practistyles

[practistyles]

struggling so much with this next new story omg

[practistyles]

[4] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 4 Word Count: 8,762

Ch. 4 Warning: Talk of menstruation and bleeding, mentions of blood and wartime, aggressive male behavior (Harry gets a little violent with the Lord Mayor), discrimination

It's Good to Be King Masterlist

. .

Y/n hadn't been given a choice on the style of her wedding dress. It had already been selected for her. But it was breathtaking. She'd never seen anything like it before, and that she would soon be wearing it in front of the kingdom? It was no wonder she was not given a choice. She would never have picked such a lavish thing because she did not feel worthy of it.

That morning was her first fitting. She stood with her arms stretched outward, one person on each side, holding her steady, while the dressmaker pinned and tucked and cut at the lace and the silk, adjusting it to her size. Mrs. Mable was the royal seamstress, and Y/n couldn't help but feel she held some contempt for her. The way she was pulling and prodding, even poking her with pins, all felt intentional.

"Ow!" Y/n winced when Mrs. Mable stuck a pin through the silk skirt, and it grazed her skin. Again. She was becoming ireful toward the woman when all she wanted was to relive the kiss she'd just had with the king, not a few hours earlier. She'd received a handful of strangers into the Rose Room for the fitting, and she'd been soaring with hot cheeks and a softly fluttering heart before Mrs. Mable got her hands on her.

She didn't know that the lace had its own name, Honiton, or that the diamond necklace they showed her (to be kept in its satin case until the day of the wedding) was Turkish. The dress had an off-the-shoulder, open neckline, with layered sleeves down to her elbows, all lined with the special lace. The silk corset bodice was pointed downward in a deep V, while the skirt was full and pleated silk.

Staring at her figure in the mirror, she felt like a fraud. How had this happened to her? How had luck (or misfortune, she wasn't sure yet) stricken her so abruptly? It was one thing to have been expecting her new lot, to have been raised up for it and accustomed to royal life, but it was another to have been plucked from the streets, shoved into it blindly, and to have people enraged by her presence without ever getting to know her first.

"Please be careful. You're poking her…" Phoebe said to Mrs. Mable.

The woman, whose face was hidden behind silk and lace as she bunched up the bottom hem of the dress, dropped her pin cushion to the floor as she jabbed another sharp object into the fabric. "She'll be fine. I've only nicked her a few times. It's part of the work if you want it done properly."

"But she will be your queen. She is to be treated with the utmost care and —"

Mrs. Mable stood up and pulled at the back collar of Y/n's dress, making her nearly stumble. "Queen Consort. There is a difference. We'll see if she makes it that far."

"The King is taken by her. She will prove you all wrong. You'll see." Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the dressmaker.

Y/n glanced at Phoebe in warning. She didn't want people arguing over her status. It wasn't worth it. If Mrs. Mable wanted to treat her like she was still a street beggar, all while fitting her for her royal wedding gown, then so be it. She'd soon learn who she was dealing with, and Y/n would not forget the treatment she was being subjected to.

"We will see." Mrs. Mable turned Y/n around and took her measuring tape to her hips, waist, and bust, before spinning her around again to help her step out of the dress. "I'll return two days before the wedding for the final fitting, along with the finished veil. And don't get too heavy-handed with tarts or the dress will be too tight."

Y/n looked down at her figure and glanced at it in the mirror. She hadn't gained very much weight at all, but kept being told she needed to gain more. Now there was the dressmaker telling her to go lightly on the very tart Y/n requested to have in the room for herself and anyone else who wanted some. Her mood was a little foul after having been prodded and nicked, so she huffed, stepping past Mrs. Mable to grab a piece of tart and shove it into her mouth as she stared at the woman in defiance.

When the dressmaker and her helpers left the room, Phoebe closed the door and leaned into it, shaking her head. "That woman is awful. There's gossip that she's been vying to have her daughter meet the king before you two are wed."

Y/n slid her standard dress back on, and Phoebe pushed herself from the door to help fasten the back. "What do you mean? To present her to him? For marriage?"

"I believe so."

She knew that the middle and upper classes of Thornekeep were spoiled and mean. So, it shouldn't have surprised her that Mrs. Mable didn't take seriously her eventual new title, and that she hoped her daughter could steal the designation for herself. Y/n was slowly learning about the politics of the kingdom and she was going to have to brace herself for what was soon to come.

"Now let's finish that tart."

. .

Harry was seething. The council had found the Lord Mayor guilty, but he was only charged a measly fine for his transgression. A fine! Imagine forcefully taking the king's wife-to-be from her quarters, openly disrespecting the crown, and humiliating her in front of the kingdom… and the punishment was nothing more than a fine?

He couldn't believe it when the news was sent to him. He'd planned on an in-person visit to retrieve the brooch from the Lord Mayor, but when he learned he'd gotten away with nary a slap to the wrist, he immediately sought out his Proctor to go back before the council to appeal the decision. His only recourse was to prove she'd been hurt in some way.

He stormed into the room where Y/n was in the middle of her etiquette class, and the governess stood from her chair quickly and lowered her head. "Your Majesty."

He breezed by the woman and pulled Y/n's chair out, dropping down to his knees in front of her without so much as a glance toward the governess. Y/n gasped when he pulled her skirts up and he put his hand over the dark blue and brown spot on her knee. He'd seen the bruise the morning before when he tried to get her to join him in his tub.

"This. Did this happen when they pushed you around and removed you from the castle?"

Y/n blinked slowly at him as he looked up at her. He looked desperate, wild. She had nearly forgotten the bruise herself and she certainly hadn't realized he'd even seen the thing.

"Yes. I was pushed down to my knees and hands from the steps. It was bruised much worse at first, but it's better now. Can hardly feel it really."

"And who pushed you? His name, Y/n. Was it the Lord Mayor?"

"I… I'm not sure. It was two men… The Lord Mayor never touched me except to take the brooch."

She watched as he clenched his jaw and looked down at the bruise, his thumb running along the top of her knee. "He was there, though. Did you hear him order the men to take you?"

Y/n thought back to that awful morning, and she nodded. "Yes. He said that your duties fall on him when you're away and that it was his command. And Niall! The guard, who's just there outside the door. He was there and he heard it and saw it all. That's who he said it to."

"So he ordered men to do this to you. And we have a witness." He pushed himself to stand up and stepped away quickly, back toward the door, before he turned to speak again. "I will get your brooch back for you today."

When the door was closed, the governess looked shocked as she watched Y/n slide the fabric back down her legs.

"What? Is this what it takes for you to notice my presence? The king himself must barge into your classroom and cause a disturbance for you to realize I'm sitting here?"

The woman wiped her hands down her dress and turned toward the table to speak. It seemed she only spoke to Y/n with her back turned to her. "I notice. I've already taught you plenty—"

Y/n stood up. "You should speak to me with more respect from now on. I will be the queen soon. If not, I'm sure the king will have words with you next. I will not return for any remaining classes. I understand now that I have much better manners than even you do."

She dismissed herself and stepped out of the room with that awful woman. Niall was waiting at the door, and he greeted her with a polite, sharp nod. "At least you and Phoebe are kind to me," she said, smiling at him as she began to walk toward the grand staircase that would lead them up to the king's chambers. "And you're kind to Phoebe as well. Thank you for that."

Niall didn't speak often. His duties didn't allow for it. But a few times he let his guard slip — so to speak — and he'd say a few words. "I've no reason to disrespect you or your lady-in-waiting."

Y/n smiled to herself as she continued up the steps. The stairs were wide, and they seemed to go on forever. The landings, on the way up, split the levels into threes, and the stairs curved around and continued up until they found the floor with the king's chambers and the Rose Room, where her chambers were. "If you disrespected Phoebe, I'm sure she'd be heartbroken. She rather likes you."

Before Y/n could pull the door open with it's heavy iron knob Niall spoke. "She does? Did she say something?"

She looked around the hallway and then up at Niall. "Of course she did. But that's nothing I can discuss with you. Secret is safe with me. No need to worry."

. .

Y/n had a large bruise on her left knee and a castle guard as witness. Harry doubted anyone else would offer to attest. He'd bring Niall with him the following day to meet again with the Proctor for proof of the Lord Mayor's mishandling of his queen-to-be. But first, he needed to find the Lord Mayor to deal with him at once and retrieve the brooch.

He didn't bother announcing his arrival or sending the house steward to call to the Lord Mayor that he was there. And it was good to be king because it meant that people had to listen to what he asked of them, even if they didn't much like him. So when he lowered his hand and stepped inside, the house steward bowed his head and let Harry in without a peep.

He wasn't hard to find. Harry spotted him quickly in his first-floor study, reading, and the Lord Mayor stood in haste. "Your Majesty. To what do I owe the honor of your sudden and unexpected presence?"

The king stepped toward the large bookshelf and ran a finger over the hard bindings. Harry's saunter and cold grin were vexing. The Lord Mayor had never met anyone so plaguy in his life. The king was full of himself and was purposefully bucking tradition. He had a much more suitable and beautiful option than Y/n, which the king would have loved.

"You have something that belongs to Y/n. The woman to whom I will be wed at the end of next week."

"I have nothing in my home that belongs to that girl."

Harry bit down on his molars as his dark gaze seared at the Lord Mayor before he bounded toward him, heavy steps over the wooden floors, until the king's hand was wrapped around the man's throat and his back pressed against the wall.

"I will not be disrespected by you once more, Virgil," he spat the name between his teeth. "First, you insult me behind my back and make a show of carting off my wife-to-be and her family like animals. And now you lie to my face? If you do not produce the brooch, that will be considered theft, which you will regret when I drag you before the council."

The man's eyes were wide as he tried to pry the king's strong grip from his windpipe. He wheezed as the back of his throat constricted when he attempted to speak.

"I can't hear you. Speak louder, worm."

Harry was enjoying watching Virgil squirm and gasp. He could squeeze tighter and hold on for a few minutes longer, be done with the man for good. But then, having to explain to Parliament what had happened would be awfully annoying, so he opted for just scaring him instead.

"You were much easier to subdue than I imagined. But then again, you have aged like spoiled curd. Flimsy muscles trying to pry my hand away. Give it another go. Let's see what you've got, old man."

The Lord Mayor did not have it in him to pry Harry's hand from his throat. And it was true, he was getting older and his body was not as virile as it had once been. He was no match for the young king. He tried twisting, but instead of working himself free, Harry released him and stepped back as the man fell to the floor and violently coughed.

Harry laughed as he stepped around the Lord Mayor to his desk and sat down in the chair, closing the book Virgil had been reading. "Where's the brooch? Or should I fetch your wife and tell her what you've done?"

The Lord Mayor, with his palm at his throat, coughed. "King Styles…" He inhaled sharply, his voice pinched as he tried to speak after the king had restricted his air. "I was protecting you. Protecting Thornekeep!"

Harry glared at the pathetic man, still on the floor, trying to push himself to his knees. "You defied me and the kingdom. You showed contempt toward Y/n and her family." He pushed himself from the chair and stood over Virgil, looking down at him. "And on your command, you had two men push her down to her knees, inflicting pain and making her bruise. That is assault, which will not go unpunished."

The Lord Mayor finally leveraged himself to stand, placing a hand on the bookshelf and pulling himself upward. "My Lord, please. The girl is a street beggar. Her word is not to be trusted. My advice is to consider another—"

Harry stepped in closer, his boots bumping into the old man's as he pushed him by his chest, his back against the bookshelf. "Your advice is not needed nor warranted. I am King. I will choose what I please, and I will have what I want."

The man stood with his hands upward as he bent back and away from the king, still standing toe-to-toe with him. "I didn't hurt the girl or her family. I simply returned them from where they came."

"I will have you tried for treason. Assault! What you did to her is inexcusable. You flagrantly disobeyed my command. If the council doesn't find you guilty, I do. And if they don't impose a more severe penalty, I will. I'll take this into my own hands if need be."

"There's a beautiful young woman. Much lovlier than Y/n. Pearl is her name… Smart, golden hair, a virgin. Her family comes from—"

Harry laughed loudly, cutting Virgil off. "I will marry Y/n. I want no one else for my queen. You have overstepped your duties with me, and after I'm done with you, you will not be welcome in or near the castle. You will be stripped of your title, and you and your wife will be considered a disgrace to the kingdom. I will see to it."

"Please… My Lord…" He kept his hands upward in surrender. "This is excessive. Do you really think that having my title stripped will be well received by the proletariat who elected me? It would be bedlam! The people would not stand for such controversy!"

"Has it not gotten into your skull, yet, that I am not concerned by outrage or controversy. Let them be angry. Anger is better than complacency."

"Complacency is prosperous. Anger is costly."

"And I have the means to pay whatever the cost if need be."

"You are going to bankrupt the kingdom with your frivolous actions. Your father would be turning in his grave if he knew what you were up to."

Harry spat, "Good. I hope my father rots. Let the spoiled aristocracy learn to work for their meals like everyone else. Have you seen the rookeries? Do you know the reality of what sits on the outskirts? Thornekeep is prosperous, but only for you. Only for those who don't need it."

