r7diants

[r7diants]

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

[r7diants]

Worshiped

Who doesn’t love a simp-y Harry? I’ve been in a kick lately of writing him but this is next level. He loves his girl and does not play about her!

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WC- 4k

Warnings- smut, soft dom!H but some switch vibes, praise kink, spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight pain kink on his end, oral, etc

With her standing there in the dress he had bought her, he found himself thoroughly distracted by the way the fabric hugged her body. A body he had no idea how whoever was the creator of life itself managed to sculpt, because just being able to see it was a gift from the gods. His hands traced her silhouette, starting from her shoulders and slowly moving down her arms, then around to her waist.

"Fuck me, Angel…." His lips muttered softly, more to himself than to her. "You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?" Thumbs gently traced the waistline of the dress, admiration clear in his voice. It would be hard for her to forget with how often he tried to remind her, but he still did wonder if she ever truly got it. If she could fathom how insanely other worldly she was.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, golden hue over the room, highlighting her in a different way than the rest of the night had. The candlelight in the restaurant had been incredible to see her in, but this was special.. Any difference if lighting had him appreciating her in a different way, but something about the glow of their bedroom, the most intimate place of the house had him feeling it tenfold. 

Harry lingered behind her, unashamed as he allowed his ring clad hands to slowly explore the dips of her body. Y/N was a masterpiece he couldn't get enough of, as if someone had dipped their paintbrush into the depths of his foggy brain and brought his ideal to life. Nimble fingers traced the delicate lace detailing on the bodice of the lavender dress, feeling the soft fabric breathe heat against her skin. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her neck, grinning to himself as he felt her shiver at the touch.

"I need this off you, please." Returning to her shoulders, he made work of slowly pushing the delicate straps down her arms. As the fabric fell away, exposing her bare décolletage, he let out a soft puff of a breath against her hair. “You are… Unreal.” His words were quiet, but he knew she could hear them over the sound of the fabric being dragged down her form. In his mind, it was in the top five sounds he could hear from her, right underneath the breathy moan of his name and slightly above the little gasp she made when he smacked her ass. 

 Y/N simply stood there, letting him remove the dress completely until she was standing before him stripped bare. The dress fell from her body and onto the floor with a soft whisper, allowing Harry a moment to truly appreciate the view before him. Her body was like a damn map that he had become all too familiar with but wanted to study every day so he never had the opportunity to forget. The dip in her lower back that he loved to kiss. The waist that his hands loved to grasp. The pretty ass that he had smacked more times than he could count. Her long legs and those thighs that had his mouth watering, he had a hard time keeping it together. Her stomach, soft and sensitive every time he kissed it. Her breasts were made for his palms and nipples perfect to pinch. He loved her body. He loved her body. every single part of her called to the base level of his attraction. He couldn't help himself.

Harry had always been a man who appreciated a woman's body, but the higher power had truly outdone herself with Y/N's.

It was hard to not love her body. Especially when it fit every part of him like a puzzle piece. He loved how it was soft where he was hard- How it was round where he was angular. He had a hard time getting over the dip in her waist and how his large hands could span it. God, did he adore her thighs and how they felt wrapped around his waist. Sometimes his favorite was the curve of her ass and how it fit up against him when he bottomed out inside of her- but he was careful to choose favorites when he had so many. She was made out of a fantasy he hadn’t been creative enough to conjure up himself, only able to fathom it in front of his own eyes.

She let out a small hum, shivering slightly as his eyes worshipped her body. Y/N knew he loved looking at her naked. He was almost like an artist, taking his time to study every little thing. She trusted him implicitly with her body, so when she felt him press against her back, she automatically leaned back into him, letting her body mold against his like it always did. Her bottom pushed back against his crotch, making him grunt softly. Her head fell back against his chest, baring her neck to him. 

"Fucking beautiful." The man murmured against her skin, his voice husky as it remained quiet. His hand palmed her breast, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her soft flesh as possible. It was selfish of him to want to be all over her, but it’s all he wanted. Really, it felt like a need to have his hands touching every inch of her even if it wasn’t fully possible. Kneading the soft mound of her breast, his thumb brushed over her hardening nipple with a soft coo. Feeling her react was a privilege he didn’t take lightly. His other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her flush against him. Nuzzling himself into the crook of her neck, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her sensitive skin.

 "God, you're gorgeous. Can’t get over it.” He whispered against her, his touch soft and slow. His fingers gently pinched her nipple, making her arch back against him with a soft whining sound leaving her swollen lips. "Look at you. My gorgeous girl…" The man murmured, taking her in. "You're a damn goddess. Every inch of you is made to be worshipped. N’I’m your main follower." His lips found the particular spot she liked underneath her ear, letting his tongue brush it before sucking softly on the skin. "Y’know I'm obsessed with you, yeah baby? Like dangerously obsessed?"

Y/N could feel his obsession in every touch, in every whispered word. She loved how he worshipped her and how he always made her feel cherished. Most of all, she loved how he talked to her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. She loved his hands on her nearly all the time, like he couldn’t help but touch her- and how he always made her feel protected, honored. Even when he was filthy, in the depths of their passion, Harry had no issue with making her feel worshiped. She turned her head to the side, allowing him better access to her neck as she whispered back "You are. I love it."

It was the truth. Y/N had wondered if someday, someone would be able to match the amount of passion she knew she could bring into a relationship. It was hard to imagine someone feeling so intensely in the way that she did, but she had met her match when Harry had waltzed into her life.

"You love it?" he murmured against her skin, a coo of pleasure in his voice. He nipped at her spot to make her squirm a little in his arms, soothing the small sting with his tongue. "You love how fucking obsessed I am with you, my perfect girl?" His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splaying out possessively. "You love how I can't keep my hands off you? How m’always touching you, kissing you, fucking you until I break? Because that’s what y’do to me. Ruined and saved me all at the same time.” He was waxing on and he knew it, but it was only her right to know how twisted up she managed to get him. “All I can think about is how much I love you,I spend my days dreaming about you. S’that make you happy?"

"Yes." The word came out breathy and needy as he continued to run his hands south. "I love how you can't keep your hands off me. I love how you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every single day." She met his eyes in the mirror as she continued in the whisper, despite there being no need to keep the volume low. The intimacy of it all had it cocooning them in their own personal bubble.. "I love how you speak to me like I'm your own personal heaven."

"Oh, but darling… You are." Harry groaned, his hand sliding between her legs to get a taste of it. "My own personal fucking heaven. If I’ve died n’this is where I end up, I don’t want anyone t’bring me back. I want to live here." The words were murmured against her neck, his fingers finding her wet and ready for him between her sacred thighs. "So sweet and so fuckin’ mine," he praised, his touch gentle and calculated as he pet her, making her gasp. "You're my everything, Y/N. My love, my life, my whole fucking world." His other hand came up to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger again to get her to let out one of those pretty noises again. 

"My beautiful girl," He crooned, his damp fingers slipping through her slick folds, parting her gently. "My precious, precious love…" His fingers found her sensitive bud, circling it slowly and feeling her pulse against his fingertips. Having the key to his pleasure in the palm of his hand was a gift he wasn’t going to waste. "What am I going to do with you, hm? How should I spend my night ensuring you know just how much you make me feel?”

His fingers continued their maddeningly slow circles around her clit, teasing her mercilessly. "Tell me," he spoke, his voice a low rumble against her ear, "Do you want me to fuck this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name? Or should I worship it with my mouth until you're dripping down my chin, begging for my cock?" His other hand tweaked her nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. "How should I show my goddess that she's worshipped?"

"Both," Y/N gasped breathlessly, her body arching into his touch. "Fuck, please..." Her eyes fluttered closed briefly before catching his gaze in the mirror again. "I want... I want your mouth first. Make a mess on your face. I want to watch you worship me." Her hips rolled forward, pressing against his fingers that were still teasing her clit. "Then... God, then fuck me into the mattress." She was already panting, her body completely pliant against his. Even if he held the physical power, he would bend at the knee for her. His girl was the one in charge. 

"Knew you'd be a greedy little thing today. S’a good thing I love fulfilling all your desires." He loved how she wasn't shy about telling him what she wanted.  She knew exactly what she liked and how to ask for it, and it made his job of giving it to her a million times easier. "On the bed, then. I’ve missed that cunt. Show it off for me." He removed his hands from her body, albeit a challenge, giving her a gentle pat on the bottom to urge her forward.

Y/N's legs shook slightly as she moved towards the bed, feeling the familiar adrenaline light her up. It was hard not to feel on the good side of the edge knowing she had a man who never, ever failed on delivering what he promised. Once she was standing next to the bed, she slowly climbed on her knees, gripping the duvet with both hands. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes burning with need. "Like this?" She asked hoarsely, spreading her legs wider to expose her glistening cunt to him.

Harry's gaze was riveted to the sight before him. his love, on her knees, bare and open for him. The sight was exquisite. he couldn’t believe how perfect she was. “Yeah, I love you like that. Fucking stunning.” He murmured as he slowly crept closer to her, crawling onto the bed. His large hands gripped her ample ass, his thumbs spreading her wide for his own inspection. “S’My favorite view.”

Harry couldn’t deny that it filled him with a sense of pride to see evidence of her arousal like this. He pushed his fingers through her messy slit, spreading her juices around. The sound of wet, squelching noises filled the room as he touched her, making her whimper softly. "God woman, you're so fucking wet." He muttered, dragging his fingers back and forth through her dripping cunt. It would almost sound like he was pissed but he was anything but. He was aroused, more than ever.

"Look at me." He commanded, his voice deep and authoritative as he continued to spread her juices around her slick cunt. She immediately turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder, her eyes glassy with need. Without breaking eye contact, Harry leaned down and spat directly onto her cunt, the warm liquid mingling with her own arousal. "So fucking filthy," he growled, using his fingers to massage the saliva into her folds. "Just like my girl should be."

Y/N felt slightly lightheaded at the view, the feeling, all of it. As filthy as he claimed for her to be, he was her perfect match. He knew how to make her crazy because he was just as insane. He brought his spit covered fingers up to her mouth, pressing them against her lips. "Taste yourself." Harry ordered. "Taste how fucking wet you get for me. How your cunt cries for me." He held his fingers there, not moving, waiting for her to open up and take them inside. "Go on, baby. Show me how you clean my fingers."

She parted her lips obediently, taking the digits into her mouth. Humming softly, the taste of her arousal sending a fresh wave of heat through her core. It was very dirty, something she wouldn’t have ever thought of liking before, but Harry had managed to open her up to all sorts of things she never thought she would like. Being spit on and cleaning off her taste off his fingers was one of them. As she sucked his fingers clean, she maintained eye contact, her gaze smoldering with lust and obedience because she knew what it did to him. Playing with fire? Perhaps. But Harry would give her what she wanted. After a long moment, she released his fingers with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his digits for a brief second before breaking. 

"Fuck, I love you." It was a strange time to declare it but seeing her do that stuff had him feeling every sort of insane that he ever could. He couldn’t get enough of how she tasted, how she looked on her knees, how she whimpered and begged when he touched her. Slipping his wet fingers back into her cunt, he let out as he moved where he wanted to be- with his mouth right on her. as he buried his face between her thighs, his long fingers curling up to hit that spot inside her that drove her wild and had her humping back to chase the feeling. "My filthy, perfect girl," he mumbled against her flesh, his hot breath making her shudder. "Spread wider f’me, baby. Let me in." He demanded, pushing her thighs further apart to give himself better access.

Finding her clit with his lips, Harry latched onto the sensitive bud and sucked hard, letting his tongue flick over it. Her taste coated on his tongue and he groaned in pleasure, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through her. His arm wrapped around her hips, pulling her cunt closer to his eager mouth as he devoured her like a starving man presented with a feast- his favorite meal. "Fuck, you taste divine." he murmured before sucking her clit back into his mouth eagerly. Harry had tasted plenty of people before and as cliche as it most definitely sounded, Y/N was by far the best he ever had. He could spend days here and not get tired, wear her on his skin if it was appropriate.

"Oh my fucking God," she whimpered, her hips bucking forward as she pressed against his face. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she reached behind to grab him, holding him exactly where she wanted him. "Right there, baby... just like that..." Her voice was breathy and urgent, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue against her sensitive nerves. She could feel every suck, every flick sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body. It was so hot having a man who wanted to make her feel good, but knowing he got off on it too? Hearing his groans and moans and feeling them vibrate against her? That was a whole other level.

"Harry..." She gasped, spreading her legs wider for him, because fuck, what wouldn’t she do for him in this position? " Holy shit." Her back arched slightly as he continued to suck her clit like it was his favorite candy. "Baby, wait..." She tugged lightly on his hair, her thighs tensing around his face. "You're- You're too good at this..." The whimper was lost as his fingers slid back inside her hole, curving up to hit that sweet spot again. "Oh my God." Her inner muscles clenched around his digits. 

Y/N was getting close, he could feel it in the way her legs trembled and her cunt clenched around his fingers. But suddenly, she pulled him away, panting heavily. "Wait, wait.” she gasped, turning around to face him. "I need your cock, Harry. I need you inside me right now." Her eyes were wild with desire, her chest heaving with every breath. "Please, baby. Fuck me." 

He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to finish on his face this time around, but he wasn’t ever going to say no to being inside of her. 

"With pleasure." He growled, quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. Like she was weightless, there was no hesitation in grabbing her hips and flipped her onto her back, settling between her spread thighs. 

