuming we already know this but just to make sure: both are consenting adults!!! He absolutely offered her the choice to deny or accept the deal and she was 25 when he asked!!)

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[meetmymouthrecs]

cuore mio

from the series theadora.

for anon. smut. oral (f receiving), spitting, daddy kink, public sex.

"They're– Harry," she pushes his head away, and Harry lets out a groan, lips still puckered and wet from his kisses. "They're there..."

He looks up at the crowd in question.

Everyone's either drunk or too hot to care about anything around them. They're either singing, reading, or just taking a nap. He bites his bottom lip, looks around the small deck area they're on, and spots her beach towel she's been using as a pillow as she sunbathed before Harry interrupting her.

She watches him yank the towel away from where it's been sitting, and he opens it.

"What are you doing?" She laughs, eyes darting between the towel and Harry's boney fingers as he places it over their laps. "We look suspicious as fuck."

"They don't care," he murmurs into her neck, grabbing her by the side of it to move her closer to his face.

His kisses are slow, practiced, and wet. He smells of the beach, and the sunscreen she'd put on him a few hours ago.

And a bit of sweat.

She grabs him by the back of his neck, suddenly feeling too brave, and he opens his mouth, tongue finding hers as he sucks it into his own mouth. He smiles into the wet kiss, smiles at the noises she's making, knowing full-well he's got her under his spell.

Harry moves to her chin, then the side of her chin, her neck, then back up. He kisses her cheek with open-mouth kisses, and she giggles, hands grabbing him roughly, pressing him into her.

He lets out a growl when her hand touches his belly, then his cock over the shorts he's wearing. "You're so fuckin' hot," he whispers, forehead pressed against the crook of her neck. "So fuckin' hot."

"You are," she whispers, eyes trying to find his gaze.

He looks feral, eyes darting between each and every feature on her face.

He looks like a man on mission.

His hands say so.

"Yeah?" He bites the side of her neck. Hard. "I'm hot?"

She nods, watching his hand disappear under the towel.

She knows what's coming.

His warm hand cups her pussy over the tiny bikini bottoms she has on, and he lets out a moan, clearly not liking the fact that he has to work with yet another layer.

"Yes," she nods, voice quiet. "You're so hot, H."

"God– fuck," he bites into her shoulder, teeth almost breaking the skin. His fingers work the bikini bottoms and finally, they're pushed to the side, creating access for his long fingers. "You're so fuckin' wet."

She hides her face in the crook of his neck, smelling him, the smell of beach and sweat, and Harry retracts his fingers, quickly bringing them up to his mouth. He looks up at their friends, then back at her, and puts his fingers in his mouth, then moves his hand back under the towel.

She opens her legs wider, as discreetly as she can, and he breathes into her neck while his fingers rubs her pussy. He finds his rhythm quickly, the way she likes it, and she can't help but grab his other hand and place his fingers into her mouth. He rubs her pussy with his middle finger, bringing her slick up and down, and she bites his fingers in hopes of staying quiet.

She feels the coil in her stomach, so deep inside, and when he finds her hole, his palm pressing against her clit every time he pumps his fingers in and out, she feels like something gives up inside her. She feels hot, too hot, and she feels as though she's going to pee if Harry doesn't slow down.

She says as much while he licks the underside of her ear, lips then finding her earlobe and sucking on it as his fingers fucks into her harshly.

"Slower," she manages to whisper into his fingers. She licks them, kisses them, and Harry can't help but nod, hand going to wrap around her neck in a practiced manner.

His thumb strokes the side of her neck while he fucks into her with his long fingers, wet lips kissing and sucking on her warm, probably-sweaty skin.

"I love you," he chokes out, palm still creating friction against her clit. "I love you so much," he whispers, lips finding hers again.

She answers back, with her own kisses, wet mouths creating obscene sounds, and they're lucky Xander has decided to play music very loudly in the distance.

"Harry," a breath leaves her mouth, teeth clinking together, and he nods.

"Oh God," she fights his kisses, feeling too much all at once, and she leans her head back as Harry follows.

It's like he can't get enough of her mouth.

He abuses her lips with his, wet kisses all over her face, her mouth, and she feels his spit running down her chin, so she lets out another moan, hips already bucking up to meet the thrust of his fingers.

She feels it on the tips of her toes, her hands, her stomach.

Her cunt.

Everything feels on fire.

She's on fire.

"Gonna come for me?" Harry asks, voice raspy and low, and he licks the saliva that's running down her chin back into her mouth. He's clearly not looking for a response as he kisses her.

She can't help but nod weakly still, hand pressed against his. Then, she moves it to his upper body, fingers finding his pecks as she strokes the hair on his chest, then holds onto his necklace as he keeps fucking and rubbing her cunt.

"Come on," he nods, hair falling against his sweat-covered forehead. "Gonna come for me? For Daddy?"

"Oh fuck– fuckfuckfuck I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"Yeah, that's it," his abuse on her cunt becomes rough, almost more focused. Feral. He fucks another finger into her pussy as she squeezes around his fingers, and she moves her hips against his palm as she begins coming undone. "That's my girl. That's my good fuckin' girl," he bites her chin, making her lean into the touch. "Doesn't even care that we're in public..."

She feels like she's in a dream, Harry's fingers still deep inside her.

"No..." she moans– whispers more like.

"No," Harry agrees, forehead pressing in the crook of her neck. He licks there once, then leaves a kiss. "She doesn't care. You'll give it to me whenever and wherever we are, won't you, baby?"

"I love you," she nods, feeling cold all of a sudden, despite his fingers being inside her.

She feels him smile against her neck, and he looks up. "I love you. So much."

"Yeah?" She feels the need to ask. Again.

"I love you so, so fuckin' much," he kisses her cheek, his free hand wiping the saliva off her chin, and cheeks. "You're my heart."

"I am?"

"You are. You are everything."

[meetmymouthrecs]

With a Sea View - CF

*This is part of the Complicated Freak series, but set before part 1 takes place*

Summary: When the yearly yacht trip to the Italian coast takes place, Harry and y/n can't help but try and rise jealousy out of each other... OR a quickie in the bridge of Harry's yacht

Warning: smut!!, penetration, pussy spanking, spanking, dirty talk including degradation and a light breeding kink. !!!Age-gap Romance!!!

Word count: 5k+

Author’s note: Enjoy a fic based on the italyrry images that will forever haunt my mind. This is just one of their hookups and takes place before Complicated Freak Part 1. Enjoy!

- Find my General Masterlist here -

It was his shorts that pushed you over the edge. 

All day you had been trying to control yourself around him, not wanting to stare too long or appear too interested in your best friend's dad. Especially when your parents and another couple that had been friends with your families for years were sitting right beside you around the table. 

Every year Harry hosted an Italian weekend on his yacht. You’d sail around the Santorini coast, being waited on by staff and a captain who was way too attractive to be hidden away in the bridge. He had been the captain for years and you and Darcy always flirted with him an insane amount, especially when you got a bit of alcohol in you. 

It was never a problem until you and Harry started sleeping together. And now on your first yacht trip since you were intimate, it was hard to not ogle at the older man who had organised transportation, accommodation before and after the yacht, flights and basically the entire trip himself. He took charge of the menu, the drinks and even chucked himself in the kitchen to give the staff a break because he wanted to cook one night and host. 

You tried to keep to yourself, to get tipsy and laugh with Darcy, but it was impossible not to watch him at any opportunity. The first day was spent sailing along the coast. You stopped somewhere for lunch and enjoyed Aperol Spritzers and tapas and delicious pizza. Then back on the yacht you all changed into swimsuits to go for a swim and sunbathe. That is where the struggle really started. 

You could resist looking at him in his cute outfits; his short shorts and that adorable pink ‘daddy’ bucket hat you gifted him as a joke for his birthday. He didn’t find it funny and actually treasured that hat, and now it had become a running joke among the group. You could resist your head flicking to him anytime he laughed or spoke to one of the chatter girls, who were all gorgeous and flirting with him at any opportunity. 

That aggravated you, you couldn’t lie. He knew it too. On the few instances you let yourself watch him converse with one of the girls, he always looked back at you and smirked. Like he was flirting on purpose to rile you up. 

What you couldn’t resist though, was when he wore nothing but swim shorts. The first day was painful; little mid thigh navy blue shorts that seemed to love to slide down low on his hips when he got out from the water. They had you sweating and shifting uncomfortably in your bikini all fucking day. 

You resorted to drinking a lot to try and ignore how horny you were, but even that wasn’t helping. After many drinks and avoiding looking in his direction at all, you resorted to just giving into it. You couldn’t exactly get him to fuck you, not with such thin walls and so many people around, so masturbating was the best solution. 

It was quick, barely two minutes of rubbing over your clit and tugging at your nipple like he always did when he fucked you before you were orgasming. It should’ve been satisfying, but it only left you with a greater ache and desire for him. So you made yourself come another time which only made you even more frustrated when it didn’t satisfy you. 

There was only one thing that could give you what you wanted and that was his cock. His cock and his brutal thrusts, his harsh grip on your hips and the filthy words he liked to spill in your ear. You needed him. 

But there were so many people around. If it weren’t your parents or Darcy, it was your family friends or the crew who had their own rooms as well. There were people everywhere so it was just too damn risky. You wouldn’t have been able to get away without someone noticing. 

That didn’t stop you wanting it though. 

Dinner that night was delicious, some gourmet squid dish and a vegan option for Harry and Darcy. Everything was going well too. You were sufficiently drunk to try and ignore the heartbeat between your legs and be at the same level as everyone else. Everyone was a little sunburned from tanning and swimming all day, so many red faces and bodies were around the table.

The vibes were good, everyone was laughing and exchanging stories. You could almost forget about Harry’s golden skin and those muscly thighs that just made you want to drop to your knees or bend over for him. Key word being almost. 

Because then he decided to very obviously flirt with the chef, who came out so you could all give your compliments or whatever rich people do. You wanted to thank her, truly, because that squid and all the side dishes and dessert were some of the best food you had ever eaten. 

But she was stunning; tall, blond, not a spec of makeup on yet so naturally gorgeous you could’ve cried. And her hand was on his shoulder, her head tilted back as she laughed at Harry’s jokes. He was charming the fucking chefs apron off her perfect body and making sure you knew it too. 

His foot was nudging yours under the table and he kept looking back at you on purpose. He had that stupid smirk on his lips because he knew you were getting annoyed. So you decided to get back at him. 

“Yeah, food was amazing.” You flashed her a fake smile, interrupting their little chat and making the pair turn to you. “I was actually wondering if you could get Captain Bradley out here, I’d love to ask him for some stories. Being a captain must be so exciting” 

Harry’s smirk suddenly dropped, and his jaw clenched in irritation. “Oooh yes!! I’d love to ask him all about his adventures” Darcy chimed up, excited at the idea of flirting with the incredibly attractive captain. 

“Unfortunately Captain Bradley has already retired for the evening, I can go get him for you though?” The chef offered, kind and unsuspecting to your little game. 

“No.” Harry interjected, “don’t bother the poor sod, he’s probably already asleep from all his hard work today.” Harry looked directly at you, eyes narrowing just a little in warning. 

“But dadddd” Darcy whined. 

“He’ll be happy to join you for breakfast tomorrow though, the Captain always likes to dine with guests from time to time” She offered, just wanting to make you two happy to get a good tip. 

Before Harry had a chance to interrupt again, it was your mum this time who spoke up. “Oh we would absolutely love that. Tell him he’s got a seat saved right next to y/n here” she giddily replied, always turning into a matchmaker for her daughter when she got a few too many drinks into her system.

You had never been more thankful to her tipsy antics than now, because it played right into this little back and forth match you were having with Harry. 

“Great! I’ll let him know first thing. Have a great night everyone. Mr Styles” she acknowledged, flashing him a flirty smile which only irked you up the fucking wall. You gritted your teeth a little, taking another big sip of your drink and just smirking at Harry when his foot pulled away from your leg.  

He looked angry and you were utterly satisfied to receive the ramifications. Harry was never one to keep anger to himself. All those times he had been angry at his ex-wife during the divorce, or when he was frustrated by something at work, he got it out on you. 

And now that he was jealous? Well… you were preparing yourself for him to pounce at any moment. 

//

He didn’t even speak to you all last night and barely acknowledged you when you all met for breakfast. It bothered you a little, until Captain sexy came out with that dazzling smile and sat down right next to you. 

“Hi Captain” you smiled, turning away from where Harry was sitting one chair over on the left of you. Darcy was sitting beside you, right next to her dad and had turned her back on him too to look at Bradley. 

If he wasn’t pissed before, he was definitely pissed now. 

“Hi, y/n right?” He smiled, putting his hand out for you to shake. 

“Mhmm, you’re pretty good with names” You shook his hand, giggling a little to really put it on for him. 

“Only for pretty girls” he looked down a little, right where your breasts were spilling out of your bikini top. You were barely dressed, only a little linen skirt and your favourite black bikini that was perfect for tanning. “So how are you enjoying the trip so far?”

“Oh amazing, you’re doing such a great job at sailing us around. And the crew! Oh they work so well under your… leadership” 

He seemed to like that, a lot because he put on the charm after that. Bradley was charming everyone, well everyone except Harry. He was telling stories about various places he’s been and his solo travelling. He even offered to give you a private tour of the bridge later this afternoon which you immediately took him up on. 

After that, he went back to start sailing the yacht again, taking you all to a great swimming spot to rest for a couple hours. You’d have lunch here then sail somewhere else to dock overnight and eat dinner. 

At first, you didn’t think Harry really cared about your flirting with the captain. He was irritated and you could tell, but he hadn’t attempted to interject or whisk you away or anything. You were a bit disappointed to be honest, until you realised it was all an act to build up to his last bit of revenge. 

Tiny green shorts and skin. 

That’s all you saw when he came out of the lounge room and joined you all on the deck. Tiny fucking green shorts that were lower than anything you had seen on him before, so low that you knew with just a little tug his cock would be out. 

He shaved, specially for these damn shorts because you noticed the little happy trail he had yesterday. They were tucked a little into the underside of his boxers, exposing more of his toned thighs and tattoos. 

It was fucked. Beyond fucked. 

You couldn’t stop staring at him and neither could any of the crew. Darcy made some throwaway comment to you about how gross he looked, and all you could do was hum in reply and just gawk. 

Now you were more desperate than ever. You had completely forgotten about your little game and just wanted to make it up to him so he’d fuck you like you needed. 

Your swim bottoms were wet from arousal and that pulsing had returned to your clit. No masturbating could save you now, not when he looked like that and was walking around like he owned the place. He did. The yacht was in his name and the crew were hired from his wallet, but he walked around like he owned everyone. 

When his eyes met yours, he owned you. 

He collapsed beside you on the small grassy area, arms tucked below his head as he tanned like he wasn’t teasing you just by existing. 

“You’re basically naked Harry” you hissed lowly, turning your head away from Darcy who was lying on the other side so she wouldn’t hear. 

“So are you. Don’t see me commenting on the way you shoved your tits in his face, do you?” He didn’t even open his eyes to look at you, just spat the words in pure jealousy and annoyance. 

“Says the one flirting with the chef and all the stewards. Who are you, Hugh Hefner?” You whispered back. His eyes opened at this and he chuckled, turning his head to look at you. He looked entirely unbothered. 

“You almost sound jealous, y/n. Are you… jealous?” 

“Of course not” you defended. “I just don’t want to see you flirt with someone half your age. It’s disgusting, really. What would Darcy think?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. You were half his age and you were Darcy’s best friend. It really couldn’t get worse than your situation. 

Harry laughed again, turning into his side and propping his head up by his fist. He looked you up and down, laid there on your stomach and tanning your back and he honestly just wanted to get right behind you and fuck you then and there. 

You had been testing his patience for the last two days and he was properly sick of it. He’d teach you a lesson soon enough. 

“And what would Darcy think when she finds out you’re fucking her daddy, hmm? Her best friend, fucking her father… someone who, by the way, is double her age?” He mused, talking lowly. Your eyes widened and you quickly looked over at Darcy, who could’ve heard him speak if she didn’t have her airpods in. 

“Harry” you hissed. 

“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it, darling so I’d shut your mouth and be a good girl unless you want me to do it for you” he smirked, reaching forward and tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Your mouth closed instantly, and you looked around a bit nervously to see if anyone was watching you. His words only fuelled how horny you were and your skin felt like it had bugs crawling in it, begging to be released. You were starved for him, but still irritated at how he dismissed his own jealousy to talk about yours. 

Then, like god was on your side, Captain Bradley happened to come out and offer you that private tour he mentioned yesterday. 

“Y/n, would you like that tour now?” He had his hands on his hips, captain hat on and was flashing a dashing smile like some Disney prince. He really was an attractive man, and if you weren’t so cockwhipped for your dad’s best friend, you’d actually try and fuck him. 

“Only if I get to wear the captain’s hat” you laughed, grabbing his hand so he could help you up. 

“Where are you going?” Darcy asked, taking out an airpods and eyeing the two of you suspiciously. 

“He’s taking me on a tour, and I get to wear the hat” you announced, taking it off his head and putting it on yours. You looked at Harry right as you said it, smiling happily at how fucking pissed he looked. That may have been his tipping point, you hoped it was anyway. 

“Have fun” Darcy laughed, putting her airpods back in and closing her eyes again like she didn’t care. Harry however, didn’t relax and stayed glaring at the two of you as you followed the captain to the bridge in just a bikini. 

If that didn’t tip Harry over the edge, a clone had suddenly switched bodies with him. 

Once you were alone with Captain Bradley, flirting with him wasn’t very fun. You were only doing it to make Harry jealous, so now that Harry wasn’t around to be jealous, you were just playing this game with yourself. That was boring. 

Bradley seemed like a nice guy, very flirty which was expected considering the message you were sending him, but you were too busy watching the doorway to see if Harry was coming in. 

The bridge is accessible by a door leading to a hall that connects to the kitchen and other services, as well as the staff quarters. You could also get to it by the wrap around deck surrounding the top level, but you weren’t looking there. 

You were looking back into the hall for him, so when he appeared from right behind you, you were a little startled. 

“Oh, Mr. Styles! Here to join the tour?” The captain asked, smiling casually to the man paying his wage for this charter. You didn’t dare turn back to look at Harry, too startled and on edge. 

But you could feel the heat of his body from how close he was standing, right behind you. You had this sixth sense that told you he was still dressed only in those slutty little shorts of his. But you couldn’t see him so you didn’t know for sure. 

“No, Bradley. It’s a charming offer, but I actually need a moment alone with y/n if you wouldn’t mind” you could hear the sarcasm dripping from Harry’s voice, and by the slight drop in Bradley’s smile, so could he. 

“Of course, I hope you enjoyed the tour y/n” he tipped his head at you. You went to respond but Harry stepped closer to you, pressing his naked chest to your back. It was a warning, a move that told you not to speak. 

So you just nodded and smiled to him, watching as the captain walked out of the room to the hallway and closed the door behind him. When the door closed and you two were finally alone, the tension rose so high you could barely breathe through it. 

“Harry-”

“Don’t you fucking dare” he hissed lowly in your ear. He grabbed your hips roughly and nudged you forward, pressing you to the edge of the control panel. You wanted to slam your hands down, but with so many buttons and levers you didn’t want to knock or touch anything that could send the boat flying. 

You didn’t listen to anything the captain said about the various buttons, so you didn’t touch any and grabbed the edge of the panel instead. 

“Get this shit off” he scowled, knocking the hat off your head carelessly. He would’ve kicked the thing across the room, but his mind was too focused on you. “You’ve been such an ungrateful brat the last couple days. Waltzing around trying to fuck some loser captain” his words were angry and you could feel how tense his body was behind his. More than tense though, he was hard. 

His cock was pressed right into your ass and it had you panting. You just wanted him to fuck you, and you had a feeling he would without restraint or prep. It would be punishing. 

Harry kicked your legs apart and pulled your hips back so you were bent at the waist, a step or two away from the edge of the panel and in the perfect angle for him to fuck you. He roughly shoved them down so the fell to your feet, then he spanked you twice on each cheek. 