"Oh, pish!" Virgil laughed incredulously. "You act like some kind of martyr, yet you've seen the rookeries of Thornekeep but once! Stop this madness! You will drive our kingdom into the ground with your foolishness! You've no idea the damage it will cause—"

Harry slammed his fist into the wood of the bookcase directly next to the Lord Mayor's head. "I have been to the slums in many a kingdom. You forget, maggot, that I spent most of my adulthood outside of Thornekeep as commander-in-chief of our kingdom's armies. I led my men to victory in dangerous battles across the land. I fought alongside the downtrodden. I've lived it. I've seen it all up close. I do not care who hates me. Let my father's rest be disturbed. I care not!"

"Heavens! What is going on?" Virgil's wife appeared in the doorway, the look of surprise on her face quite amusing to Harry.

Harry patted the Lord Mayor's shoulder and stepped back. "We were just having a good ol' chat about my future wife. Though Virgil here does seem to fancy a golden-haired girl called Pearl, I explained to him that I'm a man with morals and already spoken for. I'm sure any other man would be grateful for a chance with her. Even married ones like yourself."

The woman blinked in surprise at her husband. "Little Pearl? You mean Mr. and Mrs. Mable's daughter?"

Harry nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he moved toward the doorway and smiled casually at her. "Yes. I believe that was who he was referring to. He's quite fond of the girl. I don't know how he's become privy to her virginal status, but your husband seems quite excited about that detail. Bit too young for me…"

He leaned in closer to the Lord Mayor's wife and spoke quietly. "I prefer 'em thicker through the calf and more mature personally, but your husband has his own tastes, I presume. Just keep an eye on him around little Pearl, will you?"

"Your majesty!?" The woman looked at the king, her mouth agape.

Harry grinned back at the man. "My wife's brooch, the one you stole? Have it sent to her within the hour, or I will be back again before nightfall."

. .

Y/n felt feverish and her insides were twisting and turning and squeezing tight, like her guts were being clamped together and wrung into a ball. Her sisters' bickering about the little game they were playing nearly tipped her over the edge of anger. She wanted to scream at them for silence. And most interestingly, she hadn't been able to finish the dinner that was served to her either. She had no appetite.

"Y/n. Are you feeling alright? You look unwell." Her mother put the back of her hand up to her forehead and gasped. "My child! You're burning hot! Phoebe! Where is Phoebe? Where is the guard?"

Y/n sighed and leaned forward as she closed her eyes, placing her elbows on the table. She wasn't worried about her manners at that moment. She felt like she was about to vomit. She heard her mother shuffle from the dining room to find Phoebe, who'd just wandered off only moments before.

If she hadn't been in so much sudden pain, she would have found it amusing that both Phoebe and Niall were nowhere in sight. Pushing herself from her chair to stand, her father rushed to her side. "Careful there. Here we go."

He leveraged her to standing, draping her arm over his shoulder, and began to help her back to the King's quarters. Before they had reached the stairs, Phoebe was there on her other side, arm drawn across her back to help. "I'm so sorry, madam! I didn't know you were poorly. I would have—"

"It's okay, Pheobe. Don't stress. I just need to lie down…"

She hadn't seen the king all afternoon and figured it was better that he wasn't seeing her in that state. He'd probably change his mind about her altogether if he saw her like that. If she wasn't healthy, what good was she to him? She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth when a spasm wracked her organs.

"Should we fetch a doctor?" Her father said.

"I just need to lie down. Please."

Y/n was brought to the king's bed and propped against the pillows when she noticed her mother, sisters, and Niall standing in the doorway watching. She didn't want an audience. She wanted to rest and needed the pain to go away.

Phoebe pulled at the blankets as she tried to make the bed more comfortable, and Y/n groaned. "Please… I just need rest. I'm not dying." Although she felt like she was.

"Yes. Of course. We'll leave you be. But we will be fetching a doctor whether you like it or not."

Y/n closed her eyes and rolled to her side as her father and Phoebe finally left the room. She groaned quietly and hugged herself around her stomach. She wondered if she'd eaten something bad. Or perhaps God was finally punishing her for her lustful thoughts and behavior.

Making herself into a ball, she clenched her teeth and felt something wet on her leg. She paused and slowly she reached down, bringing her hand under her chemise to feel, and when she lifted her hand in front of her face, she hadn't expected to see blood.

Blood coming from… there?

She pushed herself up to sit and pulled at her skirt. More blood. "Am I with my monthly sickness?" she whispered.

It had been some months since she'd bled at all, so to suddenly see blood… Well, it explained the pain she was feeling, though it'd never ached like that before. Hissing in pain, she bent forward and closed her eyes. At least now she knew she wasn't going to die.

. .

Y/n startled when the door to her chambers was suddenly pushed open, and in stepped a vexed-looking Harry. "Are you okay? I was told you've fallen ill."

"I'm not ill. Not in the sense that I'm sick with something I've caught. It's my…" She glanced away and sighed before looking him back in the eye. "Lunation."

"Lunation," he said the word slowly as he stood there, blinking at her. If she'd ever seen a confused man before, he was it. She nearly laughed at the expression on his face. To see the king look at her like that… Well, it wasn't something she felt she'd be seeing often. Had no one told him? She'd assumed everyone in the castle was talking about it by now.

"I'm having my menses."

"Oh! Yes. I see..." He stepped in closer next to her bed. "But why must you be here? I thought I'd find you in my room."

Y/n pressed her hands into the top of the bedding she sat upon. "Special mattress. They put this over the bigger one underneath. To catch my blood. I didn't think you'd want me next to you while I'm… well…"

Harry pushed his hand over the thin, smaller mattress and nodded. "Is it comfortable. Feels stiff."

"Nicer than anything I used to sleep on. I'm perplexed that this is meant for me to bleed on, and then it gets burned after. I'd have loved to have had this mattress at one time."

"Is it always like this for you? Your menses?"

Y/n leaned back and placed her hands over her stomach. "No. I haven't bled in some time. It was never on schedule anyway. The doctor said I must have been malnourished, and now that I'm eating well, my body is… revitalising was the word he used. He did come with tea and some medicine, and I feel much better now, though. He said I'll be fine."

She heard him push out a breath, like he'd been holding it in. "I've got something for you…"

He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out the lovely brooch that had been taken from her. She smiled and sat up. "I'm so glad it's not been lost for good. It's so beautiful."

Harry reached for her hand and placed the golden breastpin into her palm. "Virgil will not be coming around here again. His invitation to the wedding has been revoked. My Proctor is working on having his title stripped."

"Thank you for getting it back for me. I realize my presence here is an incumbrance. To you and to everyone who cares about the crown. I can see I'm not well-liked in this castle."

Harry furrowed his brow and trailed his eyes over her figure. "Who else has been rude with you?"

"Besides you?" She tucked her lips into her mouth and watched his expression fall.

"My rudeness was meant to be a test of your resolve. Have I not amended myself to you?"

"Little by little, I suppose. I can't expect you to dote on me like a man burning with desire when you have none for me."

"I may not express my desires plainly, but I would not have you here if I didn't want you here. Perhaps it's not evident to you, my motivations, but you have been a surprise to me. A pleasant one. One that I intend on keeping for good."

Y/n had only been teasing at first, but his tiny confession was consoling to her. She knew there was a small flame burning between them, but his visage was not an easy one to see through.

"You chose me to anger the kingdom and to produce an heir. Are you saying now that there's more to it than just that?"

He clenched his jaw and slid his irises down to her bare feet. "It is true that was my initial purpose with you. But as I said, you've been a surprise to me."

She looked down at her feet as he ran the pad of his finger over her ankle and then upward to her shin, stopping at the bottom hem of her chemise. She swallowed as she looked back up to his face at his lips. The lips she'd kissed just the morning before. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about how it felt. It left such a warm, lingering sensation on her skin that she was sure she'd never be without it again.

Harry sat down at the edge of the mattress, his hand still on her shin, before he drew his fingers back down to her ankle. He'd been so worried about her at first. His assistant, Fred, told him she'd nearly fainted at dinner and had to be brought to bed, and something about a doctor. He probably should have waited to hear the rest, but his legs were carrying him quickly up to his room to get to her before he could even think about what he was doing.

When he didn't find her in his room, he dashed back into the hallway like a madman to the Rose Room, to her quarters. His heart had been racing, and he was already thinking the worst. Until he saw her propped against her feather pillows with her pretty eyes aimed wide at his intrusion.

The truth was, his mind had been in a fog since he'd kissed her. He wasn't a man who kissed his conquests typically. He found kissing to be a waste when his only intention was usually to get himself off. But Y/n's mouth was soothing and sweet. He could have let himself kiss her for hours, just savoring the smell of her skin and the tiny licks of her tongue against his. Best of all, her breath wasn't offensive in the least. It was like herbs and warm honey.

He brushed his knuckles against his lips in reverie and pressed his palm over her shin, wrapping his fingers around the underside, and kept his gaze fixed on her. He didn't know what he'd have done if she had been worse off. He was still feeling the waves of calming relief easing his mind now that he'd found her well.

"You've also been a surprise to me. I disliked you at first. Thought you were the devil." She smiled softly, biting her lip and then releasing it.

"I'm still the devil, little mouse. That, you were not wrong about."

She shook her head. "No. You're different with me. If you were still treating me as you had at first, I'd be contemplating running off with Lane."

His brows stitched together tightly, and the ease on his face was gone. "Lane. Is he going to be a problem for us?"

"A problem? He's my friend."

"He's a friend who's smitten with you, and you just said you'd thought of running off with him. Are you also smitten with him?"

Y/n laughed and shook her head. "Heavens no! Never."

Harry did not laugh with her. "But you're close to one another. Has he ever tried to kiss you?"

She stopped chuckling and blinked at the king slowly. Was she to lie to him and say no? Certainly, he wouldn't take it well if she told him the truth. She'd seen him in his jealousy before and wasn't keen on another outburst from him.

Looking down at where he was now clutching her shin, she shook her head no but kept her lips pressed together. She was afraid that if she were to speak the lie, he'd see right through her.

Harry reached toward her chin and tilted her face up. "Look at me when you answer. Have you kissed him?"

She blinked harshly and inhaled through her nose as she shook her head again, but she couldn't lie when she was looking directly at him. "Just… Well… Once. He was drunk, and I only wanted him to stop asking, so I let him, but that was it. I never even thought of him like that… I—"

"Who else have you kissed other than me?"

"My Lord, I—"

"Harry." He interrupted. "In private, you will call me by my given name, unless you plan on running off with another man, then the cold formalities will do. So tell me. How many others have you kissed?"

"No one else. Just you. I can hardly even count Lane, it was gross."

He let go of her chin and stood up, stepping away, his back to her. "And did he do anything else to you? Touch you anywhere he shouldn't?"

"Of course not. You are the only one who's ever touched me where he shouldn't."

Harry turned to look at her. "Where I shouldn't? Are you the maker of the law now? To tell the king, your husband, that he shouldn't touch you?"

"We're not wed yet."

"I could wed you tonight if I so please. Do not forget who I am."

"How could I? You're the devil. Just like you said."

Harry let out an incredulous sigh and shook his head. "You're free to leave if you like. I'm sure you'd prefer Lane over the devil."

She crossed her legs together and sat up, glaring at him. "Your jealousy is risible when the whole kingdom knows of your past exploits. How many women before me did you lie with and kiss, and how many do you still take?"

She wasn't sure she was prepared to hear his answer. She was sure he'd been having his fun and would continue to.

Stepping back toward the bed, he narrowed his eyes at her and placed his palms down on the mattress. "Since you? None. I haven't."

"You didn't return to your room last night. I must assume you were in another woman's bed."

"I was in my office working. I slept there. I have taken no women since you have arrived, and before you, it matters not."

She wanted to believe that he had not been soothing his heathen nature with other women, but a man like Harry, the king, could do as he pleased, and Y/n would have no say in what he did when he was away from her.

"Then why should it matter that a boy once kissed me a long time ago? And I don't think I believe that you've been keeping your fiddle clean either."

He couldn't answer her first question without sounding like a pathetic sap, but he knew the answer was because he was, in fact, jealous. He thought that when he'd kissed her, he had been her first. Harry didn't know why he was feeling so sentimental about a little kiss, but he likened the feeling to someone having poked a sharp pin into his chest. Even her accusation left him stung in pain.

"I might be the devil to you, but your accusations of me are false. I have no interest in anyone else in that way."

"But you could if you wanted. You're the all-powerful king. What's stopping you from rogering any other pretty girl who surely throws herself at your feet? Certainly, it isn't because of me."

Harry stood up, removing his hands from the mattress and stared at her in disbelief. He'd been accused of many things before, but somehow, having Y/n fault him with infidelity when he'd practically been a saint was absurd.

"Would you like me to go off and stick my fork into another woman? I have no interest in doing such a thing, but you seem quite fond of the idea."

She looked away from him. She wasn't sure why he cared or why she was provoking him. "I'm tired. I need rest."