The days at the gym spent specifically to be able to toss her around were proving to be very successful, and Y/N made a mental note to test some of that out later.

"You want my cock, baby?" He asked, teasing her entrance with the head of his dick. "You want me to fill you up?" He leaned down to kiss her deeply, silencing the moaned response she gave. He knew what she wanted- that was his job.

With a deep groan against her mouth, his hips pushed forward, sliding his thick dick deep into her. He panted into her mouth as her walls stretched to accommodate him, wrapping around his shaft like a vice. "There we go. S’perfect. M’home." he mumbled against her lips, beginning to move his hips in a steady rhythm. It may be very cliche, cheesy to say, but nothing made him feel as at home as being close to her did. Nothing. He pulled back until just the tip remained inside, then pushed heavily back in, skin colliding with a solid thud.

"Ahh- fuck. Harry…" She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he filled her completely. Her nails dug into his toned back, sure to make the marks he loved as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He set a slow, sensual pace, angling his hips to bury himself as deep as possible with each thrust. Harry wanted to feel every inch of her gripping his cock, each deliberate movement dragged his shaft along her inner ridges, have her feel it just as much. They were made for each other just based on how she took him and he wanted to remind her each and every time. "Feel that, baby?" He purred, his breath hot against her ear. "Feel how deep m’getting? Claiming every fucking inch of this perfect cunt."

He made love to her slowly, his touch everywhere as he adored her body. His thick hands roamed over her, his calloused fingers tracing her soft skin. "My beautiful girl," he murmured, kissing down her neck as he continued to fill her completely as she clung to him. "My precious, precious love..." His touch was soft and gentle the best he could, his movements slow and deep, taking his damn time with her. Every single time he got to be with her in this way was one he cherished, but it was hard to pound into her when he felt overcome with how much he loved the woman. "My treasure..." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "My heaven...S’what you are.” 

There had been no exaggeration on his end. Being inside of her, being close to her was what he considered perfection. Getting to have the woman he would have only ever dreamt about in his physical hands, feeling the heat of her skin on his palms and the pleasure of her wrapped around him like a lock to a key, it was unreal to him at times. Waking up to her face or her voice, getting to be the one she loved was everything he could have asked for. 

 "You're my everything," he breathed, his pace unhurried yet intense. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to hit that spot deep inside her that made her eyes roll back. All he wanted was for his sweet angel to feel good. His thumb brushed gentle circles over her clit in time with his movements, his touch light. "I worship you." The man confessed, voice hitching as she squeezed around him. "Your body... your heart... your fucking soul." He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep, loving kiss, swallowing her whimpers and moans.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured against her lips. His eyes met hers, burning with an intense, adoring gaze. The longer he was with her, the more the fire was stoked. He was engulfed in the flames of her but he never felt it burn. Only the most comfortable warmth someone could ever imagine. 

"I was a lost, broken man before I met you. But you... you put me back together. You made me whole again." His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust meant to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. They were both too close and he knew it, but this wasn’t the end of their night. It was only the beginning. Burying himself deep inside her, his hips grinding against hers as he felt the nails dig into his back and her mouth open to whimper his name, he let out a breathless laugh as she lost herself on his cock. "Yeah- that’s what I want, baby. Let go on me. Give me everything, and M’gonna give it right back.” It was what he was meant to do. Harry didn’t know before Y/N, but he sure as hell knew now. “You're my redemption, my salvation, my fucking everything. M’gonna spend my whole life showing it"

[r7diants]

could you do a miss possessive (tate mcrae) fic for harry??

do whatever you want with it, smutty if you think it fits right

MISS POSSESSIVE

THIS IDEA IS SOOO GOOD THANK U!!!! no warnings, just some ass grabbing from harry heh…

༺☆༻

the lake party was buzzing—warm air thick with the scent of sunscreen, charcoal smoke, and the unmistakable pulse of a summer playlist echoing off the water. people were everywhere: draped across dock chairs, clinking bottles, slipping in and out of the lake like it was their second skin. harry had his shirt off, sunglasses on, curls damp from a dip, and that stupid, perfect smile plastered across his face as he laughed with some girl near the dock.

you watched from the back porch, drink in hand, your jaw tight. she was tall, tan, laughing too loud at a joke he hadn’t even finished, her hand lingering a little too long on his arm.

you knew harry loved you. he made that clear in a thousand quiet ways. but still—watching someone else try to sink their claws into what was yours stirred something hot and sour in your chest.

“you gonna burn a hole through the back of his head with that stare?” someone joked behind you.

“might,” you muttered, already setting your drink down.

harry turned toward you just as you walked over, and you slipped your arm casually—deliberately—around his waist, fingers dragging just under the waistband of his swim trunks. he raised an eyebrow, amused, his arm curling around your shoulders with ease.

“hey, babe,” he said, leaning to press a kiss to your temple, lips lingering. “you good?”

“mhm,” you said sweetly, staring directly at the girl as you smiled like a wolf in lipstick. “just thought i’d come say hi. didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

harry smirked, eyes flicking between you and her, fully aware of the tension. “we were just talkin’ about the water. she asked if it’s cold.”

“oh, how thoughtful,” you replied, voice smooth as honey. “i’m sure you had so much to say.”

the girl blinked, gave a tight smile, and—thank god—made up some excuse about needing another drink before disappearing into the crowd.

harry looked down at you, grinning now. “you’re jealous.”

“shut up.”

“you are,” he said, tugging you closer with both arms now, practically hugging you from the side. “s’cute.”

you elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “you let her touch you for too long.”

“she touched my arm, love, not my—”

“harry.”

“okay, okay,” he laughed, nuzzling into your neck just to be annoying. “you wanna go inside for a sec? kitchen’s quiet.”

you rolled your eyes, but followed him in anyway, slipping past a few people until the two of you were alone in the little lake house kitchen, the screen door creaking shut behind you.

he turned to face you, leaning against the counter. “didn’t like seein’ someone else talk to me?”

you crossed your arms. “i know she was into you.”

“well, that’s unfortunate,” he said, pushing off the counter and walking over. “’cause i’m into you.”

he stopped in front of you, hands settling lightly on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles through the fabric of your sundress.

“you know that, right?” he said, softer now. “every single time. it’s you. girl could’ve stripped naked and jumped in the lake and i still would’ve looked for you.”

you didn’t say anything at first, your jaw clenched, lips twitching like you were trying not to smile.

“besides,” he added, dropping his voice, “i think your little jealous streak is sexy.”

“harry—”

“what?” he grinned, dipping his head until your noses brushed. “you get all hot when you’re mad.”

you laughed then, pushing him back playfully, but he didn’t budge. just slid his arms around you again, holding you tight as he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then finally your lips—slow and lingering, like he wanted to prove it.

harry’s hands rested lightly on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles along the soft fabric of your sundress, like he was memorizing every inch of you again. his green eyes flicked up, catching yours with that familiar mischievous glint—the one that said he knew exactly how much you were simmering beneath the surface.

“still mad?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, like he was enjoying every second of watching you squirm.

you huffed, trying to keep your cool, but your cheeks were betraying you, flushed and warm. “i’m not mad,” you said, voice a little too sharp to be convincing. “i just… didn’t like the way she was looking at you. like you were some prize she could just take.”

he chuckled softly, the sound rumbling against your skin, and took a slow step closer, narrowing the space between you two until you could feel the heat radiating from him. “yeah?” he murmured, his lips curling into that infuriating, charming smile. “well, good thing i already belong to someone, huh?”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t step back. “harry,” you warned, voice low now, the heat rising in your chest. “don’t get too cocky.”

“what?” he said innocently, though his hands slid a little lower on your hips, fingers tightening just a fraction, grounding you to him. “i’m just saying, i’m very taken. painfully taken.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard by the softness in his voice, the sincerity that always seemed to melt you completely. “yeah,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

“you’re adorable when you’re jealous,” harry teased, dipping his head so his nose brushed along your cheek.

you tried to hide the small smile tugging at your lips, but you failed miserably. “you’re annoying.”

“guilty,” he said, voice dropping, breath warm against your skin. “an’ you’re mine.”

those two words hung in the air between you like a promise, like a challenge, like everything you wanted to hear and more.

before you could think twice, your hands were on his neck, pulling him toward you like gravity itself had changed. your lips met his in a kiss that was slow at first—soft and testing, like you were both savoring the moment, the taste of each other. but then it deepened, fierce and urgent, heat building as his hands slipped lower, fingers pressing firmly into your hips.

you gasped against his mouth when his thumb brushed over the sensitive skin at your waist, and harry’s lips curved into a smug smile you could feel even through the kiss.

he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his body warm and steady behind you, anchoring you in place. your heart hammered in your chest as you kissed him harder, tongue sliding against his in a delicious dance that left you dizzy.

harry groaned into your mouth, one hand moving up to cup the back of your neck, holding you close, while the other drifted lower, fingers grazing the curve of your ass in a way that made you shiver.

you bit his bottom lip gently, tugging on the pink flesh, and he shuddered, a low, hungry sound escaping him. “fuck, you’re something else,” he murmured, voice thick with want.

“you like that?” you teased, breathless, nipping at his jawline.

“more than you know,” harry whispered, sliding his hands a little more boldly, pulling you impossibly closer.

time seemed to slow, the world shrinking until it was just you two—the heat between your bodies, the mingled breaths, the racing heartbeats syncing up perfectly.

finally, you broke apart, foreheads resting together, both of you gasping for air but smiling like idiots.

“jesus,” harry said, voice rough but full of laughter. “remind me to make you jealous more often.”

you nudged him playfully with your nose. “don’t push your luck, babe.”

he grinned, capturing your knuckles in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to them. “never. now—wanna go back out there and watch everyone pretend they didn’t just hear us snog in their kitchen?”

you laughed, the tension dissolving into warmth and something softer, something like home. “yeah. let’s give ‘em a show.”

༺☆༻

i hope this was okay babe, love ya!!

[r7diants]

A Moment Of Peace.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here !!

authors note - the devil works fast….but i work faster. this picture is making me go feral!! 😫🩵

word count -800.

in which, first thing in the morning, the only time that you and your husband get any peace is when your both getting ready in the mornings, before the cries of your baby boy disturb you.

It’s around seven thirty in the morning, and the gentle light of early dawn spills across the bedroom like a whisper.

You slowly rise from bed, careful not to wake Harry, who lies tucked in the covers, his arm having slipped from around you moments ago.

At the foot of the bed, your ten-month-old son sleeps peacefully, soft little breaths puffing against the edge of his blanket.

You move quietly into the en-suite bathroom, the air cool and calm around you. Turning on the tap, you splash some water onto your face, feeling the refreshing chill wake you gently.

As your fingers reach for your toothbrush, a pair of warm arms slide around your waist, slow and easy, like a hug made from sleep and love.

You breathe out a soft smile.

“Morning,” you whisper.

“Mm,” Harry murmurs against your shoulder, his voice low and velvety. “Didn’t wanna be away from you.”

You rest your hands over his, leaning into his warmth. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls away just enough to reach over and grab his toothbrush from the pot beside yours.

He doesn’t speak again, just stands quietly beside you, adding a small swirl of toothpaste before beginning to brush his teeth.

You do the same, the two of you moving in quiet rhythm, brushing side by side in the mirror’s soft reflection. His arm brushes gently against yours now and then, a little point of connection in the stillness.

At one point, you glance over, and he’s already looking at you, his eyes soft and sleepy, smile tugging faintly at his lips beneath the toothpaste. You can’t help but smile back.

“You okay?” you ask softly after rinsing your mouth.

He nods, eyes never leaving yours.

“Yeah,” he says, voice barely above a breath. “Just… like this. Being near you.”

You dry your hands, watching as he finishes up, then steps toward you again, wrapping his arms around your waist like it’s second nature. You rest your head lightly against his chest, listening to the gentle beat of his heart.

“I love mornings with you,” he whispers, brushing his lips against your hair.

You smile, your fingers gently curling into his t-shirt. “Feels like the world hasn’t started yet.”

“Exactly,” he breathes, holding you a little closer. “Just us.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment—no rush, no noise but the tap trickling and the distant coo of your son beginning to stir.

“He’s waking,” you say quietly.

You frown playfully at your husband. “The moments of peace were nice whilst they lasted.”

Harry smirks at you and kisses your nose.

“I’ll get him,” Harry murmurs. “You finish here. Take your time.”

He brushes a kiss over your temple, lingering, then gives your waist one last squeeze before slipping out of the room.

And as you stand there, toothbrush in hand and heart full, you hear Harry’s soft voice from the bedroom:

“Hey there, my little love… morning, sweetheart…”

You can hear the quiet squeak of your baby’s contented cooing, followed by Harry’s voice as he scoops him up.

“C’mere. Gotcha. You’re all warm still, huh?” There’s a pause, then a soft chuckle.

“Ohhh, big stretch. Just like Daddy.”

Your heart tugs as you picture it—your baby curling into Harry’s chest, both of them wrapped in that hazy kind of early-morning softness only families like yours get to share.

Then, a few slow footsteps… and the bathroom door eases open.

Harry steps in, barefoot and tousled, your little boy nestled perfectly into the curve of his arm. The baby’s cheek is squished against Harry’s shoulder, tiny fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently playing with the curls there in that absent, sleepy way only babies do.

You melt instantly.

“Look who came to find you,” Harry says softly, smiling as he rocks their little one gently. “Someone missed his mummy.”