You whined at the pain, but it wasn’t in protest. It was for more. 

“I own the yacht he’s sailing, y/n. I own him just like I own you”  another spank landed on your ass and it had your toes curling. You were so goddamn wet and his spanking didn’t help, it just made you more desperate. 

“Just say you’re jealous and move on Harry. It would save us so much time” you sighed, before crying out when his palm landed right on your pussy and hit your clit. He grabbed onto the front of your neck and pulled your head back, forcing your back to arch as he spoke against your ear. 

As he did this, his spare hand rubbed against your slit, two fingers teasing over the reddened skin from his spank. It had your toes curling and thighs trying to tense closed to get some stimulation there. But his own feet were in the way, forcing yours apart so you couldn’t squeeze them together. 

“I was jealous. Just like you were. But it doesn’t matter does it? Because we both know that only I can fuck you like you want. Like you need.” He finally found your clit and pressed there, but did nothing more to stimulate your nerves. He was killing you, and you tried to shift your hips and get some kind of friction but that was only met with another spank on your ass. 

his hand returned and firmly around your neck, squeezing the sides and making it hard to breathe as that delicious woozy feeling floated through your head. You loved being choked by him. 

What you would’ve loved more though, was if he actually pleasured you instead of just teased you. 

“Prove it then” you gasped, his hand landing on your ass again.

“I’d shut your mouth if you want to come, baby.” He let go of your neck with a little shove, making it hang low between your arms as you smiled at his roughness. He was going to give it to you hard, you just knew it. 

He shoved his shorts down, just enough that his cock and balls were exposed. It didn’t take a lot to get his cock out when his shorts were already dangerously low, which was smart planning on his part to be honest. 

“You better be fucking quiet y/n, because we don’t have a lot of time and we don’t want anyone walking in, do we?” He warned, wrapping his fist around his length and bringing his tip to your pussy. He slid the tip through your folds to collect your arousal then pressed his cock against your entrance. 

“Harry” you whimpered, grabbing onto the edge of the control panel with dear life as you tried to press your hips back so he’d push it in. 

“Be good” he tutted, spanking you quickly then grabbing the front of your throat again as he slid into you in one go. 

With how wet you were it was easy, but that didn’t stop it from hurting and making you cry out in pain. It was overwhelming, the pulsing pain spreading through your pussy and hips but that didn’t stop you from enjoying it any less. 

You loved when it was like this, when it hurt, then when that same hurt turned to pure ecstasy. 

“God you never listen” he groaned in your ear, sliding his hand further up to your jaw and sticking two fingers into your mouth. You closed your mouth around them, biting down to sate the bite of pain and pure pleasure that rippled through your body when he started moving. "You're just begging for someone to find us, aren't you?"

He thrust into you without mercy, just like you knew he would. It was hard and fast and mind numbing and you could barely think let alone stand there while he pummeled into you. 

Your thighs shook and you whimpered and gurgled quietly around his fingers as you just took all that he was giving you. He was so close now. His hips were snapping to yours and he had his mouth pinned to your ear, gasping and groaning into it like he was trying to keep quiet too. 

And he was. 

All weekend you wrote the tiniest clothes. The tiniest shorts and skirts and dresses, then minimal bikinis like you weren’t around your family and friends. It all felt like it was for him, like you had been teasing him all weekend. 

Truthfully, he had been thinking of a way to get you alone this weekend. He was feeling rather riled up since this was the first yacht trip since you started sleeping together, and he just couldn’t bare the thought of not being inside you on a yacht in fucking Italy. 

He was in his prime in Italy and he loved it almost as much as he loved his own home. Bringing you there was a fantasy he had for a while, and now here he was, choking you with a sea view like he always wanted. 

“Bet your captain couldn’t fuck you like this huh? Couldn’t have you completely brain dead and shaking like you are” 

“N-no” you tried to say around his fingers, but the noise only came out as a muffled moan. Your knees were buckling and your eyes watering at how fucking good it was to have him reach your g-spot so easily. 

It never took him long, and no effort at all when his cock was long and thick like it was. Sex was easy for a man like Harry to make enjoyable for his partner. 

He couldn’t fuck you like this any longer, not with your knees buckling like they were. You could barely stand any longer. So he located the captain chair behind him and sat down on it, keeping his cock deep inside you and pulling you onto his lap so your back was against his chest. 

You cried out around his fingers at the new angle, feeling it deeper and wider than when he was fucking you from behind. He could tell too, because his mouth coiled in a smirk and he pressed his hand to your lower belly. 

“Ride me honey, show me what a good little slut you can be, hmm.” You started bouncing, leaning back on Harry with all your body weight and holding onto the arms of the chair for balance. “That’s fucking right y/n. No one can fill you up like I can, can they? No one can reach so fucking deep in your womb like I can, can they?” 

Harry could feel his cock bulging out as he repeated his taunts, then he grabbed your hand from the armrest and pressed it to your own stomach so you could feel it. “See? See how good I fucking fill you up?” 

You pulled his hand from your mouth and brought it to your breast, gasping when he squeezed automatically and pulled at your nipple. “Yes… god yes” you moaned while tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. 

“Feel good, baby? Because Jesus Christ you feel fucking good to me” he pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck, baring his teeth against your skin and scraping enough for it to hurt. “Bet he can’t fuck you like this, huh? Bet Bradley couldn’t fill you up like I can either?”

“Uhuh… Uhuh” you panted, thighs burning at how fast you were trying to bounce over him. It was building up already, that delicious tantalising build up of pleasure. Your last couple orgasms had been so painfully unsatisfying that you were praying for this one to actually give you the relief you had been dying for. 

But Harry always satisfied you. Even when he punished you and left you without orgasm, it was always a satisfying experience. 

Harry brought his hand down to spank over your clit then soothed it right after by stimulating your aching bud. The pain had you jerking above him, but Harry was quick to grab your hips by both hands and get you to ride him himself. 

He bounced you over him and you let your body go jelly, giving into the pleasure to give him complete control over the pace and roughness of it all. It was delicious and delirious and had you so fucked out all you could do was dig your fingers in his arms and try and keep quiet. 

You were a master of keeping quiet, but when it was like this it was hard to be. The sea was gorgeous in front of you, bright blue and littered with other boats. The sun was shining and hot and it was just a perfect day. The perfect day and a perfect cock filling you up just right. How could you not want to scream in ecstasy? 

“Please… please… wanna come” you buried your face in his neck, trying to muffle your noises. 

“Do you deserve it though? Do you deserve to come even after being a little whore? Or are you just a hole for my cum today?” He wrapped his hand around your neck again and let you take over your bouncing once more. Your thighs still ached as did your core, but the ache in your clit was worse. 

“I do… I do, I do. Please” 

“Please? Please?” He chuckled darkly in your ear and squeezed his fingers right into the sides of your esophagus. “How about you beg me for my cum and I’ll think about it?”

“Please Harry, give me your come. I want it so bad… want-want you to fill me up. Want it… please” you didn’t even know what you were saying any longer. You just needed to orgasm and needed to be full of Harry’s cum. You would’ve said or done anything to get it too. 

“That’s a cute attempt… Don’t you want me to fill you up, princess? For me to get my come deep inside your belly. For me to get you all nice and pregnant? Bet Captain Bradley couldn’t get you all knocked up like I can, can I? Say it. Say it and you can cum” with every word, his lips brushed against your cheek and that light fluttery feeling was only adding to all your other senses. 

“Want your cum… want it so bad please, please I ughhhh” it was getting harder and harder to hold on, to keep yourself from coming without his command. 

“I’m gonna give it to you. Gonna give it to you so fucking good… just come for me” his fingers strummed faster to your clit, and it was like his one little command set you off. 

Harry had a way of having ultimate control over you. When he told you to speak, you spoke. When he told you to shut your mouth, you did just that. And when he told you to come, you could do so like it was an automatic response to his comment. 

You tried to bite down on your knuckles to muffle your moaning, but Harry picked this opportunity to finally kiss you. His lips crashed to yours and you were both releasing all sorts of sounds into each other's mouths. 

It was loud and animalistic and if anyone walked even close to this room they’d know exactly what was happening. But neither of you cared when it felt this good. How could you care when his cum was filling you up to the brim and you had that warm fuzzy feeling build all over your body? 

“Finally choked you with a sea view, huh?” Harry chuckled, panting into your mouth as his arms wrapped around you and held you close to his chest. 

“I made that joke once, Harry. It wasn’t even funny” you replied, laughing lightly and kissing him a bunch more times because you just couldn’t get enough of it. 

It was a throwaway comment you made ages ago, something you said when you two were talking about the ocean and travelling. You joked that you’d love to be choked by a sea view one day. While Harry couldn’t make the wish happen that day, he was able to choke you real good right by his pool. 

It was the thought that counted, and it made for really good sex. 

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” He rose his brow and tucked your hair behind your ear, searching deep in your eyes. He was still deep inside you and you knew the second he slipped out that his cum would drip everywhere. 

You had to be careful and quick, because you didn’t have much time before someone would look for either of you. 

“Of course I did. I always do and you know that” you assured him, feeling a little flutter of warmth in your chest at how he looked at you. 

“I do. Better than Captain Bradley could.” he imitated your voice a little, making it high pitch and a little whiny when he said ‘captain Bradley’. 

“Oh stop it!” 

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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[meetmymouthrecs]

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟏

Summary: Y/N finds life difficult and Harry just wants to make her feel good. | smut , a Harry to make you swoon A/N: NEW FIC! :O i told myself i wouldn’t post until i’d finished the whole thing but i’m just too excited :D Words: 10k

This is not what Y/N had planned for the evening.

This is not what Y/N had ever planned for any evening but, of course, Niall had to go and make her feel all sad for him because he had no one to go out with. And, of course, he persuaded her to dress up all pretty in her cutest mini dress—white with embroidered strawberries—that moulded to her body perfectly, in case someone caught her eye.

(When Niall had specified that, Y/N rolled her eyes so hard they might have truly become stuck in the back of her skull.)

Y/N loves dressing pretty, she really does, but in the context of doing so to have heads turn her way makes her chest tighten unpleasantly. Speaking to just one person at a time was enough to stress her out, let alone a whole roomful of people that may potentially be eyeing her up.

And she’s hardly kind enough about herself to believe anyone would be enamoured by her in the first place, so Y/N had to bite her tongue in order to stop herself from telling Niall that she would go only for him and that she needn’t worry about attracting attention.

What Niall had failed to mention in his—elaborate but still vastly lacking—party plan is that he was setting up a cruel and targeted ambush. That’s what it feels like, anyway, when they step foot inside the sweaty, vibrating, and garishly fluorescent club. Now, Y/N had prepared herself for this moment, sure. Tried to hype herself up and slip into the headspace where she’d be less overwhelmed in this environment.

What she hadn’t prepared herself for is the immediate introduction to perhaps the most attractive man she’s ever seen in her life.

Y/N is a reserved woman. Always has been and probably always will be. She thinks Niall might be her only proper friend and maybe even the first she’s ever had (not including her ex boyfriend but Y/N likes to ignore the fact of his existence) after starting as the receptionist for the office he works at. He took her under his wing and wasn’t deterred by her shy nature—which has been her downfall in the past—unbeknownst to Y/N as she was never bothered by her lonesomeness. But he stuck with her, and taught Y/N to open up; to accept that he liked her and wanted to be her friend.

And she’s grateful for him—she really is. But perhaps this occasion won’t look too good on his Friend of the Year application.

“Harry!” Niall grins, hurrying over to where the man (angel, Y/N thinks) sits at a circular table in a slightly less crowded part of the club.

“Good to see you, Niall,” Harry smiles, accepting his friend’s bear hug.

As soon as they pull away, Niall is motioning Y/N to step closer. She’s sure her heart stutters when she looks up timidly and is met with piercing green and hard brows. “Harry, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Harry,” Niall says before leaning closer to whisper in her ear (purposefully loud enough for Harry to hear him). “He’s got that psychopath vibe about him because he’s a big, mean businessman.”

Y/N doesn’t quite react. Can’t giggle because that would be rude, and can’t smile because that might be seen as her agreeing with Niall and his perpetuating stereotype.

But Harry just rolls his eyes, “Sod off, mate. That’s no way to introduce me, is it? It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.” He holds out his hand—his large hand—and Y/N rushes to bring her own up as they slot together in a firm shake. (Harry does the shaking, Y/N can only concentrate on the feel of his fingers swallowing hers.)

“And you,” she replies, far too quietly for the inside of such a place but Harry doesn’t ask her to repeat herself.

From beside her, as Y/N regretfully lets her hand fall away, Niall gasps and Y/N immediately sees where his eyes are directed. “I’ll be back!” he exclaims before Y/N can even open her mouth. And then he’s hurrying off towards a group of beautiful, tall women and Y/N is left to surely set herself on fire from the heat of her cheeks alone.

“You want to sit?” Harry gestures to the stool opposite him, very aware of the girl’s discomfort—it was practically rolling off her in waves—but hoping to quell it.

Y/N looks at him, and then looks away, scanning the club for something…anything. But no immediate distractions arise. So clumsily, she hoists herself up… and, oh God. Sitting in front of him, the full of his face completely available to gaze upon, Y/N feels her stomach drop.

He’s beautiful.

Before, when she’d been standing by the table, he’d been at an angle and had shadows obscuring the definition of his features. But now, she can see that he’s all hard lines. Strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, perfect nose. Contrasted by his pillowy lips that are framed by a subtle stubble. His hair sits fluffy atop his head, short enough to maintain shape but long enough to start to hint at curling around the edges.

And his eyes. Intense and unwavering but captivating all the same; made to hypnotise with every flutter of his pretty lashes. She feels like prey underneath his stare.

Y/N is stunned. And makes it obvious by her blatant ogling. She knows it’s rude, deep down in the murky depths of her ignoring subconscious, but she’s not sure she’s ever been favoured enough in life to witness anyone as perfectly sculpted as him. They don’t teach you how to talk to pretty people in school.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice breaks through her foggy head. His lips are upturned. “Have I got something on my face?” He swipes at the corner of his mouth with a thumb.

Her cheeks burn, eyes zeroing in on the way his tongue peeks out to wet the digit in order to clean the nonexistent stain, “No! Nothing, I— sorry,” she looks down, fidgeting in her seat.

He makes a noncommittal noise that suggests he’s not bothered in the slightest and leans forward on his forearms. If Y/N’s eyes could speak, they’d be begging and pleading with her to look at the way they flex under his weight, and bulge at the inside of his elbows. Where his shirt has been rolled up—tactically, Y/N is sure. 

“What’s a sweet girl like you doing talking to me, hm?” Harry drawls. And logically, Y/N knows he’s teasing, but there’s something about him (his intimidatingly beautiful face and assured demeanour, most likely) that has her all flustered and panicked, words flying out of her mouth.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Niall just brought me over and—” 

A warm hand is placed on her forearm when she moves to stand. “I’m joking,” Harry smiles—and Y/N’s tummy flips. She relaxes on her stool some but her body flushes with embarrassment. “You’re ever so nervous,” he observes, “would you like to get a drink?” nodding towards the bar.

Y/N hesitates, knowing she doesn’t handle her alcohol very well but yes, she supposes she does want one. Anything to loosen her up a little and make herself seem less moronic around him.

“Yes, please—” she pauses. How could she politely ask that he doesn’t meddle with her drink? Oh well, you’re a man so I’m automatically untrusting of you, I’m sorry, that’s just how it is! And Y/N finds this to be true nearly one hundred percent of the time but she’d rather not put Harry off. If not because she wants to stay sitting with him then because she doesn’t want to be left alone in a club.

It seems, however, that she needn’t worry. “You can come with me.” He stands, offering a hand to help her step down. “I feel it important to tell you,” he leans down to her level as they walk over to the bar, “that I don’t engage in those activities.” Y/N feels herself believing him, no matter how much of a stranger he still is. Something about the way he commands himself stirs up a want to listen and nod along; respect him undoubtingly.

So Y/N does. She nods but Harry isn’t looking—is already ordering. “I’ll have a G&T and—” he turns to her, “what would you like?”

This panics Y/N some because she hadn’t been prepared for him to place their orders together. For him to buy her drink. But she doesn’t argue, looks up at Harry with a polite smile. “A passionfruit martini, please.”

“And a passionfruit martini. Thanks.”

Y/N feels it necessary to apologise once they’re sitting back down. For not offering to pay.

Harry simply shakes his head, “It’s not a problem, I like paying on the first date.”

Y/N blanches—she malfunctions, she can’t help it—she asks, “Date?”

The man opposite her demonstrates his self-assurance by not seeming even an ounce embarrassed. “Niall didn’t tell you?” Y/N shakes her head, and then takes a sip from her drink to distract herself. “I see.”

Niall had done it on purpose; set them up like this and not tell Y/N, Harry understands. Clearly hadn’t wanted to overwhelm the poor thing, who had already been flustered before they’d even locked eyes.

So Harry withholds some details. He doesn’t mind. Knows that Niall had done this for Y/N’s good more than Harry’s, (after the conversation they’d had a few weeks prior) and Harry likes to think of himself as a nice person. Weaves his way around the matter in a way that doesn’t have her head spinning.

“He’s a sneaky bastard, that one.”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say. Date? So it really had been a targeted ambush. Niall couldn’t have picked someone even a little bit in her league?

“I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” She rushes, much less worried about how it may look, because she’s rather relieved (that Harry was prepared for this if not her, and that Niall must’ve made her sound worthy enough to go on a date with)—she supposes—and relief always makes her a little hyper. “Not at all, you’re the opposite of uncomfortable.”

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, you’re— I am very comfortable.”

“Well, that’s good.” Harry smiles and Y/N can’t help but return it, undeniably bashful. “Would you stay?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N finds that her drink helps her considerably—holds her hand and strokes its thumb across the back in soothing motions. She’s hardly tipsy, and maybe it’s just the knowledge of having ingested alcohol that is boosting her confidence, but she can actually hold Harry’s gaze for longer than a couple seconds without her face heating up and having to look away.

Don’t get her wrong, her heart is still beating rapidly and she can feel the way her body yearns to connect with his—a magnetic pull that only gets stronger the harder she tries to resist.

But she is visibly engaged in the conversation and able to reciprocate without stuttering and fumbling like a fool… and Harry had liked her before they’d even exchanged words but now he was practically on the edge of his seat. He knows his stare is intense but he refuses to look away even for a second. Eyes trailing over her lips that she wettens with her tongue after every sip of her cocktail and then down her neck as she swallows the sweet liquid.

If Y/N notices then she doesn’t say anything.

(And she thinks she does but she’s still not convinced that he’s even attracted to her as obviously as she is him so the observation doesn’t plant itself very deeply in her mind.)

“—doesn’t the life of a receptionist just thrill you?” Harry realises he hasn’t really been listening to her answer—which is undeniably rude considering he’d asked her a question in the first place—but it matters none, as Y/N rests her chin in her palm and swirls the straw around her now empty glass. She sighs. “I know it’s not very progressive of me but… I think I’d just love to cook, and clean, and garden, and never work ever again,” and then she laughs, as if she wasn’t serious but they both know, “I’m a poor excuse for a feminist.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not everyone has to have grand work ambitions.”

“You don’t think it’s weird? O-or regressive?” Y/N looks up at him.

“Not at all. If that is how you want to live, and you are able to decide that for yourself—you’re not forced in some sort of coercive relationship—then I don’t see the problem... And there are no rules that state feminists must hate cleaning.” He smiles.

Y/N sighs again. “I suppose… I don’t have the money unfortunately but… I’ve tried so many things, Harry,” and then she clears her throat. “I’m sorry! I’m such a buzzkill. What is it that you do?”

He smiles at her reassuringly, “I work in finance. I’m… a CEO, actually.” He hates to say it, but he hates lying by omission more.

I like paying on the first date, Y/N recalls his earlier words, surely understanding what he had truly meant now. I have far too much money to comfortably let anyone else pay for anything. “A CEO? Oh. That— That’s very impressive,” she admires. Then she scoffs, “and here I am complaining about having no ambitions, how mortifying.”

