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#harry styles smut oneshot
londonbelow · 1 year
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American Honey
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in which Harry is a single dad/rancher and our faceless/nameless female MC babysits for him while he goes on a date warnings: age gap (both parties are consenting adults over the age of 21), a hint of choking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, squirting, nothing too kinky... this is literal shit im sorry ily anyways
I didn’t know how I got roped into babysitting for the man I was completely in love with, but here I was, pulling into his long gravel driveway on a beautiful September day. If you asked me a few months ago how much I enjoyed children, I would have laughed in your face and told you that I didn’t enjoy them at all and that you couldn’t pay me to spend time with them. 
That was until I met Harry. 
My best friend Kelsey was his niece. She introduced me when she began to take horseback riding lessons on his ranch shortly after he moved back to town. He wanted to be closer to his family after his wife had passed away, so he packed up his life and moved back to his hometown. 
The first time I saw him, his strong body mounted on top of a large brown horse, my breath got caught in my throat and wouldn’t dislodge the entire time I watched him ride. That day, most days, he wore a ratty old t-shirt that clung to his muscles and a pair of dirty brown cowboy boots under his tight jeans. He traded off between a black cowboy hat and a backwards baseball cap, one that boasted some sports team I had no idea about. Tattoos littered his strong arms and I knew they spread across his torso as well from all the times I drooled over him as he did manual labor around his ranch. 
He had a six year old daughter named Maisy that looked just like him, one who worshipped the ground he walked on. She followed him around like a baby duckling, excitedly showing him things he couldn’t possibly care much about, but he always reacted in a way that told her he did. It was endearing, watching him smile brightly at a large spider his small daughter caught and decided to name Annabelle. He shivered and grimaced as soon as his back was turned to his child, never letting her know that her affinity for bugs grossed him out. 
He was an angel with her. So patient and kind and goofy. Watching them together made me ache for something that I didn’t know I even wanted—a family. I was far too young to be thinking that way, of course, but it didn’t stop my heart from compressing every time I watched him hoist her up onto her pony to go for a ride. 
He was all rough around the edges but a gentleman nonetheless. The first time he met me, he removed his hat and bowed his head a little and called me honey in his luxurious sounding accent. He’d been calling me by that ever since then, claiming it was because I was “sweet as”. He didn’t call anyone else that I knew at the ranch by any sort of nickname, not even the pretty brunette veterinarian who came to tend to the animals. 
He asked me if I was interested in riding lessons and I lied immediately and said yes, absolutely. I was terrified of horses, actually, but I would have done anything he asked of me, as long as I could stare at him while doing it.
He was around 20 years my senior, not that he looked it. He had little crinkles near his eyes and smile lines from years of laughter. His skin was tanned and freckled from the sun, his arm and thigh muscles bulging from all of the physical labor he did. I knew I had daddy issues, but I had never been attracted to an actual dad until Harry. 
I had spent the last two months taking riding lessons with him, keeping my crush as lowkey as I possibly could, although every time his hands brushed my hips or my leg when he was helping me on and off the horses, I felt like I could just melt. 
We grew comfortable with each other and there were times when I thought he may be flirting with me, but it never went anywhere. I started to think I was delusional, that there was no real tension between us like I thought there was. Especially when he asked me in the shyest of tones if I would babysit his daughter for him while he went on a date. 
So here I was, huffing and puffing in annoyance as I sat in the driveway of his home, angry with him for dating someone else and angry with myself for agreeing to babysit so he could. I felt like an idiot. I enjoyed hanging out with his kid because she was a little weirdo like I was at her age, but I didn’t enjoy knowing he’d be out with some lonely housewife throwing herself at him. 
I let out a loud whine as I banged my head against the steering wheel a couple of times, letting my theatrics empty from my body before I sat up straight and composed myself. 
“Get a grip, he wouldn’t touch you anyways. You’re 25 years old. He’s your best friend’s uncle. Of course he wants someone his age, you’re basically a fucking child in his eyes.” I muttered to myself as I reached over for my bag and lugged it out of the car with me. 
It was filled with things I thought Maisy might enjoy, like my black lipstick and some Halloween decorations I had packed away. The child lived for all things horror, she treated every day as if it was Halloween and nothing scared her. It was one of the reasons I completely adored her, despite never liking most children. 
I looked down at my outfit as I made my way to the front door. I didn’t know how late I’d be stuck here, so I dressed comfortably, in little black shorts and a loose crop top. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I reached up to press the doorbell when the door flung open. 
My breath got caught again at the sight of him. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at me, a slow smile tugging on his mouth as he reached out to grab hold of my arm. 
“Hi, thank god you’re here, I need your help.” Harry tugged me into the house quickly. 
His hand on my skin sent goosebumps all over me. He pulled me with him through the corridor and the kitchen, toward his large bedroom. I felt a thrill run through me at his urgency to get me in there, but it settled as I remembered quickly that he wasn’t dragging me there to ravage me like I wanted him to. 
My eyes took him in as he pulled me behind him. He had on his usual jeans and a t-shirt, his usually unruly curls set into a more tame hairstyle. He hadn’t shaved, which I was grateful for, but he smelled fresh and clean and looked like he might be sick at any moment. 
He pulled me to where he had three different outfits laid out on his bed, gesturing to them and then looking at me helplessly. 
“Mr. Styles, I—” 
“Harry, darlin’. I told you to call me Harry.” He corrected me, his hand sliding down my arm, making my stomach flip around, “Now… which one?” 
“Where are you taking her?” I asked, reaching out to touch the fabric on one pair of pants. 
“The Lodge?” He said, sounding as if he were unsure. 
I made a face, impressed with his expensive selection but annoyed that it was going to another woman. He took my reaction the wrong way, assuming that I thought it was a bad choice for a first date. He put his head in his hands and groaned loudly. 
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” He breathed out, “I should just cancel. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not ready for this.” 
“Woah, hold on, I didn’t say that. It’s a nice restaurant. If you really like this girl…” I trailed off, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat. I looked down at the outfits he selected and smiled at his effort. I touched the edge of one of the more casual ones, “D-do you? Really like her?” 
“Well, I… like her. I don’t know if it’s worth a ‘really’ yet.” He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. 
“Wear this one. You’ll look great.” I pointed to the outfit. 
“Yeah?” He breathed out, moving closer to me so he could reach down to touch it as well, “You think?” 
His arm brushed against mine as we stood next to one another, looking down at my selection. I felt like I couldn’t breathe every time he touched me, even if it was accidental. I reached over and squeezed his arm, feeling my stomach clench up again when I did. This man did something feral to me. I wanted to get naked and display myself for the taking. I wanted him to take and take and take. 
“She’s a lucky lady.” I loosened my grip, letting my fingers brush down the length of his arm gently. 
He turned to look down at me, so close that I could feel his breathing against my forehead. He was much taller than I was, so much so that I had to crane my head back to look up at him. I saw his eyes slide down over my frame, so quickly and discreet that I almost missed it. He averted his gaze back to the clothes on the bed, nodding. 
“Thanks, honey. I should, uh… I should finish getting ready. Don’t want to be late, do I?” He reached up and scratched the back of his head, “Maisy’s in the living room watching the Addams Family again.” 
“Of course she is.” I laughed, moving to his door, “Hey, if she tells me you said it’s okay for her to watch Halloween, she’s lying right?” 
“She’s absolutely lying.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smile, “Nothing above PG-13.” 
“She’s six years old.” I stated dryly, watching him smile brighter as he reached for the bottom of his shirt. 
“Try telling that to her.” He joked, peeling his t-shirt off right in front of me. I felt saliva gather in my mouth at the sight of his tattooed torso, his muscles flexing as he moved. 
I stood there like an idiot, just staring with my lips parted, feeling as if I might start drooling any second. He looked at me, an amused expression on his face, lifting his eyebrows. 
“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked. I reached up immediately and touched my mouth, forcing my lips closed and checking for drool at the same time. 
“Yep, sorry. I’ll give you some… privacy.” I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks heat up as I forced myself to leave his room, yanking the door shut behind me. 
I leaned against it and sighed heavily, composing myself before I went out to the living room where Maisy lounged. 
“Hey scream queen, you watching the Addams Family again?” I plopped down onto the couch, looking over at her. 
She was spitting image of Harry. Really, if I hadn’t seen photos of her late mother I would think he cloned her to look exactly like him. She had the same soft brunette curls, the same green eyes that looked blue in certain light, the same pouty pink lips and the same little accent as him. The only difference was the streak of temporary purple dye in her hair, which I put in for her a week ago. 
“Yep! When daddy leaves, do you wanna watch Halloween?” She whispered the question to me, smiling slowly like the little evil thing she was. 
“I will not be held responsible for your nightmares tonight, little one.” I reached over and brushed her hair out of her face. 
“Please, please, please.” She begged, grabbing onto my face with her tiny hands, squishing my cheeks together, “I won’t tell him, I swear! You’re my favorite babysitter ever, nobody else is as fun as you are.” 
I narrowed my eyes at her buttering me up, “You are good.” 
“I know.” She giggled loudly as I began to tickle her sides, watching her fall back against the couch cushions and squeal with delight.  
I didn’t notice Harry walk over to the living room at first. He just stood there, silently, watching me tickle his daughter with a smile on his face. I stopped when I finally noticed him, wondering how long he had been watching us. He seemed perfectly content to stay right there, his eyes steady on me and his daughter. 
He lifted his eyebrows and pushed himself off the door frame when he realized I had noticed him. 
His cheeks went slightly pink, “Alright, girls. How do I look?��� 
We both watched him as he did a slow spin, showing off his outfit. I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight of him. He looked incredible—wearing tight black slacks with a matching button-up shirt under a suit jacket. He left a lot of the buttons undone, showing off his chest where his shiny crucifix necklace was teasing me. I could have gotten down on my knees right then to pray. 
His eyes darkened slightly when they took in my reaction to him, so much so that I swore he could read the arousal I felt all over my stupid face. I swallowed hard, averting my gaze from him as my cheeks went up in flames. 