"You didn't answer me earlier. Who else has been rude with you, Y/n? Tell me."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she sighed as she looked back at him. "The governess, the laundress, the dressmaker, some of the maids, the castle steward, the butler's servants, one of the footmen was particularly hateful when I was being dragged away into the cart—"

"Is your lady in waiting also hostile with you?"

She shook her head. "No. Phoebe's very kind. I think of her as a friend. Niall too, he's also very genial. I trust them both equally.

Harry looked down at the floor and worked the bottom part of his jaw from side to side. He hadn't realized that so many of his staff had been cruel to her. He expected some friction, but this? He lifted his gaze back up to hers. "Why haven't you told me?"

"Did you not already imagine I'd be treated with such disdain? No one wants me here in the castle… Well, most don't. I represent everything they hate."

"I suppose I was mistaken in thinking that even if they disliked you, they wouldn't outright scorn you. Even the governess?" He shook his head and placed his hand on the wooden poster of the bed.

"I've tried everything with her. I meet with her on time for every class. I'm polite, quiet, and I always practice what she's shown me. But I've come to accept that she thinks she's wasting her time with me… that I'm not worth the trouble. She never looks at me. Only speaks with her back turned, and then half the class acts like I don't exist. Most of the hour is spent looking at a wall while she reads. One time, I arrived early and she wasn't there. When she finally stepped into the room, it was half past and she never once looked at me or spoke, even when I asked her what she'd be teaching me that day."

"Do not indulge her anymore. You needn't put yourself through that kind of turmoil for a class that teaches useless politesse."

"I won't. I told her today that I wouldn't return."

"Good. And how are your parents faring?"

Y/n smiled, confused and a little astounded by the sudden change of subject as well as the shift in his mood. "They are very happy. I think they, too, are treated poorly, but they ignore it because they're so strong-headed. The beds and the food are quite enough to keep their mouths shut about ill treatment."

She watched as he traced his fingers over the thin stuffed mattress she sat on. "As soon as you are given your title, anyone who treats your family badly will be punished for it."

Y/n nodded and looked down at the brooch in her hand, running her thumb along the engraving. The small thing was heavier than it looked. She was glad to have it back, mostly so that it wasn't lost. She knew it meant a lot to Harry because it was once his mother's.

"She didn't have a chance to wear it but a handful of times," he said, looking at the breastpin. "They were going to bury it with her, but I stole it." He smiled at the memory as he traced his finger along the edge of the blanket near her thigh. "It was sitting in a tin tray with her other valuable jewels, and after I took it, my father tore the castle apart to try and find it. No one ever suspected it was me. Had hidden it for many years, then took it with me to war. No one ever knew."

Y/n looked up at him. She wasn't surprised that he'd stolen it as a child, and somehow it made him seem so much more human. He was just a small boy when he lost his mother. He deserved to have a piece of her to take with him.

"So you've always had a rebellious heart."

He licked his lips and looked down at her. "Yes. I suppose I have."

"Do you miss her?"

Stress lines carved into his forehead. "Not anymore. I still think of her, though. Fond memories… I came to terms with all that a long time ago."

"You're a very strong person."

"Strong? Maybe. Most everything is a farce, Y/n. I prefer the appearance of stoicism, so that's what I allow everyone to see. It's better to keep emotion out of reach."

"Does that mean you don't allow yourself to feel sad or happy?"

"I don't allow others to see it. That does not mean I don't feel those things. I do, however, prefer to remain rational. I let logic rule, not my emotions."

"But you are making significant changes by rejecting convention. You are causing tumult in the kingdom, and people are outraged. How is it that you are ruling by logic when you've created such a stir amongst the people?"

Harry sighed and sat down next to her, his eyes reaching from her face down to the brooch in her hand. "Do you believe that my actions speak of a man governed by his irrational feelings?"

"Some people think you're acting rashly. But to me, I find your plight noble. The poors are always overlooked. We fend for ourselves the best we can, but now to have the king on our side feels like our voice has finally been heard. Emotional or rational thinking, I don't know. But it's not without good virtue or mindful discernment."

"Mindful discernment." He smiled as he returned his gaze to hers. "I suppose I do have a soft spot for the undervalued among us. Even if it began as a means to an end."

Y/n let the words sink into her pores. She knew all along that he chose her to upset people. She wasn't delusive. Even if he'd started being nicer on occasion, she was still but a means to an end for him. But he was also a means to an end for her as well. She and her family could live comfortably, well fed, well rested, safe… Maybe true love had not been meant for her like she once imagined.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you saw me that day. Otherwise, I'd just be another undervalued, begging strangers for any kindness. At least I have a comfortable bed to lie down in." Yn laughed and closed her fingers around the brooch. "My mother thinks you courted me. I don't know why she'd believe a king would be interested in a street beggar, but I won't correct her. She still believes in true love and fate and all that. Don't have the heart to tell her how it happened. That you selected me out of convenience. A means to an end, if you will."

Harry's brows pulled together. "Is that what you think? That this is all just a show?"

"Is it not?"

"You will be crowned Queen, and you will be my wife, with whom I will produce an heir. That is not a show."

"Maybe not a show. But you said it yourself, a means to an end."

"What were you expecting, Y/n? Love at first sight? Anyone I would have selected would have been the same. But I did not anticipate to find you so alluring. I've grown very fond of you in these weeks."

She swallowed as her skin burned hot. It was most infuriating to her that he could sway her emotions so rapidly. In one beat, she was a disappointing burden, and yet in another, she was fond and alluring.

Even as she sat there, the thin fabric of her chemise covering most of her skin, while she bled into the mattress below her, he meant his words just the same. She was more beautiful and captivating by the day. Lifting his hand up to the curve of her jaw, he let his pupils wander over the features of her face, and he could tell she was nervous.

"What is it, mouse?" he asked in a soft timbre.

She blinked her eyes and looked back up at him, her mouth parted as she paused for a moment to let her irises mesh with his. "Sometimes you're confusing to me. I don't know how to feel when you speak about me. I know you don't love me. I never expected that from you. But I don't think I imagined you'd find me alluring either. Especially right now while I'm painting the mattress under me in red."

He slid his thumb over her cheekbone as he pushed out a breathy laugh.

"Is what I said laughable to you?" she asked, her brow raised.

He grinned. "Yes, your words amuse me. You're quick-witted. Do you think that because you're having your mensus that I would recoil in disgust?"

She nodded. "Yes, in fact. Even my father is repulsed, and he loves me."

Harry shook his head, and she watched his gaze drag down to her bare ankles and then back up to her face. It was almost lewd the way he so brazenly wiped his sight over her frame the way he had. She might as well have been lying there naked.

"I'm not squeamish by a little blood, Y/n. I've sewn limbs and gashed wounds together. I've used my bare hands to stop the bleeding of maimed soldiers more times than I care to count. I saw the most ghastly things when I was leading our royal army not that long ago. Your mensus does not unnerve me in the slightest."

"I see. But even still, it isn't desirable. You cannot tell me you find me alluring in this moment."

"And why not? You are not less beautiful or mouthy because of it. It does not deter my fondness." He grinned.

She had a hard time believing him. But why would he lie to her? He had no reason to try and make her feel better about herself because either way, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Even when I offered myself to you the morning before, you didn't want me, and I wasn't yet bleeding. How can you say these things to me now?"

Harry shifted, his knee pushed into her thigh as he took her face in his hands. "What are you on about? I made it clear my feelings about that. And then I kissed you. Do you not remember any of it?"

Her lashes fluttered as she tried to maintain calm. Of course, she remembered it all. Word for word. And then the kiss… Every brush of his lips and tongue, the way her body washed in heat every time she relived the kiss in her mind. It had changed a part of her, so of course, she hadn't forgotten.

"I remember."

He nodded and let go of her cheeks. She remembered, but did she remember it the way he did? Had he been alone in the way his heart pounded wildly behind his chest, in the way his fingertips burned, and his blood simmered… The way he was breathless when he finally pulled away? For that had never happened to him before, and it marked him so violently that he couldn't think straight all night.

And it had just been a kiss. Was he a fool to let the feel of her warm mouth against his take up so much space in his chest as he had? Even then, he'd wanted to kiss her again to revel in the sensation.

"I can't stop thinking about it. The kiss…" she confessed.

He looked back up at her face, relieved at her words but stricken by his shameful inner thoughts. He couldn't help but feel a kindred madness working its way through his veins.

"Nor can I," Harry replied quietly, almost reluctantly, like an admission passed between the cracks of armour. “The kiss, I can still feel it sitting on my lips.”

His thumb skimmed her bottom lip, light as breath, his eyes fixed there. "The moment I felt your mouth on mine, I knew it was something that would stay with me.” He paused. “And I found myself imagining it over and over.”

Y/n sat still, afraid to breathe too loudly, her heart fluttering rapidly like a mouse, the pulse pumping in her neck.

Harry’s voice dropped lower. “It lingers. The feeling of you. I wasn't prepared to let it sink me to the depths.”

She shivered, her nerves causing her skin to prick, as his words lay gently over her heart. "But you left so quickly after and didn't return to me last night. I know you said you were working, but you made your choice to keep away from me."

“Because I didn’t trust myself last night.” His hand slid to the side of her neck, his thumb pressing lightly into the hollow of her throat. “You offered yourself to me, and I was feeling reckless things. I have spent a lifetime reining in heedless actions. Staying away was best for us both.”

She boldly slid her shaky hand against his leg as his gaze lifted sharply to hers. He hadn't expected it, and in that brief moment, a recognition passed between them; they were two people, human and flawed, no different than the other. Their outward status meant nothing in those seconds that ticked by.

He leaned forward slowly, his nose brushing against hers. “You drive me mad.”

She smiled gently, their lips nearly touching. “You deserve it.”

That earned a brief breath of a laugh from him, more air than sound. And then, before reason could interrupt, before obligation, or her own festering doubts could rise to interfere, Harry kissed her.

It was not like the first time. This one felt impatient, a test of sanity or madness, a sating of curiosity. It was filled with a slow ache that had been building since their first clash of wills. His mouth moved over hers with devastating precision until she pressed her tongue to his, and the precision turned into a starved pace, as though every second he didn’t kiss her was one he could no longer justify.

Y/n’s fingers crept up his hard, solid chest, curling into the soft linen of his shirt as she responded, matching his hunger with a keenness of her own. Her body ached with a desperate need to be touched, to know she mattered to him.

And Harry touched her like she did matter. As if the truth he couldn’t yet speak was being carved into the space between them. His lips opened and closed around hers, his fingers slid gently up her spine to the back of her neck as she moaned into his mouth.

A harsh knock on the door startled them. The king slowly parted from her and turned toward the door. "Who's there?"

Y/n sat forward to watch the door open, and in stepped Harry's assistant, hands clasped behind his back, head lowered. "Your majesty. Forgive my intrusion, but your presence is requested. The Lord Mayor and His Grace, Duke Hughes are here to settle a dispute."

"Send them away. It's far too late to be resolving conflicts, and I have nothing more to say to the Lord Mayor today."

The man nodded shallowly as he kept his eyes turned to the floor. "He said that if you refuse to meet with him, he will report you for theft, assault, and trespassing."

Harry laughed and ran a finger under his nose. "That spineless worm. Fine. Tell him to make himself comfortable in the drawing room. I'll come find him soon."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Fred said as he closed the door behind himself.

Harry moved his hand from hers and fixed his gaze on her pretty eyes. “You should rest.”

“I won’t be able to,” she murmured. “Not after that.”

“After the kiss or the intrusion?"

She smiled shyly and looked down at her lap. "The kiss."

Harry nudged her chin upward to look at him. "Then think of it as a dream.”

She looked at him as he pulled away, her voice barely above a hush. “Did you feel reckless again?”

His soft green eyes scanned hers for a quiet moment. Then, with a final kiss to her brow, he answered, “Maybe.”

With that, he stood, smoothing the front of his waistcoat, his mask of control slowly knitting itself back over his face — but not before she caught the softness still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“I'll be around to check on you, but I'd better find you fast asleep when I return. And I’ll see to the governess tomorrow.”

He made for the door, and just before exiting, he glanced over his shoulder with a glint of something playful in his eyes. “Rest, little mouse. The devil’s watching over you tonight.”

She pushed a breathy laugh from her lips and watched the edge of his mouth turn upward before he left her alone in her room. The silence around her felt stiff and accusatory, but she quelled the burgeoning shame and guilt that started to rise up in her. Y/n was done with needless worrying about wanting to kiss a handsome man who would soon be her husband. She touched her lips softly, the feel of his mouth engraved on hers.

Perhaps he was the devil but she was beginning to see that maybe the devil wasn't as bad as everyone had said.

. .

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[practistyles]

missionary, forehead to forehead, his chain swinging in my face.

[practistyles]

we literally never learn we've literally been here before... whatever harry said

[practistyles]

just a little taste

Summary: You're the angel in his songs, but dancing in his kitchen, you're nothing short of sin.

Warnings: established relationship, lots of mentions of past sex, handjob, oral (m!receiving), some praise, lots of licking food idk what the name is for that, it's just generally really filthy honestly

Based on: this ask!