“You think I was wishing to own a finance company when I was a little boy?” Harry asks, nudging Y/N’s shin with his foot under the table.

“I don’t know!” she laughs, “Everyone has a dream! Well…except me,” she smiles at him.

Harry leans forward, “You know, in the spirit of being honest—”

“—Y/N!” Niall appears seemingly out of nowhere, drunken grin, mussed hair, and a hint of smudged lipstick across his jaw. Harry pulls back, bemused by their friend. “Is Harry being nice?”

“Yes,” she laughs, half embarrassed and half entertained.

“Nice enough to take you home?” Niall opens his eyes to plead and then leans forward to whisper-shout. “Think I’m gonna have the night of my life with those two redheads,” she follows the direction of his finger when he points. “Threesome!” he unnecessarily adds and Y/N chokes in surprise.

“That’s lovely, Niall, I’m really happy for you. B-but I can’t ask Harry—”

“It’s no bother,” Harry interjects. “Really. Drink ‘s worn off by now.”

“I—”

“Come on, babe, he says he’s happy to. Please.”

And Y/N is a people pleaser. So, it goes without saying that she would do anything to make Niall happy. “I hope you have a really good night, Niall.”

“Thank you! I love you! Be safe!” He beams, smothering her cheek with a wet kiss before hurrying back to his business.

“Love you too…” Y/N replies, but Niall is already too far away to hear. “I’m sorry,” she cringes, turning back to Harry who is looking at her with a knowing smile.

“It’s alright, darlin’.” His words sizzle inside her—convinced she isn’t making up the way his voice drops, velvety and smooth, with the pet name. “You wanna go now?”

Silently, Y/N nods, guilt nibbling away at her as she follows Harry out of the club. The late night chill has goosebumps forming on her arms and Harry is quick to notice.

“C’mon, I’ll get it nice ‘n’ warm f’you in the car.” How was he so observant? Y/N had barely registered she was cold before he’d pointed it out, resting a hand on her back for a second.

And Y/N doesn’t know much about cars, but she can tell that this one is expensive. So much so that she feels too scared to get in it—worried she’ll scratch or dent it. “In y’get then,” Harry holds the door open for her.

It’s quiet as they drive. But not uncomfortably so. Harry has gentle music playing, nearly inaudibly, and he only speaks to check with Y/N that she’s a good temperature and to put her address into his satnav.

She spends the journey trying not to stare at his hands, and his forearms, and his biceps, and his jaw… Turning away to look out her window is the only thing that works. And closing her eyes to inhale the deep, rich musk that has been subtly emanating off Harry—that Y/N is now bathing in—and she truly wishes she could. Wants to go to Lush or The Body Shop and peruse the shelves; open the caps and be transported via smell until she finds the closest creme that matches the scent of his car. Y/N shrinks in her seat some. Creep, she thinks, cheeks scalding. Harry smiles to himself as he notes her body language out of the corner of his eye. Cute, he thinks.

He’d been about to admit more about himself before Niall had come barging over. Y/N hadn’t been even a little subtle with her glances the whole night and Harry is just itching to kiss her but he doesn’t know how to bring it up; the detailed version of his and Niall’s conversation.

ㅤㅤ

“You’re not seeing anyone at the moment, are you?”

Harry shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he sits across from Niall, nursing a pint in their favourite pub.

“My friend, Y/N…” Niall sighs, “I think she would benefit from someone of your…expertise.”

Harry laughs, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know…your…sex stuff.” He quietens his voice, lips stretching over the last two words in an over exaggerated manner.

Harry cares not to lower his tone, “It’s not just about sex, Niall.”

“Okay, well she could benefit from the whole package. She’s really unhappy but she’d never admit it and I’m the only one that really sees it, I think. Hates work, has no idea what she wants to do with her life long term—is so stressed all the time. I worry about her. Doesn’t take proper care of herself, you know? Would you let me set you up on a date? Even if it’s just to give her something pretty to look at for a couple hours.”

Harry ignores Niall’s last sentence. “Sure, sounds like she needs to get out of her head for a bit.”

“Thank you. She’s real lovely, I promise. And cute.”

ㅤㅤ

And cute she was; trying so hard not to gawk at him with no success, clad in a sweet little dress, and quick to open up to him—in perhaps a way that suggests she’s not close with many people. Niall had hinted that.

She sits with her hands in her lap, absentmindedly fiddling with her fingers, not even noticing when Harry starts to slow to a stop. “We’re here, love.”

“Oh!” Y/N turns to him, whipping her head round a little fast. He smiles. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“Let me walk you up,” and Y/N goes to assure him it’s okay but he just raises his eyebrows and she shuts her mouth. Supposes she’d really love him to do that, actually. Doesn’t want to say goodnight yet.

Her nerves start to get the better of her again now, with Harry so close behind her. Enough to catch her foot on a step and gasp as she prepares to fall, only to have Harry’s warm hands grab her around her waist.

“Are you always this jittery, love?” he asks.

Y/N’s face burns, “Um…think so. Sorry,” voice small.

Harry looks thoughtful for a moment, giving her a delicate look that doesn’t quite reach his eyes; mind elsewhere. “Don’t apologise. I meant to talk to you about something actually.”

And suddenly she remembers him leaning over at the club, ready to share something in the spirit of being honest. “Okay,” she replies quietly, taking the steps much slower now.

The keys to her flat feel much heavier and colder than they usually do in Y/N’s palm. She nearly drops them to the floor but fumbles clumsily in the air to catch them. Behind her, Harry tries not to laugh but Y/N refuses to turn around to see, surprising herself at just how pathetic she’s appearing. This is why she doesn’t go on dates. This couldn’t be attractive to anyone.

“Do you want to come in?” She asks. “B-because you said—you said you wanted to ask me…something.” Keep it together.

“If that’s okay with you.” Y/N nods. And she only sort of half realises she’s inviting a semi-stranger into her home… but if Niall trusts him then Y/N supposes she can too.

“Please—uh—sit, or stand, or whatever you want. Do you want a drink? Or something to eat? Or—”

“Just you is fine.”

Y/N struggles not to visibly react to that. “Oh, right, okay.” She moves to sit on her sofa and Harry mirrors her, angling his body towards her.

Harry wants to positively swaddle her right now. He can tell she’s completely oblivious to how adorably ditsy he thinks she’s being. She looks comparable to someone sitting in the dentist’s waiting room—eyebrows tight with nerves. He starts, “Niall didn’t set us up to have an ordinary date. He asked me to help you relax a little, get out of your head because it all gets a bit much for you sometimes.”

Y/N fidgets in her seat. She wasn’t expecting that. She didn’t even know Niall had noticed she was struggling again. Or that she was still struggling. “How—how would you do that?”

Harry decides to just say it. He’s done this before. Not with someone quite so timid but being transparent was always best, he feels. “I’m a dominant, love.”

And Y/N’s seen Fifty Shades of Grey so she’s got a pretty intense picture going on in her head—one that is abysmally inaccurate, she’s sure, but it’s a picture nonetheless.

“D’you know what I mean by that?” She nods, eyes wide and tongue poking out to wetten her drying lips. “People give their control to me, and by doing so they get to feel as stress free as possible. Don’t have to worry about anything because they hand it all to me.”

“You want to do that…to me?”

Harry smiles. “If you wanted that. I think it would make you feel really good. But it wouldn’t happen yet, not fully. Not without talking it through.”

Y/N feels herself nodding, head dancing in filth from the moment he said dominant. And Harry can see it in her eyes. See the way they unlock somewhat, nerves turning into anticipation, and imagination.

“You like the sound of that, pup?” She fills with heat—both embarrassed and turned on by his degrading choice of words. “Excited like I’ve just said it’s time for walkies.” All Y/N can do is look at him, pupils getting bigger by the second and warmth in between her thighs spreading. 

Her hands come up to cover her face, overwhelmed by all the different things she’s feeling—and by how much she likes the sound of Harry’s proposition. 

“Answer me, darling,” Harry strokes a large palm over her knee and trails the fingers on his other hand across her wrists. She lets him pull them down from her face. “Most important thing to me is communication.”

“Okay,” Y/N squeaks. “What was the question?”

Harry grins. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“You want to?” She recoils, eloquence lacking but she can’t care.

“Wanted to all night,” he brushes a knuckle across her cheek and Y/N’s eyes flutter shut, goosebumps rising in his wake.

“Not just because Niall asked?” She whispers. Harry’s breath fans against her mouth.

“Because I want to. Because I think you’re beautiful, and sweet.” Y/N exhales as he speaks, positive she could tear up if he keeps talking. So she leans forward blindly, unaware of how close he is but hoping he’ll take the lead.

And he does.

Harry presses their lips together softly, careful to take it slowly. He thinks she’ll need that. Kissing her feels like sinking into the plushest of mattresses. But the mattress is in a meadow, overlooking the seaside, and the sun is beaming down on them, and there’s still the taste of strawberries remnant in her mouth.

Y/N sighs into Harry’s mouth, painting a similar picture in her mind—only in her daydream they’re in her bed and Harry is leaning over her, pushing her further and further into the sheets. She’s only kissed one person before (two if you count Niall during a drunken night which Y/N firmly doesn’t) and it’s immediately clear to her that Harry is infinitely better. Doesn’t shove his tongue in her mouth straight away and slobber his lips all over hers. No, Harry is delicate and it makes her heart flutter. Because she can feel how much he cares to do it just right.

When Y/N pulls away it’s because she absolutely has no other choice. Her heart was pounding before the kiss but now it’s threatening to tear right out of her chest as she (not so) subtly inhales as deeply as she can. Harry presses his lips against the corner of her mouth and she can feel the way he’s smiling into her face. 

He’s been doing that all night—smiling at her. And Y/N thinks that it’s been stoking the fire in her belly since they met; so obvious now that he’s been amused this entire time. Yet, the idea that he’s laughing at her deters her none—it’s exciting, in fact—and Y/N is learning more about herself tonight than she has done in the entirety of her adult life.

Harry hums, tongue poking out to tease her bottom lip. “Y’taste so sweet, darlin’. G’na give me a sugar rush.”

Y/N’s insides twist and turn at his words, face on fire. “Harry,” she breathes, “You’re making me—” dizzy? hot? wet?

“Making you what?” Harry asks, trailing his fingers along the exposed skin of her shoulder and down her arm agonisingly slowly. Her body shudders.

“B-butterflies.”

“I’m giving you butterflies?” He smiles. “How adorable is that?  Has no one ever told you how good you taste, Y/N?” He runs his fingers back up.

She doesn’t miss the double meaning, shaking her head. “No. No one’s ever— I’ve never—” the words don’t come out (and she’s far too aware of just how akin to the plot of Fifty Shades this is getting). What if her lack of experience turns him off? She thinks she’d do crazy things to make herself desirable.

“God,” Harry exhales and Y/N opens her eyes hesitantly. He holds her gaze, brows pinched and hand stalling on her arm. “No one’s ever made you come?”

And she panics when he says it, rushing to make sure he still wants her. “I can give you a blowie! My ex used to make me give him blowies.” She thinks nothing of it—a little humiliated perhaps at the desperation to suck him off but too turned on to care.

Harry removes his hand from her skin and Y/N’s stomach drops at his expression. An undeniable frown. “He used to make you?”

“He—” Y/N pauses, because she’d never really thought about it before. “He got annoyed when I didn’t so it was easier…” she starts fiddling with her hands; can’t look at Harry, can’t speak the words and maintain eye contact—it’s not possible.

“And he never returned the favour?” He ducks down to catch her eyes.

She closes them, shaking her head again. “He always made excuses as to why he couldn’t… No time, too tired, not in the mood.”

“What a fucking piece of shit,” Harry lets out a humourless laugh. “You deserved so much better than that, darling. I’ll show you, yeah. Will you let me?”

Y/N looks at him, eyes open all the way to confirm he really was still there. “What do you want me to do?” she says.

“I don’t want you to do anything. Just wanna show you how good it feels. Don’t want you to think about anything we’ve discussed tonight—we won’t play or perform. And you don’t even have to see me again if you don’t want to. I can still leave now.”

“No!” Y/N grabs his wrist. “Don’t leave.”

Harry smiles, removing her grasp to slot their fingers together instead. “Where’s your bedroom, love?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N doesn’t know what to expect when Harry hoists her up and gently throws her onto the middle of her bed—as he relishes in the squeals and giggles—before crawling up to kneel in front of her body. 

He’d said to ignore their previous conversation but did that mean to forget that he was a dominant? Would he be dominant with her now? Or would he just be normal? Whatever that meant, Y/N doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen in this situation—how much or little to rely on her film and book knowledge about sex. Not when her ex never cared to get this far.

But Harry is bewitched, he’s sure. Staring down at the girl before him, little dress riding up her thighs as she presses her legs together tightly and fidgets with the sheets nervously. Even he doesn’t know where to start. Wants to overwhelm her in every way but knows he needs to take it slowly, needs to treat her like glass—make her first experience one she’ll never forget.

But not without trying to fluster her first. That’s half the fun, after all.

With soft hands, Harry starts at Y/N’s feet, slipping off her delicate heels before smoothing his palms up her silky calves. Her chest is already heaving and when he stares at her anxiously awaiting face for too long she hides away underneath her hands.

Slowly does Harry slide up higher, cupping the crease of her knees and then her thighs under her dress. He squeezes and rubs his thumbs and watches as Y/N tentatively uncovers her eyes, looking down at an encouraging Harry.

“Still got those butterflies?” She nods jerkily. “Your tummy warm?”

“Mhm,” Y/N’s fingers curl into the sheets as she watches Harry’s wrists disappear under her dress as he dares to move higher up her thighs.

“If my hands were to find the middle of your thighs, would they be wet?”

“Harry,” she turns her face into the mattress, too embarrassed to look at him or even think about granting him an answer.

“Mm, sorry,” he hums, “so shy, aren’t you, darlin’?” as the tips of his fingers brush against her underwear.

Y/N’s conflicted—excited but scared. Entirely unprepared for this to be happening today. “Will you kiss me, please?” she forces out, so desperate to relax.

Harry pulls his hands back, moving to hover over her. “We don’t have to do anything, love,” he reminds her.

“I want to,” Y/N assures, “m’just nervous, sorry.”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Harry leans closer, “but it’s supposed t’be fun, yeah? G’na have fun.” He sponges his lips to hers, parting with a soft noise and watching the flutter of Y/N’s lashes as she waits for more.

He gives to her without hesitation; is already looking down at her with an overwhelming urge to just give, give, give—anything and everything she could ever want—as her skin heats up and her lips plump from his kisses.

Slowly, ever so slowly, as Harry skillfully pulls Y/N in and gets her lost in his kiss, does he start to ruminate on the best way to please her. He’s sitting on her thighs, pinning her to the bed as gently as he can whilst being a fairly heavy man—but she likes it. And she doesn’t have to say so for him to notice.

With each passing minute that their lips lock, Y/N’s body relaxes further and further against the sheets, soft hands coming up to rest beside her head in an innocent, natural act of submission. Harry has to fight the urge to push hard against her—to shove her hands up higher, above her head, and ruck her dress up to her ribs.

Instead, a large paw cups her cheek, mouths parting an inch so he can rub his thumb along her spit-slicked flesh. Her bottom lip is springy against his finger and welcoming as he slips it along the inside, watching her face attentively for any sign of discomfort. She’s overwhelmed, sure, and alert to his every move, but he can feel the way she’s starting to accept the feelings—to fall into them.

Harry’s thumb breaches her mouth, pad teasing the tip of her tongue before pushing further to rest against the full of the muscle. Y/N opens up for him nervously, holding her tongue out slightly so it rests on her bottom lip.

Harry smiles, “Clever girl,” heart hammering at her small, accomplished expression as he starts to explore her mouth. He’s in no rush at all; happy to spend a torturous amount of time just stroking her tongue and slicking her spit over her lips as Y/N loses more and more composure.

He thinks it funny, a little, how naturally submissive she is. So obviously desperate that he moves on but never daring to say a thing. Just letting him do as he pleases with her. It’s exciting. And adorable. He thinks she deserves so much.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?”

Y/N nods, knocking his thumb down her chin.

“I’m thinking about when I first saw you. So cute as you came over, like a little deer in the headlights. Knew you’d be so sweet. So eager.”

She gives an involuntary buck of her hips, “Harry, are— are you going to t-touch me now, please? I’m ready—”

“You don’t want to hear what else I’m thinking? About how the way you were staring at me all night was making me tighten in my trousers? Thinking about all the things I wanted to do with you?”

“God,” she breathes, eyes closing and brows furrowing. Bless her.

“Are you aching, love?”

“I’m— I’m…”

“You’re shy, I know, it’s okay. You want me to touch you now? Make you feel good? Make you come?”

Y/N nods, slowly at first, and then faster as Harry leans back—sure to press his lips against her mouth one last time before trailing his hand down her body.

His thick thighs stay firm around her own, angling back a little for the perfect access. Gently, does he hike her dress up and up, bunching the material around her waist and revealing the entirety of her flimsy underwear.

“So pretty, darlin’,” Harry promises, eyes struggling to tear away from the wet patch to meet her anguished eyes. “Feel so lucky to see you like this.”

“T-thank you,” Y/N cringes, uncomfortable with the compliments—still feeling unworthy of them.

“I mean it,” he holds her stare. And then he shifts the tiniest bit, just enough to rest the thick bulge in his trousers against her mound. She gasps. “All because of you.” He leans back again, content with the way Y/N’s eyes have shut slightly, inhibitions starting to slip away.

Harry runs his knuckles across her stomach, down her thighs and back up again, smiling at the way her attempt at taking a deep breath falters with his feather light touch. She watches him with eagle eyes, fighting the urge to just let them shut as she’s taken care of. 

His being above her, strong body pinning her down is wetting her underwear considerably—she’s comfortable and safe; she’s unknowing but he makes her feel small enough to fit in his palm. It’s a good feeling.

Finally, Harry touches her where she wishes most. A light thumb swiping over her covered clit, and she jolts.

“So sensitive,” he mutters, irises sparkling in delight. “Never been touched…can’t believe it,” he shakes his head, and Y/N thinks he might be talking to himself, the way he doesn’t look at her. “Is that right?” Harry’s gaze suddenly burns into her. “He never even touched you, did he?”

Y/N shakes her head, frown pulling her lips down.

“Fucking idiot,” Harry says, and then he’s rolling her clit underneath his thumb and Y/N is gasping out, hips pushing up but Harry holds her down softly.

“Oh—uh!”

“How’s that feel? Good?”

She nods hard, torn between looking up at Harry’s beautiful face or down to where his thumb is working her. She goes for the latter, eyes trailing down his arm and near sighing at the sight. Harry’s thumb stroking her as his hand splays out atop her abdomen; big, so big. It’s hypnotising.

But then it stops. And Y/N is surprised at how quickly she’s ready to whine at him to keep going.

“Sit up a sec, love.” He has every intention just to reposition her, but as she kneels up and gets closer to Harry’s height, he can’t help but surge forward and smear their lips together in a rushed kiss—pulling back before Y/N can melt too much.

Harry sits back against her headboard, patting the space between his legs. Y/N knees over shyly, dress still pulled up around her middle. 

“Jus’ sit back against me, there you go,” he drawls, lips brushing her ear as she settles in his arms. In this position, Harry tucks his legs over hers, gently forcing them to open, and stay open. 

“Why did you stop?” Y/N breathes, words mere pants as Harry kisses along her shoulder absentmindedly. 

“This is much more comfortable, no? Much better angle for me to touch you, baby.”

And Y/N can’t help it, she lets out a little mewl and her head tilts back until it meets his shoulder. “Sorry,” she pants.

“What for? Want you to make those pretty noises. Want you to turn to mush in my arms, that’s how I know I’m doing a good job.”

You’re doing more than a good job, she thinks, lungs working harder when he brings his fingers back to her underwear.

“Shall we take these off, darlin’?” Harry trails his finger along the elastic on the inside of her thighs. Y/N twitches. He could’ve probably asked her anything and she’d give the same answer.