“You look nice, daddy!” Maisy said, rushing over to him and into his arms. He picked her up into his arms and gave her a toss into the air that made my heart stop for a second, but he caught her with ease and she screamed happily. 
Harry grinned at her, leaning down to rub his nose across hers, giving her their special bunny kisses. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. 
“You smell good, too!” She said, wiggling out of his arms and back down to the ground, “Will Miss Casey smell you tonight?” 
I almost laughed, but the reminder that Harry was going on a date with the local kindergarten teacher—a beautiful 30-something year old who was fantastic with children—made my heart drop into my stomach.
“I’m sure she will at some point.” Harry said in a bashful tone, reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his head. 
Maisy called my name, running back over to me and grabbing my hand, dragging me to her father, “Smell daddy!” 
“Uh, Maisy, I don’t think…” I started, but Harry smiled and shook his head to stop me. 
“I’d actually like to hear if you think it’s too much. I don’t wear cologne very often, only on special occasions.” He said sheepishly, “Do you mind?” 
Special occasions, like the date he was about to go on. My heart made another leap into my stomach, making me frown. 
“No, I… I don’t mind.” I said breathlessly, forcing a smile and stepping closer to him. 
I placed my hand against his shoulder even though I didn’t have to and then I leaned in close to him. I shut my eyes as I inhaled his scent, trying to force the moan down my throat. It came out as a soft “mmm” instead. 
He smelled delicious. Just the perfect amount of spicy and sweet mixed in with his natural musky scent that was so familiar to me after all the time we’d spent together. I wanted to nuzzle my face into his neck and inhale it again but instead I forced myself back from him, nodding like a crazy person. 
“She’ll love it.” I said quietly, watching his soft eyes follow me as I stepped backwards, my hand reaching out to take Maisy’s, trying to anchor myself back down to earth. She squeezed my hand tightly once before letting it go and running back to her movie. 
“K, bye daddy!” She called out, once again glued to the TV screen as Wednesday Addams tortured her brother for fun. 
I walked Harry to the door, my eyes scanning over him as much as I could before he took notice. I wanted to tell him not to go, to stay here with us instead. I wanted him to see how badly I ached for him and to take me up on the offer. I knew the idea was a complete delusion, I knew that he could never see me that way, but I couldn’t help my fantasies. 
He turned to face me at the front door, tapping his fingers gently against the edge of it as we looked at one another. There was so much staring between us, it felt like longing. He’d drape his slow gaze over me, not saying a word, making me tingle all over. 
“Okay, um, call me if you need anything. I shouldn’t be out too late. You know her bedtime routine…” He trailed off, patting his pockets to ensure he had his phone and his wallet, “Are you… are you sure I shouldn’t cancel? Stay here with you and Maze and watch Halloween movies instead?” 
Yes. Cancel. Forget her and stay with me, please. Please. My throat felt like it was closing up at my thoughts, too scared to say them out loud. I shook my head to him, forcing a smile.
“You need to go. Put yourself out there. You deserve to be happy, Harry.” I said to him, reaching up and patting his shoulder. I let my hand linger there for a long moment, just rubbing him in what I hoped was a comforting manner and not creepy. 
He reached up and put his hand on top of my own, squeezing it gently as he looked at me in a way that I hadn’t seen before. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as he pulled my hand from his shoulder, his fingers tightening around my own just for a moment before he dropped it. I clenched it into a fist, desperate to hold onto the feeling of his skin on mine. 
“You are something else, honey.” He said quietly, shaking his head slightly, “Thanks again for watching Maze, you know how much she loves you.” 
“Anytime.” I murmured, smiling, “Have fun tonight. Call if you’re going to be late, okay?” 
He smiled and nodded, taking another long moment to look me over. He flipped his car keys in his hand and let out a loud sigh before he turned away from me for good. I watched him leave, waving from the door as he backed out of the driveway, heading off to the last place I wanted him to go. 
I sighed heavily and locked the door, heading back to Maisy, who was digging through my bag greedily, giggling in delight at every new treasure she found. 
“I see you found my bag of goodies.” I said to her with a grin. 
“Are these for me?!” She squealed and I laughed, nodding as she pulled out a big stuffed bat that I picked up from Target. 
“They are, you little sneak. You could have waited for me to give them to you myself.” I laughed as I sat down behind her. 
“So…” Maisy climbed up to my lap, smiling, “Halloween?” 
I sighed and smiled, “You can’t watch that movie, Maisy.” 
“I’ve already watched it!” She whined. 
“How about Casper instead?” I suggested. 
She made a face, offended, “That wimpy ghost?” 
I laughed loudly, breathing out a sigh, “Okay, fine. But you’re covering your eyes for the bad parts.” 
Maisy rushed off my lap, clapping her hands in delight and jumping up and down next to me, “Can we have popcorn too? Can I have juice? Can I have candy?” 
“You are an absolute terror.” I grabbed her shoulders to stop her from jumping, listening to her laughter. I scooped her up and carried her to the kitchen anyway, unable to say no to her. 
“How about we make my famous brownies? That way your dad has something sweet to eat when he gets home.” I suggested to her as she climbed up onto one of the bar stools, starting to pull out all of the ingredients I needed. 
“Daddy doesn't need sweets when you’re around, on a count of you being honey and all.” She asked me, kicking her feet out over and over again as her eyes carefully watched me. 
“Oh? Is that so?” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. 
“I heard him talkin’ to Mr. Davis about it!” She nodded confidently, smiling at me at her knowledge of her fathers private conversations. 
Mr. Davis was Harry’s closest friend and one of the ranch hands. They were always shit talking and shooting the breeze whenever they had free time. I had no idea that Harry mentioned me at all to him and I couldn’t help but probe Maisy for further information. 
“And what exactly did your daddy say to Mr. Davis?” I narrowed my eyes, pulling different ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the countertop. 
“He said that he bets you taste just like honey, sweet as can be. He told Mr. Davis that he’d love to try it some time.” She squinted, “Do you have lots of bees at your house? Can I come see them?” 
I had to force my laughter down at her misunderstanding of what her daddy meant. I felt my face heat up at the confirmation that Harry thought about me in the same way that I thought about him. I had to press my hand against my chest to try and calm my breathing before I turned to face the little girl who was talking to me. 
“I do have lots of bees, but you better watch out, because they’ll sting you!” I turned and poked at her sides, tickling them and sending her on a laughter frenzy. 
“Now, back to business. We need a mixing bowl…” 
Maisy and I spent the rest of the night baking brownies and decorating them for her father. Then she ate way too many of them and passed out from a sugar crash about five minutes into Halloween. I carried her into her bedroom and tucked her in, starting to clean up the living room and the kitchen. 
It was still early when I finished up in the kitchen and I flicked the lights off, figuring I’d settle into the dark living room to finish watching Halloween by myself. I curled up onto the couch and shut all the lights off, stretching my body out.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Maisy told me, her little innocent mind not even realizing that Harry was talking about going down on me. I wondered if she heard him right or if I’d make a fool of myself by making a move the next time I saw him. 
I must have dozed off thinking about it, because the next thing I knew, I heard Harry’s key in the door and listened as he quietly shut it behind him. His gentle footsteps made their way into the living room and I barely opened my eyes to look at him. 
He stood by the entryway, staring at me, his eyes roaming over my body carefully. My breath got caught when I realized he was checking me out. He took his time, drinking in the outline of my body in a greedy manner. He ran a hand through his hair and started toward me, looking more and more full of want as he got closer. 
My eyes fluttered open as he pulled a blanket off the couch, intending to cover me up with it and leave me. I wasn’t ready for him to leave, I wanted to spend more time with him, so I made it known that I was up. I reached over and touched his hip, watching him pull back to look down at my face. 
“Hey…” I said sleepily, stretching my body out, a quiet moan releasing from my throat. 
Harry swallowed harshly at the sound, shifting on his feet, “Hey, sweetheart. You must have dozed off.” 
“Yeah, sorry.” I sat up slowly, once again stretching my limbs out before I stood up from the couch, “How was your date?” 
We were standing insanely close to one another, so much so that my chest nearly brushed over his own. I leaned forward so that my breasts would touch him, just barely, and he didn’t move back from me like I thought he would. 
“Horrible.” He whispered, shaking his head.
“Oh no, I’m sorry. How about I make you a drink and you can tell me all about it?” I offered him, watching him smirk at me. 
“Are you even old enough to drink?” He teased me, to which I gave him a playful shove against his chest. 
“Very funny. I’m not that young.” I said to him sternly, raising my eyebrows, “I’m old enough to do a lot of things. Things you couldn’t possibly imagine.” 
I watched his eyebrows hitch high on his forehead at that and then I smirked at him. I turned and walked out of the living room with that, knowing that he was watching me go, his eyes steady on my ass as it jiggled into the kitchen. I went to his bar, which was a locked cabinet, getting up onto the tips of my toes to try and reach the key that he kept hidden high up. 
I knew my shirt was rising up as I reached, exposing the underside of my breasts, and I swore I heard a small groan from Harry as he watched me.
“Harry? Can you help me?” I said softly, turning to look at him over my shoulder as I continued to try and reach the key. I knew I had no chance of getting it, but I also wanted him closer to me.
He obliged like I hoped he would. He came up behind me, his body pressing against mine too closely for it to be a mistake or a casual thing. He raised his arm to take the key down and I turned my head to look at him as he did this. Our faces were so close, if I moved just a few inches forward, I could kiss him. He could kiss me. I silently willed him to do it, but he didn’t. 
He just watched me, his eyes more intense than I’d ever seen them. He studied my features, moving slow as he handed me the key. Our fingers brushed lightly as he passed it to me, his hand so warm against my own. 
“Thank you.” I whispered, watching his eyes fall to my lips as they formed the words. 
He cleared his throat and backed away from me slightly, but not enough that I wouldn’t bump into him when I bent over to dig around in the liquor cabinet. 