A/N: it took me a while to post this one, though i'm still not fully satisfied with it because it feels so repetitive to me. let me know if you guys like it! i mostly listened to ''cinema'' by our very own mister harry styles while writing this, so i definitely recommend listening to that as you read ;) hope you enjoy lovelies x

Word Count: 4,068

...

Morning stretches soft and slow across your shared apartment, sunlight cutting warm ribbons through the gauzy curtains. It's quiet except for the crackle of a vinyl turning gently on the record player, and the unmistakable start of a song you know all too well.

Harry's song. Only Angel.

It winds through the apartment like honey, thick and teasing. You're humming along before you even realize it, your lips mouthing the lyrics you know by heart as you sway in front of the stove, flipping pancakes in your boyfriend's blouse. The buttons are done unevenly, the collar slipping off one shoulder to reveal the curve of your neck and shoulder marked with fading bruises.

Underneath the crumpled white fabric, you're only wearing your underwear and bra, simple, lacy. Your hair is a tangled mess, curling at the ends from sweat and friction, and your skin is a mosaic of hickeys, some delicate, others brutal in their intention. The base of your throat, the swell of your breasts, your inner thighs, all painted with evidence of how he'd needed you. How he'd taken you.

Your hips move to the rhythm of the song as you stir a bowl of pancake batter, sticky on your fingers. You hardly notice the dull ache between your thighs as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, used to the aftermath of wild sex with Harry by now. You've grown to love it, a trophy of a night you'd both barely survived, panting and tangled in the sheets.

It's the smell that wakes Harry, the vanilla sweetness floating in from the kitchen. Something so warm, so you, it makes his chest ache. He groans softly and blinks the sleep from his eyes, pushing himself up on one elbow and squinting into the morning light. He's sore. In a good way. In a fucked senseless the night before way.

His muscles ache from holding himself up, from his hips slamming into yours with so much force he had to put his hand on your hair to shield your head from thudding against the headboard. His cock twitches beneath the sheets at the memory.

He runs a hand over his face, willing away his arousal before getting out of bed. You're likely still sore, and he's always been strict about taking care of you properly after he's been rough with you, which, to your frustration, means he'll refrain from having sex with you until he's sure that you're fully healed and comfortable.

You don't see him at first.

Harry saunters into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, his chest bare and glowing in the sunlight, curls tousled from sleep and last night's activities. He carefully stretches his sore arms, showing off a trail of angry purple hickeys that dips beneath the waistband of his sweats, like a roadmap of where your mouth had been.

Scratchmarks adorn his back in violent red lines, dull and satisfying. Your doing. You always raked your nails down his back when you were close, clawing at him like you needed something to hold onto as you came apart. Harry wore the marks like a badge of honor.

He watches you, shamelessly, biting back a grin as you sway to the chorus of a song he'd recognize anywhere.

His song.

He'd written it about you the first time he'd seen you, years ago, though you didn't know it at the time.

He was in a club in an exotic country, back when he still used alcohol and parties and women to forget about his problems. You were stood in the middle of the dancefloor, body moving under the tacky strobe lights, eyes closing like you were lost in your own little world.

He went home and wrote Only Angel that night, driven by the desperate need to immortalize the way you had looked when you came on his cock in a cramped bathroom stall barely an hour later, your nails digging into his back deliciously.

And now here you were, singing it in his shirt, in your shared home, after a night of mind-blowing sex, and suddenly he felt like he was twenty-something again, completely enamored by a girl he's hardly even said a word to, unable to look away. The nostalgia strikes him in the middle of his chest. God, he's the luckiest man alive.

And you're not just mouthing the words like you usually do. You're into it, smiling to yourself as you alternate between humming along and singing the lyrics under your breath.

You know he thinks it's weird when you listen to his recorded music, told you it makes him feel ''a bit awkward, love, hearing myself come from the speakers when I'm right here.''

But seeing you like this? Hair messy, wearing his clothes, dancing in your kitchen to a song he wrote about you long before he even knew your name? It does something to him.

He wordlessly pads across the room, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. You let out a startled yelp and instinctively smack the wooden spoon you were holding against his cheek, a loud splatter of pancake batter echoing against his skin and the kitchen tiles.

''Fuck!'' he hisses, stepping back as a glob of sticky yellow goo slides down his jaw. ''What the— babe!''

You whip around, eyes wide, realizing it's just Harry, then burst out laughing when you see the stunned expression on his face. ''Oh my God, I'm so sorry!''

''Jesus Christ,'' he mutters, dragging the back of his hand across his face in exaggerated offense. ''Didn't know you were armed. You tryin' to kill me with a fuckin' spoon, love?''

You scowl at him playfully, grabbing a paper towel to dab at his hand. ''Serves you right for creeping up on me.''

He glares at you, but it's half-assed at best. ''That's how you greet the man who gave you four orgasms last night? I did some of my best work there, y'know? I was expecting more of a fanfare when I woke up. Maybe even you dropping to your knees and thanking me.''

''You mean me dropping to my knees and giving you a blowie?'' you guess with a smirk, seeing the faraway look on his face and knowing exactly what he was really imagining.

''Mm,'' he hums noncommittally, eyes dropping to where the mixture now clings to your fingers, too. ''Can't a man show his girlfriend some love without being attacked?''

''I was making pancakes,'' you say sternly, as if that somehow explains everything.

''Right,'' he rolls his eyes affectionately, putting his hands on your waist absentmindedly: force of habit. ''Pretty sure your pancakes are currently dripping down my cheek, babe.''

Instead of quipping back, you bring your fingers to your mouth to suck the batter off, and the moment your tongue touches your skin, Harry's eyes go dark. He blinks, jaw twitching. You feel his cock stir beneath his sweatpants, pressing against your hip.

''Fuckin' hell,'' he mutters, letting out a pained groan before crudely adjusting himself in his pants. Whatever, you're his girlfriend. You're used to it by now.

You huff out a laugh, stepping toward him and wrapping your arms around his neck. ''You look like someone jizzed on your face.''

''Do not give me ideas,'' he deadpans.

You bite your lip, clearly enjoying this. ''Sorry for smacking you,'' you whisper soothingly, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. ''Let me make it up to you.''

Your tongue darts out, licking the leftover batter from his cheek, and his breath catches. You meet his gaze through your lashes, teasing, slow. Your fingers trace the waistband of his pants, dipping lower. He's still hard. Has been since the second he saw you.

''You're a menace,'' he mutters.

''And you,'' you say sweetly, languidly dragging your tongue down to his jaw, ''are so predictable.''

You stand on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips, the taste of sugar lingering on your tongue. His hand slides up your thigh under the hem of his shirt, fingers tracing the lace of your underwear.

''You look too good like this,'' he murmurs against your mouth. ''Too fuckin' good.''

You grin and peck his lips in response before rotating in his hold to flip a pancake before it burns. His hands greedily roam your body as his eyes unabashedly drag down your back, your ass, your legs.

''Didn't realize you listened to my stuff on vinyl,'' he comments when he hears you humming along to the bridge of Only Angel, coming from their record player in the corner with their little collection.

You shrug, not turning around. ''Got the pink one. Limited edition. Perks of sleeping with the artist, right?'' you smile innocently.

He chuckles softly as you scoop more batter onto the pan, fingers trailing down your waist, finally settling on your hips again. ''Didn't know you liked this one.''

You flip the pancake and glance over your shoulder. ''It's about me, isn't it?''

He smirks. ''You're not supposed to know that.''

You snort. ''You're not slick, Harry. You wrote 'Can't take you home to mother in a skirt that short.' You said that to me the night we met, remember? When you fucked me in the—''

''That was a joke.'' He cuts you off, blood rushing to his cheeks as he pinches your thigh, lightheartedly scolding you. ''Sort of.''

Your laughter is soft, tangled in the steam rising off the stove. The tension from last night, the kind that always finds its way into your bedroom, lingers like a shadow.

But right now, it feels lighter. Sweeter.

You feel his hands slide lower, brushing against the waistband of your panties.

''Don't,'' you warn, ''I'm cooking.''

''I'm starving.''

''You'll get a pancake when it's ready, Styles.''

He pauses. Then dips his finger into the bowl of pancake batter on the counter.

You freeze. ''Don't you—''

Before you can finish your sentence, he smears a broad streak across the swell of your exposed cleavage, right above your bra.

You gasp. ''Harry Edward Styles!''

He grins, eyes gleaming with mischief, and dips his head to leisurely lick it off, tongue flattening over your sticky skin. You slap his shoulder weakly as he hums against your breasts. It sends a shockwave through your chest.

''Insatiable menace,'' you scoff with a chuckle, breath catching.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. ''Say that again.''

''You're—''

He cuts you off with a kiss, and it's slow and dirty and dangerous. One of those kisses that means you're not leaving this room untouched, his hands squeezing your ass playfully before moving down and ghosting over your thighs. You shiver.

''C'mon,'' he breathes against your lips, then pressing featherlight kisses to your neck. ''Let's go, love.''

''To bed?''

''Mhm.'' Another kiss, longer this time. ''Bring the batter.''

You blink. ''You're not serious.''

He quirks a brow. ''Dead serious. I've got some ideas.''

You stare at him, torn between horrified and aroused. ''You're weird.''

He nips at your earlobe. ''And you love it.''

He scoops up the half-full bowl of pancake batter and tugs your hand, leading you through the apartment with a cocky little smirk.

''C'mon, angel,'' he says softly, voice low and thick with promise.

The contents of the bowl jostle dangerously as Harry kicks the bedroom door shut with his heel, his free hand moving to your hip before guiding you backward to the bed. Your laughter curls through the space, soft and breathless, until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you fall onto it with a bounce, legs splayed open and blouse riding up your thighs.

Harry's gaze darkens the second you settle there, backlit by the early sun filtering through the curtains, his shirt hanging crooked and open across your body, collarbone and cleavage marked with proof of his mouth. The sight of you like this, knees bent, one strap of your bra slipping down your shoulder, flushed from giggles and sleep and still glowing from the night before, makes something in him snap.

''Gonna ruin you,'' he says, setting the bowl on the nightstand with a sharp clink. ''You were shaking your ass on purpose,'' he growls. ''You knew I was gonna lose it.''

You huff in protest. ''Didn't even know you were watching,'' you shoot back, smirking as you crawl across the bed, making a show of it, dragging your blouse open with exaggerated slowness until it slips off your shoulders completely.

''Always watching you,'' he murmurs, eyes softening.

He crawls after you, kissing you the second he gets on top of you, needy, no finesse, all teeth and hunger, tongue licking into your mouth with a groan like he's starving.

Harry always kisses you like you just came home from war, like he's been missing your touch for years, despite having been buried in you less than twelve hours ago. His hands are everywhere, palming your thighs, cupping your breasts through your bra, slipping underneath your underwear just to squeeze your ass again.

''You know this is gonna be a mess, right?'' you deadpan, breath catching when his thumbs dip into your panties.

Harry chuckles, unbothered, his voice gone deep and hoarse. ''Already is. Might as well make it worse.''

He strips your underwear and bra first, tosses both across the room without a care, and pauses only to kiss down your stomach in a slow, open-mouthed trail. He's feral but reverent, hungry but focused, like he's worshipping your body in a sacred ritual.

Then his fingers dip into the bowl.

''Wait, Harry, that's gonna be cold—''

Too late. The pancake batter hits your nipple, making your back arch immediately. He chuckles low in his throat, swirling it across your breast, sticky and sweet.

''Told you it'd be fun,'' he grins.

You gasp when his tongue follows, licking a path from the curve of your tit to your now peaked nipple, sucking hard as he hums in approval. ''Sweet,'' he says. ''Just not as sweet as you.''

''Corny,'' you pant, writhing when his other hand scoops up more of the sticky goo and smears it across your other breast.

''Genius,'' he corrects, before trailing it down your sternum in broad strokes. ''Just you wait. Gonna find every place you taste good.''

You realize, quickly, this man isn't bluffing.

He dips into the bowl again, moving lower, this time tracing the line of your thigh with more batter, smearing it along your soft skin before pressing his lips to your inner thigh, kissing it softly, then sucking a little harder at the tender skin.

''Shit, you're sexy,'' he groans against your skin. ''Every fucking inch of you...''

''Your turn,'' you tell him breathlessly, pulling his hand back toward him. You want to return the favor, find out what makes him feel good too. The two of you have recently been exploring this new rhythm, how to experiment, how to let things unfold naturally and just have fun, even if it's not perfect.

Harry's gaze meets yours, dark, glimmering with the trust you've built together and the heat that lingers between you both. You reach for the bowl, dipping your fingers in and running them over his chest, slow and deliberate, trailing lines of pancake batter down his tattoos and across the rippling muscles of his abdomen. His breath hitches at the unexpected sensation, his eyes never leaving yours as you gently smear it across his skin.

''You don't have to be so careful with me,'' he points out, his voice gravelly, a hint of reassurance evident in his tone. ''We're just experimenting, yeah?''