“Yes, okay. It’s just…no one’s ever—”

Harry cuts her off, “I know. And I’m so lucky to be the first, baby. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

When she nods, he lifts her hips up and tucks his fingers into the waistband of her panties, tugging them down her legs and putting them to the side on the bed. The cold hits her and she wiggles, trying to shift but Harry’s legs are holding her down once again.

A hand smooths across her stomach as the other one taps across her lips, middle and ring finger asking to be let in. Y/N opens for him, much quicker now to present her tongue and Harry kisses her cheek for it, humming when she closes her lips around them and gets them wet—without even being asked.

He doesn’t tease after that; pulls his fingers free and goes straight to her clit. Normally, if it was pussy he had the pleasure of dealing with, he’d build a person up, taunt their hole until it clenched around nothing, brush the inside of their thighs, pull their lips apart—anything to avoid touching their clit. But with Y/N, for her first time at least, he only wants to make her feel good as soon as possible.

And she does. She pants and whines, still a little shy to make too much noise as Harry rubs tantalising circles onto her swollen bud. Y/N has never known it to feel this good. Of course, she is well familiarised with late night fondling, messing two fingers over herself underneath her sheets as she lets out silent cries. 

But she didn’t know how much better it would feel from someone else. And God does it. It feels so good to be touched for the first time, by a gorgeous, sweet, selfless man who has her splayed out in his lap. So good that she’s about to come already and it embarrasses her immensely.

“Oh! I’m— Sorry, I’m g’na—!”

Harry’s cock leaks in his boxers. “Oh, that’s so cute,” he sighs, manoeuvring his hand under the tight material of her dress, searching for her tits. When he finds them, free of a bra, and squeezes his big hand over one, Y/N clenches around nothing.

“Are you g’na cum f’me, pretty girl? Give me your first proper orgasm? Finally touched like you deserve for the first time and you’re cumming in seconds, baby.”

It’s humiliating, and it's stirring her insides up even more. “Uh! Uh, Harry—” she’s breathless, voice tight and directed right into his ear as her head lays leaden on his shoulder.

“That’s it, show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

Y/N’s sure if she wasn’t about to orgasm, she’d burst into tears. Maybe she still will, as Harry’s fingers break the dam and carry her through the flood that is the most powerful orgasm she’s ever had. 

“Hhnh, uh, hngh, Ha—Harry,” he slows down considerably but keeps rolling her clit.

“So gorgeous, darling,” he kisses her shoulder. 

“T-too much!” Y/N pants, hips trying to pull back to no avail under Harry’s strength. But he stops; is soft in the way he dances his fingers along the insides of her thighs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach.

“Do you feel okay?” He asks, nudging his shoulder to get Y/N to lift her head up a little, to look at him.

She’s still shy, but there’s no denying how much that orgasm has softened her bones. “Mhm, thank you.” Harry leans down to kiss her again, smiling into her mouth when he cups her pussy and she inhales sharply. Doesn’t try anything, just holds her there. But she likes it all the same, much looser for him now as they lock lips lazily.

She pulls away, “I wanna… wanna suck you off,” she whispers, eyes avoiding Harry.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m not expecting it.”

“But—”

“I want you to let yourself feel good tonight, love. Can you do that for me?”

She looks at him. For a while. Eyes wide and unsure—fighting the habit, the urge to feel like she has to, otherwise she’s not good. Harry understands; he looks right back at her with his gentle, soft, green eyes. No feature on his face is tense and there is no part of him that is lying to her about expecting a blowjob.

“You’ve been so good tonight, you know that?” His hand is still holding her warmth. “So lovely, you’re just wonderful.”

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s possible to fall in love with someone within the first evening of meeting them but she thinks she could be there. So she pushes upwards to sponge their lips together once again, and hesitantly brings a hand up to his cheek; slightly awkward from the position but it feels right. 

“Are you real?” She mumbles into his mouth.

Harry laughs, warm and deep. “Think so, love.”

And as if to prove his very existence, he teases a finger around her hole—that’s still mindlessly pulsating and basking in the aftershocks of orgasming—pulling it back and feeling a string of arousal following him. Y/N gasps, rearing back from his mouth to look down at his movements.

“You want to keep going?”

“Keep going?” 

“Yeah,” he laughs, “y’didn’t think I was done with you, did ya?”

“I— I don’t know, I wouldn’t be offended if you were, that was…pretty good.”

“Oh darlin’, you’re so easy to please,” Harry smiles. slipping out from underneath Y/N to lay her back. He moves onto his knees, looking down at her malleable body affectionately. “We can stop now, if you like. I’ll give you a cuddle and tuck you in.”

She giggles a little, insides melting at the thought. This beautiful acquaintance of hers… was definitely an angel. Or something equally as special.

“Or…” he starts, lips upturning at the sight of Y/N’s eyes twinkling with curiosity, “I can work your pretty pussy open with m’fingers, get you all soft and wet, ‘n’ ready for my cock. And then I can fuck you all deep, right into your tummy, ‘n’ then I’ll give you a cuddle and tuck you in.”

He’s smiling down at her, eyes crinkling at the look of pure astonishment on her face. Astonishment, and intrigue, and lust. Pure, carnal levels of lust.

It’s then that Y/N realises that Harry is still completely, fully clothed. Shirt sleeves still deliciously rolled up to his elbows, and tight slacks still hugging his strong thighs. He even has his fancy dress shoes on.

All while Y/N has her entire bottom half on display and her once cute dress bunched up under her tits. She must look a mess.

Harry would agree with her there. A beautiful, flustered, glowing mess that he only wants to dismantle further.

“What d’ya think?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, yes please, that sounds…yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I—” Y/N lifts a hand and then pauses. “Will you— Can I see you please?”

“Wanna get me naked, darlin’?” Harry toes his shoes off, fingers nimble in their unbuttoning of his shirt.

Y/N’s face burns, feeling somewhat scandalous for watching despite her spread legs and naked centre. She can’t stop her ogling though, not when he shucks the material off his shoulders and tattoo upon tattoo is revealed to her.

Sure, she’d known he had ink, from the lean forearms she’d been drooling over from across the table at the club. But she hadn’t known just how much. And it’s stunning; stark and intricate against his skin. Against his hard chest, broad shoulders and defined biceps. But especially on his stomach, a large, detailed butterfly that is demanding of eye contact, complimenting the ridges of his abs that she’s unconsciously reaching out to touch.

Was he made in a lab?

Before her fingers touch his skin, she pulls back with a sheepish smile on her face, “Sorry.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just shuffles closer on his knees until he’s straddling her again and takes her hand. He stares at her so intensely as he guides her palm to his skin, basking in the coyness she’s exhibiting.

When her skin meets his, he’s convinced she’s affected more by it than he is, and he’s the one with the pretty girl feeling up his abs. As she touches, Harry unzips his slacks, opening the material to reveal his boxers but he leaves her wanting more. Doesn’t want to give her everything at once.

He lets her have her fun, soft fingertips outlining his tattoos, before taking hold of her wrists and holding them above her head. “Dress off, baby?”

She nods, and Harry peels it up and off her body, dragging his palms back down to slide over her breasts and stop on her waist. 

“You can rest your arms back down,” he says.

Y/N’s naked. As naked as one can be. For the first time, in front of anyone. It’s only natural that she covers her chest with her arms. Harry shakes his head.

“Don’t be shy. I’m near bursting through the seams at the sight of ya, there’s no need to hide, darlin’.”

So in a contrasting burst of confidence she blurts, “Take your trousers off first.”

Harry grins, leaning over her so his broad chest squishes her arms and his plush lips tickle her ear. “Make me.”

And well, that didn’t quite work, did it? Y/N’s mouth opens and closes—guppy-like—pouting at Harry’s smug expression when he pulls back. But it’s a sort of game now, isn’t it? And Y/N has always been a little competitive.

Carefully, Y/N hides as much of herself as she can with a singular arm, much less bothered now than she had been initially. The excitement of seeing Harry is conquering her nerves significantly. With her free hand, she reaches out for his open slacks, attempting to tug them down his hips with limited success.

Harry looks down at her, bemused. She thinks he’ll let her struggle—faff about for minutes until she’s satisfied—but his laurel tattoos are barely exposed before he’s taking hold of her wrist near his pelvis and the one hiding herself and pins them down beside her head.

“You wanna play, darlin’?” He’s so close to her. “Because we can…but I’ll always win.”

Y/N doesn’t really know what he means by play—guesses her little act of defiance (that can barely even be called that) has tickled his senses; his desire to control. But she assumes he doesn’t mean like… play play… or however he’d described it earlier.

Harry notices her little stray thoughts.

“Hey,” he brushes the hair away from her face. “They’re just words, love, told you—nothing more until we talk about it. If you want to.”

Y/N looks into his eyes, admiring their colour and their unique flecks, as she nods her head. “Want your…trousers off.”

He smiles, nodding, “Okay, fine. I think that’s fair.” Harry empties his pockets, throwing his wallet down someway beside them before standing up to shuck his slacks down his legs.

The sight before her is unfathomable. He’s… well he’s perfect, surely. And the bump in his boxers is certainly intimidating.

Harry crawls back on top of her, now much more naked, to Y/N’s delight. He presses a sweet kiss to the round of her cheek. “How are you feeling? Still good?”

Y/N nods. “Still good. Very good.”

To that, Harry smiles, leaning down to teasingly brush his mouth along hers, stubble scraping deliciously.

“Is there anything…” a kiss to her bottom lip, “you want to…” another with an open mouth, “try?”

Y/N’s a little preoccupied so her response is delayed. “What do you… what do you mean?”

“I’m sure you must have fantasies, no? Kinks you want to discover?”

She struggles to kiss back now, face heating up considerably.

“I— S’embarrassing… to say.” But she is thinking of some things. Desires she’s been pushing down, unable to soothe the frustration or heal the ache. Things she’s been just waiting for. Counting down the days for.

“Why don’t you show me then?” Harry suckles on her bottom lip, pulling back and watching the way her flesh bounces back. Succulent and spit-slicked.

Y/N inhales shakily, nodding slowly—almost as if to herself. She feels him smile, opening her fluttering lashes and leaning away some to catch her breath as she finds one of his hands that’s bracing himself. Her much smaller fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging it from the mattress, and up, up, up until his slender fingers ghost against her throat.

She looks up at him, eyes wide and apprehensive—nervous. Harry’s gaze is kind. Undeniably excited but he suppresses it in favour of reassuring Y/N. Slowly, he extends his fingers as they coil around the soft skin of her neck. He applies no pressure—just basks in the way she feels underneath him and the small hitch of her breath that tells him she’s in love with it.

“Yeah?” Harry drawls. “You like that?”

Y/N nods, blinking up at him slowly. Dazed.

“Just needed a man to put his hand around your throat, didn’t you, love?”

She fucking mewls and Harry’s lips curl upwards like a sadist. And never before has she been so turned on by such male arrogance… but in the bedroom? Y/N is sure he could start mansplaining and she’d lap it up.

“God,” Harry looks down at her like she’s made of diamonds. If she squints maybe she’ll see the reflection sparkle in his eyes. “And I didn’t think you could get any prettier…”

She has the audacity to feel embarrassed despite the obvious hand around her throat. Y/N thinks this is the most she’s ever been complimented in a single day. And even when she receives compliments usually, they’re from Niall and they hardly make her all flustered; they go over her head most of the time or she takes them with a pinch of salt.

But Harry is so unabashed with his words. He says what he wants and he means it. Y/N can tell he doesn’t bullshit. And the sincerity of the way he speaks to her is utterly mouthwatering—his voice slinks down her throat and into her belly where it sizzles hot and drips further… and further.

Y/N nods. Harry hasn’t said anything but she nods anyway, a silent plea that he give her more. He mimics her, head moving up and down in a mocking exaggeration, and then he tightens his fingers around the sides of her throat—just a little but enough to have Y/N wilting. 

He leans closer until his breaths mingle with hers and he just… looks at her for a moment. Feels her swallow against his palm and sees the miles of naked skin out of the corner of his eye. His thighs sit thick on either side of her hips and all Y/N can see is him. All she can feel is him.

Harry brushes his lips against hers and Y/N blossoms, mouth unlocking like he’s whispered a secret incantation. All for him to explore. His tongue rolls against hers as he sponges his lips with unbridled enthusiasm. It’s slow and rushed at the same time. Heavy and erotic; a kiss that can only be the precursor to sex.

Y/N’s hands reach out without the permission of her brain, palms meeting the firm muscles of Harry’s chest. He’s warm, and big, and dizzying just to feel.

She kisses him harder.

She doesn’t know how long they’ve been on her bed. It could have been minutes, or hours. It could have days and Y/N wouldn’t have cared. If the world ends right now, this is a pretty good place to be, she thinks.

“I’m ready—ready now,” their lips smack as Y/N pulls away, sucking in a gasp of air. Harry lingers, kissing the corner of her mouth with that ever present smile.

“Not quite,” he mumbles. “Gotta stretch you out first. Don’t wanna hurt you, do we?” Y/N pouts. “Stop tha’, be lovely f’me.”

Harry can tell she’s itching to whine; to retort something like, “Am I not already lovely?” with her big, sparkling eyes. But she holds herself back. Is still too nervous and unsure to let her personality shine through. God, Harry hopes she wants to see him again. So they can blossom together—become symbiotic. He wants to discover every inch of her brain.

Harry flexes his fingers around her throat, pressing kiss upon kiss to the heated skin of her cheek, trailing down past his hand to her collarbones, her sternum, her stomach. Then back up to lave his tongue over her left nipple. 

Y/N gasps, back arching up into his tongue. Harry hums, sucking the peaked bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. She watches the way his long lashes rest against his cheekbones as he enjoys himself against her chest, daring to pinch her with his teeth a little before he pulls off with smiling eyes.

Her breaths are laboured, lungs expanding at a rapid pace as he moves to her right breast to repeat the process. All whilst he maintains his meltingly delicious grip around her neck, squeezing every now and then to remind her he’s still there. 

His other hand dances down her tummy, enormous palm warming against the skin. Y/N might be giggling and complaining that it tickles if not for his other ministrations. (And she should be thankful that Harry doesn’t pick up on that otherwise he would be sure to torture her. Tickle her whilst he’s balls deep inside, perhaps. It’s something he’s always wanted to try.)

Harry’s lips are wet when he pops off of her, pupils dilated to an alarming size as his kisses move down with his hand, leaving his spit against her. Y/N wishes he was wearing lipstick at that moment—just to see the proof of his heart shaped mouth painting her body.

When his breath ghosts over Y/N’s mound, she freezes, nerves rising at a rapid pace once again.

“It’s okay,” Harry coos, both hands now smoothing up her thighs in reassurance. “Don’t be nervous, baby. There is nothing that could stop me from wanting you like this.”

And his words soothe her some, but no one’s ever… tasted her before. It makes her cringe. “What if— What if I… If it’s—”

“You’re making my mouth water, love. Promise you, you’ll taste just as good as you smell.”

Her breath hitches. “Oh God,” she whispers, “you— you’re so—”

“Mhm, I know. So shy, aren’t you?” His nose nudges her right above her clit. Purposely so. “G’na let me taste you, sweet girl?”

Y/N nods suddenly, frantically, “Okay, okay, just—”

Harry flattens his tongue against her. The full of him against the full of her. She gasps, nearly chokingly, and her hips stutter under the weight of his hands.

He hums against her, “So good,” lips closing around her clit in a gentle suck… and Y/N doesn’t even remember what she was so worried about.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks. “Ha-Harry, that’s—”

“Good, yeah?” He speaks against her, and the vibrations shoot through her clit and up her limbs.

“Y-Yes.”

His hands feel like velvet as they caress her thighs—touch feather light but somehow grasping at the same time. He commits her skin to memory, among other things; like the heady tang that coats his tongue and swirls in his nose. But there’s something about the feel of her body under his palms that compels him in a way unusual to his normal experiences.

Making Y/N writhe underneath him as he flicks his tongue, and then flattens it against her in languid motions that speed up teasingly just to slow back down again, has Harry’s insides coiling—blood rushing south despite him already feeling as hard as he can get.

She’s opening her mouth in silent moans, eyebrows furrowed in the depths of pleasure and hands digging tight into the sheets. Harry can’t help but smile against her and hum in satisfaction to make her jolt against his face. As he slides his tongue down and teases her dripping hole; still reacting to the orgasm he gave her with his fingers.

He has to stop himself from getting too ahead. From picturing all the different ways to make her feel good. From bending her body into different positions and sinking himself all the way inside her—to hear her exhale of breath that chokes around a moan. Whilst his tongue is pushing inside of her and his thumb is rolling around her clit as his strong arms pin her down. And he’s fluttering his eyes shut at the image of it all—the one before him and the copious that build up behind his eyelids. Of her beautiful face contorted into an expression that could only be instantly recognisable as deep satisfaction.

Harry moves his tongue back up, soaked in saliva and honey, to make room for one of his slender fingers as he unwraps his arm from around Y/N’s waist and trails it down. He strokes the inside of her thigh in a moment of stillness—as Y/N peels her eyes open and registers his lack of movement against her.

She’s glowing; chest heaving and skin shining. “More?” Harry asks, hot breath fanning against her.

Y/N swallows, answering without hesitation, “Please.”

[meetmymouthrecs]

love in photos

summary - a sum up of love on tour with a few instagram posts

word count - 1k

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

liked by annetwist and 727,937 others

yourinstagram goodbye love on tour, you will always be famous <3🤍

view all 34,767 comments

harryfan1 THESE PHOTO YN HOW ARE YOU ALIVE

harryfan2 can’t believe harry spotted you in the crowd twice🙄

yourinstagram @/harryfan2 ik it’s almost like he loves me or something?!

harrystyles liked this comment

harryfan3 yn. respectfully. pls stop. i am now in tears.

jeffezoff Post some more!

harryfan4 i remember him wanting to hug you so bad yn omg🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

•••••••••••••••••

“Babe…” Harry laughed at you crying.

“What?” You laughed back through your tears.

Harry moved from the end of the couch he was currently sat on and further over to you. He carefully picked you up and sat you on his lap, tucking the plush blanket back over you both.

You held your phone in your hand, running your finger through the photos from Love On Tour.

The tears stemmed from reminiscing of a tour that ended only five days ago. You couldn’t help yourself though. Love On Tour had brought you some of the happiest years and memories of your life and it was just sad it was now all over.

“C’mon, love. You know I’m going to cry if you keep crying.” Harry’s facial hair tickled your cheek with how close you were sitting.

You made sure Harry could see your phone screen as you continued to scroll.

“I know, but, i’m just emotionally reflecting.”

Harry budged your finger out of the way and paused to stop on a photo. He clicked on it and it immediately made you both laugh.

It was a photo of Harry creeping you behind you and scaring you. Your face is one of pure terror and Harry looks like he’s ready to pounce.

“You were such a twat for that.” You chuckled, tapping the screen and holding to make it a live photo.

Harry could be heard yelling and then you let out an ear piercing scream. So many people turned to look at you, probably because you sounded in pain. Then you collapsed to the floor with your head in your hands.

“It was Harryween though.” Harry justified.

You shook your head and continued to scroll. A few of the photos were ones you had screenshotted off your secret Twitter account. Fans constantly snuck to take photos of you and Harry, some of which actually turned out very cute sometimes.

You clicked on one of you and Harry watching Madi Diaz as the opener for Harry, back on his US leg of the tour.

Harry was stood behind you with his arms draped over your shoulders. Your hands held onto his and you both swayed to the music playing. Harry had his baseball cap on, but it didn’t stop fans noticing him.

“That’s a sweet photo.” Harry said, kissing your cheek.

“Mhm. Thank your fans for that one.”

“I always loved watching the opening acts with you.”

“Yeah? Why?” You turned your head to face his.

Harry couldn’t choose where to look, because of how much he loved everything about you. He watched your eyes follow his as they ran between your freckles and lips to your eyes and dimples.

“You always calmed me. Calmed the nerves, before a show. Was always more at peace after spending a few moments with just you.”

You smiled, not needing to say anything more, before leaning up and kissing his soft lips. He had been waiting for you to do so and cupped your cheek gently to guide you the way he wanted to kiss you.