“So tell me… what went wrong on the date?” I asked, carefully turning to bend over, my ass brushing over the front of his pants just barely when I did. 
I swore I heard him let out a gasp, but he didn’t move back from me like I thought he would. He stayed exactly where he was, hips solid as I leaned back slightly on my heels to give him a little more pressure. 
He froze in place as I did this but he didn’t pull his hips back. He did the opposite. It was subtle, but he flexed his hips forward against my body, letting me feel how hard he was for a second before he pulled back again. 
I stood up, turning to look at him with a bottle of bourbon in my hands. I eyed him, keeping my back to him as he moved in closer to me, close enough for his hips to graze over my ass again, his chest touching my shoulder blades. 
“Honestly?” He whispered, moving even closer to me, one of his hands brushing up against my hip as he did. 
“Tell me.” I replied, my voice hoarse, strained from the close contact between us, which made me feel like I was on fire. 
Harry’s eyes flickered down over my face, taking me in, and he swallowed harshly before he confessed, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you all night, honey.” 
My heart was pounding harder than ever before, going wild in my chest. Did he actually just say those words or was I hallucinating? I watched them form on his lips but it still felt unreal. I blinked at him, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth to bite down and make sure I was awake. He reached up and touched my chin, tugging my lip back out. 
He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Not bourbon.” 
His eyes were dark, narrowed down toward me as if he were angry, but I knew he wasn’t. He was turned on. Ridiculously so. I also knew that he loved bourbon, so turning it down meant that he wanted me to bend back over and pick up a different bottle. I didn’t ask him which liquor he wanted instead, I simply bent at the hips again and pushed my ass back into him as I put the bourbon bottle back. 
His hips once again made contact with my ass cheeks, his hard cock pushing up against me in a desperate manner, his fingers digging into the skin of my hip. I pretended to poke around in the cabinet, letting him keep himself pressed to me much longer than the first time. I snagged a bottle of vodka and stood up, pulling myself away from him abruptly. 
“How about this?” I asked breathlessly, licking my lips slowly as I turned my head to meet his stare once again. 
“Not that.” He shook his head, his eyes falling down to my mouth for a long moment. His voice was strained when he spoke again, “Bend back over and try again for me, sweetheart.” 
This time, I smiled slowly at him before I turned away, bending at the hips and jutting my ass out as an offering for him. He did the same thing as before—let me back up against him, let my ass press into his crotch. He was subtle in his movements the first two times, but something came unhinged for him this time. 
Maybe it was the way my loose shirt slid up and exposed my breasts when I bent that time. Maybe it was the way I reached back and grabbed onto his thigh to steady myself on the way down. He lost all sense of self-control, both of his hands now grasping roughly onto my hips and yanking me hard against him. 
A low moan released from his throat as he pulled me into him until my back was pressed against his front, burying his face in my neck. His hands clawed up my sides, hips grinding into me slowly, sensually, like he wanted me to feel all of him. 
“Fuck,” He moaned, “This is wrong… so so wrong.” 
I whined, clinging onto the edge of the counter as he continued to grind himself against me, my cunt dripping with desire for him, “Don’t stop. Please…” 
He grabbed onto both of my arms then, pulling them behind my back and holding them there, bending me over the counter so my bare breasts and my face were pressed to the cool marble. 
“I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long.” He slid his free hand around my hips, finding the wet spot at the front of my shorts and pressing into it, “You’re soaking wet…” 
“Oh god!” I cried out when he rubbed a circle against my clit, sending a shockwave through me. 
“Shhh…” He ordered me, “Shh, baby. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?” 
I whimpered and nodded, willing to agree to anything if only he would touch me again. I wiggled my hips back, needing more contact from him, and he grasped onto my shorts, yanking them down to my ankles. He got onto his knees behind me and I shut my eyes with a soft moan as he palmed my thighs, prying them open so he could get a good look at my pussy. 
“Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt.” He breathed in the scent of my arousal, groaning in pleasure, “I need to taste you, honey. I need to…” 
“Please, Harry…” I gasped out just as his tongue slid up my slit slowly, lapping up all of my juices. 
He moaned again as his tongue went wild, slipping up and down my slit and licking up every drop before dipping inside of me, trying to get as much of my arousal as possible. I couldn’t believe how deeply he was tongue fucking me, the sounds of him slurping up every drop sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head. 
“More, more, give me more…” He groaned against my cunt, the vibrations sending a new flood of arousal through me that he lapped up immediately. 
I was shaking, still clinging to the countertop, my face warm now against the marble. I swore I was going to start drooling soon if he kept diving his tongue deep into me, the pleasure being nearly too much for me to handle. 
“You are everything I’ve dreamed of and more.” He murmured as pulled back, standing up to his full height so he could unbutton his pants, “You gonna take every inch of my cock, baby? You think you can handle that?” 
“Yes, yes… please…” I moaned out, nodding in hazy delusion. 
“Stay still, gonna start slow for ya, since you’re being so good for me.” He panted out, removing his cock from his pants but leaving all of his clothes on otherwise. 
I glanced down, seeing how swollen and drippy he was with precum, desperate to be touched. His cock was beautiful, it was thick and long with delicious looking veins protruding from the sides. He fisted himself carefully, dragging his hand up and down it a few times, precum squeezing out. I wanted to lick it up, wanted to taste every inch of him that I could. 
He lined his hips up behind me and positioned his cock between my slit, pressing against me. He rocked his hips back and forth carefully, letting my pussy coat him with my arousal, getting it slippery wet. The head of his cock bumped up against my clit with every thrust he made and I let out a nearly-silent cry at the teasing. 
He reached his hands around to slip them up against my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples, making them harden at his touch. He buried his face in the back of my neck again, inhaling me, his lips trailing roughly across the sensitive skin there. 
He kissed along every inch of my neck, brushing my hair away from my skin so he could kiss more and more. He pulled me back against his body, his hand moving up over my chest and throat to grasp my chin, forcing my head to the side. I looked at him, craning my neck around as much as I could, offering him my mouth. He leaned in closer to me, our noses brushing, lips parting as we both panted heavily into each other's mouths. 
“I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re so fucking young.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against mine, still thrusting his cock up against my wet cunt but not entering me.
Both his hands went down to my hips, clinging to them tightly, his fingers digging into my skin as he tried to control himself. He was shaking as he pressed his cock against me over and over and I could see him unwinding for me.
“So then stop doing it.” I teased him, grinning wickedly. 
“Get over here.” He ordered me, pulling back so he could force me to turn around. His lips found mine right away, his tongue pressing into my mouth and flicking across mine. His large, calloused fingers took hold of my naked hips, shoving me up onto the counter and spreading my legs apart for him. 
“You want me to stop, baby?” He pulled back to whisper, his fingers slipping into my cunt, immediately stroking upward, making me feel things I’d never felt before in my life. 
“Oh fuck!” I cried out loudly, unable to keep it down. 
He slapped his hand over my mouth, keeping his face right in front of mine so I’d maintain eye contact with him. His fingers began to stroke me faster, harder, pressing into what I assumed was my g-spot. I’d never felt anything like it. My stomach rolled in the best way possible and my legs began to shake. My cunt clenched and gushed around his fingers, so wet for him that it was spreading all over my inner thighs the rougher he finger-fucked me. 
“There you go, that’s my girl… give it all to me, honey.” He murmured, tightening his fingers over my mouth when I moaned behind them, “Shh, come for me, come all over me, I want every fucking drop.” 
He began to finger me harder, faster, his fingers jerking up and down instead of in and out and I felt something explode inside of me. My orgasm hit hard, making me cry out from behind Harry’s hand, and he replaced it with his mouth, swallowing up all of my moans and curses. 
A warm liquid gushed out of my cunt and shot all over Harry’s torso as I came hard. That had never happened before. I pulled back from the kiss and looked in a panic to see his reaction, expecting him to be as confused as I was, but he looked overjoyed by it. His mouth found mine again, tongue excitedly taking control of my own. 
He kept his hand firmly inside of me, his thumb brushing through my public hair down to my clit, rubbing it in slow circles. He moaned into my mouth, his free arm going around my waist to tug me to the edge of the counter. 
“I want you to come like that all over my cock.” He murmured against my lips, kissing me desperately again as he removed his fingers from my pussy. 
He brought his wet hand up to our mouths, pulling back from kissing me so he could offer me his fingers. I sucked my arousal off of them, wiggling my hips down lower so my cunt was on full display for him. I spread my legs as far as I could, wanting him to have all of me. 
“Desperate little thing, aren’t you?” He whispered, to which I nodded, pulling off his fingers with a soft pop. 
“Been waiting for you to notice me.” I whispered back, “Took you long enough…” 
Harry sighed against my lips, shaking his head as he smiled slowly, “Crazy, crazy girl. I’ve been obsessed with you since the day I laid eyes on you.” 
“Really?” I whined out, watching him nod, licking his lips and leaning down to kiss me again. 
“Shh now, pretty. Need to be inside you so bad. Gotta be quiet for me.” He whispered, waiting for me to nod at him in confirmation before he pressed forward. 
I felt the swollen head of his cock pressing up against my cunt, begging for entrance. I rolled my head back, exposing my throat to him as he pushed slowly into me, filling me completely. My cunt stretched to accommodate his size and I gasped out at the slight sting of pain I felt as he kept pushing and pushing inside of me. His cock was big, but I had also only been with one guy before who was below average in size.
“God, fuck,” He gasped as he filled me to the hilt, holding still as he reached a hand up to brush my hair back, “You okay, angel? Hmm?” 
“S’full…” I mumbled, my mouth finding his, kissing him deliriously, “Feels so good… need more.” 
“Yeah? You want more? You wanna feel me so deep inside of you, stretching you out?” He murmured against my mouth, tongue slipping out to tease along my upper lip. I gasped when he pulled back, rolling his hips forward into me hard, “I know it feels so fuckin’ good. Look how you take my cock like the perfect fuck toy you are.” 