''Yeah,'' you repeat softly, then lean down to kiss the streak of batter on his stomach, tasting his skin and the sweet mess on it at the same time. ''But I want to make sure it's good for you, too.''

''God, baby,'' he growls lowly, reaching out to grab your wrist and guide it lower. ''You make it so good. My good girl. My best girl.''

''Your only girl, I hope,'' you say teasingly, tracing the outline of his abs and kissing each one when he mumbles a soft ''obviously'' in response, hips lifting subconsciously. You know what he wants. You tut at him, a wicked smirk playing at your lips before you dip your fingers lower, grazing the waistband of his sweatpants.

''What do you say we see how it feels down here?'' you ask, voice low and sultry, capturing his full attention. You hand disappears inside his sweats, teasing at the bare skin just below his navel.

''Fuck yes,'' he growls, his chest rising and falling more rapidly now. ''I was wondering when you'd get to the fun part.''

You laugh softly but comply, guiding your fingers down. Harry sucks in a breath, looking down at where your hand wraps around him, a choked moan leaving his throat.

''God, I can't... Fuck, you're making me lose my mind.'' His voice cracks, desperation flooding through his words.

You giggle, teasing him as you lick your lips. ''God, you're so fucking sexy, Harry. I'm the luckiest girl alive,'' you groan at the sight of him, this absolute god of a man, coming undone from your touch, chest heaving as he whimpers. Whimpers. It swells your chest with pride.

He smiles softly to himself. He was thinking the same thing earlier. Sometimes it terrifies him how in sync you two are.

''You drive me fuckin' crazy, babe,'' he whines, reaching down to grab your wrist and stop your movements when he gets close. ''So fuckin' hot, watching you sing the song I wrote about you. I wanted to bend you over the stove.''

You smile devilishly, leaning in to kiss him hard, your tongue slipping into his mouth, tasting the remnants of batter still on his lips. You pull back for a moment, your breath hitching at the way his chest rises and falls with anticipation.

He watches you closely as you kneel down between his legs, feeling a wave of heat surge through him. You swirl the batter all around the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, stretching the fabric of his sweats as you go, gliding your fingers up and down with purpose. Your other hand moves lower, teasing along the tight muscles of his legs before you slowly move your fingers toward the one place he's desperately trying to keep control over.

His stomach jumps beneath your touch. ''You wouldn't.''

''Oh, I would.''

''Fuck, baby,'' he hisses when you trace the line around his cock, just teasing, never quite touching him exactly where he wants it. He grabs your wrist again, this time pulling you up by the arm, almost aggressively, to meet his lips in another bruising kiss, the smell of vanilla thick between your bodies.

You move back down his body, maintaining eye contact. You trace the batter across the tattooed ferns on his V-line, deliberate and slow, and then press your tongue against the trail, tasting skin and sugar and something so deeply Harry it makes your stomach tighten. He moans softly, a sound low and needy, and his hand cups the back of your head, silently begging you to keep going.

When your mouth reaches his hip bone, you nip at him gently. ''You like that?''

He let out a shaky laugh. ''Yeah. Yeah, babe, I fuckin' like that.''

You grin up at him, flushed and cocky. ''We should make pancakes more often.''

Harry pulls you up by the waist, spinning you so your back hits the mattress. You giggle when he reaches for the bowl again, but your laughter dies in your throat when he straddles your thighs and slowly pours a ribbon of batter across your bare stomach. It runs down your navel, sticky and warm.

''Don't move,'' he warns, playfully stern, then bends to lick it all up in slow, open-mouthed kisses. His tongue swirls into your bellybutton, making you squeal, squirming as he chuckles against your skin.

''That's disgusting,'' you breathe, half-laughing.

''You love it.''

You do. Every second of it. You love how fun it feels, how messy and silly and fucking filthy.

When he starts trailing his kisses lower, you gasp. He runs batter along your lower stomach, dragging it across your skin like you're a canvas he's painting on. He licks down the path he made, tongue hot and slow, teeth grazing your skin when he sucks a bruise into it.

You hips buck at the feeling. ''Harry…''

''I know,'' he soothes you. ''I've got you.''

You switch places after that, an unspoken agreement in the air about taking turns. It feels equal. And when you push him down onto the bed and trace the mixture along the lines of his ribcage, he grunts.

''Feels fuckin' weird,'' he admits with a hearty laugh when your tongue follows the trail.

You stop and look at him, amused. ''Bad weird?''

He shrugs with a crooked grin. ''No, love. Just different.''

You pour more batter over the curve of his hip, lower, down to the place where he's painfully hard under his sweatpants, straining and twitching with every move you make.

You raise a brow. ''What about here?''

His eyes darken. ''Careful.''

You wordlessly smear the mix across the outline of him under the fabric, making sure to cup him while you do so, and watch his jaw clench, his knuckles turning white as he grips the sheets.

''You're such a fuckin' tease,'' he growls.

''I'm just exploring. That's what you said, right?'' you say sweetly, feigning innocence, licking a drop off the edge of his waistband.

And then he was on you again, rolling you over, tugging your panties down your legs with a grin like sin and batter drying on his mouth.

At one point, you're giggling helplessly as he trails it behind your knee and bites down on the soft skin there, your laugh dissolving into a gasp when his tongue replaces his teeth. Another time, you try it behind his ear, where you know he's sensitive. You both end up laughing when the batter gets in his hair and he curses, rubbing a hand through the sticky mess.

You straddle him and dip your fingers into the nearly empty bowl, then paint lazy circles around his nipples, grinning wickedly as you lean in to suck one, then the other, tasting the salt of his sweaty skin under the sweetness of the vanilla. His chest rumbles with a groan, hips twitching up into yours with a stuttered thrust.

''I swear to God,'' Harry mutters, breathless, ''You're gonna kill me.''

''You'll die happy,'' you shoot back, right before trailing the batter lower, right to the thin line of hair leading down into his sweats. He hisses when your fingers curl into the waistband and finally drag them down, his cock springing up, flushed and dripping.

You meet his eyes, smirking, and then slowly, almost reverently, dip two fingers into the remaining batter and brush them up the underside of his shaft, letting it drip in thick, gooey lines, the coolness of it making him shudder as you coat him.

He curses, head tipping back into the pillows. You don't rush, just lean in and lick the sticky trail upward in one long, languid motion, tongue pressing into the vein along the side the way you know he likes. You circle the tip once, twice, before taking it into your mouth, the taste of him and the sweet batter a heady mix.

He makes a sound then, somewhere between a moan and a growl, and pushes your hair back to get a better look at your face as you take him in. ''Filthy fuckin' girl,'' he whispers. ''My filthy girl.''

Harry flips you over so fast the bowl nearly tips, but he catches it without breaking focus. He crawls down your body, settling in between your thighs and licking his lips as his gaze trails down your body like he's drinking you in.

A shrill wail echoes from the kitchen.

The fire alarm.

''Oh my God,'' you gasp, sitting up quickly. ''The pancakes!''

Harry groans and flops onto his back, an arm covering his face. ''Well… breakfast is ruined.''

You laugh, breathless. ''Your fault.''

''Worth it,'' he mutters, already reaching for you again.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc @practistyles @qrapejuices

...

[practistyles]

i'm head over heels in love with him 🥹

[practistyles]

Eeeeee thanks a lot for the mention! Amongst such amazing stories 😫

✨️ my favorite harry styles smut one-shots ✨️

@rrysbabydoll

dark paradise

stached

ride, cowgirl

temptation

busy

a god on stage

don't worry, darling

@practistyles

party 4 u

@this-is-tiny-mia

table 11

smudged nail polish

window in front

@ellewritesx

cabin pressure | cruising altitude

@gurugirl

don't judge a book by its cover

[practistyles]

can you write a fic where y/n had her first sex with Harry?

ooooh that’s a good one… there’s so many ways it could go but I’ll definitely start thinking about writing it. I love this idea!! And thanks for reading 🫶

[practistyles]

Lonely: Competition

Masterlist: Here

CW: Minor language, clingy harry, smut (oral f reviving, fingering) and mentions of drinking.

A/N: I have missed these two so I hope y’all enjoy this check in with them as we get closer to their actual wedding day!✨

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1 @outofthisworl-d @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @howling-wolf97 @namoreno @mema10

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Being at a friend’s wedding shows Harry’s competitive and clingy side✨

“This whole thing is outdoors?” You roll your eyes as Harry’s hand finds yours as the two of you walk down a path that’s lined with flowers that leads to the ceremony space your friend Janice will be marrying Tony, her long time on again off again boyfriend who proposed less than a year ago.

“It’s a wedding Harry not a thing.” You correct him making him let out a huff as he slides his sunglasses down to cover his eyes from the afternoon sun. “And yes it’s all outside because she wanted a garden theme and you can’t have a garden theme inside that would look-”

“Tacky.” He finishes for you as his eyes scan the space, not at all impressed with the flower choices or the color scheme. “Did she pick a garden theme because she wanted it outdoors or-”

“She liked the idea of an outdoor wedding. Yes.”

“Okay well that’s the thing.” His hand gives yours a squeeze as the two of you stop at the end of the path to grab a fan that has the couple’s initials and wedding date on it. “Everyone likes the idea of an outdoor wedding but in reality everyone actually hates outdoor weddings.” He explains as you lead him to an empty row of chairs towards the back deciding the two seats at the end near the aisle will do just fine for the two of you.

“That’s not true you love an outdoor wedding remember that one in Italy?”

“That was in the fall and it was indoors with the option of going outside if you wanted during the reception.”

“Okay well this one is in-”

“The middle of the summer and you can only go inside if you’re about to faint or need to use the bathroom.”

“What’s your point Harry?” You ask as you begin to fan yourself with the wedding day souvenir, Harry turns to look at you as he places a hand on the top of your thigh that’s poking out of the slit in your flowy maxi dress. When he leans in so his lips are right next to your ear he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and it makes his mind fuzzy for a moment before he softly tries to clear his throat and remember what the two of you are currently discussing.

“We are going to be miserable by the time the reception starts.” He whispers making you let out a gasp and swat his chest with your fan.

“Harry Styles you love weddings so I know for a fact you’ll have a decent time once we get a few glasses of wine into your system.”

“Ours is going to be so much better.” He states before placing a kiss to the spot below your ear as you roll your eyes place a hand over his that’s on your thigh.

“It’s not a competition. It’s a wedding.” You remind him as you go back to fanning yourself as you look around and smile at a few familiar faces as they take their seats.

“I know.” He says as he flips the hand on your thigh so his palm is against yours, sliding his fingers in between yours. “But still ours is going to be better.” You just let out a laugh and shake your head as he lifts your joined hands up to his lips so he can place a few kisses to your knuckles.

“And why is that?”

“Well for starters it’s not going to have people sweating their asses off before the ceremony even starts.” He ignores the glare you’re giving him as he places one last kiss to the top of your hand. “But most importantly you’ll be the bride so that’s an automatic win because there’s no way Janice is going to out do you my love.”

“You’re horrible.” You say with a laugh as you turn to look over your shoulder as a violinist begins to play. “Now behave yourself it’s about to start.” You warn making Harry chuckle as he places your joined hands back on the top of your thigh.

“Yes ma’am.” He teases earning him another swat to the chest with your fan.

An hour into the reception and Harry, who is already two glasses of wine deep places a hand on the back of your chair so in one not so gentle tug you’re being pulled closer to him so your thighs are touching making you let out a small squeak of surprise. You know when he drinks wine it makes him slightly more clingy than normal and you don’t really mind it, so you just place a hand on his thigh and give it a loving pat making him smile as he brings his glass up to his lips.

“You were too far away from me.”

“Harry there was less than a foot between us.”

“Exactly. Way too much space between us.” He says with a pout as he turns his head so he can lean over and place a kiss to the top of your head. “Didn’t like it.” He mumbles into your hair making you laugh and playfully roll your eyes.

“You’re so dramatic.” You tease as you look over at him just to find him already staring at you. “But luckily it’s one of the things I love about you.” He grins as you give his thigh a squeeze.

“I’m not the only dramatic one in this relationship you know.” You quirk a brow at him making him get a playful smirk on his face as he places his arm over the back of your chair, his hand running up and down your arm. “Remember that time during Live on Tour and you missed me so much you broke into my rehearsal at radio city?”

“I did not break into your rehearsal I just showed up i unannounced because I wanted to surprise you.”

“So Preston didn’t chase you down a hallway backstage?”

“No he didn’t chase me down a hallway. I was on the list and honestly even if I wasn’t he would’ve let me in because Preston loves me.”

“I know.” He says with a laugh as you reach over for your glass of water. “Him and I have that in common.” He adds with a smile as you take a sip.

“I’ll be right back.” Harry’s face contorts into one of pure sadness as you place your water glass down on the table and begin to slide out of your seat.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave me with these people.”

“They’re your friends-”

“No love they are your friends I don’t-who the hell is that man two seats down from Henry?”

“That’s Andrew he’s Janice’s cousin.”

“Baby please don’t leave me I’ll miss you too much.” He whines making you have to hold back a laugh.