Your son lifts his head slightly at the sound of your voice, eyes blinking up at you with sleepy wonder, but he stays snuggled close to Harry, still playing with his hair.

Harry presses a kiss to the baby’s temple and murmurs, “He’s so cozy, love. Think he’s trying to decide whether he wants to fall back asleep right here.”

You step closer, running a tender hand over your son’s soft hair.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, your voice warm and slow. “Did you have sweet dreams?”

The baby responds with a soft coo, burying his face back into Harry’s shoulder. Harry just smiles down at him and rocks a little, swaying gently. “We’re not in any rush, are we, bub?” he whispers.

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You lean your head against Harry’s free shoulder, wrapping your arm lightly around his back. He turns to kiss the top of your head, his voice no more than a breath.

“Let’s just stay like this for a little while longer,” he says.

“Feels too perfect to move.”

[r7diants]

Sarah, I'm in a terrible mood and I need something cute wholesome to read. Preferably boyfriendrry or husbandrry. Want fluff not angst. Can't handle it at the moment. Help me. I'm kinda dying inside rn

Hiii lovey!! I’m sorry you’re in an off mood I hope this little blurb helps you feel a bit better, I went husbandrry!! Also I’m sending you lots and lots of love babes 💖

CW: None just fluff

Summary: You and Harry have a fun little moment in the middle of a dinner party✨

Harry places his hands on your hips as he stands behind you at the kitchen counter where you’re cutting up fruit to serve with dessert to the small gathering of friends that are currently scattered around the living and dining room. He leans down and places his lips to the side of your neck as his hands squeeze your hips softly.

“Did you see the new piece of jewelry Andrea has on?” Your voice is soft mixture of playful with a hint of excitement as you toss a few cut up strawberries into a bowl.

“No? Where is this new piece of jewelry located?” He questions as he rests his chin on top of your shoulder, he feels your chest vibrate as you let out a chuckle no doubt due to his lack of observation skills. But he can’t be bothered to focus on other people that much while in the same room as you, his wife that still manages to steal all the air from his lungs and his attention the moment you step into the room.

“I’ll give you a hint how about that?” You tease as his arms fully wrap around you while you begin to cut up some watermelon.

“Okay hit me with it love.” He mumbles before placing a kiss to the side of your cheek.

“It’s not around her neck.”

“Baby that’s not much of a hint.”

“Yes it is? I’m narrowing down the options for you.”

“Oh is it her new watch? I saw her checking the time a few minutes into dinner.” Harry knows his answer is wrong by the way you lean back into his hold as you let out a loud laugh that you have to cover with one of your hands so you don’t disturb the people you invited over.

“No but you’re close.” Harry rubs his lips together as he tries to think of the brief interactions he’s had with your dear friend Andrea. You smile as you reach over and grab a bowl to place the cut up watermelon in, giving your finger that has your wedding ring on it a little wiggle that catches Harry’s attention.

“No fucking way.” He says shocked that he didn’t notice an engagement ring on your friend’s hand.

“Yes-did you really not notice how she was holding her wine glass? She was practically putting it on display for everyone to see.”

“Well I don’t make it a habit of looking at other people’s hands when yours are the only ones I’m worried about.” You roll your eyes as he nuzzles his nose against the warm skin of your neck. “Know how they like to wander and all that.” He adds as his hold around your middle tightens making you let out a scoff.

“Oh my hands do the wandering do they?” He lifts his head so you can turn around in his hold, placing your hands on his chest as you look up at him. “Whose hands got dangerously high on my thigh under the table during dinner then?” Harry just gives you a shrug as he leans down and presses his lips to the tip of your nose.

“I didn’t hear you complaining about it?”

“Why would I complain about my husband’s hand on my thigh? I’m just saying you’re the one with the wandering hands not me.”

“I can’t help it I just want to be touching you in someway all the time.” He explains as you reach up on the tips of your toes so you can place a kiss to his cheek making him grin.

“Did you really not notice the giant rock on her finger?” Harry raises an eyebrow as your hands slide up his chest to the back of his neck.

“Giant rock? Bigger than yours or-”

“Harry not everything is a competition.” You answer cutting his question short with a teasing laugh. He lets out a huff as his hands slide lower down your back. “See what I mean about the wandering?” You ask him as he gives your bottom a nice squeeze, he just acts as if he’s not doing anything as he leans down and places his lips against yours in a sweet kiss.

“Will you help me with the fruit?” You ask as you pull away, Harry gives your bottom another soft squeeze as he leans back in for a quick peck.

“Sorry baby I’d love to but I’ve got my hands full at the moment.” He says smugly making you laugh and give his chest a playful swat.

“You’re horrible.”

“I know but luckily that’s what my wife loves most about me.” You can’t help but smile as he leans in to place a kiss to your forehead before he loosens his hold on your bottom and slides his hands back up to your hips.

“I do-I love you and your wandering hands.” You tell him before turning back around so you can finish cutting up the fruit.

“I love you too.” He whispers in your ear before placing a kiss to the spot just below it.

[r7diants]

flower + jealous and relief. I love all of your writing, thank you for all you do!!

Flower!!! Our babies. Oh god, I love them soooooooooooooooo much. Thank you for requesting!

Check out our Patreon! (Sign up on your web browser to save $$$)

Y/N shouldn’t be jealous. Ever, really, and she knew that.

Harry had never given her any indication that he would ever have a straying eye. He was borderline obsessed with her, the admission coming from his mouth multiple times a week, treated her like the sun and moon both revolved around her, but that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling she felt when he watched Bonnie laugh a little too hard at something he said.

She was an old friend of his. A family friend, at this family cookout that they’d been invited to. Y/N had been quickly introduced to her and she had felt it since then. There was a way women knew. It’s an intuition, really, knowing someone was into your man. And Bonnie had it written all over her.

Harry was slightly oblivious and Y/N knew that. He was quietly friendly with the people here- they were his family, for fucks sake! But that didn’t mean he liked this not-actually-family-but-longtime-friend placing her hand on his bicep as she giggled and batted her lashes at him.

Y/N was helping his mum in the kitchen, trying her best to do what a hopeful future daughter in law would do, but it was hard to concentrate when she had a direct view outside of the both of them. Harry had been dragged into a conversation with her and as much as Y/N didn’t love the idea of leaving him alone with her, she was secure enough to know that Harry wouldn’t do anything, let alone flirt back. She could tell just by the look on his face that he wasn’t.

When Harry was flirting, she knew it. And she’d only ever seen that face be directed towards her.

“Thank you for helping me.” His mum grinned, wiping her hands on her apron. “I won’t keep you. Come back in a little bit if you’d like to help slicing these up but I want you to go out and get a drink, please. Make yourself at home.”

It wasn’t the first time she had met Harry’s family and his mum seemed to like her but she wanted to keep that going. “Of course.” She chirped. “I never mind helping. Yell for me if you need me and I’ll come running, okay?”

His mum laughed loudly before playfully pushing her out towards the patio. Secretly she had wondered if she had seen her distraction and wanted her to go out and self soothe, but she wouldn’t know.

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion she felt a lot but she felt it now. It wasn’t one she liked either. Usually she could get over women simply looking at him or grinning at him, even if they hit on him before she would arrive because there was always the chance they didn’t know he was taken- but Bonnie did. She knew good and well that Harry was taken and she didn’t like that she was touching him so much.

Selfishly, unrealistically, she wanted to be the only one that got to touch him. She had asked her therapist if that was toxic and she’d said slightly but she reassured her that it was human nature. It wasn’t like she stopped it from happening, but the desire was still there.

She made her way towards the pair with her head high and schooled features- because in no way was she going to give the girl satisfaction in knowing that even for a moment she’d been insecure- but it seemed her boyfriend knew what she needed.

“There she is.” He grinned, stepping away from Bonnie to gather her into his arms and smack a kiss to her forehead. “Did mum hold you hostage or somethin’?”

“No.” She relaxed into his body as he made no move to let go of her. “She was lovely as always. I was helping her with the last of the pies. It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Mmmm… She wants to steal you away because she said she wants you t’come over more. ‘Wants to know her future daughter’, all of that.” Harry let that go casually and a tiny (humongous) piece of her felt satisfaction seeing the lingering woman’s face fall at that.

Yes, it was sad for her that a man she liked wasn’t available. Harry was strong, stable, handsome, doting, absolutely fucking perfect. But… he was Y/N’s.

“Well I told her we’d come for dinner next week.” Resting her hand on his chest she played with the collar of his shirt. “So I’m giving into her antics. But when she cooks like that, I can’t really complain.” Harry’s mum was an incredible chef and she knew her own would never compare to it so… she was more than happy to eat yummy food and get to know his family better. “Besides. I do want to get to know my new family. Is that so wrong?” Was she pulling out all the stops, giving her the best doe eyes she could muster and laying it on a bit thick? Yes. And she was only a tiny bit ashamed.

“Fuckin’ love you, Y’know that?” It seemed as if as soon as Y/N had made it into his vicinity he forgot about anyone else. Bonnie still stood awkwardly close but his full focus was on her. Rude? Maybe to someone else, and she would have to be in charge of making sure she redirected… but for now? She was going with the flow.

“I love you more.” Pecking his cheek, she saw him pull back and look offended.

“Proper kiss. Please and thank you.” He muttered. “S’quite rude. Don’t deny me of what I need, thank you.”

Y/N really never had anything to worry about.

[r7diants]

11:59 PM | H.S

Boyfriendrry | Smut | One shot | Prince hair Harry | Masterlist

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

[I'm thinking about taking you into one of those private rooms upstairs.

Pushing that dress up around your waist.

Seeing if those new black panties taste as good as they look. ]

a/n: this one was fun to write. It’s just hot. Enjoy!!

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

“Harry? How long do you think you can go without sex?”

Harry's attention is fixed on the TV screen, where some gritty crime drama is playing, one of those shows he claims to watch for the "compelling storytelling," but Y/N suspects he mostly enjoys for the moody cinematography and expensive production design. He's sprawled comfortably on their couch, one arm draped along the back cushions behind her, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles on the coffee table. A half-empty bowl of popcorn sits forgotten between them.

At her unexpected question, his hand pauses midway to his mouth, a piece of popcorn held between his fingers. He turns toward her slowly, one eyebrow arched in amused curiosity, a hint of wariness in his green eyes.

"Sorry, what was that?" he asks, as if he might have misheard her over the sound of the detective on screen delivering his monologue about the darkness inherent in human nature.

Y/N shifts slightly to face him better, tucking one leg underneath her and propping her elbow on the back of the couch. She's wearing one of his old tour t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, her hair piled back in a bun that's gradually coming undone. There's something deliberately casual in her posture that doesn't quite match the gleam in her eyes.

"I asked how long you think you could go without sex," she repeats, her tone conversational but with an undercurrent of mischief.

Harry studies her face for a moment, clearly trying to determine if this is a trap of some kind or if there's a specific reason for her inquiry. He reaches for the remote and pauses the show, giving her his full attention now.

"Is this a hypothetical question," he asks carefully, "or are you telling me something I should be worried about?"

A small smile plays at the corners of Y/N's mouth.

"Hypothetical," she assures him. "Just curious."

Harry leans back against the cushions, considering the question with more seriousness than she perhaps expected. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead in that unconscious gesture she's always found endlessly attractive.

"Physically? Probably a while," he finally answers, his voice thoughtful. "Mentally?" A slow, suggestive smile spreads across his face as his eyes travel deliberately down her body and back up again. "About three days before I'd start losing my mind."

He shifts closer to her on the couch, the popcorn bowl now an unwelcome barrier between them.

"Why the sudden interest in my sexual endurance?" he asks, reaching out to twirl a loose strand of her hair around his finger. "Planning to test me or something?"

Y/N shrugs, maintaining her innocent expression despite the way her pulse quickens at his proximity.

"Just thinking about that interview you did last week," she explains. "The one where they asked about your 'self-discipline' and you said you were 'surprisingly good at denying yourself things you want.'"

Harry's eyes narrow slightly as he recalls the interview, a fairly standard press junket for his latest album where the journalist had been fishing for quotes about his fitness regimen and diet.

"Ah," he says, understanding dawning. "And you found that claim...questionable?"

"Not questionable," Y/N corrects him, her fingers absently playing with the hem of her borrowed shirt. "Just...untested. In certain areas."

A dangerous glint appears in Harry's eyes as he moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table, eliminating the barrier between them. He slides closer until their thighs are touching, his hand coming to rest casually, possessively, on her knee.

"Let me get this straight," he says, his voice dropping to that low, slightly raspy register that never fails to send a shiver down her spine. "You're wondering if I could practice sexual self-restraint for an extended period? If I could deny myself...certain pleasures?"

His fingers trace small, maddening circles on her bare skin just above her knee.

"Something like that," Y/N confirms, fighting to keep her voice steady despite the heat beginning to pool low in her belly at his touch.

Harry's smile turns predatory, dimples appearing in sharp relief against the slight stubble on his cheeks.

"And what brought on this line of questioning?" he asks, his hand sliding up to rest on her thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to the hem of her shorts. "Academic curiosity? Or did you have something more...practical in mind?"

Y/N tilts her head, enjoying the way his eyes follow the movement, tracking the exposed line of her neck with unmistakable hunger.

"Maybe I was thinking we could make a little wager," she suggests, her tone deliberately light. "Test that famous self-discipline of yours."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up, genuine intrigue replacing some of the playful seduction in his expression.

"A wager?" he repeats, clearly interested. "What kind of stakes are we talking about, love?"