Your cheeks flushed at how much you enjoyed kissing him, but you had to pull away before anything got too heated. Tonight you just wanted calm.

After getting back to your photos, you and Harry decided it might be fun to feed the fans and just post lots of content from tour - especially backstage.

liked by jeffezoff and 977,877 others

yourinstagram i’ve decided love on tour isn’t over until i stop posting hslot content. so here is a tiny instagram dump of some backstage shenanigans. we have h putting on his rings. a couple photos of me and h (tehe). and a photo of h that he sent me that i thought you might all like. 🫶✨🌙

view all 59,767 comments

harryfan1 NO YOU DIDN’T OMG QUEEN YN

harryfan2 this is why yn is harrys best girlfriend

harrystyles You’re trouble, you.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles why are you using punctuation like that?

harryfan3 i adore their relationship so much omg

harryfan4 the drought is un-droughting thanks to our saviour miss yn

••••••••••

“BABE!” Harry shouted.

“Yes?” You said sheepishly, hiding under the bed sheets as Harry stormed into the room with a smirk on his face.

He shook his head before, rising to stand on the mattress and loom over you.

“You are…”

“Amazing? Perfect? Beautiful?” You filled in the blanks for him, trying to get out of this silly situation.

“Well, obviously.” Harry rolled his eyes and mumbled quietly under his breath. “That photo is trending worldwide.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lifting the sheets higher over your head with a giggle.

In reality you knew exactly what photo he was on about because you had only posted it twenty minutes ago. It was impressive it was already worldwide trending.

A shirtless photo of Harry was just what the world needed during this time of crisis - a.k.a. the post tour blues.

“Oh, no? Really?” He acted along.

“Maybe you could recreate it?”

“Oh, you’d love that wouldn’t you.”

Harry knelt down on the mattress and then proceeded to flop on top of you. You made a noise as he did and laughed as you struggled to regain the breath he had just winded out of you.

“Harrryy..” You laughed in complaint.

“That’s the last time I send you a shirtless picture.”

“No!”

liked by gemmastyles and 797,877 others

yourinstagram here’s another daily hslot dump. unfortunately this one does not contain any shirtless photos of harry :(

view all 29,837 comments

harryfan1 SHES SO REAL

harryfan2 this is everything i want this so bad

annetwist Lovely photos❤️

harris_reed My baby angels

harrystyles I love you🩷

[meetmymouthrecs]

Girl Gone Live

this is literally so stupid and so corny, but i don't care i'm here for a good time, not a long time, you know? enjoy!

"Okay, is this working? How do I know this is working?"

You squinted at the screen, feeling older than you actually were as you waited for some sign that the live stream you set up was working. Thankfully, comments started rolling through and the viewer count went up, and then it started to skyrocket, which made you a little nervous.

"I...think it's working! Cool. Well, um, obviously I'm Y/n L/n, and I'm a celebrity makeup artist. I recently did Olivia Rodrigo's makeup for her music video 'Vampire,' and I thought I would kind of walk you through how I achieved that look, I guess."

Before going live, you'd considered making a little script but decided against it. Hearing yourself bumble through the introduction now, though, you kind of wished you had.

No one seemed to be put off by your awkwardness, though. As comments streamed past, you saw some about the music video and Olivia and what it was like to work with her, but there were also a lot about Harry. You weren't necessarily surprised by Harry's fans flooding the comment section because you sometimes appeared in the background of posts from other people on Love on Tour and you'd become known as the tour's makeup artist. Sometimes you posted the looks you did for performances and little videos of you doing makeup before the show. The attention was a little jarring if you thought about it too long, but you decided it could be worse. After all, you were Harry Styles' long-term girlfriend.

But that wasn't what this livestream was about.

Your eyes scanned the comments as they moved a mile a minute, hoping to snag on a question. "Oh! Someone asked how I met Olivia. Um, as some of you may know, I'm currently working as the makeup artist for Love on Tour, and Olivia came to one of the shows, and we just talked for a really long time about makeup, and she asked me to do her makeup for the video a few weeks later."

It was a fun side gig while you were on tour with Harry and his band. You loved touring for the most part, but this was something different and exciting, so you flew back home during a break in the tour to work with Olivia on "Vampire." Harry tagged along, happy to watch you work instead of the other way around for once. He had a grin on his face the whole time as he watched you do your thing, playing assistant, grabbing whatever you needed when you asked, and holding a palette for you while you did Olivia's makeup. Overall, it was a fun shoot for both of you.

You were back on tour now, and since you had a little time to kill, you decided to go live for the first time to talk about makeup. If it went well, you could maybe make it a regular thing, so you hoped people actually watched and were interested.

*.*

Brynn watched her phone intently, pen in hand as she waited for Y/n to name-drop the next product she was using so she could write it down and see if she could afford it later. Not only was Brynn a huge fan of Olivia Rodrigo, but she had been a Harry Styles fan since she was in grade school, and when she got the notification that Y/n was going live, she was one of the first people to join.

"Luxury or drugstore makeup? Good question," Y/n said as she moisturized her face. "Honestly both. I love trying new things and seeing what works for me. When I was starting out, I mostly had MAC in my makeup kit, but now I've branched out a little more and added things here and there. But that's my professional kit, which has all the things I know with certainty will work perfectly for whatever look I'm trying to achieve. My personal one is where I do more experimentation with brands and products and trends. I guess that doesn't really answer the question, so both. I definitely use both.

"And what's cool is that Olivia loves makeup too, so she kind of knew her way around and what products worked best for her," Y/n continued.

She's so cool, Brynn thought as Y/n moved onto explaining how she did Olivia's base makeup. She didn't feel like Y/n was trying to push any particular product on her audience, nor did she hide which products she used. Her explanations were clear and easy to follow, and she even gave alternative products when she used one that was on the pricier side.

"Olivia loves herself a glowy base, and we really played that up because of the song. So to give her that Cullen-esque sparkle, I added some liquid highlighter into her foundation."

Brynn watched intently, wanting to see just how Y/n did it. Then, feeling compelled, she typed a comment. She didn't think Y/n would notice it, or be able to see it at all amongst the thousands of others, but she couldn't help but try to be noticed.

As Y/n blended her foundation in, Y/n smiled. "Someone asked how long it takes to do Harry's makeup on tour. Um...It kind of depends. Sometimes it's hard to actually get him in the chair because he gets so pumped up before he goes onstage. But once he settles enough for me to do it, it goes pretty quick. If he lets me, I get to put a little bit of glowy balm on his cheeks, but that's as creative as I get."

Y/n's smile changed, though Brynn couldn't really say how. It was almost like she was exasperated as she talked about Harry, and Brynn became just a tiny bit jealous that this person on the other side of her screen for knowing him well enough to be exasperated by him. What she wouldn't give to chase Harry Styles around so she could do his makeup. It left Brynn wondering how people even got into these situations.

Y/n finished up her base makeup while she answered more questions about the makeup products she used for the music video and a few about Love on Tour. She talked about her favorite songs and the places she'd been and the people she hung out with before and after shows.

"Oh boy, okay. I'm not a huge fan of bold lip colors on myself, but this is what I used on Olivia," Y/n said as she lined her lips. She'd just finished adding a light, almost haphazard, dusting of shimmer to her eyes, and despite the pixelated live stream feed, Brynn could still see it catch the light. "We wanted this to be the focal point of the whole look because, you know, vampires."

Y/n stopped talking briefly as she applied the lipstick she used for the music video, then shifted from side to side with her hands beneath her chin to show off the finished look. "Not my usual style, but—"

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

For a moment, Brynn thought she was dreaming. Mouth dropped open in shock, she watched as Harry Styles appeared onscreen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His hair was messy, as if he'd just been sleeping or a storm had just run through it. The video quality wasn't great because it was a live stream, but Brynn couldn't help but think he looked so cute and warm with his sleepy eyes, especially as he stretched his arms above his head, though her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when the waistband of his sweatpants dropped a centimeter. Not even caring that they'd fallen a bit, Harry shuffled forward and sat down next to Y/n and kissed her shoulder. He didn't seem to notice Y/n's phone propped up in front of her, or the look of disbelief and slight horror on her face. Not when she tried to speak to him, and not when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

And through it all Brynn watched, feeling like she'd entered an alternate dimension.

"You look cute. I like the sparkle," Harry said, tapping his knuckle against Y/n's nose. She still looked like she was in shock, but when he leaned in—leaned in to kiss her, Brynn realized—Y/n seemed to shake off some of her stupor.

"We—We're not alone," she said, gently resting her fingers over Harry's mouth to stop him.

Brynn didn't want to tear her eyes away from Harry and Y/n, but she darted her gaze down to the comment section, which confirmed everything. This was no dream, this was really happening, and everyone who was watching was losing their minds.

"What do you mean, lovie?" Harry asked, brows furrowing, clearly confused by Y/n's odd behavior. He finally looked at the camera, his brows shooting up when he realized that Y/n was live streaming all of this. "Oh."

"Yeah 'oh.'"

"I thought you were on the phone—"

"I wasn't!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know! You didn't tell me. And since when—"

"Harry put a shirt on!"

Brynn watched their bickering in a daze, waiting for the inevitable end of the live stream. To her surprise, though, Harry grinned a little before taking Y/n—and the whole Internet, to be honest—by surprise and kissing her.

"Are you insane?"

Harry merely shrugged. He leaned in again, but Y/n pushed his face back with the palm of her hand. They began to bicker again, but this time, Y/n scrambled for her phone in the process.

"You drive me crazy."

"Now, I know that's not true."

"Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God—"

And just like that, the live stream ended with a wink. Brynn stared down at her phone almost as if she was waiting for Harry and Y/n to reappear on her screen. They didn't, and she was left sitting alone in her bedroom, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[meetmymouthrecs]

ON REPEAT

A/N: we all saw the vid of him tongueing his guitar... yeah... the devil works hard but i work harder

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: As his personal assistant, you definitely shouldn't be havin dirty thoughts of Harry, especially not about the way his tongue on his guitar. But it's hard to resist and you need relief, but you never thought your boss would be more than willing to help you out.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You watch it happen and in a third of a second you are no different than the screaming girls out there in the pit and the stands, only that you can’t scream from the top of your lungs when Harry mimics to be playing his guitar with his tongue.

It’s vile. It’s maddening and it should definitely not turn you on the way it does, because he is your boss. He is not just a rock star for you, a person far out of your reach, he is your job, you manage his everyday life for a living so you surely should not be having dirty thoughts at the sight of his tongue on a guitar’s neck.

But you do. You very much do and the fantasies are so bad you can actually feel your panties getting wet in an instant as you stand by the stage and watch him carry his performance on as if he didn’t just destroy all ovaries in the arena and because there’s probably hundreds of videos now of his little stunt, you know it will continue to sweep through the whole world by the morning.

The after show period is the same as always. Harry runs off stage, he changes faster than lightning and before the first people could step out of the arena the two of you are in the backseat of a car, heading out to avoid the traffic his own show usually creates.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he comments.

You don’t dare to look at him, especially not because you can smell him from this close, locked up together in the car. The smell of his shower gel from before the show is still lingering on his skin but it is not mixed with his sweat, the smell of his own body that you spent two hours to stare at and have the most ravenous and lustful thoughts you’ve ever had since you’ve realized you have a crush on your boss.

This is what hell must be like.

“I’m good, just tired,” you shrug and continue staring out the window. You can feel his excruciating gaze on you, it’s burning your skin, but you keep your eyes on the outside world, hoping to survive this five minute car ride without moaning or whimpering in front of him.

You practically run to your room once you’ve parted ways in the hallway and when you throw yourself onto the perfectly made bed you scream into the pillow, letting out the pent up frustration you battled with all evening.

Out of all men in the world why did you have to fall for your boss? Why do you find him the best looking man to ever exist? Your body and mind has betrayed you and now you have to bear the consequences of it.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip when you pull your phone out and go online, looking for a video of the guitar stunt. It takes about five seconds to stumble upon it and because it was taken by a fan, it was recorded from a lower point and it just adds to the weight of it.

You watch it over and over and over… and over again.

And before you could even realize what you’re doing, your hand is between your legs, applying pressure at the right spot over your shorts, your heart beat is picking up and an occasional swear word leaves your parted lips every once in a while.

What you don’t notice is that you did not close your room’s door fully when you rushed inside, so when Harry comes over to ask if he could grab your phone charger, because his just died, he can easily push the door open and step inside without making a sound when he hears your whimpers and the video playing over and over again.

He knows which part it is, he remembers it clearly, because he knew it would make his fans go crazy, but he did not expect to catch you watching it back… and enjoy it this much.

He stays hidden for a bit and selfishly listens to your sounds. Adrenaline boosts through his veins as he realizes that you’re playing with yourself while watching the video of him and well… it is definitely doing things to him.

Just like the shorts you were wearing tonight, all those silky skin you were showing, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath, Harry had to take a second shower when he saw you bend down for something. And now he caught you playing with yourself while thinking about him.

He knows he has to make a decision. Walk out, close the door and pretend he never heard anything or walk in and do what he’s been fantasizing about probably since he hired you to be his assistant.

His legs move before the decision is processed in his mind.

He walks out from his hiding spot and it takes a moment for you to register his presence and realize that it’s not just a hallucination, he did in fact just walk into your room while you were masturbating to a video of him.

“Oh my God!” you scream and the phone goes flying out of your hands, dropping to the floor, but the video is still playing. Your heart is threatening to burst right out of your chest and jump to Harry’s feet and you’re trying to grab the sheets to cover yourself even though you’re not naked, but Harry is quick to climb onto the bed and stop you from doing it. To put some more distance between the two of you, you push up against the headboard and shut your legs closed tight, horror etched onto your face as your mind is racing, trying to find a way to explain yourself, but you know there’s nothing you could say that would get you out of this mess.

Harry, on the other hand, is enjoying this more than he should, probably. The shame on your face, the way your body is still in a state of lust but also in shock, this is thrilling, knowing he did this to you, the woman who is usually so laid back he can’t ever read your body language.

His eyes are glued to your face as he reaches out and places his hands on your trembling knees. Part of him is disappointed you’re not rambling, trying to talk yourself out of it, but it’s also hot that you are not denying what you’ve been just caught doing.

“Open your legs, Y/N,” he speaks up in a husky, gut wrenching voice and if you weren’t scared for your life (and job), you might have come just from that.

When you don’t move, just stare back at him, he applies the tiniest bit of pressure on your knees to push them apart and your body gives up resistance instantly.

The hunger that flashes through his eyes when he sees that you’ve drenched your panties and shorts good enough to have a visible spot on them, right in front of him now sends a shiver down your spine. And then when he reaches out and runs just one single finger, his middle finger down the seam, you fear your soul has left your body.

“I can leave you and finish on your own, Y/N. Or I can do it for you. Your choice.”

Fuck, your mind feels so heavy and fogged up, you are not in the state to make a decision, let alone one that could have an effect on your life, but it’s like there’s an emergency window has been broken and something else has taken over you, you find yourself speaking up.

“I want you to do it.”

The smirk that spreads across his face twists your inside and you don’t even have time to process it when he climbs over you like a hungry lion and claims your mouth in a deep, demanding kiss that has you seeing stars.

With his mouth still devouring your lips, one of his hands move to grab yours and brings it over to his head.

“If you want to grab onto something, it can only be my hair, understood?” he talks against your mouth and all you can do is nod and let out a whimper. He smirks, so pleased with himself before moving back down and sitting down between your now open legs. He hooks his fingers into your shorts and underwear at the same time and then tugs them down with a swift motion, baring you in front of him, revealing just how much he has turned you on.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you! So wet and ready for me. It’s not the first time I’ve turned you on, right?” His eyes snap up to meet you as he reaches out and runs two of his fingers down your cunt. The touch feels like electricity, your whole body reacts and your knees start shaking.

“No,” you breathe out.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles lowly. “Next time, Y/N, you’re coming straight to me. No toying, no touching yourself, I want to be the only one to make you come. Understood?”

You just nod again, but this time he doesn’t take it as an answer.

“I need you to use your pretty voice.”

“Understood,” you manage to speak out, but the word melts into a moan when his fingers start circling on your clit.

“Good girl.”

Fast and graciously, he gets onto his stomach and before you could even appreciate the sight of him between your legs, his mouth latches onto your pussy and it’s game over for you.

You vaguely remember his request to only hold onto his hair and that’s what you do, you grab his chocolate curls with so much force it stings his scalp, but it also sends waves of pleasure down is groin as well while.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to you that he is fucking amazing in it, that Harry Styles can eat pussy like he does it for a living, that his mouth and tongue know exactly what to do to have your eyes roll to the back of your head from the pleasure. It’s scandalous that he is so good at everything and deep down you already know you’ll never find a man who could eat you out like this ever again.

“Harry, of my God!” you groan out, your back arching when you feel his tongue pushing inside you before it’s replaced by his fingers again.

Harry has heard you say his name a million times in every possible way. Or so he thought. Because this lustful, begging, whiny way is a new way and it is easily his favorite now.

He would want nothing more than to have you some on his mouth, but he also want to selfishly eat up your moans as you orgasm, so right before you could reach your peak he pulls back. You’re just about to complain when he moves up your body and his mouth occupies yours, his hand remaining between your legs, two fingers curling inside you just as he kisses you again. You shake and squirm and his fingers are working their magic on you and you realize you should be giving back as well.

With your lips attached to his you manage to reach down and into his pants, Harry tries to protest, only wanting this to be about you but he is too late and when he feels your hand wrap around his cock, giving him a delicious squeeze, the words die down in his throat.

You both are one big mess. Hands between each other’s legs, mouths hungrily colliding, it’s a state that’s almost too much but you also don’t want this to ever end. When you can feel your orgasm threatening to tip over the edge you start to stroke him faster and harder which earns the most beautiful, torturous moan to bubble from his throat.

You come hard and long, gasping for air, his name rolling off your tongue and into his mouth and he swallows it already wanting more. Your hands fall out of rhythm for a bit, but as soon as you’re coming off your high you return to pleasuring him and when you hook a leg over his waist the position ending up with his tip pressing against your pussy he gives you a look that says he is just about to chase after you.

A few more strokes and he is coming over your stomach, spilling his pleasure onto your shirt and the bedsheet as well, but you couldn’t care less. You keep your hands moving until you know he has given you his all and then you both roll to your back and stare up at the ceiling in your post orgasm haze.

You have absolutely no idea how much time passes before Harry pushes himself up from the bed and disappears in the bathroom only to return with a damp towel. Climbing back next to you he gently cleans you up between your legs and also wipes your stomach before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss above your belly button. Throwing the towel beside the bed he moves closer and curls an arm around your waist as he holds himself up on his other arm, looking down at you with bright, gleaming eyes.

“What?” you ask when he just keeps staring at you.

“I know I shouldn’t be talking about work right now, but I need you to do something.”

For a moment you fear that the aftermath of it all will be a disaster and he is bringing up work because he wants this to be just a one time thing and might be already regretting it.

“Okay,” you breathe out with wide eyes, which makes Harry laugh.

“I need you to cancel your rooms for the rest of the tour.”

“What?” Terror flashes through your body for a moment, thinking that he is about to fire you.

“You’re gonna sleep in my room, because I want to do this every night. On repeat. And even more.”

This fucker.

Smacking his chest you groan in relief as he just keeps laughing at your reaction.

“You couldn’t have possibly thought I would kick you out after this. Y/N, what kind of man do you think I am?” he pretends to be hurt.

“An asshole! That’s what you are!”

“But you want this asshole, right? In your bed.” He leans down and kisses you. “Between your legs.” Another kiss. “All the time. Right?”

“Fuck off,” you mumble, but pull his face down anyway, kissing away your frustration with how much you truly want and how cocky he will be about this for probably the longest time ever.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[meetmymouthrecs]

iFall for Harry pt. 9

Summary: The ninth part to iFall for Harry

Turns out, destiny has other plans for you and Harry.

And you're taking a trip...back to the future.

Word Count: 2.2k

Grieving Harry is linear.

The moment the call goes dead, so does your connection to him.