He grabbed onto my face, squeezing it as he made me look down between our bodies at the way his cock slid in and out of me, shiny with my arousal. We looked back up at each other in unison and I slid my arms over his shoulders, fisting a hand into his hair. I pulled his mouth back to mine and kissed him deeply, only pulling back to gasp for air or moan his name. 
“Made for me, you’re fuckin’ made for me…” He whispered against my lips as he thrust deeper and deeper into me. When he wasn’t kissing me, he’d slide his large hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. 
“This is mine now.” He ordered me as he slipped his hand between our bodies, fingers finding my clit so he could rub quick circles against it, “Tell me, tell me your pussy belongs to me now.” 
I moaned at his hushed tones, at the strain in his voice as he tried desperately to keep his voice down so we didn’t wake his daughter. He laid kisses down my jaw and to my neck, sucking at the spot right by my ear that sent goosebumps all over my skin. 
“It’s yours, I’m yours. Fuck, don’t stop.” I gasped out, clinging to him harder, digging my nails into his back, “You feel so good, I’m gonna… fuck!” 
He began to pound into me, fingers gripping my thighs so tight that I knew I’d have bruises there the next day. I didn’t care. I wanted him to mark me all over, to claim me as his own, to leave me with reminders of what we did in this dark kitchen. 
Harry grabbed my face in  one hand, squeezing my cheeks hard as my lips fell open in ecstasy. He slid his tongue against my own, coaxing it out, licking across every crevice of my mouth in a sloppy manner. I felt consumed by him in every sense of the word, felt completely claimed in a way I hadn’t expected to feel. I knew I’d never get over this, never be able to go back to fucking guys my own age after experiencing him. 
“Good girl… wanna feel your cunt squeezing me, milking every drop outta me. That’s it, baby. You feel like heaven, oh god.” He gasped, his lips brushing mine with every word, “So fuckin’ hungry for my cock…” 
“Harry… Harry, Harry, Harry…” I moaned out as he reached down to grasp the back of my thighs, shoving my legs up until my knees pressed into my torso, bending me in ways that I knew would leave me sore. 
His eyes fell down to watch his cock pound into me, his breath quickening at the sight, “So fucking wet, baby… god. I’m gonna come, do I need to pull out?” 
I shook my head wildly, whimpering at the intense feeling building up in my abdomen, “On the p-pill. Fuck, Harry! Need you to fill me up. Please, please, come inside me.” 
My legs went over his shoulders as he grabbed me by the throat, applying the slightest of pressure as he tugged my mouth to his own, kissing me deeply. 
He stopped kissing me and I let my eyes flutter open, finding his dark green ones staring back at me. He looked so intense, so full of desire, it made me shiver all over. 
“Look at me, sweet girl. God, you’re beautiful. Don’t look away… right there, baby.” He nodded his head and then his mouth fell open, a moan releasing from him that tipped me over the edge. 
I kept my eyes on his own blown out ones as I came around his cock, my cunt clenching over and over with each wave that hit me. I gushed all over him and he moaned louder at the feeling of it. I clung to him desperately, digging my nails into his back as I pushed my hips forward, trying to ride out my orgasm as long as I could. I never looked away as I watched him come, his cheeks flushed and lips shiny with my spit. 
He moaned my name as he came hard, his body shaking and trembling against my own. I slid my fingers into his sweaty hair, watching the way he came undone. He kept eye contact with me the whole time, drinking me in, like he couldn’t get enough.
Harry kissed me, his tongue moving over mine sensually, his fingers releasing their harsh grip into my skin. His breaths came hard against my cheek as we kissed, but he didn’t pull back to catch it until he had kissed me as long as he could. His hold went from rough to gentle, arms slipping around my back, his fingers a whisper against my spine. We stayed like that for a long time, with him nestled inside of me, our breathing and heartbeats both slowing back to normal. 
“Let me clean you up.” He whispered, slowly pulling out of me, rubbing his hands over my thighs when I dropped them down. 
I felt like jello, like I would melt into the countertops if he didn’t hold onto me tight. He massaged my thighs for a long moment before he reached over for some napkins, using them to clean all of his cum off of the both of us. I watched him bend over to pick up my shorts and underwear, which were left forgotten on the kitchen floor. 
He pressed kisses to my ankles and calves as he carefully slid my shorts back on, waiting for me to lift my hips so he could pull them all the way up. I was grateful for the help as I knew as soon as I stood on both legs, I’d be wobbling all over the place. 
Harry pressed his hands to the counter on either side of my body, leaning forward until his face was inches from mine. His eyes were dark, his gorgeous mouth so close to my own that I could feel his warm breath as he let out a long sigh. 
I thought maybe this would be the moment he tells me that this shouldn’t have happened, that this couldn’t continue, that he was too old or I was too young and we were both stupid with lust. I braced myself like I would for a punch. 
But he didn’t say that. He leaned in and he kissed me passionately, lifting his hands to cup my face between them. He brushed my hair back and then pulled my lips from his, his eyes finding mine right away. 
“The next time I ask you if I should cancel a date,” Harry smiled slowly, lips brushing over mine, “Say yes.” 
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cupid-styles · 24 days
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daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)
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she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)
part one
word count: 7.9k
content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.
main masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours. 
But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.
Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor. 
Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office. 
On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.
It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.
It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.
And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.
The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name. 
“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."
She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery. 
She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.
“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.
“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”
She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in. 
“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”
“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”
His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.
“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”
They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence. 
But she can’t help herself. 
“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”
Harry’s nostrils flare. 
“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”
He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with. 
But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?
“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”
He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way. 
“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out. 
A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to. 
“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips. 
But instead, he stops. 
A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes. 
“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”
I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains. 
“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”
He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.
“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”
. . .
Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated. 
In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing. 
She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead. 
When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile. 
A smile.
“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body. 
“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag. 
That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.
As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed. 
And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.
“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”
Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals. 
“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.
When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”
As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.
“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”
Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox. 
“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”
Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.
. . . 
“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft. 
Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down. 
“We are,” he says softly. 
“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed. 
“What do you mean?”
Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater. 
“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”
Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.
“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”
She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”
His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it. 
And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.
“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”
She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”
“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.
The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?” 
His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time. 
“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”
She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers. 
. . .
Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx. 
Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.
And there’s still three months left of the semester.
Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.
But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.
It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:
can’t stop thinking about your lips
oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??
It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.
Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.
Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess. 
He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him. 
“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”
She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.” 
“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office. 
“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”
They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be? 
Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles. 
“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male. 
He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”
“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.” 
He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather. 
It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket. 
“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”
“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”
“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”
Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods. 
“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”
“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.” 
With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared? 
Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically. 
“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?” 
“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”
His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation. 
“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”
“You live alone?”
She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.
“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”
“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”
Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”
Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime. 
“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”
“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”
His throat bobs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”
He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”
He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment. 
“Well now I have to know.”
“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”
“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”
Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”
“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”
“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”
“Strawberry, actually.”
He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”
Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”
“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”
She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”
“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road. 
“I’m right over there.” 
Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him. 
“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly. 
“Of course.”
They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car. 
“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”
He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?
But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.
“Can I come inside, then?”
. . .
Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be. 
She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.
“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming. 
“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”
Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”
“Tea is good, sweetheart.”
The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.
“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.
He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”
“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”
“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”
She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.
“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.” 
Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile. 
“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”
He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”
She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”
“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?”
He sends her a knowing look and she grins. 
“You know what I mean, Y/N.”
“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”
He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”
“I know, but—”
“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”
He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway. 
“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”
“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust. 
This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games. 
“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”
He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze. 
“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 
“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”
“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”
She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up. 
But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy. 
When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.
And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.
“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane. 
“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her. 
He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest. 
“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.” 
He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips. 
“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.
“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising. 
“Harry— oh my god—”
“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”
If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above. 
“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly. 
“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”
That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression. 
“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips. 
“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”
Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?” 
“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck. 
She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?” 
“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.” 
“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”
“That’s perfectly okay.” 
Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length. 
“You look big.” She admits. 
He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip. 
“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?” 
This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.” 
“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” 
Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”
“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.” 
“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.” 
She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it. 
“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.” 
“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”
She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze. 
“Do you really think it’ll fit?”
“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”
“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“
“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”
Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts. 
Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter. 
“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“ 
“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”
“Too much?”
She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”
“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down. 
With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her. 
“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”
She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes. 
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic. 
She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach. 
He thinks he may pass out. 
Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap. 
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock. 
“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her. 
“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?” 
“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully. 
He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them. 
“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.” 
That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent. 
When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her. 
“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.
Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”
“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”
“Please.”
His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair. 
They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat. 
And then: “So you envisioned this?”
She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”
Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.
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jarofstyles · 27 days
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Caught
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Heyyyy.... This is something I wrote all in one night and it got filthy quick lol. I've been trying to do more one offs and I hope you guys like this one!!
Check out our Patreon for 100+ exclusive writings and early access to updates!
WC- 9.1k
Warnings- Sex w someone who isn't Y/N (It's quick don't worry), friends to lovers, angst, unprotected sex, spitting, praise kink
------
Y/N hadn’t thought twice about going into the living room she shared with her roommate, AirPods in her ear as she had padded across the hall. Maybe if she had been aware of her surroundings, maybe if she hadn’t assumed Harry would figure out she was home by her keys on the rack or her text prior, she would have avoided walking into the scene of filth she found herself stumbling in on. 
Strolling into the living room, she was stopped cold by the scene in front of her. There, on their couch, was Harry. Fully naked, his back red with what would be scratch marks in the morning, thrusting into someone. A woman, by the sound of the whimpers. Manicured nails gripped his biceps as she whimpered, the sound of sex becoming evident as she ripped the AirPod from her ear. 
She was frozen. Standing there shocked, hearing his grunts as his hand steadied him on the back of the couch with his fingers denting the fabric, his powerful thrusts jolting the girl and the furniture. He was into it, fully. As much as she felt she was intruding, she couldn’t stop looking. 