Y/N pretends to consider this, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully.

"Well, if you win, if you can go, say, two weeks without sex, then I'll..." she leans forward and whispers something in his ear, something that causes his pupils to dilate noticeably and his hand to tighten on her thigh.

"Jesus," he mutters when she pulls back, swallowing hard. "And if I lose?"

"If you lose," Y/N continues, emboldened by his reaction, "you have to admit publicly, in your next interview, that you have absolutely no self-discipline whatsoever when it comes to certain...appetites."

Harry barks out a laugh, genuinely amused by her suggested terms.

"You want me to tell Rolling Stone or whoever that I can't keep it in my pants?" he asks, shaking his head in disbelief. "My publicist would have a coronary."

"You wouldn't have to be that explicit," Y/N clarifies, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Just say something about how your girlfriend proved your claims of self-restraint were greatly exaggerated."

Harry studies her face, his expression a mixture of amusement, desire, and competitive interest.

"Two weeks, huh?" he muses, his thumb resuming its maddening circles on her thigh. "No sex of any kind?"

"None," Y/N confirms firmly. "No intercourse, no oral, no hands, nothing. Complete abstinence."

Harry's eyes narrow thoughtfully.

"And this starts...?"

"Right now," Y/N declares with a decisive nod.

A slow smile spreads across Harry's face as he considers the challenge. He leans in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"You realize," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that she feels more than hears, "that you're also denying yourself for two weeks. You sure you can handle that, baby?"

There's a note of challenge in his voice that makes Y/N's competitive spirit flare to match his own.

"Oh, I'll be fine," she assures him with perhaps more confidence than she actually feels. "I'm not the one who claimed to have exceptional self-discipline in a national publication."

Harry laughs, the sound rich and warm in the quiet of their living room.

"Alright then," he agrees, extending his hand for a formal shake. "Two weeks, starting now. No sex of any kind."

Y/N takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, Harry uses the grip to pull her forward suddenly, catching her off guard. In one fluid movement, he has her beneath him on the couch, his body pressing hers into the cushions as he captures her mouth in a kiss that is anything but chaste.

His tongue traces the seam of her lips, demanding entry that she grants without hesitation, heat flaring instantly between them. One of his hands tangles in her hair, the other gripping her hip as he deepens the kiss with a thoroughness that leaves her breathless. When he finally pulls back, they're both breathing heavily, and Y/N can feel the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh.

"Just wanted one last taste," he explains with a wicked grin, his voice rough with desire. "To remember what I'm missing."

Before she can respond, he pushes himself up and off her completely, returning to his side of the couch with deliberate casualness, though the flush on his cheeks and the darkness of his eyes betray his affected nonchalance.

He picks up the remote, unpausing the show as if nothing had happened, though his smirk gives him away.

"Two weeks starts now," he announces, reaching for the popcorn bowl again. "Hope you know what you've gotten yourself into, love."

Y/N sits up, adjusting her shirt where it's ridden up to expose a strip of her midriff, trying to regulate her breathing and ignore the persistent throb of arousal his kiss has left her with.

"I think the question is whether you know what you've gotten yourself into," she counters, settling back against the cushions with forced composure.

Harry just smiles, his eyes still on the TV screen, though she can tell he's not really watching.

"Game on, baby," he says quietly, and the simple phrase manages to sound like both a promise and a threat.

Y/N turns her attention back to the show, acutely aware of the two weeks stretching ahead of them and the man beside her who has never been good at denying himself, or her, anything they both want. As challenges go, she's beginning to think this one might be harder than she anticipated...for both of them.

But as Harry's hand finds hers on the couch between them, giving it a gentle squeeze that somehow manages to be both affectionate and suggestive, Y/N can't help but think that win or lose, the next two weeks are going to be very interesting indeed.

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

Day 13 finds Y/N in the master bathroom, carefully applying mascara while silently cursing herself for what has become thirteen days of exquisite torture. The bet that had seemed so amusing, so winnable, thirteen days ago has evolved into a test of willpower that's fraying her last nerve.

She caps the mascara tube with more force than necessary, setting it down on the marble countertop with a sharp click. Her reflection stares back at her: hair styled in loose waves, makeup subtle but enhancing, wearing nothing but a matching set of black lace underwear that Harry hasn't seen yet. She's getting ready for a gala they're attending tonight, a high-profile event that will have photographers, industry executives, and other celebrities, the perfect venue for Harry to be on his best behavior.

Which is precisely why she's chosen tonight to wear her most dangerously low-cut dress.

The past thirteen days have been an escalating game of chicken, with both of them finding increasingly creative ways to test the other's resolve without technically breaking the rules of their agreement. No sex of any kind, but as it turns out, there's a vast territory of torment that falls just short of that definition.

Harry started subtly: walking around shirtless more often than usual, "accidentally" brushing against her in the kitchen, letting his gaze linger a beat too long when she emerged from the shower. But by day five, subtlety had been abandoned. He began describing in explicit detail what he planned to do to her when the two weeks were up, his voice dropping to that gravelly register that never fails to make her thighs clench. He'd taken to sitting unnecessarily close during movies, his fingers tracing innocent-seeming patterns on her arm or leg that somehow felt more erotic than a direct touch ever could.

Y/N had retaliated in kind. She wore his favorite shirts to bed, and nothing else. She made inappropriate noises while eating ice cream. She "stretched" in ways that highlighted her flexibility, reminding him of positions they'd enjoyed in the past. Once, she'd even read passages from an erotic novel aloud, claiming she was "just sharing literature" when he'd nearly broken the arm of the sofa gripping it so hard.

But despite her best efforts, Harry has maintained a maddening level of control. Oh, she's gotten to him, the evidence of his arousal has been impossible to miss on multiple occasions, but he hasn't cracked. Hasn't begged. Hasn't suggested they call the whole thing off. Instead, he's matched her provocation for provocation, escalation for escalation, all while maintaining that infuriating smirk that says he knows exactly what game they're playing and he intends to win.

The most frustrating part is that Y/N is starting to think he might.

She's been climbing the walls for days now, hyperaware of his every movement, his scent, the sound of his voice. Last night, she'd actually woken from an explicit dream about him so worked up that she'd seriously considered waking him to concede defeat. Only pride had stopped her, pride and the knowledge that Harry would be impossibly smug about it for months.

The bathroom door opens, startling her from her thoughts, and Harry appears in the doorway. He's already dressed for the gala, looking devastatingly handsome in a bespoke black suit that fits him so perfectly it might as well be painted on. His hair is styled back from his face, several rings adorn his fingers, and he's wearing a subtle cologne that makes Y/N want to bury her face in his neck.

"Almost ready?" he asks, his eyes traveling over her state of undress with deliberate slowness. "Car will be here in twenty."

Y/N turns to face him fully, leaning back against the counter in a pose that emphasizes her lace-clad curves.

"Almost," she confirms, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "Just need to put on my dress."

Harry's eyes darken as they linger on the black lace covering her breasts, the matching underwear that sits low on her hips.

"New?" he asks, his voice slightly rougher than it was a moment ago.

Y/N nods, running her fingers along the lace edge of her bra in a gesture that's obviously adjusting but is actually pure provocation.

"Thought I'd treat myself," she says with affected casualness. "Do you like it?"

Harry's jaw tightens visibly, his knuckles whitening where he grips the doorframe.

"It's nice," he manages, the understatement of the century given the heat in his gaze. "Very...appropriate for a charity event."

Y/N laughs softly, pushing off from the counter and moving toward him, toward the bedroom where her dress is laid out on the bed.

"The dress is appropriate," she corrects him, stopping when she's close enough that he can smell her perfume but not quite touching. "This is just for later."

The implication hangs in the air between them: later, when the bet is over, when the two weeks have passed and all restrictions are lifted. Tomorrow marks the end of their agreement, and they both know it.

Harry's eyes never leave hers as he steps aside to let her pass, but not quite far enough that she can avoid brushing against him. The brief contact sends a jolt through Y/N that's almost embarrassing in its intensity.

In the bedroom, her dress waits on the bed: a floor-length black gown with a slit that reaches mid-thigh and a neckline that plunges daringly low. It's elegant enough for the event but designed specifically to drive Harry to distraction.

She's aware of him watching as she steps into it, pulling it up over her hips and adjusting it over her chest. The fabric clings in all the right places, the cut revealing just enough skin to be tantalizing without crossing into inappropriate territory.

"Zip me?" she asks innocently, turning her back to him and gathering her hair to one side.

There's a pause, just long enough for her to wonder if he'll refuse, before she feels him move behind her. His fingers brush the bare skin of her back as he takes hold of the zipper, and Y/N has to bite her lip to suppress a shiver.

Harry pulls the zipper up with deliberate slowness, his knuckles grazing her spine inch by torturous inch. When he reaches the top, his hands settle briefly on her shoulders, warm and solid.

"You look stunning," he murmurs, his breath tickling the sensitive skin just below her ear.

Y/N turns to face him, finding him closer than she expected, close enough that she can see the various shades of green in his irises, the slight dilation of his pupils.

"Thank you," she says, her voice softer than she intended. "So do you."

For a moment, they just stand there, the air between them charged with thirteen days of built-up tension and wanting. Y/N finds herself swaying slightly toward him, drawn by the magnetic pull that's always existed between them but seems exponentially stronger now.

Harry's gaze drops to her lips, and she thinks, hopes, that he might kiss her. It wouldn't break their agreement; kissing wasn't explicitly banned. But before either of them can move, the doorbell chimes downstairs, their driver, right on time.

Harry steps back, clearing his throat and adjusting his jacket.

"We should go," he says, his voice rougher than usual. "Don't want to be late."

Y/N nods, reaching for her clutch on the dresser and taking a moment to compose herself. When she turns back to him, she's wearing a smile that she hopes conceals just how close she was to throwing the entire bet out the window.

"One more day," she reminds him as they head downstairs, her tone deliberately light. "Think you can make it?"

Harry glances at her, a slow smile spreading across his face that's equal parts challenge and promise.

"I'm not the one who needs to worry about making it," he counters, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back as they reach the front door, a touch that's perfectly appropriate but somehow feels like a brand through the thin fabric of her dress. "You've been watching the clock since day ten."

Y/N scoffs, even as she acknowledges the truth of his statement.

"I've been perfectly fine," she lies, stepping outside into the cool evening air. "You're the one who took three cold showers yesterday."

Harry laughs, the sound low and knowing as he guides her toward the waiting car.

"Four, actually," he admits without a trace of embarrassment. "But who's counting?"

As they slide into the backseat of the sleek black car, Y/N is acutely aware of the minimal space between them, of Harry's cologne filling the enclosed space, of the fact that they have an entire evening of public appearances ahead before they can return home.

One more day. Twenty-four more hours. She can do this.

But as Harry's hand finds hers in the darkness of the car, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm in a gesture that's somehow both comforting and maddeningly erotic, Y/N isn't entirely sure which of them is winning anymore, or if either of them is.

What she does know is that tomorrow can't come soon enough.

---

The charity gala is being held at one of London's most prestigious hotels, the grand ballroom transformed into a glittering wonderland of lights, flowers, and champagne. The moment they arrive, they're swept into the social current: photographers calling Harry's name, industry acquaintances stopping to chat, waiters offering flutes of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres.

Harry is, as always, the consummate professional, charming, attentive, generous with his time and attention. His hand rarely leaves the small of Y/N's back, a possessive touch that both grounds her in the chaos of the event and serves as a constant reminder of the tension simmering between them.

Two hours in, Y/N excuses herself to visit the ladies' room, needing a moment away from the constant press of bodies and the even more distracting presence of Harry at her side. She's just finished touching up her lipstick when her phone buzzes with a text.

It's from Harry: You've been gone for 7 minutes. Starting to think you're avoiding me.

Y/N smiles despite herself, typing back: Just fixing my makeup. Why, missing me already?

His response comes immediately: Always. But especially when you're wearing that dress.

She's about to reply when another text appears: The things I'm thinking about doing to you right now would definitely get me uninvited from future charity events.

Heat blooms in Y/N's cheeks as she reads his words. She knows she should ignore the bait, continuing this line of conversation will only make the evening more torturous for both of them, but she can't resist.

Care to elaborate? she types back, her heart rate accelerating slightly.

There's a pause before his response appears, long enough that she thinks perhaps he's been pulled into another conversation. Then her phone buzzes three times in quick succession:

I'm thinking about taking you into one of those private rooms upstairs.

Pushing that dress up around your waist.

Seeing if those new black panties taste as good as they look.

Y/N inhales sharply, her fingers tightening around her phone. The crude directness of his words, so at odds with the polished, charming persona he's presenting to the gala attendees, sends a jolt of arousal straight through her.

She takes a moment to compose herself before responding: 13 days and 22 hours. Still think you're going to win this bet?

His reply is immediate: I know I am. You're the one who's going to break, baby. I can see it in your eyes every time I touch you.

The confidence in his text both irritates and excites her. Y/N checks her reflection once more, ensuring her composure is intact, before heading back to the ballroom.

She spots Harry immediately, he's always easy to find in a crowd, his height and presence drawing the eye naturally. He's engaged in conversation with an older couple, but his attention shifts the moment she enters his field of vision. Their eyes lock across the room, and the heat in his gaze makes her breath catch.

Y/N makes her way toward him, accepting a fresh glass of champagne from a passing waiter. As she approaches, Harry excuses himself from his conversation and meets her halfway.

"Everything alright?" he asks, his public voice polite and concerned, though his eyes tell a different story.