“I’m just going to the bathroom Harry I’ll be back before you even get the chance to miss me okay?” You say in an attempt to reassure him as you stand behind his chair and place your hands on his shoulders as he looks up at you.

“Doubt it. I’ll miss you the moment you walk away.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I don’t think I will be.” You giggle as he lets out a sad sigh.

“The quicker I leave the quicker I’ll be back.”

“Fine but can I have a kiss first?” You smile and leans down to place a quick kiss to his lips, giggling at how his facial hair tickles your chin as you pull away. “Hurry back.” He tells you before you turn around so you can head inside where the bathrooms and a small standing area that allows people to cool off from the hot summer heat are located.

You’re standing in the small area just outside the restrooms with your fan in your hand and a small polite smile on your face as you take a minute and cool down a bit. There’s only a handful of other guests around you, enjoying some small talk amongst themselves before they go and endure the heat for the remainder of the reception that still has at least another hour and a half till it transitions into waving off the happy couple into their car to venture off to their honeymoon. You’re about to walk back out into the sun and join Harry at the table when you feel a hand grab yours that’s not holding your fan and drag you down the small hallway towards the bathrooms.

“Harry? What-” you don’t get the rest of your question out before he’s pulling you into the nearest bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Missed you.” Is all he says before his hands are on your face and his lips are crashing into yours in a kiss. You stand there stunned for a moment, but when you feel him start to walk you backward until you’re pressed against the countertop the sink is on you quickly snap out of it and place your hand on his chest giving it a gentle push. He gives in and allows a small amount of space between the two of you as he fits himself between your legs.

“Harry.” Your voice is a soft whisper as he pulls his lips away from yours just to attach them to the side of your neck as his hands grab your hips giving them a squeeze. “What’s going on with you today?” You ask as you let the fan drop from your hands so you can get a firm hold of his arms as he begins to nip at the sensitive skin below your ear.

“Tired of shitty weddings.” He mumbles against your skin as you tilt your head to allow him better access to your neck. “With shitty food and shitty wine. Want it to be our wedding day.” You feel his lips curve downward into a frown as he continues his way down your neck, lightly nipping and kissing as he goes.

“We get married in three weeks.” You remind him as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head, sliding into his hair making a small whine bubble up from the back of his throat when you give it a tug.

“S’not soon enough.” He argues as he pulls away from your neck so he can look at you, when you meet his gaze you see a familiar mixture of not only love but also an intense hunger swirling around the green of his eyes. “You look beautiful.” You smile as his eyes travel down your neck to the silver H pendant that hits just above where the neckline of your dress starts.

“Thank you.” He smiles as his eyes continue roaming down your frame, tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth when he gets to the flesh of your thigh he can see due to the slit in your dress. You feel your heart race as his hand slides from your hip down to your thigh, his hand is warm on your skin and before you can ask what he’s doing his mouth is once again on yours capturing you in a deep kiss.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He murmurs roughly when he pulls away, pressing you firmly against the countertop before his lips find their way to your jaw kissing down it as his hand travels up your thigh, a moan slips past his lips when he feels you give his hair a soft tug

“Need you.” He says between kisses to your jaw. “Need to feel you baby please.” He begs as you close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of his lips on your skin and the warmth of his body being pressed against yours.

“Is this okay?” He asks as his hand slides to the edge of your panties groaning softly when he feels a warm wet spot against his fingertips.

“Yes.” You breathe out shakily as you place a hand behind you on the counter to help steady yourself while Harry’s lips curl into a smirk against the smooth skin of your neck.

“How about this?” He asks softly as his thumb begins rubbing your clit in gentle circles over your panties. “Is this okay or-”

“Harry please.” He pulls away from your neck as he increases the pressure his thumb is putting on your sensitive bundle making you let out a soft moan.

“Please what?” You open your eyes as he leans in and nudges the tip of his nose against yours. “Tell me what you need baby.”

“More.” Harry doesn’t waste any time moving your soaked panties to the side, letting out a throaty moan as he slips two fingers smoothly into your slick warmth. You let out a gasp at the feeling of his thumb resuming its slow antagonizing circles on your clit, your hips grind down against his hand matching the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers.

“Always feel so good.” He moans as he expertly teases you, thumb circling your sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that has your eyes snapping shut and a shiver running up your spine.

His lips press against yours as your hand in his hair tightens, he deepens the kiss as he curves his fingers inside of you finding the spot that will have you coming undone in a mater of minutes if he keeps nudging it with the tip of his index finger over and over again. You pull away from the kiss with a moan as your hips jerk at the added pressure his thumb gives your clit.

“Can I taste you? Please?” His voice is lower and full of need as he drops his head so his lips are barely touching your ear, his breath warm against your neck.

“Yes.” Your voice is shaky and desperate as you open your eyes and nod your head, a soft whine leaves you when he removes his fingers from inside you. He pulls away from you so he can drop to his knees, his eyes dark with passion as he looks up at you while bringing his soaked fingers to his lips so he can get a quick taste.

“So fucking good.” He mumbles, he uses both hands to lift your dress over your hips, sliding your panties down to your ankles, he licks his lips as he leans in and places a kiss to the inside of your thigh before his eyes hungrily take in the site of your glistening center.

Your knees nearly give out when he gives you no warning before he’s diving in, your hand in his hair giving you something to grab hold of as he uses the flat of his tongue to lick you before he slips it inside your wetness. His hands firmly grip your hips as you start to grind down on his tongue, his lips enclosing around your clit giving it the attention it desperately needs.

“Oh god.” You pant as your legs get wobbly, making him moan against you when he feels your grip in his hair tighten.

“Let go for me baby.” He begs as he slides his fingers back inside you. You grip the edge of the countertop as his fingers start to match the rhythmic movements of his tongue.

“Right-right there oh fuck.” Your head leans back as you let out a loud moan, Harry groans against you as his tongue gives your clit a few flicks making him feel your body begin to tighten around his fingers.

His eyes snap up to your face so he can watch you come undone with a few gasps and soft chants of his name falling from your mouth as you ride out your wave of pleasure. He eases you through it with gentle licks as he slides his fingers from your wetness, your fingers release their grip in his hair as you try to gently push his face away as he tries to not let a single drop of you go to waste. He places kisses to your knee and your thigh as he brings your panties back up before rising to his feet. Harry presses a soft kiss to your trembling lips, his voice gentle and filled with nothing but love.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips making you smile as he leans his forehead against yours.

“I love you too Harry.” You respond still trying to catch your breath. You feel his hands on your hips messing with the skirt of your dress. “This is why we don’t do things like this at weddings.” You tease as he backs up giving you some space to fix your dress he unintentionally made a bit of a wrinkled mess of.

“Oh so we can only do things like this at regular parties then?” He jokes as he runs his hands through his hair while looking over your shoulder and into the mirror behind you. “What about bars? Can we do this sort of thing there?”

“You’re ridiculous.” You say with a shake of your head as you finish messing with your dress deciding it’s as good as it’s going to get.

“By the way I will be doing things like this-” He gives you a playful smirk as he licks his lips while motioning between the two of you. “And probably a whole lot more at our wedding.” He finishes making you roll your eyes but he doesn’t miss the smile that makes its way onto your face as you reach your hands out and place them on his chest.

“I’d honestly be shocked if you didn’t try to have your way with me at least once during our wedding.” Harry lets out a chuckle as he places his hands on top of yours.

“Three more weeks.” He says with a soft sigh as his thumbs run over your knuckles.

“Three more weeks and then you’re stuck with me forever and ever.”

“Can’t wait.” He grins as he leans down to place a sweet kiss to your lips.

[practistyles]

FBH

Scene Stealers part 2 by @pinkboaclub

party 4 u by @practistyles

Failed, Faked, Fallen by @watchmegetobsessed

Windows Facing by @ghstyles

[practistyles]

drunk

(everyone wants him extra)

In which Y/N drunk calls Harry while on a night out and he comes running. (based on this ask. thanks!!)

word count: 1.1 k

series masterlist here.

Y/N rarely ever got drunk. She’d told Harry that she hated the peer pressure that came with, the idea that you could only have fun with alcohol in your system. This is why she didn’t really like partying, because you rarely ever found sober people there. Y/N usually found it entertaining to be the only sober person in a room, but only for a little while. 

And Harry hugely respected that. He was all for a good party, and obviously he would love it always if Y/N came with him, but she had her own thing going on and anyway he liked having her all to himself most of all. 

Today the roles were switched. Y/N told him that she was having a night out with her friends, and Harry didn’t expect to feel so excited for her. She’d expressed nervousness about it before, so he was really happy that she was trying it out with her friends, who she’d said were party animals. 

Harry decided to go all in for this reversal of roles, and decided to spend the night in his room, scrolling on his phone, maybe trying to finally start writing his paper that was due next week. 

And then his phone rang, loud and jarring in the silence of his room. He reached for his phone on his sidetable, and his heart did that usual soaring thing when he saw Y/N’s name. 

He answered, slightly confused, because it was almost one thirty in the night and she should be out there dancing. 

“Hello?”

“Harryyy,” Y/N’s voice said from the other end. Her voice was slurred and higher pitched than it usually was. He heard some kind of chanting in the background. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t find you,” she said, sounding deeply betrayed. “I looked everywhere and you’re just not here.”

Harry blinked. “Well, baby, that’s because I’m at home. Remember? You went out tonight?”

There was a long pause, then she said, “Oh. That makes sense.”

He was already out of bed, grabbing his jeans. “Are you having fun at least?”

“Nooo,” she groaned. “It’s kind of hard to stand and I wanted to say hi to you.”

“What?” Harry said. He looked around for his keys, ready to leave the house. “Are your friends with you?”

“No, this man is not my friend.” 

Harry felt a kind of panic forming in his chest. “Y/N. What man?”

“I told him you’re a boxer with huge muscles!” she giggled. Then, she whispered, “Can you bring me your big gloves?”

Harry snorts. “I’m not a boxer.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that.”

He put his shoes on and stepped out his door. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here! I’m waving. Can you see me?”

“God,” Harry groaned. “Go into your phone and into my messages and send me your location, okay? Can you do that?” He knew it was a reach. 

“Oh my god, Harry! There is a shiny dog here. He’s so cute. Can we take him with us?”

“Okay, stay put. I’m coming to get you.” Harry assumed she was in the club next to the statue of Dixie The Dog. He wondered how he would convince her that they couldn’t steal a statue.

*****

He got his flatmate Zayn’s car, and when he drove up he found her sitting on the pavement with her hands over her knees. She brightened up at the sight of him, and Harry parked at the side of the road and stepped out. 

“My boyfriend!” Y/N said loudly. A few heads nearby turned, some of them even the girls Y/N had come out with. One of the girls came over to them. “Hey, are you Harry?” Harry nodded as Y/N clung onto his arm. 

“Look, Anna! He’s here. Isn’t he so pretty?”

Anna smiled. “She’s been asking for you for the last hour. Said that you were gonna beat up someone for her?”

Harry nodded solemly. “Sounds about right.”

“She’s all yours.”

“Unfortunately,” he muttered under his breath, but he smiled. “Thanks.” 

Harry held onto her waist and guided her to the car. He tried looking around for the ‘man’ Y/N mentioned, but there was not many people around. 

“Harry,” Y/N started again, slightly swaying. Harry held onto her tighter. 

“Yes, baby.” 

“I want to get married.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay.”

“It’s going to be beautiful. You’ll cry.” 

“I bet.” He opened the car door for her and guided her in, but she turned around to face him instead, crowded up against the car. She leaned forward with puckered lips to kiss his nose. 

“Hi,” she whispered and then broke out into little giggles. Harry smiled. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with affection for this girl. He leaned froward to bump their noses. 

“I can’t believe you like me,” Y/N whispered to herself, but Harry felt almost sad at her words. He cradles her jaw in his palm and lifted her face up. “I much, much more than like you, Y/N.” He hoped he sounded sincere to her hazy mind. 

She smiled brightly, then said. “You have to be the husband. I will not marry if you are not the husband.”

Harry laughed. She won’t even remember this, but she’d just asked him to marry her. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Gladly, Y/N. I would love to be your husband.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “You’re only twenty one!” 

“You’re the one who asked me,” Harry shrugged. “Now can we go?”

Y/N nodded, and then got into the car. 

On the short drive back, she kept asking Harry random questions, then she kept apologising for dragging him out of bed.

“Sorry you had to come get me.”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”

He took her to his place and tucked her onto the couch while he grabbed a glass of water. She squinted at it like it offended her.

She frowned at it. “I want to eat something.�� 

“Okay, I have some fruit if you want. But you need to drink this first.”

“No.”

“Drink it before I pour it on your head.” Y/N took the glass from him but rolled her eyes. 

Soon, she was curled up under his arm in bed, her makeup smudged, hair a mess, but comfortable in Harry’s clothes. She looked like the msot adorable thing ever to him.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she mumbles. “You’re my favourite person.” She yawned. 

“I know. Go to sleep, darling.” he replies, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

She lifts her head to grin. “Were you worried?”