Your heightened emotions dwindle down to nothingness. Your memories, your pain, your past. Every cheese pun, every sexy text, every word from his lips.

You erase them all.

You shut out a majority of the world. Revert back to a state of mind where you refuse to trust or engage with anyone. You protect yourself. Punish yourself for letting him get away. For being so broken. For being everything he doesn’t want.

And for making him everything you do.

You don’t work through the problem. You don’t even allow yourself to admit there is a problem. You simply tuck him away into the darkest corner of your mind…and you forget him.

Your friends are worried about you. They reach out, they plan dates, they arrange sleepovers. 

You decline them all.

You stay in your apartment, and you watch old reruns of The Big Bang Theory, and you pretend to laugh at the jokes you’ve heard a hundred times before. 

But most importantly, you pretend like Harry didn’t mention this was one of his comfort shows and that that’s why you’re watching it.

Two weeks go by. Nothing changes for you. You’re still a hollow version of yourself. Dedicating each day to wondering why you couldn’t have just…gotten over your fear. Gotten over what happened to you. And just…let him in.

Your therapist tries to tell you that healing takes time. Trauma lives within the body and no amount of cute boys and perfect scenarios will change that. Until you learn to forgive yourself, you will always be stuck.

 She might be right. But unsticking yourself now doesn’t bring him back.

Occasionally you’ll hear that he’s doing well. He’s on tour. He’s booked a new movie. He’s been caught making out with a model.

But it falls on deaf ears. Passes right through you like air. You’re indifferent now. Choosing to pretend as if he never existed to you.

Now he’s just that famous guy nobody will shut up about.

But on those late nights, when the fragility of your heart slips the crack of your apathetic persona…you pull up his contact.

You have it blocked. Nearly deleted it countless times so you’d lose the temptation to memorize his number and find a way to reach him.

Still, you can’t resist typing out a message. You’ll pour out your heart, write him paragraphs of apologies and explanations. You’ll wish for things to go back. Wish for his happiness. Wish for everything.

And then, you’ll hit the delete button.

Erase everything you want to say, exit out of his information, and turn your phone off.

You almost don’t see the email.

You’re going through your inbox, cleaning it out, responding here and there. But mostly rifling through all the ads so you can delete them and create a bit more space.

The name Marty McFly is what catches your eye. And despite yourself…you click.

Back to the Future! One Night Only! Buy your tickets now!

Your local theater is doing a triple feature, one movie each night for the next three days. You almost don’t consider it. Almost click out of the advertisement and move on.

But then you think of Harry. Think of how you promised to take him, and your heart sinks a little as you stare at the painted poster of Michael J. Fox standing in front of the time traveling car while staring at his watch.

You decide to go. It’ll be nice to watch something that fills you with so much joy. It’ll be good to laugh again. And to revel in the opportunity to forget, at least for a couple of hours.

You think about it for the rest of the week. Countdown the days until you can finally make your way for the theater. 

It feels good to go out again. Feels good to have the sunshine on your face and the promise of a good time ahead of you.

When you slide up to the booth, you’re wearing a smile. A real, genuine smile.

“Hi! Can I get one ticket to the five o’clock showing?” you ask the ticket taker, who nods and accepts your cash.

With that, you’re waved through the doors, and your heart begins to pound. The smell of popcorn and promise washes over each sense as you grab your snacks, and look for your specific door.

After slipping your way inside, you take a look around the darkened theater.

However, the room is empty. At least a hundred seats without a single soul to use them.

Your brows furrow. “The hell is everyone?”

You walk along the aisle, looking for the best seat until you decide on the middle chair about halfway back. 

Snuggling down with your popcorn, you settle in, and wait for the opening credits. Truth be told, you feel a bit odd to be taking up a whole theater by yourself, and you have to wonder if perhaps you got the date wrong. Or maybe the time? Maybe you’re early? Although according to your clock, the movie should be starting any second now.

And then…someone else walks in.

You release a relieved breath as the dark shadow strides along the aisle similar to how you had, looking for a seat as well. Selfishly, you hope they don’t get too close.

Then, they turn down your row.

Shit.

Returning your focus to the dark screen, you pretend not to notice, instead studying the velvet red curtain that’s draping on either side.

The stranger stops right beside you.

Assuming that they’d like to pass by, you glance over, and begin to pull your legs in.

You make the mistake of looking up.

And your heart instantly sinks to the soles of your shoes.

Harry.

“Hi. S’this seat taken?”

The sound of his voice makes your stomach drop to your toes. Even in the dark, you can make out the familiar slope of his nose and sharp curve of his jaw.

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know if he recognizes you or if he knows what he’s even doing.

Either way, you swallow thickly, and nod once.

He smiles.

After settling down into the chair beside you, he sighs, and wiggles back into his seat to get comfortable.

You try not to look at him. Try to pretend like you can’t smell his expensive cologne wafting toward you. Try to pretend as though his hand isn’t right there, dangling over the armrest as if taunting you.

And then, the movie begins.

You try to get lost into the world of Marty and Doc. A world you’re already so familiar with.

But it’s nearly impossible with the way he continues to shift, or laugh, or snort beside you. As if trying to distract you.

You have half a mind to turn to him and hiss, “Shhhh.” 

Somehow…you resist.

“Doc…are you telling me…that you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?”

Harry laughs beside you, chin resting in the palm of his hand, and for some reason…your chest swells with pride. 

You want him to enjoy this movie. Enjoy the lines you used to memorize as a kid. Want to be able to talk about it with him after and exchange favorite moments.

But the second you start to indulge in this fantasy…you remember.

And your smile quickly slips.

The rest of the movie is spent with your focus glued to the screen. You don’t sneak any extra glances. You don’t listen for his sounds. You don’t allow your peripheral to catch him. 

And when the infamous car flies toward the camera before disappearing in a flash as the title card explodes across the screen, you jump to your feet.

You don’t waste another goddamn second. You get up, you turn on your heel, and you book it toward the middle aisle.

“Wait…wait,” you hear Harry murmur as the dramatic score carries you out of the theater. “Ladybug, wait.”

The nickname nearly makes you flinch as you slip through the door and rush for the lobby. You can tell he’s following after you, the sound of the seats flipping up as he pushes by following you out.

You nearly reach the double doors before his large hand wraps around your upper arm and yanks you back. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, brows furrowed as your eyes meet his chest.

You can’t look at him.

“Listen, I know you wanna go, but I just need to talk to you for one second,” he continues, but his fingers won’t leave you. “Please.”

Your heart is hammering inside your ears. You can’t seem to look anywhere else but the buttons on his shirt.

It’s quiet for a long time.

Then, you nod.

He takes a deep breath. “Listen, I know…I know why this shouldn’t work. I understand the mechanics, and the difficulties, and the issues. I get it. It shouldn’t work.”

A beat of silences settles between you as you apprehensively allow yourself to travel your gaze up.

“…but it does,” he whispers, and your mouth goes dry. “It works, and I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But I can’t fucking let you go and it’s driving me up the goddamn wall.”

You don’t know what to do. What to say, what to think.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he continues. “I don’t want to block you or remove you. I don’t want to miss you. Or have to remember you as just some fucking thing that happened. I want to talk to you. Wanna send you pictures of the sky and play games with you. Wanna watch TV and bitch about Sheldon with you. Wanna beg you to let me come just to have you do that little smirky thing you do that makes my fucking stomach flip.”

You take a deep breath. And then another. And then another, but nothing helps. Nothing seems to unwind this knot that’s growing tighter with each confession. 

“I can’t wrap my head around you,” he says, and his voice is heavy. And confused. Almost as lost as his expression. “I can’t wrap my head around this—us. I just…I fucking try to think about anything else and it always comes back to you. Every goddamn time.”

You know there are tears in your eyes. You wish there weren’t but they’re coming faster than you can stop them.

“And I know why you’re nervous,” he sighs, squeezing your arm once. “I know. And I can’t fix it, and I really fucking wish I could, but I…god, I’ll do anything to make your future better than your past. I will do anything…to keep you, Cheese Girl. Whatever it takes, whatever you want. Name it, and it's yours.”

“I don’t want you to do anything, Har,” you nearly whimper, head shaking quickly. “I never wanted you to feel responsible for my shit—”

“I don’t. I don’t, I just…you can’t carry this alone. And I can help you—”

“But why should you? You have your own life, and your own trauma, and you deserve the fairytale ending—”

“Ladybug,” he breathes, cutting you short. “We met over text and now we’re here in a movie theater while I profess my adoration for you. Tell me how this isn’t a fairytale.”

Despite yourself…you smile. “Yeah, how…how did you even know I’d be here?”

He releases you now, but only so he can grimace and run a hand through his curls. “Okay, don’t…don’t judge me, but I just…I paid them a shit ton of money to let me rent out the building for…a day or two.”

“A day or two?”

“Well…I wasn’t sure if you’d see the email in time, so I had to keep sending it until you came—”

You rear back. “You sent the email?”

His nose scrunches. “I was desperate, all right? You had me blocked, and I figured you wouldn’t agree to meeting.”

Your lashes flutter as you work in this new information. “Shit, Har. That’s…that’s a lot of work to go through just for one person you barely know.”

He suddenly surges forward, palms pressing to your cheeks until he can take hold of your face and tilt it up. “You’re worth it. My god, Cheesy, are you worth it.”

“Cheesy?” you repeat incredulously, but your smile is big. “God that’s…”

“…cheesy?” he finishes for you. “About as cheesy as renting out a theater in hopes that the girl I like will show up and take me back?”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth. “Yeah, but…cheese is kind of our thing.”

“It is,” he agrees, chuckling to himself as he pulls you closer, your chest brushing with his. “Listen, I can’t…I know this isn’t some sort of magic fix. But please…please let me try. Just…just let me keep you. For a little bit at least. Let me make all those puns worth it.”

Maybe you know better. Maybe this is a horrible idea. Maybe every red flag is waving wildly in your face.

And maybe…you just don’t care.

“What if I’m your destiny?” he finishes, and your heart just about breaks. “Or…density.”

You both laugh as he catches a stray tear that travels down your cheek, eyes pleading with yours. 

And when you offer the subtlest of nods…everything changes.

He kisses you before you can take a breath, his lips warm and full of promise.

You stand there in the middle of the lobby, trapped in his arms as the soft sounds of Back to the Future play on in the background.

Maybe he is your destiny after all.

One more part 🥹 Will be sobbing violently

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 8

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist:

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @cherryshouse @lydiarry @justlemmeadoreyou @tiaamberxx @yoruse

[meetmymouthrecs]

PUPPY LOVE

A/N: this fic practically wrote itself, it's all fluff and sweetness, perfect for sunday evening!

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

SUMMARY: Harry has been on his well deserved break, but has run out of activities faster than he expected. Killing time he's been going to the same café and park for a walk pretty often, but it might have something to do with the pretty woman with the cute dog he's been seeing on these walks.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

For the past couple of months Harry has been nonstop thinking about what he will do once tour is over and he’ll have free time finally, when he won’t have to be anywhere, no meetings, no work, just him and his freedom.

Of course, he knew he would visit his family. Though he saw his mum and sister when he was performing at Wembley, he wanted to spend some more quality time with them for sure.

He’s been collecting book titles in his phone’s notes for a long time and he planned to devour all of them, enjoying the warm late summer weather.

Meeting friends.

Buying new art for his home.

Cooking.

Doing lots of pilates.

Dinner parties.

Pool days.

He thought of these all while being on the road.

Now he is 7 weeks into his break and he has done all of these. He envisioned it would take a lot longer to cross everything off his imaginary list, but he’s been using his time so efficiently that something he never thought would be possible happened.

He got bored.

It’s another day of his break when he has absolutely no plans. It starts off as usual, very early in the morning. He goes for a run, he picks up breakfast on his way back home, he showers, he eats his breakfast, he busies himself with whatever he came up with randomly, but he runs out of activities before the afternoon starts, so he opts for the only thing he’s been religiously doing.

Going for a walk to get coffee.

With a baseball cap covering his curls and shades hiding his sparkling green eyes he heads out to the same café he has visited a million times since he has moved into his current home. He loves it because it’s secluded, the people that go there always mind their own business and even if he gets recognized, the encounters have been quite respectful and quiet, no one has posted the location so fans are yet to figure out he’s been a regular around here.

He orders his usual and the barista hands the paper cup over to him with a bright smile before he walks out and heads to the small park nearby. The familiarity of this route brings him an odd sense of peace. He feels a bit old when he thinks about how obsessively he sticks to this same track every time he goes for a walk, but it’s not bothering him enough to switch it up yet.

And maybe, just maybe, he is justifying his repetitive itinerary because this is what has made him cross paths with her.

The woman with the Hungarian vizsla puppy.

He would be lying if he said he hasn’t been counting the times he saw her. The first time was way back when he was still touring, but returned home for just a handful of days. She was wandering through the greenery of the park that’s squeezed between the lines of townhouses, the puppy jumping and trotting wildly everywhere, clearly too young to be tamed just yet, but absolutely adorable. Harry fought the urge to run over and ask if he could pet the dog, but changed his mind upon seeing her.

It’s like he developed a high school crush in an instant, he could feel his heart pitter-patter in his chest even just at the thought of talking to her. Usually he didn’t struggle with a bit of flirt, chatting up someone he just met, but for some reason, this felt different.

Now that he’s been back home, as obsessive as it sounds, he has mapped out the times when it’s most likely he’d run into her and he’s been planning his days accordingly.

These past few weeks it seems like the woman has trained the puppy and it’s been getting more and more obedient lately, she’s been letting it roam around freely for some time whenever they are out.

That’s how Harry had the chance to make friends with the dog whose name is Rubik, according to the nametag dangling from around his neck. The woman was on the phone the first time Rubik ran up to him and so he didn’t have the chance to start up a conversation. Instead, made sure to make a good first impression on her four legged friend.

Rubik hasn’t failed to greet Harry every time he sees him since then, but somehow Harry hasn’t had the chance to talk to his owner just yet, but they acknowledge each other in a friendly, but distant way whenever the dog runs up to Harry for his usual scratches.

They smile at each other and she calls out to Rubik who whines, but obeys and returns to her side, sniffling through the grass as if he was searching for treasures.

Today, as Harry walks down the graveled path of the park he spots the duo pretty fast. She is perched up on a bench with a book while Rubik is running around from one tree to the other, rolling around in the grass, having a blast. He spots Harry soon and jolts over to him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants from all the running.

“Hey buddy,” Harry greets him as he leans down and pats him on the head. The dog barks at him as an answer and Harry can’t help but laugh.

Glancing up Harry looks at the woman, but she’s too engaged in the book she’s reading to notice him. He’s been wondering if she has recognized him, or she thinks of him as just a friendly stranger from the park.

Rubik seems to be extremely high on energy today, he jumps around Harry, nudging his feet as if he was trying to get him to go somewhere.

“Woah, okay, alright. Did you miss me?” Harry chuckles, walking further along the path as the dog bounces at his feet. Rubik barks and that’s what gets his owner’s attention.

“Rubik! Stop!”

Harry sees her stand from the bench, looking worried that her dog might be causing trouble, but Harry waves at her with a smile.

“It’s fine! He’s just playing!”

She stands there for a moment, watching her dog go crazy around Harry, but when he jumps up at him, almost whipping his coffee out of his hand she decides to put an end to it. And as she is approaching with fast steps, Harry wonders if today will be the day he finally gets to meet her and go beyond than just a friendly nod.

“Rubik, behave! You know not everyone likes it when you jump on them!” she scolds the dog and grabbing his collar she gently tugs him away. The dog seems ashamed just for a split second, then he sees a butterfly and runs after it, forgetting about Harry and his owner.

“I’m sorry, he is still learning what personal boundaries are,” she apologizes profoundly.

“It’s okay, I’m taking it as a sign that he likes me,” Harry chuckles.

“Oh, he surely does,” she agrees with a laugh. “It’s not showing now, but he can be very skeptical about new people, he has this look where he tilts his head to the side and it’s like as if he was arching an eyebrow, I swear!”

“Must be very intimidating,” Harry smiles.

There’s a pause where she is looking at her dog while Harry is looking at her. It’s the first time he is seeing her up this close and she looks even more beautiful. He knows this is his chance. He needs to introduce himself and strike up a conversation so next time they would meet as acquaintances rather than strangers. He is already opening his mouth, the words “I’m Harry, by the way,” are about to roll off his tongue when her phone goes off in her pocket.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize it was this late,” she hisses as she checks the screen. “Rubik! Come on!”

Harry watches as the dog runs back to her and she puts his leash back on before heading the way Harry came from. A few steps into their way she turns back around for one last time.

“Sorry again! Have a nice day!” She waves in a hurry and they disappear out of Harry’s sight before he could get a word out.

Three days after their almost introduction, a mean storm hits the city. It rains cats and dogs for hours, drenching the streets after the heat they’ve been enduring the past weeks. It’s like a reset Mother Nature sent, washing away the heat of summer even if it’s just for a day. By late afternoon it finally stops, but everything is wet and cold, so people stay sheltered for the rest of the day.

Well, not Harry though.

He couldn’t put some errands off, so once the rain has quieted down a bit he left the house in a hurry before the threatening looking dark clouds could open up again and drench him. Once he got everything done he decided to grab some pastries from the café, so he made one last stop before heading home, hoping he could snatch up some croissants before the place closed.

Just as he is walking over to the entrance from his car he spots a familiar figure running towards him. Rubik barks happily upon seeing Harry and as he gets closer he realizes that the poor dog is soaking wet.

“Hey buddy, did you went swimming?” he chuckles, still scratching his favorite spot. Harry looks up, expecting to see her somewhere close, but he is surprised to see an empty street. “Where did you leave her?” he asks the dog, but he just replies with another bark. Then slowly, he realizes that he is not wet because he went swimming, but because he’s been probably out in the rain, which means he’s been on the streets for hours.

Without her.

“Did you run off?” Harry squats down, one hand scratching behind Rubik’s ear, the other one looking for the tag on his collar to check if there’s any information about his owner. Luckily, as he turns the tag he is met with an address and a phone number. Harry is already reaching for his phone when he decides against calling, he forgets about his plans to get croissants and returns to his car with Rubik by his side. He opens the passenger side for the dog and he climbs in as if he has done it a million times before.

“Well, buddy, she won’t be happy you ran off, but at least I’ll get to talk to her. So I guess thanks for being naughty,” he chuckles, glancing over at the dog as he starts the car. Rubik just barks and Harry translates it as you’re welcome.

He is not surprised to find the address near the park. The white townhouse is about a two minutes ride from the café, so at worst it’s a ten minute walk. Harry parks down in front of the stairs leading up to the front door and lets Rubik out before the two of them climb the stairs. He rings the bell and Rubik barks at the sound, his tail happily waggling as he is excitedly waits for his owner to answer the door.

The lock rattles and a moment later the door flies open, revealing the woman, but her features are soaked with stress at first sight. Her eyes land on Harry first, then the dog next to him and her features soften from relief.

“Oh my God, Rubik! You had me worried to death!” She kneels down and lets the dog jump at her, lick her face and neck as she rubs his sides. “Where did you find him?” she asks, looking up at Harry who feels lucky to be witnessing their reunion.

“Ran into him at the café by the park.”

“Of course that’s where you end up! You little rascal! Now go inside and don’t you dare scare me like this again!” She stands up and pushes the dog inside, Rubik trots down the hallway as if he just got home from his usual walk, disappearing down the corner. “Thank you so much for bringing him back!” The woman holds the door open and gestures for Harry to go inside. He hesitates for a moment, but his feet move before his mind could decide against it. “He was going crazy because of the storm and my brother was over here, he was leaving when it was still like a tropical thunderstorm outside and when he opened the door to run to his car, Rubik just bolted right past him and out into the storm,” she explains, walking down the hallway and Harry follows her, ending up in her kitchen. Rubik is there, nose deep in his bowl full of food, probably hungry after his little solo adventure.

“We ran after him of course, but this dog could probably outrun an Olympic runner, so we lost track of him. I’ve been calling shelters these past hours and I was just about to go out to search for him, but thank God you found him!”