It was hot. Y/N had to admit that, even in her frozen shocked state. The mix of their sounds, her red hair spilling over onto the pillow, her leg being held up by one of his hands to get, what was most likely, the perfect angle. Just by the sound of it, the pair was having an incredible time. 
“Fuckin’ taking it so well..” His raspy voice was deep, a depth she hadn’t heard the fullness of. It sent tingles down her body, hearing her roommate and seeing him in a way she hadn’t before. He had always been sweet and goofy and silly. He joked around about getting lucky, she heard some lighthearted sex stories and had he was a master at dirty jokes- but she had never seen him in the element. Assuming most people didn’t see their friends like that. 
Y/N didn’t harbor any feelings, not that she knew of. She wasn’t hurt by the viewing, no, more so fascinated and embarrassed because she had caught them. But they seemed far too into it to notice her. That itself got her hot between her thighs. 
Harry seemingly hadn’t been lying about his skill in the bedroom. She thought he had been exaggerating, but the way the girl under him was wailing seemed to have her thinking different. 
“Fuck me.” The girl’s voice sounded weak, red nails tangling in his hair and pulling him down. The sound of lips coming together for a kiss echoed in the room, his pace slowing and his hips grinding into her, making the redhead moan and arch her leg up over his hip to pull him closer. The weak whine was wistful, the pop of their mouths disconnecting and saucy chuckle from Harry was low as he gripped her jaw. 
“You’re so close. I can feel it.” He spoke close to her mouth. “Wet little cunt’s making a proper mess. Should make you clean it up with your tongue. Filthy little thing.” He grumbled. 
Y/N had sense to slowly back into the hallway, hiding behind the wall- but she still couldn’t look away. It was wrong. So goddamn wrong, but her cunt was hot and wet from simply watching, she wanted to see it all. Just looking at how wet his covered cock had been, stretching the stranger’s cunt out and hearing her whines had her imagining herself in her place. 
Would he choke her? Would he call her filthy? She could only hope. 
Her eyes watched as the girl clung to him, letting out little noises each time his cock thrusted into her. The pace was picking up from the slower one, her lips parting in a soft ‘o’ as Harry looked down at her. It seemed intense. No words exchanged but the noises of their sex, the wetness of her cunt and his cock fucking into the stranger’s welcoming cunt filling the room. 
The shift happened when he slowly adjusted her leg. Like a bolt had hit her, she squealed and arched up, panting out to him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… right there, fuck me right there, don’t stop.” She was desperate, begging him as his prick filled her dripping cunt again and again. 
“M’not stopping until you’re creaming around my cock, sweetheart.” He smirked, keeping the angle perfect as he continued to sheath himself inside of her. The pleasured groans and moans, slapping of skin, it was all hot. Every bit of it. Y/N wasn’t going to be able to forget it. Harry was stretching her out, and watching his cock inside of her was doing something to her. 
It planted a seed of jealousy in her mind. Displaced, of course, because she had no claim over him. He was her friend, her roommate, but watching this made her recall her own experiences. While they hadn’t been bad- some were ever good!- they never made her moan like that. Never made her legs tremble in the way the girl underneath Harry were. No one had spoken to her with that sort of grit, that dirty. Her own had been moans, whispers, but nothing that came close to how her body was reaction to the mere sight of this. 
The noises got louder and she could see that they were getting to the edge but it felt like too much to watch it happen. Instead, she shut her bedroom door and listened. The slap of skin, the whimpers coming from the woman that were slightly muffled and the words of encouragement leaving his mouth. He called her a good girl, told her to cum around him, and a smack followed by a heady moan made her eyebrows raise. Harry was into it. It happened soon after, the repeated mewls into the air that she was cumming and the sound of his hips quickening before he let out a groan that would surely haunt her, then the sounds of frantic lips meeting. 
It was over now, but she surely wouldn’t forget about it anytime soon. 
——
Y/N hid out in her room for 2 hours. She knew the girl was gone, heard Harry tell her goodbye and the closing of the door. Heard him take a shower. But she was hesitant to leave. It was going to be an awkward thing, she knew, especially because she’d slipped her hand into her panties and made herself orgasm in record time. 
She was ashamed to get off to the memory of that. This was Harry, after all! But she couldn’t deny the hunger that rose after seeing the type of sex she’d always thought was reserved for her erotic novels in real time. Her sex had never been like that and the pleasured sounds and words from the woman he’d fucked had sounded so desperate and real, there was no way she was faking it.  The other thing that bothered her, though, was the fact that he had done it on the couch. They had a rule not to do anything in common areas, and if he had just followed them then she wouldn’t be in this mess. Thinking of him in ways she shouldn’t be. 
The guilt bubbled in her stomach, but it was hungry more than anything. She needed to eat something, needed to face the music, and she waited until Harry was in his room to scurry to the kitchen and grab some snacks as fast as she could- some chips, dark chocolate, a protein drink, piling them in her arms to make the great escape back to her room- only to turn around to see Harry standing there with a smile. 
Fuck.
“Hey, lovely. When did you get home? I didn’t hear the door.” He hummed, stepping closer into the kitchen and bumping her hip to get into the fridge. 
There were a few ways she could go about this, but Y/N didn’t like to lie. She despised it, actually, and that’s part of what made Harry like her so much. His words, not her assumption. She was honest to a fault, and it was hard to go back from that. But she wasn’t about to admit she stood there and watched- not on her own terms. 
“I’ve been home all day.” She said simply, avoiding his eye as she adjusted the snacks in her arms. Part of her wanted to book it to her room but if she did that, it would be even worse. He’d follow her. As hard as she’d tried, her voice came off a bit cool, not the normal easy warmth it usually held. He’d know. 
He froze. Harry’s body stiffening as he stood up from the fridge and shut the door. “You-You have?” His voice was hesitant and she could feel his eyes on her as she nodded, pretending to be interested in the ingredients list of her chocolate. “I- um…” it was very rare to have Harry speechless. He always knew what to say, how to say it, but in this instance he didn’t know how to react. “You… Did you-“
“Yep.” Y/N nodded. Despite how much she yearned for a lack of awkward, there was no avoiding it. 
“You said you’d be gone today.” His tone was accusatory, making irritation flare up in her. Her eyes blazed as they looked up at him. “You said you’d be at work.” 
“I texted you and told you that someone switched shifts with me.” That was no lie, but her voice was hard. Defensive. Because she wasn’t going to be blamed for his lack of phone usage. He was usually good with checking texts but some days he slacked, but she texted him and let him know she would be home. It was clear that he saw that when he fished his phone out of his pocket and saw the message on his lock screen, his body deflating and shrinking back as he saw the hard look in her eye. Y/N wasn’t usually irritated with him, but she didn’t appreciate being called a liar. 
“Fuck.” He said quietly, looking from the phone to her face which was showing obvious signs of discomfort. Harry would never want to make her uncomfortable, and he’d done exactly that with his own oversight. “Y/N, Love- I’m so sorry, I-“
“It’s fine.” She said quickly. “Just… clean the couch.” It made her feel gross to think there were traces of someone else, bodily fluids where she liked to take her naps. Even more so because she didn’t know how often this had happened. 
“I-of course. I’m truly sorry. I didn’t see the text, I would have never done anything if I knew you were home-“
“I said it was fine, Harry.” It came out sharper than she intended it to. Obviously it wasn’t fine. “I was waiting for a few hours to get something to eat so I didn’t interrupt. I just wanted to get my damn snacks and eat them in peace. If you’ll excuse me.” Bumping past him, she rushed towards her door and turned the lock, placing the snacks on her desk. That hadn’t gone smoothly. Not at all. 
—-
Harry felt like a piece of shit. 
It wasn’t often that he felt like that, but knowing he had done something that obviously made Y/N uncomfortable. The icky, nasty guilt and shame settled in his stomach as he sat on the couch he’d just steam cleaned, face in his hands. He’d known it had been a dumb idea to bring a girl back from the gym on a whim. He’d felt weird about it at first, but he’d been positive Y/N was at work and he’d have time to clean up and whatever before she came home. 
It was worse considering he chose a common area. He’d been so fucking horny, and the girl had been more than willing to be the one who relieved him. To be honest, he didn’t know her and probably wouldn’t ever see her again, but that didn’t matter now. The impulsive decision, his lack of awareness and selfishness had gotten him into a mess. This wasn’t just his flat. Y/N had been here first, she had bought this couch, and he had been selfish and done something on it that he knew he’d probably be a bit peeved about if she had done the same thing. 
Truthfully, he’d be hurt if he had to listen to Y/N get fucked. Even more so if he saw it but, he didn’t know what she knew. What she saw. It made him panic a little internally because there was no way he could get what he wanted with her now. He’d fucked up massively and he didn’t know how to fix it. 
His crush on Y/N had been an inconvenience he was truly trying to get over. She made no implications that she liked him back and he had been trying to learn how to be okay with that. How was she ever going to believe that he liked her when she was witness to him fucking all his pent up sexual aggression, aggression she unknowingly caused by walking out in her little sleep shorts this morning riding up her bum, onto another woman? There was no way she was going to take him seriously. His head was beginning to hurt as he tried to think of a way to apologize. 
Ordering her favorite pizza, he had it delivered to their flat and thanked the man with a tip before placing it on their dining table. The nerves were overrun as he made his way towards her door, the cold panic in his stomach making its way up his throat as he hesitantly raised his knuckles to knock on the door. 
“Love?” There as a brief silence and he held his breath, hoping he didn’t fuck it up enough to the point where she hated him. 
“Yeah?” The hesitant voice was smaller than the one he was used to, making him deflate a little bit. At least she answered. 
“I um, I got pizza for dinner. Your favorite.” His hands rested against her doorframe as he spoke through the door. “Did you- would you want to come out and eat with me? We can watch a movie or a show.” The attempt was something, at least. 