“A bit. You call me at 1 am screeching in the middle of the road.”

“But you like rescuing me,” she says, sleepy. “You can do it anytime you want.”

“I do,” he murmurs. “But next time, don’t try and steal a dog statue, okay?”

She giggles again, already half-asleep. “No promises.”

****

thanks anon for the idea. this was so fun to write!

[practistyles]

drunk

(everyone wants him extra)

In which Y/N drunk calls Harry while on a night out and he comes running. (based on this ask. thanks!!)

word count: 1.1 k

series masterlist here.

Y/N rarely ever got drunk. She’d told Harry that she hated the peer pressure that came with, the idea that you could only have fun with alcohol in your system. This is why she didn’t really like partying, because you rarely ever found sober people there. Y/N usually found it entertaining to be the only sober person in a room, but only for a little while. 

And Harry hugely respected that. He was all for a good party, and obviously he would love it always if Y/N came with him, but she had her own thing going on and anyway he liked having her all to himself most of all. 

Today the roles were switched. Y/N told him that she was having a night out with her friends, and Harry didn’t expect to feel so excited for her. She’d expressed nervousness about it before, so he was really happy that she was trying it out with her friends, who she’d said were party animals. 

Harry decided to go all in for this reversal of roles, and decided to spend the night in his room, scrolling on his phone, maybe trying to finally start writing his paper that was due next week. 

And then his phone rang, loud and jarring in the silence of his room. He reached for his phone on his sidetable, and his heart did that usual soaring thing when he saw Y/N’s name. 

He answered, slightly confused, because it was almost one thirty in the night and she should be out there dancing. 

“Hello?”

“Harryyy,” Y/N’s voice said from the other end. Her voice was slurred and higher pitched than it usually was. He heard some kind of chanting in the background. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t find you,” she said, sounding deeply betrayed. “I looked everywhere and you’re just not here.”

Harry blinked. “Well, baby, that’s because I’m at home. Remember? You went out tonight?”

There was a long pause, then she said, “Oh. That makes sense.”

He was already out of bed, grabbing his jeans. “Are you having fun at least?”

“Nooo,” she groaned. “It’s kind of hard to stand and I wanted to say hi to you.”

“What?” Harry said. He looked around for his keys, ready to leave the house. “Are your friends with you?”

“No, this man is not my friend.” 

Harry felt a kind of panic forming in his chest. “Y/N. What man?”

“I told him you’re a boxer with huge muscles!” she giggled. Then, she whispered, “Can you bring me your big gloves?”

Harry snorts. “I’m not a boxer.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that.”

He put his shoes on and stepped out his door. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here! I’m waving. Can you see me?”

“God,” Harry groaned. “Go into your phone and into my messages and send me your location, okay? Can you do that?” He knew it was a reach. 

“Oh my god, Harry! There is a shiny dog here. He’s so cute. Can we take him with us?”

“Okay, stay put. I’m coming to get you.” Harry assumed she was in the club next to the statue of Dixie The Dog. He wondered how he would convince her that they couldn’t steal a statue.

*****

He got his flatmate Zayn’s car, and when he drove up he found her sitting on the pavement with her hands over her knees. She brightened up at the sight of him, and Harry parked at the side of the road and stepped out. 

“My boyfriend!” Y/N said loudly. A few heads nearby turned, some of them even the girls Y/N had come out with. One of the girls came over to them. “Hey, are you Harry?” Harry nodded as Y/N clung onto his arm. 

“Look, Anna! He’s here. Isn’t he so pretty?”

Anna smiled. “She’s been asking for you for the last hour. Said that you were gonna beat up someone for her?”

Harry nodded solemly. “Sounds about right.”

“She’s all yours.”

“Unfortunately,” he muttered under his breath, but he smiled. “Thanks.” 

Harry held onto her waist and guided her to the car. He tried looking around for the ‘man’ Y/N mentioned, but there was not many people around. 

“Harry,” Y/N started again, slightly swaying. Harry held onto her tighter. 

“Yes, baby.” 

“I want to get married.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay.”

“It’s going to be beautiful. You’ll cry.” 

“I bet.” He opened the car door for her and guided her in, but she turned around to face him instead, crowded up against the car. She leaned forward with puckered lips to kiss his nose. 

“Hi,” she whispered and then broke out into little giggles. Harry smiled. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with affection for this girl. He leaned froward to bump their noses. 

“I can’t believe you like me,” Y/N whispered to herself, but Harry felt almost sad at her words. He cradles her jaw in his palm and lifted her face up. “I much, much more than like you, Y/N.” He hoped he sounded sincere to her hazy mind. 

She smiled brightly, then said. “You have to be the husband. I will not marry if you are not the husband.”

Harry laughed. She won’t even remember this, but she’d just asked him to marry her. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Gladly, Y/N. I would love to be your husband.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “You’re only twenty one!” 

“You’re the one who asked me,” Harry shrugged. “Now can we go?”

Y/N nodded, and then got into the car. 

On the short drive back, she kept asking Harry random questions, then she kept apologising for dragging him out of bed.

“Sorry you had to come get me.”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”

He took her to his place and tucked her onto the couch while he grabbed a glass of water. She squinted at it like it offended her.

She frowned at it. “I want to eat something.” 

“Okay, I have some fruit if you want. But you need to drink this first.”

“No.”

“Drink it before I pour it on your head.” Y/N took the glass from him but rolled her eyes. 

Soon, she was curled up under his arm in bed, her makeup smudged, hair a mess, but comfortable in Harry’s clothes. She looked like the msot adorable thing ever to him.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she mumbles. “You’re my favourite person.” She yawned. 

“I know. Go to sleep, darling.” he replies, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

She lifts her head to grin. “Were you worried?”

“A bit. You call me at 1 am screeching in the middle of the road.”

“But you like rescuing me,” she says, sleepy. “You can do it anytime you want.”

“I do,” he murmurs. “But next time, don’t try and steal a dog statue, okay?”

She giggles again, already half-asleep. “No promises.”

****

thanks anon for the idea. this was so fun to write!

[practistyles]

I love their bantering 😭🫶

Car wash | H.S

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The Sigma boys are running a car wash fundraiser.

Main Masterlist

Windows Facing Masterlist

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The sun beats down mercilessly on the Saturday afternoon, turning the frat row into a humid playground of college chaos. Outside the Sigma house, shirtless boys with washcloths and soap buckets have taken over the street, their "CAR WASH $10" sign tilting precariously against a tree. Music blasts from massive speakers someone has dragged outside, bass thumping so hard it makes the windows of surrounding buildings vibrate.

Y/N sits cross-legged on her bed, textbooks spread around her, golden-brown hair piled in a messy bun atop her head. She's trying—and failing—to focus on her psychology reading. The music alone is distracting enough, but it's the occasional bursts of laughter and shouting that keep pulling her attention to the window.

She sighs, pushing her reading glasses up her nose, when a sudden splash hits her window, making her jump. Water trickles down the glass, distorting her view of the chaos below.

"What the—" she mutters, moving to the window just as another splash hits, this time partially coming through the small opening at the bottom, sprinkling her shirt with water droplets. "Are you kidding me?"

Below, Harry Styles stands with a garden hose in hand, water glistening on his bare torso, dark jeans soaked and clinging to his thighs. His hair is pushed back, curls damp and wild, that infuriating smirk plastered across his face.

"Oi! Sleeping Beauty! Your tower's looking a bit dirty!" he calls up, his British accent carrying clearly over the music. "Thought I'd help with the cleaning!"

Y/N pushes the window fully open, leaning out with narrowed eyes. "Some of us are trying to study, Styles! Not everyone has the luxury of coasting through college on daddy's money and good hair!"

Harry clutches his chest dramatically. "She thinks my hair is good! Did you hear that, lads?" he calls to his friends, who whoop in response. "Come down and join us! We're raising money for..." he turns to Niall, who's soaping up a Honda nearby.

"Children's hospital!" Niall shouts.

"Mental health awareness!" Louis corrects from somewhere.

"Our spring break trip to Cancun!" Zayn adds honestly, earning a splash from Harry.

Harry turns back to Y/N with a grin. "Very worthy causes, as you can see. Your psychology expertise could be valuable!"

"I'm studying!" she calls down, trying not to notice how his wet jeans cling to every muscle.

"Studying what? How to be boring on a perfect Saturday?" Harry aims the hose again, this time getting a direct hit through the window, spraying her shirt and face.

"STYLES!" she shrieks, slamming the window shut as he doubles over laughing below.

Y/N storms away from the window, grabbing a towel to dry her face and now partially soaked white t-shirt. She's muttering curses when a knock sounds at her door. Three quick, rhythmic taps she recognizes immediately.

She ignores it. The knocking continues, more insistent.

"Y/N! I know you're in there! I can hear you plotting my murder!" Harry's voice calls through the door.

With an exasperated sigh, she throws the towel down and marches to the door, yanking it open to find Harry leaning against the frame, still shirtless, water droplets trailing down his chest and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. His hair is pushed back, curls starting to dry in the ridiculous way that somehow looks perfectly styled.

"What. Do. You. Want." she enunciates each word through gritted teeth.

Harry's eyes immediately drop to her wet shirt, which is now slightly transparent, clinging to her curves. His smirk widens. "Well, this is a lovely welcome."

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest, her cheeks flushing. "Eyes up here, frat boy. You have ten seconds before I slam this door on your pretty face."

"You think my face is pretty too? The compliments just keep coming," he grins, stepping forward uninvited. "Our blender broke. Need to borrow yours."

"You have an entire house of boys and not one working blender?" she asks skeptically, not moving from the doorway.

"Liam tried to blend a whole pineapple. With the skin on." He shrugs as if this explains everything. "Also, I need some ice. And cups. And maybe that tequila I saw last time I was here."

Y/N raises an eyebrow. "You mean when you climbed through my window because you locked yourself out of your room? That was tequila for MY margarita night with MY friends."

"Sharing is caring, love." He pushes past her into the apartment, leaving damp footprints on her floor. "Also, do you have any of those little sandwich things? The ones with cucumber you made for that study group? The lads are starving, and you're a much better cook than any of us."

Y/N closes the door, watching in disbelief as Harry makes himself completely at home, opening her fridge and peering inside.

"You know, most people call before they drop by. Or, I don't know, ASK before raiding someone's kitchen." She leans against the counter, trying to look annoyed despite the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

Harry grabs an apple from her fruit bowl, taking a loud bite. "Most people aren't me, though, are they?" he says through a mouthful. "Besides, you love my spontaneous visits."

"I tolerate them at best," she corrects, reaching for the apple and snatching it away. "And you're dripping all over my floor."

Harry looks down at the puddle forming around his feet, then back up with a shameless grin. "I could take the jeans off too if that would help?"

"Don't you dare," Y/N warns, though her eyes briefly flicker down his torso before she catches herself. "Why aren't you downstairs washing cars like the rest of your fraternity minions?"

"Taking a strategic break. Louis said I was hogging all the attention from the sorority girls." He leans closer, dropping his voice. "But really, I just wanted to see if I could make you blush again. Mission accomplished."

Y/N rolls her eyes, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks. "You're insufferable."

"You're beautiful when you're annoyed," he counters smoothly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

She swats his hand away, but not before a small shiver runs through her at the contact. "Flattery will not get you my blender, Styles."

Harry's smile softens just slightly, something genuine breaking through the usual cockiness. "What will, then? I'll do anything. Liam's determined to make these frozen daiquiris for the after-wash party, and if I return empty-handed, I'll never hear the end of it."

Y/N pretends to consider this, tapping her chin. "Anything?"

"Within reason," Harry clarifies quickly, knowing her too well.

"Fine. You can borrow the blender IF you promise to keep the music down after 11, AND you owe me one favor to be determined later." She crosses her arms, looking pleased with herself.

Harry narrows his eyes, considering. "You drive a hard bargain, psychology girl. But deal." He holds out his hand to shake.

When she takes it, he pulls her slightly closer, his green eyes locking with her hazel ones. "You should come to the party tonight. Might be fun to see you let loose for once."

Y/N pulls her hand away, ignoring the lingering warmth. "I have studying to do."

"All work and no play makes Y/N a dull girl," he sings, moving to her cabinet where he knows she keeps appliances. "I'll save you a dance anyway."

As he locates the blender, Y/N can't help but notice the muscles in his back flexing with the movement, the way water still clings to his skin. She quickly averts her eyes when he turns around.

"See something you like?" he teases, catching her gaze.

"Just making sure you don't steal anything else," she retorts.

Harry clutches the blender to his chest, backing toward the door. "Just this and your thoughts, love. See you tonight?"

"In your dreams, Styles," she calls as he opens the door.

He winks, that infuriating dimple appearing. "Always, Y/N. Every single night."

The door closes behind him, leaving Y/N staring at the wet footprints on her floor, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips despite her best efforts to suppress it.

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Taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy @toosarcastic03 @practistyles @sstyleszzz @sassamanda77 @wheredidmyeyesgo @pbandnutella @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinemaa @bethiegurl19 @harryssunflower17

a/n: please let me know if I’ve forgotten anyone.