“Well, actually he found me, I guess I was just at the right time and place,” Harry chuckles, watching her start the kettle, already grabbing two cups. “Um, I’m Harry, by the way. The other day I couldn’t introduce myself.”

He holds out a hand and she takes it with a shy smile.

“I know that. I recognized you a while ago, just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered,” she admits. “I’m Y/N.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”

“Oh!” Her eyebrows arch at his confession and suddenly, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach are going crazy.

“Uh, I-I just think your dog is cute, that’s why and I’ve been seeing you at the park all the time… I mean… yeah.”

Good job, Styles. You fucking creep.

She looks startled by his answer and Harry wishes he thought through his words before talking, because it looks like he is blowing his chances at her pretty fast.

The kettle’s whistling breaks the awkward silence and he quickly turns around, pouring the water into the cups, letting the teabags soak in them.

“So, how can I thank you for returning Rubik to me?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“No need to thank me,” he shrugs.

“But I think I really should. You spared me quite some time, returning him before I hit the streets, screaming his name,” she chuckles, handing one of the cups over to Harry.

“It was pure luck that we ran into each other and I would have never left him wandering off alone.”

Come on, Harry. This is your chance. She might think that you’re a creep, but if you don’t ask her out now, you probably won’t have another chance.

“Still, if there was anything I could do…” she pushes one more time.

“Well, there’s one thing, if you really insist.” He sees her eyes light up.

“Yes! Whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

“I haven’t even said what it is,” he chuckles.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs with a smile. “I owe you, big time.”

“Alright. But I’ll need you to confirm the answer even after hearing the request.”

“Okay,” she nods. Harry swallows, takes a deep breath and then just blurts it out before he could change his mind.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

He feels like he is fourteen again, asking a girl out to the school dance. He probably sounded like that too, but there’s nothing he can do about it, the words are out there. Holding his breath, he waits for her answer, that doesn’t come straight away, which sets some panic in his guts at first.

She puts her cup down and Harry finally catches a smile tugging on her lips.

“You didn’t have to rescue my dog and be the hero of the day to ask me out.”

Harry fears she could hear his heart pounding in his chest as her words sink in.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, just to make sure, but he can’t hold back his growing smirk.

“Of course.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[meetmymouthrecs]

you, me, teddy, and baby

an extra from the series ‘theadora’. read everything here!

notes: talks of pregnancy/pregnancy tests. read the last part of theadora HERE !! 

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear Teddy, happy birthday to you!

Harry lowers his phone just enough to call for Theadora. “Make a wish, T!”

“Harry, fix the candle,” she says, making Harry turn to her as Thea looks between her parents. “The ‘five’ looks crooked.”

This makes everyone in the room laugh, and Harry does what he’s told– but not before rolling his eyes.

She knows he doesn’t mean it, and she knows they’ve been really stressed recently, between Thea having problems at school and a couple of leaked songs from Harry’s old albums.

It’s been peaceful, though, being a family. She knows what everyone’s saying online– knows what they’re talking about, but she stopped caring a long time ago. As soon as she stopped looking her name up, or Harry’s, things have been a lot easier; life, together, as a family, has been easier.

They still have ups and downs, like most couples do, but they manage. She knows whatever happens, Harry has her back– their backs.

He’s been off tour for a while, and they spent most of their time travelling as a family. They went to all the places Harry has been without them by his side, ‘I want to experience it with you two’, and when they came back to London last year, he finally asked her to move back in– officially. They renovated parts of his house, and Theadora got a new bed, and a whole different room. She picked what colour she wanted for her walls, her furniture, and after countless tantrums over rugs and chest of drawers, she couldn’t have been happier with her new bedroom.

“You Styles’ can’t go a day without glitter, can you?” Jenny laughs into her glass of wine, and Y/N turns her attention to her– she’s admiring the jumpsuit she’s got on.

She smiles. “I’m not a ‘Styles’, remember?”

“My bad,” Jenny grins. “Would be nice though, no?”

Keep reading

[meetmymouthrecs]

Friction // F1 Harry

Request: f1!harry and Y/N first big fight. i wanna see harry groveling lol

TW Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Five AM Unedited Writing

Y/n woke up pressed into the mattress, the weight and warmth of Harry's body was comforting. They were apart more often than not but for summer break they could be together consistently. For 14 consecutive days Harry would be hers and only hers. Soon, they would be back to racing and strategy. She and Harry would be in the same physical space but their work would divide them. But that was a worry for another time.

Now, Harry was here. Holding her very tightly. Mumbling, "Good morning," into her hair. She returned his words, muffled by a pillow. He rolled over so she could fully inflate her lungs. He kissed her temple, "I have a surprise for you."

"Wow," she stretched, yawning away drowsiness. "Quick with the draw this morning."

He traced his fingers down her side, "Aren't I always?"

Y/n was silent in the passenger seat, she was attempting to figure out where Harry was bringing her by context clues. Long before Harry reached his destination he asked his girlfriend to put on a blindfold, so she wouldn’t ruin the surprise for herself. She was smart but she would not be able to use her mental map to figure out where he was leading her.

He stopped the car and climbed out before leading her out.

"I don't want to trip,” she clutched onto Harry.

"I'm not gonna let you trip," he reassured her with a chuckle.

"I feel like I'm going to fall. If I fall in these shoes I'm going to break my ankle."

"Okay, okay, I'll take the blindfold off."

"Thank you, wearing this in the car gave me vertigo."

"Are you saying I'm a bad driver," he chuckles, finally untying the blindfold.

When her eyes adjust to the sunshine, they're standing in front of a glorious house. "Harry, what is this?"

"Well, I don't need to explain it to you. It isn't rocket science."

"You wouldn't have to explain that to me," she rolls her eyes. "Is this the house?" Harry had been talking about getting a house in the area. She had spent mornings with him scrolling on Zillow but she was always busy when he wanted to do the viewings.

"Yes, this is the house." he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially."If you don't love it, I can always get another one. I've always said I want a house on every continent."

He kissed her temple again before leading her into the house. A minute later she was running around the house screaming, "Look at this kitchen! There's a pizza oven!"

He grins, “You like it?”

“Love it,” she says running to the master bedroom. She’s standing in the shower, pretending to wash her hair when she notices a door that leads outside. To a private jacuzzi. Her mouth drops.

Harry holds his hand out for her, “I have to show you something.” He leads her to the basement where a play set is in the corner. She squeals. They spend hours in there talking about what they are going to do with the rest of the house. “Oh, I forgot one big thing,” Harry places a hand on her thigh.

“What is it?”

“Asking you to move in.”

Later, they were unpacking items they bought for the house, to further personalize their home.

"You left your email up on the computer."

"Yeah," she doesn't look up from the box.

"I was some email correspondence with Christian Horner."

"We were just talking. I'm not seriously considering any big changes.

"But why are you even giving him the time of day?"

"Because Red Bull can offer me more than McLaren. Because I want to be able to afford a magnificent home of my own, like this. Because I want to further my career. Because I can."

"Because you can," he repeats slowly. "Do you realize that you are putting my career in jeapordy by wanting to further yours?"

"I realize that."

"And you don't fucking care?"

"I never said that," she crosses her arms, rolling her eyes.

"You never said that you did," he pauses," and to be conversing with Horner of all people."

"What's so bad about Horner? He made your career."

Harry was seething, "I made my career."

In her calculating mind, she had to win. Even if it was just for the matter of debating. This was her tragic flaw, she was combative but her boyfriend he was competitive. They both had to win. So things escalated, farther and faster than they maybe should have.

Harry doesn't know how his fingers had come to be curled around the piece of porcelain. They were moving in, maybe he was just unpacking it. But they were also fighting, he was angry, moving forcefully. She noticed.

"What are you going to do with that?" Her arms were crossed over her chest.

"Nothing," he shook his head.

"Well it’s in your hand you better do something with it now," she stepped closer to him.

“I’m not doing anything with the vase.”

“Oh but it’s in your hand you haven be doing something with it," she challenged him.

“I’m not doing anything with the fucking vase.”

“It’s in your fucking hand! You must-"

She was challenging him and Harry was never one to back down from a challenge. His arm rears back and he throws the vase with all of his might. It shatters on the wall next to her. She's not as brave as she thought she was. When the vase shatters their relationship's foundation rocks.

Harry's chest was rising and falling rapidly, "Are you fucking happy now?" Between gritted teeth. Then her saw her. The red cleared from his vision, and he saw her, curled into herself, frightened.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he stepped closer, she stepped away. "I'm so sorry. Say something, princess, please."

"Get out,"when she opened her mouth, her voice was small. When Harry told her to repeat herself. She cleared her throat, "Get out!"

He pleaded for her forgiveness until he realized it wasn't going to come. "I'm not going to leave," his head was hanging low, "Like you said: it's my house."

He knew her better than this. He should have known that once he let her out he would have a damn hard time getting her back in. She was stubborn but most of all she knew her worth and they way he treated her was unacceptable. Gaining her forgiveness would be difficult.

That's why every night he would wait at her door, knocking relentlessly. And when the break was over he would, knock her hotel doors, begging her to let him in to check the bed for lumps. Baku, Austria, Canada, he would chase her across the globe. That's what he was good at.

Apparently, she was good at running. With every Grand Prix she put more and more space between them.

"P2 P2," the race engineer echoed during qualifying in Baku but Harry couldn't care less about getting pole position. He needed to talk to her more than he needed to win the race.

"Princess, please talk to me."

He couldn't see her but the garage watched as she pulled her headset off and stormed away.

"Let's keep it strictly about racing on the team radio please," the race engineer interjected, aiming to cut the tension in the garage by moving on.

"Go fuck yourself." Harry replied instantly.

In Austria, she never even put the headset on. She lingered in the back of the garage, waiting for his car to explode or something. Their second driver ended up on the podium and she congratulated him excitedly but when it was time to shake Harry's hand she made herself scarce.

By the time they were in the north of North America, she didn't even come into the garage. It wasn’t required of her to stand in the pit, watching every turn. He didn’t realize how present she was during the race until she wasn’t.

Their lack of communication brought the entire team down. For a lack of a better term: it ruined the vibe. Their happiness was contagious, their sadness was infectious. Harry's win were lackluster, there was no celebration. Everyone just went home. Harry faced another closed door.

She finally opened the door after Harry had intercepted her room service. Harry was shyly smiling when she opened the door in a bathrobe. She look worn, like the sleep she was managing wasn't sufficient.

"You are so annoyingly persistent," she allowed him in the room and snatching her tray of food from him. They found themselves, sitting across from each other on the balcony, like strangers. He watched her eat, soaking in her presence that he missed like breathing.

She pushed a plate in his direction. She had ordered too much. Regardless, he looked gaunt. When she wiped her mouth and cleared her throat, she was ready to engage. But it appeared that she didn't want to do the talking, "Speak."

"Firstly, I have to tell you how incredibly sorry I am--"

"I understand that," while stirring her tea.

"Okay, he sighed, "If you really want to know-- it wasn’t that I was so angry at you. I was scared that I would see less of you. That I would lose you and that ended up happening anyway."

He was so deeply disappointed in himself, more than she could be. He continued, "It’s not worth it--racing isn’t worth it if I don’t have you. Give me another chance, please."

"Harry, do you think I'm stupid? First, it's throwing stuff at the walls. Then it's punching them, then it's me."

"I would never hurt you," he countered. "I won't sit here and justify my actions. I should have never. . .thrown the vase. What ever you need to trust me again--I'll do it."

She reached across the space, touched his hair for the first time in weeks. "We will do it together. We both said and did things we shouldn't have. But if you ever so much as raise a finger to me, if your words cut too deep. I will leave you."

He takes her hand in-between his own, ones that would never hurt her. They both knew that but she needed assurance, "I would expect nothing less."

Let's talk. Somebody requested this but I already had the idea for the vase throwing in my drafts so I like smashed them together. But as I was writing the ending I was like "What is wrong with her?? Why did she marry him? Is she making excuses for him?" But I realized that this was a piece of fiction. It could also serve as a warning. Domestic abuse is real. Don't accept it! In any form.

[meetmymouthrecs]

✎ 2023/ ongoing total words: …

inspiration | harry’s mixtape |

Someday in the 1980s: The new woman in town, filthy rich and gorgeous, has all eyes on her, including Harry Styles who wants to win over her heart. Ever since he’s been visiting her at the roller rink, he has caught her interest as well, but as YN’s friends help her set a stupid idea into her head, she gets herself into a complicated mess.

(coming 2023!)

warnings: explicit language, sexual content, emotional abuse, concept of virginity, smoking

ONE.

TWO.

THREE.

[meetmymouthrecs]

MASTERLIST

requests & feedback here |* - mature content

recommendations: @iconicficrecs

Weiterlesen

[meetmymouthrecs]

Aaaah i am so deep in my Harry feels and you write him so perfectly…

So i have a request !

Something i cannot get out of my mind are the lines from as it was “Answer the phone, "Harry, you're no good alone why are you sittin' at home on the floor?What kind of pills are you on?" … and maybe the reader just got home and she’s the one saying that to Harry? Idk …

Anyway i love how you write ❤️ stay golden !

so, this turned into a really long fic that's full of angst (perhaps too much). part of me wanted to make it even longer, but i think i ended it at the right point where i could come back to it if people wanted me to.

tw: mentions of death, depression, grieving

"Harry? You here?" you called, walking across the threshold of your friend's house. Looking down, you ruffled the hair of the little girl who came in with you. Her hands gripped the straps of her backpack as she skipped into the house, clearly not bothered by the band-aid on her knee or the cut beneath it.

She looked around and called out for her dad, who either didn't hear it or couldn't find it on him to respond. When the skip in her step faltered and a look of confusion and hurt began to creep onto her face, you helped her out of her backpack and said, "Why don't you go upstairs, kiddo? Change out of your uniform? We can decide what to do for dinner after. Your pick."

You hoped that the distraction of getting to pick what they ate for dinner tonight would be enough, but she still seemed rather subdued compared to how cheery she sounded as she talked about her day at school on the drive home. "Okay."

She scurried off to her room upstairs, leaving you alone in the big kitchen that hardly got used anymore. When the young girl was gone, you called out to Harry again, stepping further into the house. You eventually found him in his studio, but he wasn't working.

"Jesus, H. I can't leave you alone for five minutes," you muttered, picking the bottle of whiskey off the floor and screwing the cap back on before setting it on a high shelf where he wouldn't think to reach for it.

Harry himself was sitting on the carpeted floor of his studio, staring blankly at nothing in particular. This wouldn't be the first time you found him in a similar state, but each time you hoped it would be the last.

"Is Harper alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's upstairs," you said.

"Thank you for picking her up again today," he said, still not looking at you.

You sat down next to him, draping your arms over your knees as you crossed your legs together. "No problem. I knew you were supposed to be working today, which leads me to my next question. Why are you sitting in here alone? I thought today was a writing session?"

"Cancelled. Didn't feel up to it today."

Harry didn't feel up to much of anything these days. It was understandable, to an extent. You knew he was going through a lot, but it wasn't just him he had to look out for. Harper needed her dad, now more than ever.

"Was it...anything in particular?" you asked gently. Sometimes Harry got cagey when you asked him about his current situation. He would snap or get defensive or ignore you completely. You'd known him for so many years, but in the span of a few months, you had to relearn how to talk to him. "Yesterday you seemed excited to work."

Harry shrugged, which drew your attention to his narrow shoulders. He hasn't been eating, you thought. You quickly scanned his face, and looking past the obvious unkempt facial hair and dark circles, you noticed his features were more pronounced, eyes sunken in some. You thought he was doing better, you thought he was healing.

"Harry," you said when he didn't respond.

Ever so gently, you rested a hand on his arm. His skin was cold as ice, and pale. So unlike the warmth and sunny glow it used to carry. The person in front of you was a shell of the man he once was, and you didn't know how to bring him back.

"Do you know what kind of pills you're on? If they're not working, the doctor can prescribe something else," you said.

"It's not the pills," he murmured. "I just...I just don't know how to function without her."

So you're not taking them, you thought but didn't say. Instead, you gave Harry's hand a gentle squeeze. "I know."

"I don't want to function without her. I—I can't do anything else but exist, and even that's exhausting."

Harry's voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes downcast as he stared at the band around his finger.

You were aware of the dangerous waters he was wading into, and the pressure to keep him from drowning suddenly crushed your chest. You'd already said all the typical platitudes—it'll get better with time, she wouldn't want you to live like this, Harper needs you. Sometimes they were enough to get him out of the house or to sit down on the couch with Harper to watch a movie, but it would only last so long, and recently Harry's mood improvement would dwindle faster and faster. You did what you could to help by taking care of Harper and checking in on Harry everyday, but he was starting to scare you.

"Daddy?"

Your head whipped around to where Harper was standing by the door of the studio. At eight years old, she looked just like Harry with bright green eyes and dimpled cheeks and curly hair. But she looked like her mother too, and though it was nearly imperceptible, you saw the bob of Harry's Adam's apple when he looked at her.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, not standing up to go over to her.

Harper waited by the door, waiting for Harry to do more. To ask about her day or tell her about his or go over to her or something. But he didn't, like he was too exhausted to move.

"Can we—Can we go to the park? The sun is still out and I finished all my homework."

"Y/n can take you," Harry said.

"Or we can watch a movie? Or—"

"Harper, I think Dad is tired. Why don't we—"

"He's always tired!" Harper said suddenly. "He never wants to spend time with me or talk to me! Why are you acting like this!" She went over to Harry and began to shake his shoulders, her cheeks red and eyes imploring. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Harry didn't do anything at first, letting his daughter shake him and pound her fists against his chest. Your eyes welled with tears and your throat tightened as you watched, caught between pulling Harper off and letting her get her emotions out, half hoping it would stir something in her father. It didn't.

"I hate you! I want mom!" she finally said when Harry was still practically catatonic.

He said nothing, but you could see the tears in his eyes as she stormed off, flinching when he heard the door to her room slam two floors up. His shoulders shook of their own volition then, accompanied by tears and sobbing.

"She didn't mean it," you said, pulling him into your chest. Harry's grip was tight despite his lack of nourishment as he continued to cry, warm tears bleeding through your shirt. "She's dealing with this too."

"I don't know how to be what she needs," he sobbed. "I don't think I can."

Your heart broke for the two people you loved most in this world. You'd tried so hard to help Harry and Harper, to take care of her while he got back on his feet. But he hadn't, and now you felt like you were standing at a crossroads.

"I think it might be time to—" you stopped, getting choked up yourself, "to maybe go somewhere."

That got his attention enough to stop crying for a moment. "Go somewhere?"

"I've...looked into a couple places," you said gingerly. "Facilities. Where you can rest and get better and meet with grief counselors and groups. Get the help that you need, you know?"

When Harry's wife died, you obviously didn't expect him to bounce back right away, but you also didn't anticipate the state he was in now. Everyone grieved differently, you knew that, but his grief was all-consuming, slowly eating away at him and leaving him hollow. You did what you could to support him and Harper, but you had your own life, your own job, which was starting to become less and less understanding every time you left early to pick Harper up from school. You did it all happily and willingly because you loved both of them, but none of you could keep going like this.

"I'm not sick," he said. "I'm not an addict. I don't need to go to rehab."

"I love you, H, and I'm worried about you," you said. You put your hands on either side of his face so he had to look you directly in the eye. "Harper loves you, and she wants you to be her dad. You have so many people that love and care for you, Harry, and we all want you to be okay again."

"My wife died, Y/n. I'm never going to be okay again," he said, pulling away from you harshly, voice sharp. "How can you say that? You really think it's so easy? The mother of my child is gone, and she can never come back, and you what? You want me to just forget about her? Forget what we had? I bet you'd love that wouldn't you. That's probably why you've been so eager to 'help' Harper and me. Don't think for one second that you could ever replace her. So just go!"

It didn't matter that you knew this outburst was one of rage filled grief, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. You felt like you'd been slapped, like Harry had reached his hand into your chest and crushed your heart. That was never your intention. Harry was a friend, a dear one, but a friend just the same. And Harper was your goddaughter. You couldn't just sit by and let the two people you considered family fall apart.