"Perfect," Y/N assures him, taking a deliberate sip of her champagne. "Just needed a moment."

Harry nods, his hand finding its customary place at the small of her back.

"They're about to start the speeches," he informs her, guiding her toward their assigned table near the front of the room. "Should only be about forty minutes of people thanking other people for giving them money."

Y/N laughs softly at his irreverent summary, allowing him to pull out her chair before he takes his seat beside her. As they settle in for the speeches, his hand drops casually to her knee beneath the table, a touch that could be interpreted as purely affectionate to anyone watching.

But then his fingers begin to trace small, maddening patterns on her skin just above the knee, occasionally venturing to the sensitive area where her thigh meets the edge of the table. It's not high enough to be inappropriate, but it's distracting enough that Y/N finds it difficult to focus on the speaker who has taken the stage.

Two can play at this game, she decides, placing her hand on Harry's thigh in what appears to be a similar gesture of affection. She feels him tense slightly beside her, but he doesn't remove his hand from her knee.

Slowly, deliberately, Y/N allows her fingers to drift higher on his leg, her touch light but insistent. She keeps her expression neutral, her eyes fixed on the stage as if completely absorbed in the speech about fundraising goals and community impact.

Harry shifts in his chair, his own hand tightening slightly on her knee. When she chances a glance at him, his profile is composed, but there's a muscle working in his jaw that betrays his affected calm.

The speeches drag on, becoming a backdrop to their silent battle of wills beneath the pristine white tablecloth. By the time the final speaker concludes to polite applause, Y/N's skin feels too tight, too sensitive, and she's hyperaware of every point of contact between her body and Harry's.

As the formal portion of the evening transitions to dancing and more socializing, Harry leans close to her ear, his voice low enough that only she can hear.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, and the double meaning is unmistakable.

"Immensely," Y/N lies, turning her head so that their faces are inches apart. "The speeches were very...inspiring."

Harry's lips quirk in a knowing half-smile.

"Dance with me," he says, and it's not quite a request.

Before she can respond, he's standing and offering his hand, leaving her little choice but to accept or cause a scene. Y/N places her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor where other couples are already swaying to the live band's rendition of a classic ballad.

Harry pulls her close, closer than is strictly necessary for a formal event, but not so close that anyone would raise an eyebrow. One hand settles at her waist while the other clasps hers, his thumb stroking rhythmically across her knuckles as they begin to move to the music.

"You've been driving me crazy all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear in a way that sends shivers down her spine. "That dress should be illegal."

"That was rather the point," Y/N admits, her free hand resting on his shoulder, feeling the solid warmth of him through the expensive fabric of his suit. "Is it working?"

Harry's hand tightens fractionally at her waist, drawing her a centimeter closer.

"What do you think?" he counters, and there's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before. "I've been hard since you walked out of the bathroom at home."

The crude admission, delivered in his smooth, cultured voice while they dance among London's elite, sends a fresh wave of heat through Y/N. She misses a step, and Harry uses the momentary stumble as an excuse to steady her, his hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pressing her more firmly against him.

The evidence of his arousal is unmistakable, and Y/N has to bite her lip to suppress a gasp.

"Thirteen days and counting," Harry reminds her, his voice a low rumble that she feels more than hears over the music. "Think you can last one more?"

It's a challenge, one that pride demands she meet, even as every nerve ending in her body screams for relief.

"I'm not the one making confessions on the dance floor," she points out, striving for a lightness she doesn't feel. "Sounds like you might be the one struggling."

Harry's laugh is soft and knowing against her hair.

"Oh, I'm definitely struggling," he admits freely. "But I'm also definitely going to win."

The song ends before Y/N can formulate a suitably cutting response, and they're forced to separate as the band transitions to a more upbeat number. Harry keeps her hand in his as they move off the dance floor, his thumb still tracing those maddening circles against her skin.

"Drink?" he offers, nodding toward the bar.

Y/N nods, using the moment to try to regain some equilibrium. As they wait for their drinks, she becomes aware of someone calling Harry's name, a record executive, she thinks, though she's met so many industry people over the years that they sometimes blur together.

Harry greets the man warmly, introducing Y/N with his customary courtesy. The conversation quickly turns to music, to Harry's latest album, to potential collaborations and tour dates. It's the kind of networking that's essential at events like these, and Harry handles it with practiced ease, keeping Y/N included in the conversation even as he discusses business.

But even as he talks about production schedules and studio time, his hand never leaves her, resting on her back, brushing her arm, finding her hand. Each touch feels deliberate, designed to keep her in a constant state of awareness, of wanting.

By the time they finally extricate themselves from the conversation, it's approaching midnight, and Y/N is at the end of her patience.

"I think I'm ready to go," she says quietly as they move through the now-thinning crowd. "It's been a long night."

Harry studies her face for a moment, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that makes her wonder if he can read the real reason behind her suggestion.

"Of course," he agrees, already reaching for his phone to text their driver. "We've made our appearance. Done our bit for charity."

The wait for their car feels interminable, filled with polite goodbyes to acquaintances and last-minute conversations that Harry can't gracefully avoid. By the time they finally slide into the backseat of their waiting car, Y/N's nerves are stretched to the breaking point.

The privacy partition is up, separating them from the driver, a small mercy for which Y/N is profoundly grateful as Harry's hand immediately finds her thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of the slit in her dress.

"Thirteen days," he says quietly, his voice rough with want. "Thirteen fucking days of watching you, wanting you, not being able to touch you the way I need to."

His hand slides higher, pushing the fabric of her dress aside to expose more of her leg, his fingers warm against her skin.

"Tomorrow," Y/N reminds him, her voice not as steady as she'd like it to be. "Just one more hour."

Harry's eyes are dark in the dimly lit car, his expression intense as he watches her reaction to his touch.

"One more hour," he repeats, his fingers tracing the edge of her underwear where it sits against her thigh. "Think you can make it that long, baby? Because right now, you look like you're about five seconds from begging me fuck you in the backseat of this car."

The crude words, delivered in his smooth voice, make Y/N's breath catch. She's wet, has been for hours, if she's honest, and the ache between her thighs is almost painful in its intensity.

"I'm not the one who's going to break," she insists, even as she shifts slightly, unconsciously seeking more pressure from his teasing fingers. "I've got excellent self-control."

Harry laughs softly, the sound dark and knowing.

"Is that right?" he challenges, his fingers dipping beneath the lace edge of her underwear, not quite touching where she's aching for him but close enough that she can feel the heat of his skin. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're about to come apart just from this."

Y/N swallows hard, fighting against the urge to press herself into his hand, to beg him to touch her properly, bet be damned.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she manages, her voice breathier than she'd prefer. "For me to break first."

"I'd like to make you come," Harry corrects her, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he leans closer. "I'd like to slide these expensive panties to the side and feel how wet you are for me. I'd like to watch your face when you fall apart around my fingers."

His words paint such a vivid picture that Y/N has to close her eyes briefly, gathering what remains of her willpower.

"Tomorrow," she says again, more firmly this time, placing her hand over his to still his maddening touch. "You've waited this long. What's a few more hours?"

For a moment, she thinks he might ignore her, might continue his delicious torment until she either gives in or pushes him away. But then Harry withdraws his hand, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Tomorrow it is," he agrees, though his eyes still burn with unmistakable desire. "But just so we're clear, the moment it hits midnight, all bets are off."

The promise in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat through Y/N, and she finds herself checking the time on her phone: 11:33 PM. Less than thirty minutes until day fourteen officially begins.

The rest of the drive passes in charged silence, both of them acutely aware of the countdown happening in their heads. When they finally arrive home, it's 11:52 PM, eight minutes to go.

Harry helps her from the car, his hand lingering on hers as they make their way to the front door. Inside, the house is quiet, the only sound the soft click of the door closing behind them and the faint ticking of the antique clock in the hallway.

"Drink?" Harry offers, his voice carefully casual as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of a chair.

Y/N shakes her head, kicking off her uncomfortable heels with a sigh of relief.

"I think I'll just head up," she says, equally casual. "It's been a long night."

Harry nods, his eyes never leaving hers as she moves toward the stairs. There's a tension in the air between them, thick enough that she could cut it with a knife, the knowledge that in less than seven minutes, their self-imposed restriction will lift, and all the desire they've been suppressing for two weeks will be free to explode.

"I'll be up in a bit," he says, loosening his tie with deliberate slowness, his eyes dark with promise. "Just going to pour myself a nightcap first."

Harry watches Y/N ascend the stairs with predatory intensity, his fingers pausing mid-motion on his tie as she disappears from view. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes once, marking the time, 11:55 PM. Five minutes until midnight. Five minutes until their agreement officially expires.

He moves to the bar cart in the living room, pouring a finger of whiskey into a crystal tumbler with deliberate slowness. The amber liquid catches the light as he swirls it, mirroring the heat that's been building inside him for thirteen excruciating days.

Taking a small sip, he savors the burn, letting it match the fire in his veins. From upstairs comes the faint sound of movement, and Harry's imagination fills in the blanks: Y/N removing that torturous dress, her skin finally free from the confines of fabric that has been both concealing and accentuating her body all evening.

He checks his watch again, 11:56 PM.

Loosening his tie further, Harry takes another sip of whiskey before setting the glass down on the marble countertop. He's about to head upstairs when he notices something on the first step, a flash of black against the pale carpet.

It's Y/N's dress, discarded carelessly at the foot of the stairs.

A slow smile spreads across Harry's face as he approaches, picking up the expensive garment and draping it over his arm. Looking up, he discovers more items leading up the staircase like breadcrumbs: one of her earrings on the third step, its partner on the fifth, her clutch purse on the landing.

Harry begins to climb, collecting each item as he goes. The trail continues down the hallway, her bracelet here, her necklace there. By the time he reaches their bedroom door, his arms are full of her belongings, and his blood is running hot with anticipation.

Then he sees it, the final piece of her ensemble, hanging provocatively from the doorknob like a flag of surrender: those black lace panties that have been driving him to distraction since he first glimpsed them in the bathroom hours ago.

Harry checks his watch again, 11:57 PM. Three minutes.

He takes the underwear from the doorknob, the delicate fabric warm from her body and still carrying her scent. For a moment, he simply holds them, his control fraying at the edges as he imagines how she looked wearing them, how she looked taking them off.

With a deep breath, he pushes the bedroom door open.

The sight that greets him nearly stops his heart.

Y/N is stretched across their bed, completely naked except for the black lace bra that matches the panties now clutched in his hand. Her hair spills across the pillows, her eyes dark with desire as they meet his. She's positioned herself deliberately, one leg straight, the other bent slightly at the knee, creating a silhouette that emphasizes the curves of her body in the warm glow of the bedside lamps.

For a long moment, Harry simply stands in the doorway, drinking in the vision before him. Thirteen days of restraint, of torturous near-misses and deliberate teasing, have honed his desire to a razor's edge. She's never looked more beautiful to him than she does right now, waiting for him, wanting him, challenging him with the directness of her gaze.

"You've made quite a mess," he finally says, his voice rough as he gestures to the collection of discarded clothing and jewelry in his arms. He sets everything down on the dresser, careful with her dress but less so with the rest, his attention already returning to her. "Leaving your things all over the house."

Y/N shifts slightly on the bed, the movement causing the light to play across her skin in a way that makes Harry's mouth go dry.

"I was in a hurry," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of breathiness that betrays her affected casualness. "Besides, you found them all, didn't you?"

Harry's lips curve into a smile that's equal parts amusement and hunger as he begins to unbutton his shirt, his movements unhurried despite the urgency thrumming through his veins.

"I did," he confirms, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders to reveal the toned expanse of his tattooed chest and abdomen. "Including these."

He holds up her panties, dangling them from one finger before tossing them aside to join the growing pile of discarded clothing.

"It seemed like the most efficient way to get your attention," Y/N admits, her eyes following the movement of his hands as he unfastens his belt, pulling it through the loops of his trousers with a soft hiss of leather against fabric.

"You've had my attention from the moment I met you," Harry counters, his voice dropping lower as he steps closer to the bed, still in his trousers but bare-chested now, the dim light accentuating the definition of his muscles and the dark lines of his tattoos. "You've had my undivided attention for thirteen days and twenty-three hours."

He checks his watch again, 11:58 PM. Two minutes.

Y/N follows his glance, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"Still counting down?" she asks, sitting up slightly, the movement causing her breasts to shift enticingly beneath the black lace of her bra.

"To the second," Harry confirms, his eyes darkening as they trace over her body. "Two minutes until I can touch you the way I've been dying to for two weeks."

He moves to the edge of the bed, close enough that Y/N can feel the heat radiating from his skin, but he doesn't touch her, not yet. Instead, he stands there, looking down at her with an intensity that makes her breath catch.

"Unless," he continues, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, "you want to admit defeat now."

It's a challenge, one last attempt to win their ridiculous bet, but they both know it doesn't really matter anymore. The anticipation has become its own form of foreplay, the countdown adding an edge to their desire that makes the eventual release all the more explosive.

Y/N laughs softly, the sound slightly breathless as she shakes her head.

"One minute and thirty seconds," she counters, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. "I think I can wait."

Harry's smile is slow and deliberate, a promise of what's to come.

"Can you?" he asks, reaching out to trace one finger along the edge of her bra, not quite touching her skin but close enough that she can feel the heat of him. "Because from here, it looks like you're already desperate for it."