“I…” she paused. “If it’s alright I’d like to eat in my room. I’ll pay you back for the pizza.” He could almost hear her brain going. “I don’t think I’d like to sit on the couch for a while.”
His stomach dropped. God damn it. He really did make her uncomfortable, enough where she didn’t want to eat with him or sit in their living area. He felt his throat thicken, frustration building in his veins that was unfairly aimed at her. 
“I said I was sorry, Y/N.” He grunted. “Why don’t you want to eat with me? I steamed the couch, it’s safe to sit on now and I just want to fix it. So can you please get over it a little bit and come and eat?” 
Of course he regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to talk to her like that. The frustration was aimed at himself and not her, but it came out all wrong. He heard her hitch in breath as she shuffled on her bed, opening the door to look at him with a blazing glare that made him shrink back. The man had never been in the receiving end of her anger before. 
“No, I’m not going to just get over it, Harry. Walking into my living room and seeing you pound some woman into the couch I like to take my naps on, a couch I bought before you even lived here may I add, is a bit jarring. We had rules about bringing people over and it’s supposed to stay in our rooms. Obviously it doesn’t fucking matter when you think I’m not home and I’m kind of sick at the thought of what else I may have sat on or slept in because you decided to disrespect me in our home.” She snarled, looking up at him with the severe gaze.  “If you really think all you have to do is buy some pizza and offer to watch a show with me and I’m just going to forget that you’ve gone behind my back, you’d be sorely mistaken. I’ve never lied to you, never once.” The look of betrayal had his stomach turning. “Just… leave me alone. I’m not ready to talk about it.” 
He watched as she slammed the door in his face, his body hot with embarrassment as she locked it. A clear sign she didn’t want to talk to him and it made him feel even worse than before. The words he said had been out of line and he knew it, but he didn’t know how to handle fighting with Y/N. It had never happened until this moment. 
“I’m sorry. Y/N, I-I don’t know why I said that but I just-“
“Harry. I asked you to leave me alone. Can you just respect this one fucking thing?” Her raised voice made him jump, eyes widening at the tone. Being at the receiving end of her anger wasn’t something he ever wanted to happen. “Just… go eat your pizza and leave me be. I’m not hungry.” 
It stumped him. He didn’t know how else to fix it. How could he? She was still very upset and he had fucked up, but what was even worse was knowing that he liked her way more than she liked him and having nothing to prove it by. He had brought home women that looked like her to try and get it out of his system many a time, but it never worked. 
To her, he was her silly, clumsy, charming friend. He was a shoulder to lean on, maybe. But to him? She was incredible. She was honest, brave, intelligent, witty, and so fucking pretty it was hard to look at her without wanting to touch sometimes. 
He’d never made a move because she didn’t seem like she was interested. She’d never gazed at his mouth the way he knew he looked at hers, she didn’t elongate the hugs- he was the one that would let go last. She’d been a friend to him when all he could think about was cupping her face and kissing her lips until they were swollen and she was breathless. He’d gone and mucked up any chance he had with her seeing him as anything more. 
Going back into the kitchen, he put the pizza into the fridge and returned back into his room. He wasn’t hungry anymore. All he was going to be able to focus on was the ability to fix this. 
——-
Y/N knew she was probably overreacting a little bit. It wasn’t as if he had killed someone. He’d broken a rule, yes, but she wasn't a tyrant. It shouldn’t matter to her so much, and that’s what she had been trying to figure out. Why did it?
She just didn’t like the answer she came up with. 
The girl was jealous. That was the thing that she could see, even if she didn’t want to. She was jealous because she’d never been fucked like that, never been touched in that way, talked to that way, and it had never been by Harry. He’d made her see him in a different light and now she was thinking about him in a way she shouldn’t be. 
She’d always loved Harry. He was a friend and her roommate, of course she was going to have fondness for him. It had never seemed like there were any feelings there, nothing had been outwardly there, no jealousy when he spoke of other people, but…. Seeing it? It had been arousing, yes, but after she thought about it for a bit it’d felt like a kick in the stomach. Why had he never tried anything with her before? Was he just that much of a flirt? It wasn’t a secret that he liked to fool around but somehow, things in her brain were changing and making her feel irritational. 
The sexual frustration that came from that was, well…. Stupidly frustrating. It made her wonder what his hands felt like, what his lips tasted like. If he would treat her the same way, or if he would be gentler. If he would kiss her neck and tell her she was a good girl, that she was taking it so well, if he would smack her ass too. It made her feel guilty that she even thought about him that way. 
Avoiding him for 3 days was a bit overkill, for sure. But she didn’t know how to look him in the face. How could she after all of that? It didn’t help that no matter where she tried to bring her fantasies when she would touch herself, it came back to him. The last three days had been plagued by the thought of him grabbing her hair and tugging her head back for a sloppy kiss while he was balls deep, praising her for it. 
He’d been sweet about it. Leaving her donuts one morning, flowers another. This morning it had been a hand written note. 
‘Y/N
I can’t express to you how sorry I am that I broke our rule. I know you don’t ask for much of me as a roommate and I promised I’d uphold them, and I fucked up. I had a lapse in judgment and I regret it a lot more than you can imagine. 
I don’t know how to fix this with us. I want to. I miss you and I miss talking to you but I’m trying to give you the space you need even if it hurts. I made the mistake and I’m paying for it. 
I promise I won’t ever do it again. I won’t bring someone home again, if that could help. Please talk to me when you’re ready. I miss you so much more than you could know. I’m not trying to buy you over with the gifts but I don’t know what else to do without making you uncomfortable. It’s killing me to know I hurt you at all. I’ve never done it before, though. I promise. I’ve never had anyone else there. It truly was a mistake. 
I’ll be home at my normal time if you want to talk, I’m bringing home Italian food. I’ll grab your favorite. Text me if you need, I’d love to hear from you.
H xx’
The note sounded genuine. It’s why she placed a blanket over the couch and sat stiffly as he walked into the door, noticing his double take as he hung up his keys. The bag of food hung off his arm and he looked at her wide eyed, though staying quiet as he went into the kitchen to place it down. 
“Hi.” He started, walking over to her slowly. “D-Did you have a good day?” The nerves could be heard in his voice and it made her sad. She didn’t want him to be terribly nervous around her, not when they used to have a really comfortable relationship. 
“It was okay.” She murmured, rubbing her hand over her lounge pants. “Got off of work early.” What else was she supposed to say? It was hard to navigate this when she’d never imagined fighting with Harry at all. 
“Oh? That’s good.” He sat on the coffee table in front of her, wanting to face forward when he spoke to her. “I had to stay a tiny bit late. It’s why I wasn’t home on time. I’m sorry.” His eyes were studying her face, desperate to see forgiveness in her eyes. The last few days without her had felt so empty. 
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Figured something like that happened.”  Picking at her nails, she moved to look at him. “I’m not sure how to talk to you right now. I’m not angry anymore, but I don’t know how to go about it.” Y/N, as blunt as ever, made him smile sadly.
“M’crawling out of my skin. Don’t like that I made you upset at all. It was stupid. You read my note?” He anxiously awaited all day a text from her but he hadn’t gotten one. 
“I did.” She took a deep breath. “I’m upset about the couch thing but there’s layers to it that have been difficult for me to understand. It isn’t fair of me to sit and say it’s all your fault I stayed away for the last few days because part of it was me.” It was terrifying to admit things like this but she didn’t know how else to be. It would probably make things weird with them, but it had to be discussed or it would ruin their friendship. 
“How do you mean?” Brows furrowed as he shifted forward, hands on his knees as he leaned into her space. He’d always been a touchy person who didn’t know what personal space was, so she was used to it but it still made her react. A bit differently this time. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” It was difficult to look at him without feeling that burn in her stomach. “It made me look at you differently. A way I hadn’t allowed myself to look at you before, and I’ve felt guilty and…” how could she word it? “Slightly perverted for it. You’re my friend and I shouldn’t have let seeing that influence anything other than my upset about the rules, but it made me think of you in a light that friends shouldn’t look at other friends.” 
Well, he hadn’t expected that. 
He was slowly catching on, watching her shy face as she looked back towards her lap and fiddled with her hands. She looked at him in a sexual way. That’s why she was avoiding him. The couch issue was one thing, but she was upset that she was looking at a friend in a way that went past their normal relationship. 
As fucked up as it may be, he felt a sprinkle of hope. Her postures perked up a bit as he tried to get her eyes again, but he didn’t want to assume she wanted anything from him. “That’s okay, love.” His hand cautiously grabbed one of hers, holding it lax enough that she could pull back if she wanted to. “Really. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, relief flooding him that the majority of the reason she had been avoiding him was something like this. Something he could remedy. “So you’ve been thinking of me sexually, that’s what you’re saying?”
Y/N groaned, closing her eyes as her head fell back against her shoulders. “God, yes. Okay?! And I’m ashamed of it. I don’t know why it happened and why I can’t just forget about it but it makes me…’it made me annoyed that I haven’t felt anything like that before. I’ve never made noises like that and no one’s ever made me feel like what I assume she was. I’ve always seen you as something else and then, imagine my fucking surprise when I walk in and see you acting like a porn star. Not even one of the bad ones either. It would have been easier if it was!” The floodgates opened and Harry watched with raised brows as she continued, fueling his ego in the process. “I feel guilty pthat I looked at it and wanted to be in that position. I never thought of you like that, not that you aren’t amazing and attractive but you were supposed to just be my platonic friend considering we’d roommates. Don’t you know how bad it would be to be into your roommate? It makes everything insane.” 
“I know how it feels.” He murmured, making her pause. If she was unloading all of this stuff, being honest as honest could be, he figured he may as well. Let it all set out on the table. 
“Wait- what?” She squeaked, looking at him with wide eyes this time. It had been a mistake, she thought, until he shrugged his shoulders. 