But maybe you weren't who he needed.

"I know you think you'll never be okay again, but you will," you said quietly. "Because you love Harper, you will be. One day you'll stop resenting her for not being Sophia, and one day you'll stop resenting Sophia for leaving you. It'll always hurt, I know that, but one day it'll hurt a little less."

You stood up from the floor and smoothed your trousers, sniffling a little. Harry had gone back to staring blankly, but the tight clench of his jaw told you he was listening. "Bye, H."

You didn't leave right away. You made a phone call to his mom first, asking her to stay with Harry and Harper, not explaining why you couldn't be the one to check up on them anymore. Anne had asked you to keep an eye on the pair after she went back home after staying at Harry's place for a month. You'd already planned on doing so, but you agreed. Now the tough love needed to come from someone else. When Anne told you she was on her way, you went upstairs to Harper's room to check on her.

She was crying on her bed, her body curled into a ball around a stuffed animal. Sighing, you walked over to her and sat on the corner of her bed and soothed her back with your hand. "I know you didn't mean that, Harper Rose."

"Why is he acting like that?" she cried, not looking up at you. "Why won't he play with me anymore? Or take me to school?"

"He..." You didn't even know what to say to make this better. "Your dad is...sick."

"Like my mom was?" Harper asked. She sat up, her little face red from crying.

"Not—Not quite," you said, trying not to get choked up. Sophia had been a dear friend to you too. "His heart hurts so much that he can't, or doesn't know how to...function properly. Does that make sense?"

Harper nodded as she wiped a tear from her eye. "He's heartbroken."

"I think so."

She didn't say anything for a minute, as if she was processing that information about Harry. Then, "Does that mean I love my mom less if I'm not heartbroken like that?"

Her words made you pinch your arm to hold back your tears. It wasn't fair to Harper that she had to deal with all of this at a young age; she didn't deserve to have these thoughts or ask these questions, and selfishly, a part of you deep down felt you didn't deserve to answer them.

"No, of course not, kiddo. Your dad just—you and your dad loved her differently. And I think part of him is sad that you lost your mom and not just that he lost his wife."

"I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "When will he be normal again?"

"Do you think you'll feel normal again?" you asked her gently. Harper shrugged, more tears silently leaking out of the corners of her eyes. "People's hearts and minds react differently when someone dies. And right now, your dad's mind is telling him not to get out of bed or take care of himself or take care of you. It doesn't make sense to you or me, but it makes sense to him."

"Oh." Harper looked contemplative again, her eyes trained on the yellow patterned bedspread beneath her. Everything in her room was some shade of yellow—walls, curtains, lampshades, the sun behind the bedframe that Sophia painted—everything was made to feel warm and inviting. "What do we do now? How do we help him?"

"Well, what do you do when you're sick?"

"Go to a doctor."

"That's right," you said. "He's gonna go to the doctor, and the doctor will tell us what we should do. And in the meantime, you just keep loving your dad, okay? You're allowed to be angry and frustrated and sad, but never stop loving him. It might not look like it, but knowing you love him helps."

"Okay," Harper said.

"I called your grandma. She's gonna come stay with you for a little while while your dad gets better. She'll take you to school and pick you up and make you all sorts of treats with you."

"Why can't you take me to school?" she asked.

"I have to work," you explained. "But, if you need anything, you know my number. Just call me and I'll be there, okay? But you and Grandma will have fun, you always do."

You stayed in Harper's room until she fell asleep, smoothing her hair with your hand once more before standing up from the bed. You planned to stay until Anne arrived, but you figured you could tidy up and get the guest bedroom ready in the meantime. By the time she walked through the door, the guest room had been made up and the kitchen was squeaky clean. Harry never came out of his studio, or he went up to his room without you noticing but you were fine with that. You wouldn't have known what to say to him anyway.

You gave Anne the names of doctors and grief groups for Harry, and the name of a good child psychiatrist for Harper. You'd been meaning to set up a meeting for her, but you hadn't had the time, and it also wasn't really your place and you didn't want to overstep. Anne gave you a long hug before you left, thanking you for taking care of her family. Having someone hug you for once instead of the other way around was overwhelming, and you almost started crying right there in her arms.

But you held yourself together for a few more minutes as you pulled away. You promised to check in and help wherever and whenever you could, then you left, slightly relieved that Harry and Harper's well-being wasn't solely on your shoulders anymore and partly sad that you weren't able to help them more.

The first few weeks, you didn't come around the house as much, giving Harry his space. You met Harper at the park when your work schedule allowed it and had her over to your place for sleepovers when she asked.

Anne kept you in the loop, even when there wasn't much to report—Harper met regularly with a counselor and Harry didn't, Harper didn't wake up crying in the middle of the night as much and Harry still wasn't going back to work. Part of you felt like Harry needed more tough love than coddling at this point. You knew he wouldn't actually go to therapy unless you dragged him by the ear or eat something if you didn't sit with him until he was done. But it wasn't your place to dictate how he was helped, so you kept your mouth shut whenever Anne said he wasn't getting any better.

However, that all changed when Harry collapsed. He was so weak from not eating, he physically couldn't hold himself up. Or so Anne claimed. You didn't want to, but part of you thought there might have been some intention behind Harry's actions, or lack thereof. That was when you knew things had to change. If this were a movie, then that moment was the point of no return, and you weren't going to let Harry destroy himself anymore.

"If you get him in a car, I'll take care of the rest," you said to Anne the day after. She'd been apprehensive, but you insisted that this was the right choice. "He can't just sit alone on the floor of his studio all day. Either we do this now or his grief wins."

So it was settled. You didn't know how she did it, but Anne somehow got Harry up and in the passenger seat of your car. He clearly was not pleased by the whole thing, but with his lack of eating, he was no match for you or his mother.

"Where are we going?" he asked, arms folded angrily.

"My place."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to let Harper witness your path of self-destruction. You wanna die? You don't want to take care of yourself? Then you can do it at my place instead of in front of your daughter."

It was harsh, but Harry hadn't been particularly amicable these last few days. According to Anne, instead of catatonic, he was rude, his words sharp as a knife and just as cutting. His mother didn't deserve to deal with that, and neither did Harper, but you could handle him. Whether he liked it or not.

"Fuck you," he muttered.

"Fuck you," you replied simply.

Harry didn't say anything else the rest of the ride to your house, which was completely fine by you. You had a plan in place for Harry's stay, but you went over it again and again in your head, hoping it would work. You had Harry's meds, which he had not been taking, you picked out a grief group for him to attend, or one-on-one counseling if he didn't want to go to group therapy, you worked out a schedule that made sure Harry was constantly doing something rather than withering away on your couch. But first...

"You need a shower. I'm not living with you while you smell like that. And brush your teeth too."

"I thought you didn't care what I did," he said, begrudgingly following you into your house. It was much smaller than his, but that was for the better. It would be easier to keep an eye on him in close quarters.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. We all care about what happens to you," you said, leading him down the hall to your small guest room and bathroom were.

You gestured toward the bathroom when he set his small duffle bag on the bed, but he stayed where he was. "No."

"No?"

"You and my mum can drag me around and make me sleep in a different bed, but you can't force me to take medication, you can't force me to go to therapy, you can't force me to live," Harry spat. You took it on the chin, eyeing the way it seemed exhausting for him to just raise his voice at you. "I'm not a child, and I'm not one of your patients, so leave me the fuck alone."

"Lord, give me strength," you muttered to yourself before storming over to him.

You grabbed Harry by the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled him into the bathroom, where you promptly began to pull his layers off one by one.

"What the fuck?" Harry said, too surprised to fend you off, and too weak as well. "Get off of me!"

"You are a stubborn asshole," you spat, letting all the anger and frustration from the last few weeks seep into your voice. Once Harry was down to his underwear and socks, you quickly turned the shower on and pushed him in, holding your forearm against his chest as water sprayed both of you. "And selfish. You are a parent, Harry, you can't afford to fall apart, especially not in front of Harper. You can't do this to her. I won't let you."

Harry struggled against you, but not as much. He looked furious for having brought up Harper, though. But you kept going, needing to say everything that had been rattling around in your brain since he snapped at you.

"Sophia is gone, H," you said, voice gentle but firm.

"Shut up—"

"And it hurts. I can't imagine how much it hurts to lose your wife, but I—I know how it feels to lose a parent." Your voice began to waver, but you willed yourself to calm down. You didn't talk about it much, but you could relate to the situation at hand better than most. It was part of the reason why you helped Harry and Harper out so much. "Harper is strong and brave and charismatic. She's all the good things Soph was. Stop punishing her for it and celebrate it. She needs you, H. If you can't find it in yourself to get better for you, do it for your daughter. Don't do this to her."

Harry was crying by then, and you were too. Water sprayed the both of you, but he wasn't straining against you anymore. When it felt like he was starting to slide against the tiles to sit down, you didn't let him. "Don't do that," you said, using all your strength to hold him up. "Don't let it consume you. Lean on me if you have to, but don't—don't sit down."

To your surprise, he didn't. Harry let you give him a scrub down, starting with his hair and then sponging his body with soap. You left his briefs on for his sake. As a nurse, you were used to seeing every part of the body, but Harry was your friend, not a patient. When you were done, you left him to dry off with a towel and dress with the instruction to be in the kitchen for dinner in twenty minutes. You didn't have to say what you would do if he didn't come. Harry got a dose of how forceful you could be very quickly.

So he came out of his room, and the two of you ate in complete silence. You didn't mind the quiet and were content to let Harry figure out whatever was going on in his head. You did keep an eye on him, though, making sure he didn't push his food around and actually ate it. He did, thankfully; you really didn't want to have to spoon-feed him too.

"Tomorrow I set up a group therapy session in town. It's super confidential, so you don't have to worry about that, but—"

"No."

"No? Really? We're doing this again?" you asked, only half joking.

"I don't want to go to group therapy," he said, and you could practically taste his displeasure for it across the table.

"Well, I thought you might say that, so I also scheduled one-on-one counseling, though I thought you might prefer the group. Less opportunities to talk when there are multiple people in one session." You picked up and quickly washed your plate before setting it down on the drying rack. "Tomorrow's session is at ten. Let me know what you want to do before then, but you're going to one of them. Oh, and you're responsible for cleaning up after yourself. Night."

You left Harry to his own devices after that, deciding to get ready for bed. It was going to be a long few weeks, or however long to get your friend back up on his feet, and you were going to need all the peace of mind you could get.

Three weeks later, Harry was still irritable. You knew he resented you for making him do, well, anything, but he still did them. He went to his group therapy sessions and cleaned up after himself in the kitchen. He just didn't like talking to you. Or acknowledging you. Or looking at you. You were pretty sure all the anger he had about Sophia dying and having to take care of Harper alone was now directed at you. You didn't necessarily mind being his outlet if it meant he was getting out of the house, but it did get exhausting at times. And it made for a very awkward car ride.

"I...can't pick you up from group today," you said as you neared the building where Harry's group sessions were.

"What the hell am I supposed to do then?" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest like a child.

You gripped the steering wheel tighter so as not to whack him repeatedly on the arm. "Are you really that much of a pampered celebrity that you can't use public transportation? Or your own two feet?"

"Well why the fuck are you signing me up for this shit if you can't take me. I don't even want to go to these stupid meetings."

In a split second, you pulled over and put the car in park. "Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me," you said, the frustration you'd been pushing down the last three weeks finally bubbling to the surface. You'd been patient, you'd done what you thought was right for Harry and his family, but you couldn't be his punching bag anymore. "I've been taking you to these meetings because I want to help you, because I want to help Harper, but you have...kicked and screamed like a child every step of the way, and I—I want you to be better. I want you to be able to handle your emotions in a healthy way, but I—" I give up, you wanted to say, but even you weren't that mean in the midst of your anger. "You're an adult, Harry. I can't force you to go to therapy, so don't. Get out. Do whatever the hell you want."

Harry looked at you for a moment, surprised by your outburst. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his eyes roving around your face. Searching for what, you weren't sure. Maybe he didn't think you would ever actually kick him out. You gave him as good as he got when he snapped at you, but you never expressly kicked him out. You were pretty sure he was deciding if you were serious or not.

"Out!" you said when he still hadn't opened the door. Now you were going to be late to work.

"Fuck! Fine," he said, then he was opening the door and getting out of the car. It shut with a definitive slam, but you didn't wait around to see Harry glare at you as you rushed back onto the street.

Work sucked, which made your mood that much worse. You normally liked your job at the hospital. It was busy and made you feel like a zombie at the end of most shifts, but the work was rewarding, and you were good at it too. You ran the emergency room like a tight ship, everything and everyone had a place. But tonight you were slammed, one issue after another for you to solve. Normally you could handle the stress, but your nerves had been frayed for weeks, and every minor inconvenience didn't feel so minor right now.

Nothing was going your way, patients' families were being bigger assholes than usual, and the charting system was being glitchy. Not to mention you were pulling a double shift, so it was safe to say you were tired out of your mind, irritated, and not as chipper as you normally were amongst the normal amount of stress.

"Y/n, have you taken your lunch yet?"

Miranda narrowed her eyes at you. "It's thirty minutes."

You looked up from the computer at the nurses' station where one of your coworkers was standing on the other side. "Look at this place, Miranda. When would I have the time?"

The Labor and Delivery wing of the hospital was full of patients, excited family members in the waiting room, OB interns, and nurses trying to maintain order. You could always expect a good number of people in this wing of the hospital, but today was more crowded than usual. In-laws that wanted to be in the delivery room were driving you crazy in a way that they normally didn't, and a surgical intern tried to talk down to you, which tried your practically non-existent patience. It was safe to say that your pink scrubs were very misleading about your disposition today.

"I can't. I have to get these charts updated because these idiots we call interns don't know how to—"

"Y/n?"

"God, tell me this is not happening," you muttered before looking up from the computer again. Harry was standing at the nurses' station next to Miranda, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "I can't do this with you right now."

"I know. I just wanted to—"

"I can take your bitching at home, but not here," you said, going back to your computer. Everything you'd felt this morning was still simmering in you, and you didn't want to make a scene at work.

"I just came to apologize," he said, his voice lacking the harsh edge it'd had since he'd been staying with you.

You shook your head and picked up a chart as you began to walk away. "Honestly? I don't have time for that, either, H."

Perhaps you shouldn't have been so flippant, but you were at work, for one. You got into a certain headspace to keep everything and everyone in order, and you couldn't compromise that on a hectic day like this, even if Harry had come to say he was sorry.

"But, Y/n, you still have to take your lunch!" Miranda said.

Stopping in your tracks, you turned back around. Your arms were crossed as you gave Miranda a look, but she just stared right back. She was always the one who looked after you while you looked after everyone else. Sighing, you walked back over to the nurses' station to hand over the chart on your hands. "Ten minutes."

"The law says thirty."

"Fifteen," you amended, then left before Miranda could argue with you. You heard footsteps behind you, and while you knew they were Harry's, you didn't do anything to stop him from following.

The break room was small, just big enough to hold a refrigerator, some cupboards, and a table with a few chairs. You didn't spend much time here, but it did see a lot of foot traffic despite its size.

Sitting down at the table, you rested your head in your hands, your eyes closing for a few seconds now that you let yourself have this short break. Your feet hurt and your head pounded, but you managed to stand up anyway and make yourself a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, though you weren't really sure you cared. Not right now anyway.

"I wanted to apologize," he said right away, like he was afraid you weren't going to let him speak.

You laughed a little. "Oh? What for?"

You knew you were being difficult, but you couldn't help it. The way Harry treated you had all come to a head this morning, and the shit day at work didn't help your mood, either. Staring at him over the rim of your coffee mug, your heart softened the tiniest bit. He looked like a scolded puppy with his head tilted down and his hands behind his back. It was hard for you to balance the anger you felt for the way he treated you and acknowledge the fact that it was his grief that was making him act this way. There's no wrong way to grieve. It was something you knew and understood, but Harry's grief process didn't make your life any easier.

"I've been...horrible to you," he said, though he still wouldn't look at you. "I—I know you've been trying to help Harper and me, and all I've done was take everything I've felt out on you."

It was hard to find the right words to say. You didn't want to just excuse his behavior by saying he was grieving, but you knew he would never treat you the way he had been otherwise. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"What made you come to this conclusion?" you decided to ask, curious to know the answer.

Harry smiled sheepishly and chuckled to himself in a way that was embarrassed more than amused. "Therapy. I went after you kicked me out this morning. Thanks for that, by the way."

You couldn't help but grin a little, at the very least because you hadn't seen Harry smile in months. "You're welcome."

"I'm really, really sorry, Y/n," he said once the air in the room sobered again. "I don't know if I could ever say it enough, or express how thankful I am to you for being there for Harper when I couldn't. I'm sorry for all the horrible things I've said and the way I've acted. I, um, I don't magically feel better, but for the first time since Soph died, I want to be."

You believed him when he said that. There was an air about Harry that seemed different than the last few months. And the fact that he was apologizing at all and seemed to have a small grasp of his feelings said a lot. And you wanted to believe him too, for the sake of his own health and happiness as well as Harper's.

"I know it was your grief that made you...act a certain way, but thank you for apologizing," you said.

"Things won't immediately go back to the way they were, I know that, but," Harry said, wiping the corner of his eye. "I wanted to take Harper out to dinner tomorrow night, and I'm hoping you'll join us."

"Not tonight?"

"No. I think I just want to go home and be with my daughter tonight," he said, sounding a little nervous and a little hopeful. "And I'm sure you're sick of me, so I thought I'd let you have a night to yourself."

You took a moment to look at your friend, really look at him. Harry's frame was still narrow, he was paler than usual, and the angles were still a little too sharp and pronounced, but his hair was neat and his eyes were clear, and he just looked different overall.

Standing up, you walked to where Harry was still standing by the entrance to the break room and threw your arms around him. A wave of emotion hit you the second his arms wrapped around you, and you couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips as you held him tight. He felt so frail, like he could blow away with the next breeze. It pained you to feel how everything affected him physically.

"You scared me," you said. Perhaps it was too soon to admit, but you needed to say what had been weighing on your heart since he collapsed. "You pissed me of and drove me insane, but above everything, I was terrified."

Terrified of losing him, terrified of not doing what was right by him or Harper, terrified that he'd never be the same. The fear of losing Harry to his grief kept you up most nights. More than the poisonous words or cold shoulders or childish behavior, you'd been so scared of every worst case scenario it nearly made you sick.

"I'm sorry I've put you through so much. You lost her too."

That made you squeeze Harry even harder. You'd known Sophia first and had been the one to introduce her to Harry. The three of you had been friends for a long time before Harry and Soph had even started dating, and you stayed friends long after. She wasn't your sister, but in a lot of ways she was family, and so were Harry and Harper.

Eventually you pulled away, wiping your eyes and stepping back from his embrace. You felt a little awkward, but lighter too, and hopeful for the future.

"So you'll come? To dinner?" Harry asked, his own eyes lined with tears.

Harry wasn't magically healed. He still had a long road ahead of him to be healthy again, not to mention mending his relationship with Harper. But you decided to believe that he was on the mend, that he was open to getting proper help and taking the right steps to manage his depression.

"It would be my pleasure."

[meetmymouthrecs]

Y/N and Harry are expecting a baby, and they’re both very impatient.

happy 5k to meee! when I made this account at the height of the pandemic in 2020 to pass the time i would’ve never thought i would’ve made the friends i have or gotten so much support with my writing!! thank you besties! i hope you enjoy! 

warnings: smut

please buy me a coffee to celebrate! :D

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I just don’t think we need three different kinds of bottle warmers, love.” 

Y/N looks at her husband looking down at the half-full cart that’s now one bottle warmer fuller. According to every baby blog and “new mom” website she scoured, bottle warmers were a must-have. However, there was no general consensus on the best one. Y/N didn’t really see any other option but to try a ton. (Besides, it’s not like he couldn’t afford it.)

“Then tell me which one’s the best.” 

Harry’s eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “How would I know which bottle warmer is the best?” 

“How would I know?” 

He opens his mouth to quip back but can’t think of anything to say because once again she’s right. How would she know?

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