Y/N's breath hitches at the near-touch, her body responding to his proximity with a wave of heat that she couldn't suppress if she tried.

"You're one to talk," she retorts, her eyes dropping pointedly to the visible evidence of his arousal straining against his trousers. "You haven't exactly been the picture of restraint yourself."

Harry chuckles, the sound low and dangerous as he moves onto the bed, positioning himself above her without letting their bodies touch, a feat of control that costs him visibly in the tension of his muscles, the tightness of his jaw.

"One minute," he murmurs, his face inches from hers, close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips. "One minute until I make you forget your own name."

The crude promise sends a fresh wave of arousal through Y/N, and she has to fight the urge to close the distance between them, to pull him down on top of her and end this torturous game once and for all.

"Big talk," she manages, her voice not quite steady as his eyes bore into hers. "Let's see if you can deliver."

Harry's laugh is soft and knowing.

"Oh, baby," he breathes, his lips brushing against her ear in a touch so light it might be imagined, "I've been planning exactly how I'm going to fuck you for thirteen days straight. Trust me, I'll deliver."

The clock on the nightstand shows 11:59 PM. One minute.

They both watch the seconds tick by, the air between them charged with anticipation so thick it's almost difficult to breathe. Harry remains poised above her, their bodies separated by mere inches of electrically charged space, neither willing to be the first to break.

The digital display changes: 12:00 AM.

For a heartbeat, neither moves, and then Harry's control snaps with an almost audible crack.

His mouth crashes down on hers with bruising intensity, thirteen days of pent-up desire unleashed in a kiss that's more claiming than caress. Y/N responds instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, her body arching up to press against his with desperate need.

"Fucking finally," Harry growls against her lips, his hands everywhere at once, tangling in her hair, cupping her breast through the lace of her bra, sliding down to grip her hip with possessive force. "Do you have any idea what you've been doing to me? Two weeks of watching you, wanting you, not being able to touch you..."

His words dissolve into another kiss, this one deeper, wetter, his tongue sliding against hers in a rhythm that mimics what they both desperately want. Y/N moans into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders as she pulls him fully on top of her, reveling in the weight of him, the heat of his skin against hers.

"Show me," she gasps when they break apart for air, her eyes dark with challenge and desire. "Show me exactly what I've been doing to you."

Harry's eyes flash dangerously, his hands moving to the clasp of her bra with practiced efficiency.

"Oh, I plan to," he promises, stripping the lace from her body and tossing it aside, his gaze hungry as it rakes over her newly exposed flesh. "I'm going to show you exactly what happens when you tease me for two fucking weeks straight."

His mouth descends to her breast, taking one nipple between his lips and sucking hard enough to make Y/N cry out, her back arching off the bed. His hand finds her other breast, kneading and pinching with just the right amount of pressure to walk the line between pleasure and pain.

"Harry," she gasps, her hands sliding into his hair, holding him to her as he lavishes attention on her sensitive flesh. "Please, "

"Please what?" he murmurs against her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple in a way that sends sparks shooting down her spine. "Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you've been thinking about for the past two weeks."

Y/N is beyond pride now, beyond the teasing game they've been playing. Thirteen days of buildup have left her desperate, aching, wet enough that she can feel it on her thighs.

"Your mouth," she admits, her voice breaking as his hand slides down her stomach, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin that edge closer and closer to where she needs him most. "I want your mouth on me."

Harry's smile is wicked as he raises his head to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with desire and triumph.

"Where exactly do you want my mouth, Y/N?" he asks, deliberately obtuse as his fingers dance along the crease where her thigh meets her hip. "Here? Or here?"

He presses a kiss to her collarbone, then lower, to the valley between her breasts.

"Lower," Y/N breathes, beyond embarrassment, beyond anything but the desperate need for release after thirteen days of exquisite torture.

Harry continues his downward path, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her sternum, her ribs, the sensitive skin just below her navel. Each touch of his lips sends fresh waves of heat through her body, building the tension to nearly unbearable levels.

"Here?" he asks, his breath hot against her hip bone as he settles between her thighs, his shoulders pushing her legs wider apart.

"Harry," Y/N groans, frustration and need making her voice sharper than intended. "Stop teasing."

His laugh is dark and satisfied against her skin.

"But teasing is what you do best, isn't it?" he counters, his hands gripping her thighs firmly, holding her open for him. "Isn't that what the past two weeks have been about? Seeing how far you could push me before I snapped?"

Before she can formulate a response, he finally,  finally, puts his mouth where she's been aching for it, his tongue flat against her center in a long, deliberate stroke that has her crying out, her hips bucking against his hold.

"Fuck," Harry groans against her, the vibration adding another layer to the sensation. "You're so fucking wet. Have you been like this all night? Sitting next to me at that fancy dinner, your pretty pussy dripping while you pretended everything was fine?"

The crude words, delivered in his cultured voice, send another jolt of arousal through Y/N. She's always been affected by his filthy mouth, the contrast between his public persona and the raw, unfiltered way he speaks to her in bed is intoxicating.

"Yes," she admits, beyond shame, beyond anything but honesty as his tongue circles her clit with deliberate pressure. "All night. All week."

Harry hums his approval, the sound reverberating against her most sensitive flesh as he settles into a rhythm designed to drive her mad, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on her clit, occasionally dipping lower to tease at her entrance without ever giving her what she truly needs.

Y/N's hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as she tries to guide him where she wants him most, but Harry resists, maintaining control even as he pleasures her.

"Harry, please," she gasps, her thighs trembling with the effort of staying open for him as the pressure builds to almost unbearable levels. "I need, I need, "

"What do you need, baby?" he murmurs against her, his eyes dark with desire as he looks up the length of her body, taking in the flush spreading across her chest, the desperation in her expression. "Tell me."

"Your fingers," Y/N manages, her voice breaking as his tongue flicks against her clit with just enough pressure to make her see stars. "Inside. Please."

Harry's smile is wolfish as he slides one long finger into her, groaning at the way she clenches around him immediately.

"So tight," he murmurs, adding a second finger alongside the first, curling them in a way that makes Y/N's back arch off the bed. "Is this what you wanted? My fingers inside this pretty pussy while I suck on your clit?"

To emphasize his point, he wraps his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking gently as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm inside her.

The dual sensation is overwhelming after so long without release, and Y/N feels herself hurtling toward the edge with embarrassing speed. Her thighs begin to shake, her breathing becoming erratic as the pressure builds to an almost painful intensity.

"That's it," Harry encourages, his voice rough with his own arousal as he watches her come apart beneath him. "Let go, baby. Show me how much you've missed this."

His fingers curl more firmly against that spot inside her that he knows drives her wild, his tongue flicking rapidly against her clit, and Y/N shatters with a cry that might be his name or might be just a wordless sound of release. Her body convulses around his fingers, waves of pleasure washing over her with an intensity that leaves her gasping, her vision momentarily whiting out at the edges.

Harry works her through it, gentling his touch but not stopping completely until her tremors subside and she collapses boneless against the mattress, her chest heaving with exertion.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, pressing one last kiss to her oversensitive flesh before moving up her body, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and barely restrained hunger. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

Y/N reaches for him with still-trembling hands, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes of herself and desire. She can feel him hard against her thigh, still confined within his trousers but unmistakably ready.

"Your turn," she breathes against his lips, her hands moving between them to unfasten his remaining clothing. "I want to feel you inside me."

Harry groans, helping her push his trousers and underwear down his legs before kicking them off entirely, leaving him finally, gloriously naked against her. The first press of skin against skin is electric, drawing matching gasps from both of them as thirteen days of anticipation culminate in this moment.

"How do you want me?" Y/N asks, her voice husky with lingering pleasure and renewed desire as she wraps her hand around his length, stroking him with deliberate slowness.

Harry's eyes darken at her touch, his hips jerking involuntarily into her grip.

"Every fucking way imaginable," he growls, capturing her wrist to still her movements before he loses what remains of his control. "But right now, I need to be inside you. Need to feel you come around my cock."

He positions himself between her thighs, the blunt head of his erection pressing against her entrance, teasing but not yet pushing inside. His eyes lock with hers, intense and questioning despite the crude directness of his words, always checking, always making sure she's with him.

"Yes," Y/N breathes, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer, urging him on. "Please, Harry, I need you."

It's all the permission he needs. With one smooth thrust, he buries himself inside her, both of them groaning at the sensation of finally, finally being joined after what feels like an eternity of waiting.

"Fuck," Harry gasps, his forehead dropping to rest against hers, his breathing ragged as he fights for control. "You feel so good. So fucking perfect around me."

For a moment, neither moves, both savoring the feeling of completeness, of rightness that comes from being connected this way. Then Y/N shifts her hips slightly, a silent plea for more, and Harry responds with a deep, rolling thrust that makes her gasp.

"Thirteen days," he murmurs against her neck, setting a rhythm that's neither gentle nor rough but somewhere in between, deep, deliberate strokes that hit exactly where she needs them. "Thirteen days of watching you walk around in those little shorts, those tight dresses, knowing I couldn't touch you the way I wanted to."

His pace increases slightly, his hands sliding beneath her to grip her ass, changing the angle in a way that has Y/N seeing stars with every thrust.

"Thirteen days of cold showers and jerking off in the bathroom like a fucking teenager," he continues, his voice rough with exertion and desire. "Thirteen days of imagining this, being inside you, feeling you come apart around me."

Y/N's nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as she meets him thrust for thrust, her body already building toward another peak despite having just come minutes before.

"Show me," she challenges, her voice breaking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her. "Show me what thirteen days of waiting has done to you."

Something in Harry's expression shifts at her words, a final thread of control snapping as he gives in completely to the desire that's been building for two weeks. His thrusts become harder, deeper, more demanding as he pushes her thighs wider apart, angling her hips to take him even deeper.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growls, his voice barely recognizable with need. "To push me until I couldn't take it anymore. Until I had to have you, had to be inside you, had to make you feel every second of those thirteen fucking days."

Each word is punctuated with a thrust that drives the breath from Y/N's lungs, pleasure building so intensely that she can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. All she can do is hold on, meeting his intensity with her own as they chase release together.

"Tell me you missed this," Harry demands, one hand sliding between them to circle her clit with his thumb, adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. "Tell me you thought about it every day, every night, just like I did."

"I missed it," Y/N gasps, honesty torn from her by pleasure and need. "Missed you, missed this, thought about it constantly, "

Her words dissolve into moans as the combination of his cock inside her and his thumb on her clit pushes her rapidly toward another orgasm, this one building even more intensely than the first.

"That's it," Harry encourages, his rhythm faltering slightly as his own control frays at the edges. "Come for me again, baby. Let me feel you."

His thumb presses more firmly against her clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and Y/N shatters with a cry that might be his name or might be just a primal sound of release. Her inner muscles clench around him in rhythmic pulses, drawing a guttural groan from Harry as he follows her over the edge, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself inside her.

For long moments afterward, they remain joined, both breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. Harry's weight is a comforting pressure on top of her, grounding her as the aftershocks of pleasure gradually subside.

Eventually, he rolls to the side, bringing her with him so that she's sprawled across his chest, their legs still tangled together. One of his hands comes up to stroke her hair, the gesture tender in contrast to the intensity of their lovemaking moments before.

"Worth the wait?" he asks after a while, his voice rough but tinged with amusement.

Y/N laughs softly against his skin, pressing a kiss to the tattoo over his heart.

"Definitely," she admits, raising her head to meet his gaze. "Though I'm not sure I'd want to do it again anytime soon."

Harry's smile is slow and satisfied as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle now that the urgency has passed.

"No?" he teases. "And here I was thinking we could make it a monthly tradition."

Y/N swats at his chest playfully, earning a laugh that rumbles beneath her cheek.

"Absolutely not," she declares firmly. "Two weeks was more than enough abstinence to last me a lifetime."

Harry's expression softens as he looks at her, something warm and tender replacing the heat that had consumed them both minutes earlier.

"Agreed," he murmurs, pulling her closer for a kiss that's gentle but no less passionate for its softness. "Besides, I can think of much more enjoyable ways to spend our time."

His hand slides down her back in a caress that's appreciative rather than demanding, both of them too spent for anything more at the moment but content in the knowledge that they have all the time in the world to explore each other again.

"No more bets," Y/N mumbles against his chest, already feeling the pull of sleep after the emotional and physical intensity of the evening.

Harry chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he pulls the duvet over them both.

"No more bets," he agrees, his voice warm with affection and satisfaction. "At least, not ones that involve keeping my hands off you for any length of time."

Y/N smiles against his skin, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her toward sleep, secure in the knowledge that the torturous two weeks are finally, blessedly over, and that neither of them is likely to suggest anything similar anytime soon.

As for who won the bet? In the end, it hardly seems to matter anymore.

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

Taglist: @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinema @bethiegurl19 @sstylezzz @spargelhund @myfavefanficsever @spinnic

[r7diants]

A piece of us

Harry Styles x pregnant-fem!reader

Pieces of us masterlist

-1k words

summary: The cold gel, the quiet room, Harry’s hand in yours — the first glimpse at your baby is nothing more than a blurry blob, but somehow, it’s everything.

April 2022

The clinic is quiet, save for the hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of papers behind the reception desk. You’re seated in a chair that’s slightly too stiff, your hands resting over your belly, and Harry hasn’t stopped fidgeting since you checked in. He’s hovering, like always lately — a hand on your back, a whispered “you okay?” every few minutes, constantly offering to get you water or anything really.

You glance at him and smile. “Haz, I’m fine.”