“Yeah. I’ve always thought of you like that, but you didn’t seem to reciprocate so I tried to get over it. I was distracting myself so I wouldn’t fuck up our friendship.” It was his turn to look at his lap, watching his freshly painted thumb run over her knuckles and fiddle with her ring. “Always worried about making you feel like… objectified in your own home. I wanted to be respectful. But do you really think I’m not attracted to you?” He found the courage to look up again. “I’ve been attracted to you since we first met. But you’ve always been so nonchalant about everything, I assumed you didn’t care.”
Y/N was stumped. Harry was into her? He wanted to touch her this whole time and she had been none the wiser? It made her pause, trying to recount all their memories. Had he always looked at her like this? With the soft glint in his eyes, or with the hunger? Yearning, perhaps was the word. She’d never even guessed that in the slightest. He’s had a revolving door of partners coming over to fuck around, but she thought that’s just how he was.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to make you feel obligated to cater to my feelings. I still don’t. If you aren’t into me like that, it’s okay. I want our friendship to remain in tact. But I needed to tell you it’s not one sided. You don’t have to feel guilty over thinking of me like that considering the only reason I took that girl home was because you’d made me sexually frustrated that morning with those little sleep shorts and coming in for a hug and pressed your sleepy, soft body against me. I needed to get that out.” He knew it didn’t make much sense when he said it out loud. 
“Did it work?”
That hadn’t been the response he expected, blinking a few times as he gave her a questioning look. “Did what work?” 
“Fucking her. Did you get me out of your mind?” She looked at him expectantly and he could feel the heat starting to raise in his cheeks. He’d expected… not this sort of train of thought, but he wasn’t about to lie again. 
“Not really.” He admitted. “I mean… in the moment, an orgasm helped. But I wasn’t fucking the person I was thinking about.” 
This time Y/N blinked a few times at him, trying to catch up mentally. “So…’you were thinking about me, when you…”
“Yes.” Unashamed at this point, there was nothing to lose. 
“And all the things you were saying? You were like….” Her eyes fell to his mouth. Pretty and pink, obviously nervously bitten, she had been a little shocked at the revelation. “You were saying them to me? In your head?”
“Basically.” He could see on her face that she was flustered but chose not to tease her about it like he normally would. “I usually bring people back that look like you. Tried to do people who were the opposite but, it made it harder to cum.” The gloves were off now. There was a shift in the air as she adjusted herself on the couch, pressing her thighs together and desperately hoping he didn’t notice. 
He did. 
“You can’t… finish? Unless you think about me?” It made her eyes stay wide, her grip on his hand tightening slightly out of reflex. 
“Well… I can, but it isn’t as good. Usually that’s where my head goes to. I can’t really help it.” Harry came the hardest when he looked at where his cock connected to the other person, imagining it being her cunt he was fucking. Her moans. That the praises that he was saying was heard by her and the clenching and slickness was caused by her reaction to him. It was a bit pathetic and he knew it, but at least it wasn’t a secret anymore. 
“Do you still want to?” 
Harry’s head whipped up so fast he knew he must have pulled a muscle, but there wasn’t a tract of joking on her face. Was she asking what he thought she was. “Do I still want to fuck you?” He clarified, watching her bother head in response. Fuck. The lump in his throat was swallowed as he tried to reply the best way he could. “Of course I do. I’ve been thinking about it for ages but… it’s not just about sex with you.” It was much more than that. “I actually like you. I’d want… I wouldn’t want to have sex once and be done with it. I’d want to properly take you out at some point.” It was a bit unorthodox considering they already lived together but he wouldn’t want to give her any less than she deserved. 
“Okay.” She said softly. “We can do that.” 
His head was spinning. Y/N was so casual about it, not hesitant at all in her agreement to basically be something with him. It felt like he was in a dream, but the frantic beats of his heart made him understand he was very much awake. “Yeah?” He leaned in closer. “You’d want to do it all with me?” The voice was hushed even though there was no one else around. 
Tonight was full of surprises, it seemed, when the girl got up from the couch and made the move to straddle his lap. His hand was quick to wrap around her to make sure she didn’t fall, but his body burned as she ran a hand through his hair and he tilted it up to look at her. They’d never been this close before and he was already growing in his pants, making him shiver as she leaned down to brush her nose against his. “Yeah. I’d like to go on a date with you, too but…” she took a moment to rub it against his own, back and forth. Making his eyes hood a bit as his arm shifted to pull her closer to him, desperate for the contact. “I want you to fuck me, first. Make me cum harder than the other girl did. I want to make those noises, H.” She whispered. 
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. Not when she was sitting right on his lap, presenting herself like the perfect little present. Willing and eager for the taking. Leaning himself up, he caught her lips in a gentle kiss. Trying to pace himself, though he could feel the self control slipping from his grip as she hummed into his mouth. This was he shit he had been dying for, feeling her fingers slip from his hair to the back of his neck as he pulled apart to take a breath. “I’ll do whatever you want, sweetheart. Anything.” 
Back again their lips were attached. It wasn’t as gentle, no, not when she kissed him harder. He was going to give into anything she wanted. Not only because he had fucked up, but because he wanted to make her happy. He was desperate to please her, to make her feel as good as she possibly could and he wanted to be the one responsible for it. 
Their kissing escalated quickly, groaning as she easily opened her mouth for him and even more so when she sucked on his tongue, making arousal zip up his spine. He’d never expect her to kiss like this, not in the slightest. The expectation had been soft and hesitant, but she was giving him the kisses in his wet dreams. His hand found her ass, palming over it before giving a squeeze, making a moan muffle against his mouth. “Take me to your room.” She whispered against his lips. “Please, H. Just take me there. I want these off.” Fingers tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off. 
Who was he to deny her? 
He helped her toss it off before grabbing her and standing up, chuckling when she squeaked his name and scrambled to hold on to him with her arms around his neck. “Said I’d give you whatever you wanted, love.” 
The walk there was short, but it took an even shorter time to get her on his bed with her top off. She wasn’t wearing a bra, much to his surprise and delight. The fabric was tossed to the side of his bed as his pupils dilated, looking down at her topless body. Something he had been dreaming about for ages, and here she was. Sitting pretty in his sheets, hair messy and lips swollen from kissing him. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He drawled, running his hands down her sides. “So beautiful. Y’know that? Drives me fucking mad.” His fingers were greedy, crawling back up to her collarbones and back down to the curves of her breasts. “Been dying to see you.”
Y/N took his wrists, guiding his hands to cup her breasts. She was impatient and that much was obvious, but it made him amused more than anything else. His eager girl. “Touch me. Please.” Her eyes matched the pleading in her voice, making him smile. This sort of begging he’d never expected from her, not with her usual strong will and blunt demeanor but he couldn’t say he hated it. 
“I’m going to, lovely. It’s all I want to do.” He soothed, thumbing across her nipples. She arched into it, letting out a soft sound as he did so. It seemed like once the wall had cracked, it was deteriorating quickly right in front of his eyes. He’d be the one to get to see her like this now after pining for it, and he knew she would be the best. Anyone else had been filler, as cruel as it sounded. He was respectful towards them, honest about only wanting to hook up once, because he knew that no matter how hard he tried to imagine nothing would beat he real thing. 
And he’d been right. 
No one else affected him so quickly, so intensely. Watching her mouth fall open as he moved to pinch both of her nipples lightly and tug, she whimpered into the air and gave him a look he wanted to commit to memory. He wanted to see that face every time he closed his eyes. 
“My lovely girl… don’t need to beg me to touch you, because you know I will… but.” He leaned down to kiss her again. “I do like the sound of your voice while you beg for me.” 
His hands moved from her breasts regretfully, clicking his tongue to hush her whine of protest as he hooked his fingers into her lounge pants. Pulling them down, he was met with a beautiful picture- a filthy one. His eyes shot to hers, narrowing slightly. “No fucking panties either? Y/N.” He hissed between his teeth. “Are you always walkin’ around like this? Nothing on underneath?” She nodded quickly, kicking the pants off of her ankles. 
“Hate them.” The girl huffed. “So constricting. I don’t wear them when I don’t have to.” 
His eyes closed for a moment, groaning at the information. “So every time you’ve been sitting there with me, watching one of those movies… I could have slipped my hand down your shorts and felt how wet you get for me?” He questioned, looking down at her. His fingers tugged at his belt, tossing it haphazardly as his eyes stayed pinned to hers as he continued undressing. “You’re telling me…. You prance around here in those little cotton shorts, and you’re bare under them? Could have just… tugged them down and gotten to see that pretty pussy?”
“Mhm.” She grinned, liking the reaction she was getting. “Everything you said. I don’t usually wear them at home.” Her fingers dragged down her stomach, stopping at the mound right above her cunt. “Makes it easier when I want to touch myself, too. Less layers.” 
Harry took a deep breath, watching her hand as it slipped further down to cover her cunt. It was wet, there no was no hiding it. He could see it clearly, and his cock was aching to bury itself in there and let it squeeze every drop of cum from him. He tried to collect himself as he looked down at her, watching her fingers spread herself open for a moment before swirling over her clit with a whimper. 
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, a dark look on his face. “Not yet. That’s my job tonight.” He warned, falling to his knees in front of her. Clad just in his briefs, he hooked his arms under her thighs and pulled her close to him, so close that he could almost taste her. Instead, he kissed her inner thighs. Soft, sweet. Gentle in the way he had always wanted to be with her before her fucked her and made her hopefully as addicted to him as he knew he was going to be to her. “You okay with this, love? Tell me you want me to have you.” Lips pressed on the soft mound above her cunt. “Tell me I can.” 
“Please, I’m okay. I want you to have me, you can do anything you want. Just… touch me. Please, H.” Her hips tried to move up and catch his mouth, Y/N showing no sign of embarrassment as she did so. He felt a surge of pride, knowing she wanted him that badly. Her body was perfect for him, every dip and curve and scar soon to be memorized. He’d call off of work tomorrow to spend the day in bed with her, pampering and spoiling not only herself, but his innermost desires. 
“Such good manners.” He cooed, shifting her closer as he took his first lick. “Remember what I said about begging, yeah?” 