[practistyles]

gonna be so real, i'm dying to write a fic based on a bollywood film... would be so cool because all those movies are literally wattpad stories anyway... hmmm....

[practistyles]

this picture is special

[practistyles]

aaaaaahh thank you so much!! I’m OBSESSED with your fics so I’m really glad you liked this ♥️

party 4 u

Inspirations: party 4 u by charli xcx my queen!!

In this part: smut!! also mean!harry, exes, slight dom!harry, choking (light), slapping (light), unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, size kink, belly bulge kink👀 , dirty talk, soft!harry at the end

word count: 2.5k

Y/N stood with her hip against the kitchen counter, frowning at everyone over her glass, as the lights and music thumped. She'd been stood here for a while, not because she liked the people here - she didn't even know them, or because the food was good - she wasn't hungry. The only thing that rumbled in her belly was a deep, fiery need.

A need to see Harry saunter in through her front door. She was down bad. It had been a month since they'd last seen each other, and as much as Y/N could tell herself she'd thrown his party because she needed to let loose and have fun, she knew the real reason deep down.

He still wasn't here, and now Y/N couldn't remember why they'd fought. Why she'd screamed, and he'd screamed back, and she'd locked him out in the middle of the night. The next day, he had moved out. And honestly, that first week without him, Y/N was happy. She felt free and joyful and embraced her single status. But now everything was different. She wanted to be near him, she wanted to feel his hands on her. Anytime she thought of fucking someone else to satisfy the itch, an ugly pit formed in her stomach.

She'd thought it was very smart to have this party, to invite all their common friends and ask them to bring everyone. She made sure someone texted Harry. But it seemed very much like there was no use. He was nowhere to be seen.

Y/N pushed herself away from the counter, avoiding the calls of some of her friends. Her mood was sour. What could he be doing instead? Y/N felt the snake of jealousy crawl up her chest. She'd been feeling restless enough this entire week, and she'd convinced herself that today was the day Harry and her would finally talk. But now she guessed she'd lie alone in her bed.

Outside the kitchen, people danced and grinded against each other. Y/N wanted to shove every single person outside her house. But she smiled as people pulled her into their groups, and she had no choice but to sway her hips along to the music.

She turned around, throwing her hands above and shaking her head, and then, their eyes met. Y/N's body kept moving, but she felt mentally paralysed. Harry stood in his black jacket at the edge of the room, sipping from a drink, eyeing everyone like they crowd bored him. He smirked, and lifted his drink up at Y/N. She saw his eyes move up and down her body, and every single thing she felt for him came rushing back.

She turned her body back toward the music, trying to ignore the way her entire body buzzed, but her head just wasn’t in it anymore.

He was here. He came.

She felt him before she saw him again - cutting through the crowd like a tide, eyes laser focused on Y/N. His hair had grown out a bit, and his emerald green eyes flashed in the lighting. There was a tingling in her belly, amplifying every minute.

And then he was beside her. He ducked his head to put his mouth next to her ear. "Nice party," he whispered. Y/N forgot how deeply his voice affected her too. She felt his lips almost graze her ear, and the shiver that went through her body was almost shameful.

"Didn't think you'd show up," she said. Huge lie.

Harry cocked a brow at her. "Really? I would say that all you've thought about is me showing up."

"Don't boost your ego too much. I just wanted to let loose."

Harry's face was impassive. With a clench of his jaw, he put his hands on Y/N's waist and turned her around to be pressed up against him. "Why'd you stop dancing then, hm?" He patted her hip. And like she was hypnotised, her hips started slowly moving side to side again. Harry's arms slid all the way around her waist, and he leaned in closer. Y/N felt intoxicated on his smell, mixed in with a bit of whatever drink he'd had.

"Tell me the truth, Y/N," he started, moving along with her. "No call, no text. But this entire house full of people just to run into me. Am I right?"

His fingers wandered underneath her top, pressing lightly at her belly. Y/N contained her groan but let her head fall back into the crook of his neck.

"Only threw this party for me, didn't you?"

Y/N turned around to face him, and she could tell he was just as turned on. She leaned in close, seeing how far she could go, and then her tongue shot out to lick against his jaw. Harry's breath hitched, and Y/N revelled in it.

"You know me so well. Why did you come, Harry?"

Harry's hands slid up her body to her neck. He put a bit of pressure, and Y/N's eyes almost rolled back, but then he went higher up and pressed her cheeks together, making her lips pout.

"Same reason as you I guess. Missed this little bratty mouth." He released her. "That's exactly what you are, right? A little brat, just dying for a bit of attention from me."

Y/N tugged on his shirt. "I could go to anyone..." she started, but he did not let her finish. He grabbed her hand, pulling her with him down the hallway into her room. As the door shut, Y/N was slammed against it, and Harry's mouth was on hers.

Y/N groaned into his mouth as he moved his tongue around dominantly, and bit her lip before releasing her.

"Don’t even think about touching anyone else" he spat out. "You understand?"

Y/N nodded. She was a bit too far gone in her horny state of mind to care about any self respect she had.

"Say it," Harry said. He lightly slapped her cheek with his palm. "Missed this, didn't you? Missed being roughed around by me."

She kept her head nodding. "Yes, Harry, fuck. I'm yours, just please..."

"God, Y/N, already begging. What do you want, hm?" Harry's fingers reached inside her pants. The moment they made contact with her wet, bare pussy, he groaned.

"Fuck, baby. I missed how wet you get." He slipped one finger inside Y/N, and she felt like she was going to burst with bliss. She moved her hips around his finger, head turning away from him, eyes shut tight. It was just one finger, but she felt full and achy already.

"More, please..." she whined, and Harry chuckled meanly. He put another finger inside her and Y/N let out a lewd moan.

“This what you want?” Harry growled, burying his fingers deep inside her until the heel of his palm was pressed tight against her clit. He rotated his hand, slow and deliberate.

Y/N nearly screamed. “Harry—oh my God!" She couldn’t do much but revel in the pleasure rolling through her body. It wasn’t enough. She needed more.

Y/N reached down and pushed his hand away from her pussy. Without a word, Harry brought his fingers up to her mouth, tapping gently at her lips.

“Open up,” he said.

Her mouth parted automatically, and he slid his fingers between her lips. “Suck.”

She wrapped around them, sucking greedily, tasting herself. Harry's free hand came up to wrap around her neck, squeezing possessively. His voice was strained.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so hot. You know that?”

She sucked harder in response, her eyes fluttering shut, needing him in every way.

“I want you,” she whimpered around his fingers, but he understood. He always did.

“You want my cock? Think you deserve it?”

“I’ve been good,” she mumbled.

“Yeah? But can you take it?” he taunted, pulling his fingers from her mouth, eyes dark.

“I can. I will. Harry, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll beg...”

He clapped a hand over her mouth, pressing her back against the wall. “Shut up. I got it,” he hissed. “You’re just needy for my cock, aren’t you? Can’t think about anything else.”

Y/N shook her head frantically, tears of frustration starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. Harry unbuckled his jeans, shoving them down with one hand. Y/N groaned at the sight of his bulge, thick, hard, perfect, and reached for him instantly.

Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock and she let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut. She forgot how big he was, how heavy, how deep he could reach inside he, and she needed him now.

Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as she stroked him once, then twice.

“Hands off,” he warned, voice rough.

She let out a whine of protest.

“You only touch what I tell you to.”

He grabbed both her wrists and pinned them behind her back, pressing her harder into the door. Harry pumped himself a few times and lined himself up to her entrance. Y/N felt like she was on a rollercoaster, waiting for the peak to happen. She felt him nudge her hole with his cock and she jerked forward at the contact.

When he finally pushed in, he was kinder than she'd thought. He didn't slam all the way in, but tortured her with a slow, increasing pace. When he pushed all the way in, Harry slammed his palm on the door behind Y/N.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed. His forehead came to rest next to hers, and he stayed still for a second, buried deep inside her. Y/N felt like she had passed out for a second. She didn't think she'd ever felt this full, even they fucked before. She moved her hips around and another noise drew out from Harry.

He pulled back and put his hand against her stomach, pressing lightly. "Fuck, I can feel my cock in here, baby. So deep inside you."

"Oh my god," Y/N whined at the visual. "So fucking deep, feel you everywhere."

Harry suddenly pulled out and jerked his hips forward. Y/N cried out. "Your little belly just swells up with me in it, doesn't it? Tiny little hole you've got. I can tell you didn't let anyone else in here," he said and bought his fingers to strum on her clit.

"Just you," Y/N trembled. "Harry, I'm going to cum," she cried. He said nothing, just increased his strokes. His cock bullied in and out of her pussy which opened up for him nice and easy with how wet she was. The sound of the door rattling behind them accompanied the squelch of his hips snapping at her soaking pussy.

Y/N came suddenly and all at once. She went completely silent and she felt something burst within her. Her eyes rolled back and her head tilted up against the door. Harry continued to hammer in and her pussy squeezed him tight as she came.

Her orgasm only made him go harder. Y/N's hip bone hurt with how hard she was being pressed into the door behind. Harry continued rubbing her clit, and Y/N felt faint. "It's a lot," she whined. "Too big, I can't take it anymore Harry..."

"Aw is it too much for your cunt? Just want your own and be done, huh?"

"Noooo," she cried.

"Bad luck, Y/N. I haven't had your cunt in a month. Gonna have my fill now." He continued thrusting, and Y/N felt the rise of another orgasm.

"Please," she pleaded, not sure if she was begging him to go harder or easier on her.

"You gonna cum again?"

Y/N shook her head no — even though her body said something completely different.

"You will. I wanna feel your cunt squeeze my big cock again. She’s so good to me even after all this time away. You can pretend all you want to hate me, Y/N, but no doubt your little wet pussy missed me a lot."

Y/N was crying now. Tears rolled down her cheeks. This is what she wanted — but she forgot how good, how full, how too much it felt. How deep he got inside her, how her entire body seemed to open up just for him.

Harry periodically slammed his fist against the door. Y/N was sure people knew what was going on behind it — with the way the moans were ripping out of her, the way Harry was fucking them out of her so clearly.

She felt the bubble pop again and she screamed — only to be silenced by Harry stuffing something in her mouth. It was her underwear, she hadn’t even realised when he’d snapped it off her, but it muffled her screams and loud moaning.

Harry was breathing hard and deep. He pulled out of her, and Y/N saw his cock glistening with her juices. She drooled at the sight of his red, angry, pulsing tip.

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down to her knees. He tapped her cheek with his wet cock, and Y/N opened her mouth.

"I’m gonna cum in your other hole so you can swallow me into your belly, okay, baby?"

Y/N nodded and opened up wide. Harry grabbed her underwear out of her mouth and threw it behind him. He tapped his cock on her tongue, and a deep moan left him. Y/N wrapped her lips around his cock and moved her head up and down his length. Harry thrust his hips in time with her movements, and in no time, she felt his warm cum flood her mouth.

There was a lot of him, but Harry pressed her mouth down all the way to the base of his cock — and she had no choice but to swallow it all. She kept sucking and trying to lick, she wanted to please him as much as he had her, and she knew what he liked.

Harry pulled out of her, a string of saliva connected his cock to her mouth. He pulled her up, and Y/N was barely able to function with how hard she'd been fucked. Harry let her fall against him.

"My good girl," he cooed, and kissed over her face. "I missed you so much," he said, the roughness leaving his voice. Y/N felt her heart flutter. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him, to walk her to her bed. Harry put Y/N in, and her eyelids fluttered with tiredness.

"Where do we go from here, H?" Y/N mumbled as Harry pulled the covers over her.

"Well for starters, party over. I'm gonna throw everyone out. And next time you want to get fucked just find me, okay?"

Y/N smiled. "Are you gonna stay?"

Harry's face fell. "I don't know, might not be the best idea."

Y/N frowned. "You can't leave after you just fucked me full."

He needed no convincing. Harry nodded. "Fine, baby. Go to sleep. I'll be back."

Y/N snuggled deeper into bed, feeling the soreness all over her body. She knew she was gonna wake up with his head in between her legs.

****

this was so hard to smash out for some reason. writing smut is still a bit weird for me lol but anyway hope this was fun!! i couldn't stop thinking of this scene. we love a bit of mean dom h. 🤭

also idk if people who wanted to be tagged for ewh want to be tagged for all posts. so let me know if you want to be tagged for all posts!

[practistyles]

MASTERLIST

hello, thank you so much for being here and wanting to read my stories! I am a uni student with a challenging (for me, at least) degree so i will probably post really slow! sorry about that but i hope u like these stories hehe

smut is marked with a *

divider credits: @cafekitsune

SERIES:

everyone wants him

in which Harry is obsessed with Y/N but she doesn't want anyone to know about them and for good reason; college au, fratrry vibes

ONE SHOTS:

party 4 u*

Y/N and Harry are exes but she only threw this party for him.

...more to come soon!

feel free to send ideas and asks, and let me know in the comments or asks to be added in a tag list.