He blinks, like he didn’t realize he was doing it again. “Right. Sorry. Just—nervous, I guess.”

“For me?”

“For us.” His hand finds yours, fingers threading together. “I just want everything to be perfect. I want you to be okay, and…” He trails off, eyes dropping briefly to your midsection. It’s still early. There’s no visible bump yet, but somehow, he looks at you like you’re already glowing.

Before you can reply, a nurse calls your name, and Harry springs up like he’s been launched from his seat. You try not to laugh.

The exam room smells sterile, but the lights are soft, and the doctor has a kind face. She explains what’s going to happen—how the ultrasound works, what you might see. You nod along, barely catching all the words, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Harry stands near the head of the bed, just beside you, close enough that you can feel the tremble in his hand as he strokes your hair back.

When the doctor lifts your shirt and squeezes the cool gel onto your stomach, you let out a quiet laugh. “Cold,” you mumble.

Harry winces. “That looked freezing. Poor baby.”

“You mean me or the actual baby?”

“Both.”

You glance at him, and he’s already grinning, nerves melting into something softer.

Then the screen lights up.

At first, it’s hard to tell what’s what — just some shifting grays and shadows — but the doctor moves the wand, and suddenly, there it is. A tiny bean. A flicker in the middle of the blob.

“That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor says gently, pointing at the steady blip. “Right there.”

Your breath catches. The room goes still. And then the sound fills the space — a rhythmic, fast whooshing that doesn’t even sound real.

Harry makes a sound you’ve never heard before. Somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your fingers, then rests them against his cheek.

“Oh,” he says, voice thick. “That’s our baby.”

You nod, too choked up to speak. A tear slips down your temple, and Harry catches it with his thumb before it can disappear into your hair.

“It’s really happening,” you whisper.

Harry leans down, pressing his forehead gently to yours. “Yeah. It is.”

The doctor continues pointing things out on the screen — where the head will be, the curve of the back — but you’re only half-listening. You’re watching Harry. The wonder in his eyes. The way he keeps stealing glances at the monitor like he’s afraid to blink and miss something.

After the doctor finishes, she hands you a printed image — a blurry, perfect little bean — and leaves you two alone for a moment.

Harry sits beside you, the image between his fingers, reverent like it’s a priceless painting. “I know they said it’s too early to tell anything yet,” he says softly, “but I swear this blob already has your nose.”

You giggle, wiping at your cheeks.

He laughs, leaning down to kiss your stomach, still slick and shining. “Hi, bubba,” he murmurs, resting his hand gently over you. “I’m your dad. And I’m already so, so in love with you.”

Your heart swells, overflowing with something fierce and tender. Looking at him, you know: whatever comes next, you’ll figure it out together. This is exactly how it’s meant to be.

—The End—

a/n’s: the next couple of fics are all gonna be about the pregnancy 🥹 I’m sorry I just loveeee these fics.

-Lots of love, Em.

[r7diants]

Here’s another controversial opinion that shouldn’t be controversial!!

Can we leave harry styles alone like genuinely??

Going up to him and saying hi and having a chat is totally fine I would do the same but we don’t need to be taking photos of him every time he moves. Would you not rather socialise with him than make him uncomfortable by taking photos of him without his permission??

[r7diants]

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!

[r7diants]

eternal sunshine masterlist

(a story inspired by ariana grande’s eternal sunshine album)

1. intro (end of the world) | instagram blurb

2. bye | instagram blurb

3. don’t wanna break up again | instagram blurb

4. saturn returns interlude | instagram blurb

5. eternal sunshine | instagram blurb

6. supernatural | instagram blurb

7. true story | instagram blurb

8. the boy is mine | instagram blurb

9. yes, and? | instagram blurb

10. i wish i hated you | instagram blurb

11. imperfect for you | instagram blurb

12. ordinary things | instagram blurb

13. intro - end of the world (extended) | instagram blurb

14. twilight zone | instagram blurb

15. warm | instagram blurb

16. dandelion | instagram blurb

17. past life | instagram blurb

18. Hampstead | instagram blurb

[r7diants]

Obsessed with Harry's Facial Hair (SMUT)

AN: i started this a few weeks ago but just recently got to finishing it. it was inspired by all the recent photos of harry out and about rocking a mustache and beard. i couldn't help myself. i hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback. xoxo

This story contains: love for facial hair, face sitting, face riding, female orgasm

{ any!harry (boyfriend or husband) - softrry - au!harry - confident!reader }

word count- 1,217

You refuse to sit on Harry's face until he grows back his facial hair.

Things were getting heated. You were sitting on Harry's lap in the bed, engaging in fervent kisses that left you gasping for air, as he began to remove your clothing with a blind determination. The only time your lips parted was when he lifted your shirt over your head. Once you were completely naked on his lap, the kissing resumed until Harry pulled away, his tone gravely, demanding you, "Sit on m' face, baby."

You pulled your face back and shook your head, as if to disagree with an almost disgusted expression, leaving Harry confused. You've road his face plenty of times in the past. "What?" he asks, still trying to catch his breath from your previous kissing.

Taking a deep breath, you answer him in a way you hoped didn't hurt his feelings. "Um, it's just, *pointing to his upper lip* you shaved, and it feels weird to sit on your face when your face is so smooth."

Harry throws his head back with a laugh. "Seriously, Y/n? So you're tellin' me you only like ridin' m'face when I have a mustache?"

In a quiet voice, you reply, "Yeah."

"So I can't even eat you out at all until m'mustache has grown back?"

You smile slightly and answer, "No, you can still eat me out. I just don't like sitting on your face when it's so smooth. The different positions make the experience different. But, I do prefer you to eat me out with a mustache too. Your hairs tickle my clit and it feels extra good."

Harry's not hurt by your words at all. Actually, he enjoys your confessions and is proud of you for voicing what you like and dislike. It shows you're comfortable with him. "You're ridiculous baby, you know that?" Harry tells you in a joking manner, reaching up to tickle your ribcage, making you jerk your body and laugh out loud.

-----------------------------

Two days later, you awaken to the sound of Harry breathing in your ear. He's spooning you with his face nestled against the side of your head. In an effort not to disturb him, you gently shift within his arms and begin staring at his beautiful face.

The first detail that captures your attention is his relaxed expression. Next, you observe his delicate eyelashes resting softly against his upper cheeks. Finally, you notice the slightly longer stubble on his face; his previously smooth skin has developed noticeably longer facial hair overnight.

Harry's facial hair was simply dark, short stubble yesterday, but it's now transformed into soft wisps of hair that cover his jaw and upper lip. You think back to the other night when you decided against sitting on his face due to him having shaved earlier in that day. Looking at him now, the idea of sitting on his face becomes increasingly appealing, as his facial hair has grown back.

After a few minutes of quietly watching Harry as he sleeps, he stirs awake and opens his eyes, noticing your gaze. As he stretches his arms and legs, he grunts, "Mhm, why'r you watchin' me sleep? That's creepy."

"It's not creepy. You're just exceptionally beautiful when you sleep." you retort, defending yourself.

With a sleepy smile, Harry replies, "Yeah?"

You hum a yes before reaching over to caress his coarse facial hair before spitting out what you've been thinking all morning. "Wanna sit on your face now."

Harry turns his head in confusion, still half asleep, thinking he heard you wrong. "M' sorry, what?"

With confidence, you repeat, "You heard me, I wanna ride your face now. Your facial hair has grown to the perfect length which means your face is no longer baby smooth. So I'm now agreeing to sit on your face."

Harry tosses his head back with a laugh. He loves how confident you are and how you simply know what you want or don't want. It turns him on more than you know. "You're spoiled, Y/n. Seriously spoiled rotten." he speaks before agreeing, "Alright then, what'r you waitin' for. Come sit."

He shifts down slightly until his head is level with the mattress, prompting you to quickly remove the panties you wore to bed. Just as you start to crawl over him, Harry adds, "Uh-uh, shirt too. Wanna see your beautiful tits." Rolling your eyes, you toss your t-shirt off as well and then make your way over his body, until your level with his hairy face, before sitting.

He doesn't waste any time before he starts munching on your pussy, as if your pussy alone was his five course breakfast on a silver platter. The sensation of Harry's mustache against your clit heightens your arousal as he fucks you with his tongue, causing your arousal to increase more than it already was. After a few minutes of his tongue inside you, he shifts his tongues attention to your clitoris, providing it with the proper attention it needs.

Harry begins to take your clit into his mouth, applying a vigorous suction. The sensation is so intense that you grasp the headboard tightly, your thighs clenching around his head. His hairy chin becomes soaked with your clear fluids, which drips down his neck, yet he's completely unbothered. He's just happy that you're allowing him to eat your pussy in this position, viewing it as a privilege.

The sensation of the hairs above his lip grazing the hood of your clit enhances the pleasure created by his tongue. After a few minutes of sucking, Harry switches to a rapid flicking motion of his tongue on your sensitive nerve, before ultimately settling on positioning his tongue flat and assisting you in moving back and forth, trying to maximize the pleasure you feel.

With his hands resting on your thighs, you begin to rock back and forth over his mouth, quickly realizing that your orgasm is nearing. The feeling of his tongue as you slide over it, the precise scratching of his facial hair against the back of your thighs, and the tip of his pointed nose bumping into your swollen clit, all combine to create a feeling that's almost too intense to bear.

"Oh my God! Harry, shit! I'm coming, I'm coming!!" you yell out as your orgasm crashes down on you. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the headboard tightly. Your thighs squeeze around Harry's head. He eventually has to help move you over his mouth because your muscles have become too tense to move on their own.

Slowly, you start coming down from your high. Your clit still throbs lightly against Harry's tongue, and when he lifts up slightly to peck one final kiss to it, you nearly jump off his body, way too sensitive to handle any kind of touch between your legs for at least a few minutes. "Your clits so sensitive, isn't it baby?" Harry mocks, looking up at you with dark eyes and a glossy face.

You remove yourself from above him and settle in the bed beside him. You lay flat with your arms and legs laying limp against the mattress, your breath still coming out in pants. After calming down for a minute, you open your eyes and turn you head towards Harry, saying, "Don't ever shave again. That was incredible."

Harry laughs and replies, "Yes ma'am!"

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! some people who've requested to be added doesn't allow me to @ you. please check your settings first.)

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722 // @mema10 // @harryswifee // @jewelaponte // @fruity-harry // @triski73 // @chronicallybubbly // @prettygurl-2009

My Masterlist Masterpost

[r7diants]

TAUGHT WELL - HS

summary: the kids go into protective mode after someone flirts with y/n at the beach

Novie was the first to notice. Her little eyebrows furrowed as she tugged on her oldest brother's top. At only 6 years old, she was the youngest and only girl out of the styles family, she was a replica of her mother was what Harry said the day she was born and has said every day since then.

“Yes, Vivi. What’s up?” Theo asked, raising his eyebrow and looking ever so lovingly at his youngest sibling. His eyes were a darker shade of green and his hair dark brown, he was his father's twin. Standing a little over six foot at just 18 years old, he towered over the little girl.

“I don’t like that guy” Novie pointed, directing her brother's attention to the man standing a tad bit too close to their mother, who was currently standing in line to get some ice cream. “He’s looking at Mama weirdly” she states. This gets the attention of the two other styles boys, Blake and Indi, who lift their sunglasses and look over at their siblings.

They were on holiday, somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying the last few days of the winter break before they had to get back to England to go back to school. Harry was on his stomach, snoozing away, his back smothered in the suncream y/n put on him earlier before she decided to get the kids ice cream.

Blake scoffs as he gets up from the beach towel, giving it a minute, watching the way the guy continues to ogle their mother despite the massive rock on her ring finger and the “Harry” tattoo on her collarbone. Blake was the hot-headed one, at 16 years old, he was slightly taller than Theo, his hair slighter longer. The perfect mix of his parents, definitely getting his dad's temper.

“If he as much as touches mum it’s game over” Blake states.

“I bet he’s going to ask her who we are” Indi speaks, he was the quietest out of the four. A lot more into his books and video games, and more of an introvert. He was 12, and already wise beyond his years.

“He’ll shit it when he finds out she’s our mum” Blake replies, his dark eyes staring intensely at the way the guy laughs, y/n looks over and the kids give her all a wave to which she smiles widely and waves back.

“Here we go,” Theo says, chuckling as he hears the guys gasp.

“No way you’re a mum” the guy gasps, his hand coming to lift his sunglasses off his eyes. “To an eighteen-year-old?! What! You look insanely good”

“We had him young” y/n chuckles awkwardly, looking over at the kids.

They watch on as the guy points to the ice cream that was just placed in her hand, assuming he asked to pay for it. “He’s tryna ask her out”

“That’s messed up, she’s clearly married”

“Her rings the size of Novie's head, can’t he see” Blake scoffs making Theo chuckle.

“Some guys are just divs and like married women” Theo replies, shrugging.

“That’s so fucked up”

“Right? So fucked up” Novie says making Theo sigh.

“Don’t say that Nov. Blake, watch your mouth” Theo says, before clapping his hand on the back of his brother's backs, “it’s time guys” he states as they watch the guy's hand brush over y/ns as he hands her some tissue to clean off the melting ice cream in her hand.

Theo ducks down to Novie. “You know what to do right, Novie Bear?” He fist bumps her.

“I’ve got it, Teddy Bear. Project rescue mum is underway” Theo chuckles at her nickname for him. He nods at Indi to follow her and the two set off to their mother, an innocent-looking adorning their faces.

“Mama” they hear Novie say as she wraps her hands around their mother's middle, Y/n smiles at her daughter as she hands the ice cream off to Indi who takes a lick. Y/n knows her kids like the back of her hand, she knows what they’re doing and it makes her chuckle softly to herself, just like their father she thinks. Harry was the one that instilled the project rescue mum into them, telling them to take care of their mother whenever he wasn’t around.

“Yes, baby girl? Are you alright?” Y/n asks as she ruffles her hand through her daughter's locks before looking over at her son who leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Can we go get some coconuts?” She looks up at her mother, with an innocent smile.

“Do you like coconut water?” The guy asks, causing Indi to scoff. “I could go get it for you? Would you like that?”

“No no it’s fine, truly thank you” Y/n replies just as her two older sons join her. The two boys tower over the guy and he has to look up to see them. They’re big, just like their dad, looking a lot older than their actual age.

“Hey mum, you nearly done?” Theo asks as Y/n is handed another ice cream from the man making them. Theo takes it off her with a smile.

“Nearly, just got another two left” she replies.

“It’s fine, Blake and I could wait for them, why don’t you go take Vivi to get her coconuts?” Theo offers and y/n nods before smiling.

“Thank you, angel”

“Make sure to get dad some as well, you know how he gets when he has to share his coconut water, he’s obsessed” Blake sniggers as everyone catches onto what he’s trying to imply. Harry hates coconut, especially coconut water, but that’s not important.

“Just like how he’s obsessed with you, right mama?” Novie asks, tugging on her mum's hand.

“Oh yeah, dad's insane about mum, he loves her so much” Indi speaks up, “oh look he’s awake, wave at him guys” The whole family waves at Harry who looks over with a smile, his hand up in the air. His hair was just growing back, so they stuck up awkwardly making him look so endearing. But as he gets up, his muscles flexing, it causes the guy to swallow before he excuses himself.

“Some men are disgusting, flirting with a married woman” Blake can’t help but say and without a doubt the guy heard him but he chose not to look back.

Harry comes up to his wife just as the last two ice creams are handed over to Theo. “How’s my perfect family doing?” He asks, snaking his hands around his wife’s middle before leaning in to kiss her cheek. He ruffles the boy's hair before pulling away and kissing Novie's cheek.

“Oh alright, just scaring off men as usual” Y/n laughs.

“men that have no shame” Theo adds.

“Who blatantly flirts with a woman whilst her whole family is there” Indi says and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Men who need their di-“

“Ok we get it Blake” Harry chuckles, before leading his family back.

“I swear, they’re just like you” y/n smiles, as Harry tugs her closer.

“I’ve taught them well, they know you’re our number one priority babe,” he says as he kisses her cheek before taking a quick bite out of Blake’s ice cream. The family chuckles and go back to enjoying their time under the sun.

[r7diants]

I love Harry.

[r7diants]

POSITIONS MASTERLIST

(a story inspired by ariana grande’s album positions)

1. shut up

2. 34+35

3. motive

4. just like magic

5. off the table

6. six thirty

7. safety net

8. my hair

9. nasty

10. west side

11. love language

12. positions

13. obvious

14. pov

[r7diants]

everyone wants him (pt 2)

read pt 1 here.

in which Y/N goes to Harry's party but things go terribly wrong and her worst fear comes true

In this part: mentions of violence, description of past bullying, mean comments directed at y/n, y/n confronting her bullies so descriptions of fear and anxiety

2.1k words

Y/N had spent too much time getting ready. This party was all she’d been thinking about. Harry had wanted to come pick her up, but she’d refused point blank because she knew he would be busy with all the attention after the game. And while Y/N didn’t know much about football, unbeknownst to Harry she’d gone to watch his game. He was surreal in his normal life, but he was literal magic on the field. 

Her heart soared every time someone cheered loudly for him, which was often. She felt a kind of thrill seeing him on the field, being a spectacle for so many people, knowing that he would return to her at the end of the day. Every time sweat ran down his face and he lifted his shirt to wipe it off, Y/N felt like everyone could see it on her face - the way she blushed, the way she wanted nothing more than to shove him into her room and never let them leave.

When they’d won, Harry’s face glowed with a wild kind of happiness. Y/N let her worries momentarily melt away at the thought of meeting him soon as she sneaked back to her room. 

Now it was nearing the time to go, and the nervousness was back. She grabbed her coat and stepped out of her building, her bare legs immediately feeling the slight breeze. They’d been able to book an entire room in a club for the party. Y/N had rolled her eyes when Harry had told her. Of course the university had money for every single party the mens football team wanted to throw but never for things like improving campus food or funding student campaigns.  

Her uber dropped her right outside, and then there was no going back. Quite a few people hung outside smoking and chatting, with drinks in their hands. Some regarded her with curiosity, others cared too less. She made her way inside, already feeling the music flow through her entire body. 

She’d texted Harry that she’d arrived, but with the way that the crowd of admirers were hanging around the players near the center of the room, she figured she’d have to wait her turn.

He was a star tonight, after all. 

It didn’t take long to spot him. Harry stood laughing animatedly, drink in hand. He was surrounded by people - friends clapping him on the back, girls looking at him with want and admiration, strangers shaking hands with him. Y/N recognised some of his teamates - their sneering faces were burned in in the back of her mind - but right now they all looked to Harry like he was the sun. He’d changed after his game into a white t-shirt and jeans, and Y/N wondered not for the first time how he looked so good in everything without even trying. 

Even from the other end of the room, she kept her eyes trained on him, hoping he’d somehow look at her. Almost as if he felt her gaze, his eyes met hers and Y/N’s stomach twisted. Harry's whole face lit up, eyebrows raised, smile spitting his face. He raised his hand in a wave and Y/N lifted her drink in response. 

Through the crowds, Harry tried to make his way over to her, but it was impossible for him to not get stopped by people wanting to congratulate him. She could see the flicker of frustration on his face, but he took it all with unrivalled kindness. 

Y/N laughed softly under her breath at his annoyance just as someone jostled her hard from the side, an unavoidable consequence of being in such a crowded room. She stumbled, caught herself, and when she looked back up, Harry was gone. 

She frowned immediately, and looked around again. Then, a gentle hand on her waist, a tug on her wrist, and Harry was in front of her. 

“Y/N,” he said, a little bit in awe. “You came.” His speech was slightly slurred. 

“I said I would. Congrats on the win, Harry” she said breathlessly. 

“God, baby, you look beautiful.” He leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers.

And this was how she knew he was definitely drunk. He’d ignored her congratulations. Also, a while ago she had told him she hated being called nicknames. For a while he teased her by calling her every name imaginable. But then she made it clear how much she disliked it, so he stopped. But when he was drunk, or they were just waking up, when he was never fully lucid, it slipped out sometimes. 

“You look good too, Harry.” she said. “Are you having fun?”

“It’s so nice,” he said. “Wish you could’ve come seen me play. Everyone is saying I was a force to be decked with.”

Y/N laughed. “Reckoned with,” she corrected him. “And I’m sure you were.” 

They stayed pressed together for a minute and then Harry pulled away from her suddenly. “I need to go meet some people. You want to come with?”

Y/N shook her head. “I think I’ll go get another drink. Come find me again, okay?”

Harry nodded. He was too happy and blissed out to insist she come with him. “Don’t go where I can’t see,” he slurred, and then was off. 

Y/N sighed. So far, everything had been good. She’d felt selfish for being so worried about her own problems when she should have been happier for Harry. Y/N decided to step out for a bit to get some air. The club was a maze and the absolutely insane number of people in it were no help. She got pushed into the middle of a group of people heading into one of the rooms and just had to go with it. They ended up in one of the quieter rooms, with a few people just bopping their heads to the music. Y/N froze at the sight of those people. 

She should’ve known. There was no way she could come to a football party and avoid running into these people. Harry’s words from a few days earlier rang in her head. 

Whatever you’re worried about Y/N, I’m not going to let it happen.

Y/N immediately turned around at the sight of Jacob and his little bitch Trent standing amongst a group of other people. Her throat felt dry at the panic she was feeling, but she tried to breathe deep and make it out of the room. 

“Is that who I think it is?” came Jacob’s loud thundering voice from behind her. Y/N almost tripped on her way out. She could hear the smirk in his voice, just like an year ago. She ignored him, steeling herself, but she felt something clasp her arm tightly and pull her back. 

“Ow!” she exclaimed, turning around to face him. Jacob looked amused at the sight of her, and standing a step behind, Trent had the same look on his face. 

“Wow Y/N. Honestly I have to respect the confidence.”

“Let me go,” she gritted out. Now that she was actually face to face with him, she felt anger more than fear. Anger at herself, at him, for how he’d manipulated her. How he’d gotten into her mind and hurt her with his words. 

Her mom had said it was a form of quite serious bullying. An year ago, she’d started speaking to Jacob at some random party. He was charming—too charming—and after some time, he’d won her over with his fake sweetness. For a week, he’d acted like a gentleman, saying all the right things, making her feel special. Finally, she’d slept with him. Y/N remembered being in bed, lying next to him, feeling hopeful and excited and content. The next week too passed almost blissfully. She'd thought that Jacob was perfect. The next time she spent the night at his was just as good, but the morning to follow was one of the worst in her life. The way he had switched on her, and the comments his friends would just not stop making… it was clearly bullying. It went on for two months, them harassing her every chance they got until it messed with Y/N’s head so much that she fell seriously ill and stopped going anywhere for fear of running into those people. It became so bad that she had to go back home to her parents for a bit. When she came back, they seemed to suddenly not care much at all. Things became kind of normal. She just didn’t want to be known at all, by anyone. 

Until Harry. And Y/N was so, so afraid. But he was nothing like Jacob and his friends. She had been meaning to tell him about it, how Jacob had treated her, why she avoided any association with Harry because of that.

And now, she needed Harry more than ever. Jacob continued to glare at her like he had just found his prey. 

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

She shook her head, trying to wriggle free. Jacob let her go with a bit of a push and she stumbled. 

“I knew you’d come back for your five minutes of fame. Wasn’t it enough last time?” Jacob continued. Y/N backed away, but they had her trapped with no way out. Trent stood on the other side, towards the exit. Y/N shuddered. 

Over the months, she had cursed them over and over, but now none of it came to her head. 

“You guys seriously need to get some help. What you did was in no way funny,” she said, trying to make her voice firm. 

“Yeah, you had go back to your mummy, didn’t you?” Trent snickered. 

“Shut up you little shit,” Y/N snapped. “Have you ever made a decision for yourself in your entire life?” 

Trent’s eyes narrowed, and Jacob’s hand closed around her jaw to turn her head to him. “Watch your mouth, baby,” Jacob said, smiling sweetly at her. “Are you here to find someone else to screw?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but there was some shuffling near them, and suddenly Harry was there, shoving Jacob away roughly. The air came back into Y/N’s body.

“Harry!” she exclaimed with relief. 

“Get your hands off her! The fuck is going on?” Harry said, his eyes blazing. They stopped at Y/N and her shaken state. He reached forward, touching her face lightly. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Y/N swore she could physically feel the delight that Jacob felt in that moment. 

“Oh I see!” he exclaimed, hands clapping together in mock excitement. “Styles, you’ve picked a good one.”

No, Y/N thought. No no no. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed at Jacob. He took Y/N’s hand in his, pulling her behind him. “What the fuck are you saying, Jacob?”

Y/N pulled Harry’s arm. “Let’s just go, Harry. I’ll explain everything.” 

“No,” Harry said resolutely. “If Jacob has anything to say he can say it to me,”

“You’re misreading the situation. Let’s just go.” Y/N pulled him again, but he held his ground. 

Jacob laughed. “Let me warn you Styles, she’s going to get a bit too much.”

Y/N felt Harry tense. He turned to her. “You know him?” he said softly, but enough for Trent and Jacob to hear. 

A laugh. “Quite intimately, in fact,” Jacob answered. Y/N winced and Harry’s grip on her arm tightened. 

“Y/N?” 

“Please, Harry. I’m begging. He’s making me really uncomfortable.”

A muscle ticked in Harry’s jaw. “What the fuck did you say to her?” he spat at Jacob. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m sure you guys must be spending quite some intimate time alone.”

And that was it. Y/N freed herself from Harry’s grip and speedwalked out the venue. She did not even attempt to stop the tears that fell from her eyes. She’d promised herself she’d never let herself feel like that ever again. And while Harry had given her all the good things she could’ve imagined, being there with him while Jacob talked like that about something that was none of his business made her sick. She’d known it would have been a mistake to come. She shouldn’t have. 

She felt the air greet her as she reached the exit. Behind her, there was a commotion beginning, and before Y/N could even make it out of the club she heard the chorus of drunk people chanting. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Y/N stopped in her tracks. Her head pulsed furiously.  She leaned against a pillar and drew in deep gulps of air. When she turned back around, she saw Harry making his way out amongst the crowd, head frantically turning around looking for her. His hair was tousled, and the hem of his t-shirt was bunched, like it had just been in someone's fist. 

When he saw her, his steps became more urgent. She saw him mouth her name but the sound did not reach her. What could Jacob have said to him? Her worst fear was coming true. She shook her head, then turned around and walked away, for the first time in her life wanting to be away from him. 

****

this one is much more about y/n and her past bullying experience, i think more will be revealed in the next part, but bullying of any kind is a serious issue that could affect people in many different ways!

thanks for making it through so far <3

[r7diants]