It was all bets off. Y/N could barely breathe as she felt his mouth on her. Slowly licking up her and tongue finding her clit, flicking over it and repeating the process. His hand held her lower tummy, keeping her still as he continued. Her breathing was already picking up when he felt his tongue dip into her, making her grip fall from her own thighs to his hair. “Oh my god, Harry. That-“ she couldn’t finish her sentence as he did it again, nuzzling into her without a care in the world.
It was true. He wanted his face messy and wet with her, wanted to bury himself in there and feel her stomach jump as his hand held her down. He was tasting her directly from the source. “Taste so good.” He mumbled against her. “My favorite thing to taste now. You know that?” He took another broad sweep of his tongue, looking into her eyes as he pursed his lips and spit on her clit. He smirked at the little gasp she let out, head dipping back down to spread it over her cunt as she began to move her hips to chase his tongue. “No, baby. None of that. Stay still for me.” He coaxed, pressing down harder on her stomach to pin her to the bed. 
Y/N tried, she really did. But it felt so good, so fucking amazing- and then he added his fingers into the mix. Slipping one in slowly, she let out a noise she didn’t recognize. Of course she knew this was going to feel good, but she vastly underestimated how crazy he was going to make her. “Harry please… fuck.” Truthfully? She didn’t even know what she was begging for. Her mouth fell open again and she arched her back as she felt his mouth over her clit, sucking in in messily while his finger fucked into her. It was impossible to stay still. “Harry, more. I want more, please, I’m gonna cum if you….” She lost her train of thought when he added another finger. 
The man was eating this up. Watching her as she tried to keep still for him but feeling her fingers curl in his hair and press him further against her clit, he sucked harded the more she pushed. Finding a good rhythm as his pulsing sucking had her panting, toes curling into the sheet as he continued the pleasure filled torture. He wanted to feel her cum on his tongue. 
“Cum.” He ordered. “Do it for me, precious girl. C’mon.” He finally allowed her to move, rubbing herself on his face as his fingers fucked and curled into her, his mouth latched to her puffy, swollen clit. She felt crazy, she was sure of it, writhing on the mattress as the heat crawled up her body. His eyes were directly on her, hot and dark while she felt herself fall over the edge. 
“Harry- Harry, oh my fucking god.” She couldn’t breathe, repeating his name like it was air as she fell over the edge. White hot pleasure washing over her, orgasm soaking his face as he pulled up and kissed her hard. Her body still shook as he pulled himself out of his briefs and began to push in, feeling her still orgasming pussy quivering around him. “You just- please.” Her eyes opened frantically, fingers finding his back as she pulled him in. Legs wrapped around his waist as he sunk in deeper, filling her up in ways she hadn’t felt before. 
“I know, baby. I know.” He cooed. “You feel… so good around me. Just let me in.” He cupped her face, pressing soft kisses to her mouth. “I’m going to take you all fucking night. You know that?” His voice was a deeper tone than she’d even heard him with the other girl. Feeling it directed at her only amplified the arousal. “Not going to last long, feeling you and taste you… it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Almost came just licking you out.” He told the truth. Y/N was perfect, he thinks. Exactly what he needed. 
“I want it all.” She replied, pulling his face down further to kiss him deeper. “So much. I want you to do anything to me. Just…” her legs tugged him in deeper, making them both groan. “Just fuck me, Harry. It’s me this time.” It boosted her ego to know he had been searching for her this entire time. “It’s not someone you have to pretend with. You’ve wanted me this whole time? Show me.” Her nails dragged down his back, making him shiver. “Fuck me like you own me.”
Something in that triggered something in him, something he’d been hiding all along. Kissing her hard to shut her up, he slid out of her to ram back in. Jolting her, she cried out against his lips as he did it again. Hard thrusts paired with a grind at the end, pulling out slowly only to repeat it. She’d never been fucked like this- so purposefully. “Yes- like that, H.” The girl whimpered. “Please. Use me. Have me.” 
“Yeah? You want to be mine?” He asked, wild eyes looking into her own as he pressed his forehead against hers, not caring about the stickiness of their sweat. “Do you know how long I’ve been dying to be wrapped up by your cunt? Hm?” He spoke against her lips, smiling drunkenly as she whimpered with his intent thrusts. “Since I first saw you. Wanted to drag you to your bed and fill you up. Make you cry for me. And every day since… It's been growing.” The desire for her has grown to something he hadn’t ever thought possible. It was hard to ignore. Thank god he never had to ignore it again. “Every day, I thought about pulling you into my arms and kissing you until you couldn’t breathe. You think anyone else could ever compare to you?” He shook his head to answer his own question. “No. No one. Not anyone I’ve taken home, not the girl from the other day… no one has made me feel as good as this.” 
Harry had always loved sex, but when he met Y/N and developed the attraction and then feelings for her, he’d been chasing a high that couldn’t be provided by anyone else. This, this was exactly what he needed. “Need to stay inside of you, sweet girl. Need to… fuck.” Some hair fell into his face as his thrusts sped up just slightly. It was hard to think when her walls were contracting around him, so slick and hot that it made him dizzy. “Need to cum in you and do it again… and again.” He knew she was on birth control considering he’d gone with her to get the implant. They were safe, but that didn’t stop him for perhaps wishing it wasn’t. “Just want to make you mine, my sweet fucking girl….” His head lulled forward as he looked down to watch them. 
It was a filthy sight. His bare cock pulling out, glistening with her arousal and mess. Her cunt stretching open, her lips puffy and wet just for him. He was doing this. He was filling her up, he was making her cling to him, and he was finally inside the one person he’d never thought he could have. “Look at how good we are together. Look with me, baby.” He pulled her up slightly, holding the back of her neck to let her see the filthy sight. His prick spreading her while the wet, puffy lips of her cunt as he filled her. “Touch yourself. Rub that clit for me.” 
Y/N did as requested, finding it quickly as she watched the now slower thrusts inside of her. It made her smug, really. Knowing that he was this enthralled with her. Also, the knowledge that he was losing his mind far more over her than he had the other girl. He was obsessed with her and she could visibly see it. 
“There we go.Pretty, pretty fucking girl. You’re all I want. This body, that mouth, S’all I dream about. Just want you in my bed, want to get rid of those damn rules so I can take you on every damn surface… please let me, angel. Please.” He pleaded. “No more rules. Only want you.”
“No more rules.” She nodded, finding the pleasure building back up. Her hand rubbing her already sensitive and puffy clit, watching as her arousal began to make a creamier mess on his cock, she was in awe of how perfect they looked together. “H… you’re gonna make me cum.” 
Harry smiled, a real smile that took her breath away. “Thank god. I’m trying to hold on for you, but m’so close.” He let her lay back down, leaning over her and speeding the pace back up as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. It was hard to focus on one thing when he’d been dying for this situation for a year. He had his dream girl wrapped around his cock. 
Fingers found his hair again as she arched into his mouth, mewling as he sucked over her nipple and fucked into her at a steady speed. He was hitting right where he needed to, her fingers rubbing circles on her clit. It was messy and wet and so perfect, it was hard to keep herself together. “Please.” She whined. “Please, can I cum? Let me cum, I need to. I want you in me and I want to feel your cum inside me, mark me, make me yours.” She pleaded, feeling him pull off her other nipple with a pant.
“Don’t have to hold back from me. M’gonna go right after you, just want you to feel good. Let go for me, my good girl. I’m yours, always have been. You’re already mine.” His nose brushed hers, moving her hand to take over rubbing her clit. He did it faster, a bit more pressure and that little difference with his permission was all it took for her to let go.
Harry felt it as she did. The pulsing of her cunt, the slickness growing and the way her mouth went lax, not able to kiss but only breath him in as she tumbled into the pleasure. Her legs tightened around him, nails digging into the back of his neck as her eyes fell closed, the prettiest moan vibrated against his lips. 
It pushed him right off the edge with her. Thrusts growing sloppy, he didn’t lighten up with his hand as he felt her contracting around him, sopping wet and tight for him as he felt his balls tighten and unload into her. His deep groan was loud, louder than he’d anticipated as he kissed her to try and muffle it. He could feel himself throbbing as her cunt sucked him in, greedy for it as the pulsating of her walls drew each ribbon of cum into her. She was coated, and he underestimated just how much he had as it began to spill out of her as he filled her to the brim. 
“Oh my god.” He whispered. “Fuck me, baby. You’re perfect.” It was a bit of disbelief that coated his tone. Lips fell all over her face, pressing soft pecks over her cheeks, her chin, nose, eyelids, forehead, everywhere he could get it as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. It was the hardest he’d ever came, and he still felt shaky from it as he stayed buried in her. Where he belonged. Y/N melted under the kisses, smiling wide as her eyes peeled open to look at him. Dark eyes and flushed face, messy hair she continued to drag her fingertips into. One fell from the softness, cupping his chin and pulling it back to her mouth for a proper kiss. It seemed to make him melt as well, sagging slightly on top of her despite being mindful of his weight on her body. 
Harry knew this was the start of something much bigger than either of them could have anticipated- and it all started because of his silly mistake. He’d finally gotten the one he wanted. No more pretending with anyone else. He had the real thing at home. 
Y/N nudged his nose with hers, feeling so many things her head felt overwhelmed. But the most important question had to be asked. “So. When can we do it again?”
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harrysonlylover · 2 months
Text
Psycho For You*
Summary: In which jealousy runs deep in his blood.
Warnings: MEAN Harry, blood, mentions of violence, filthy rough smut, shower sex, choking, degradation, size kink.
WC: 1.4k
Main Masterlist
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Y/n had good intentions in mind. Not pure or angelic, but the right amount of playfulness. She didn’t anticipate this to happen or meant to do any harm.
She should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better than to rile him up, and fuel his jealousy. All she wanted to do was mess with him, and it took a different route.
The blood was dripping on the tiles, but he didn’t wash it off because at the moment he had a lesson to teach.
“You think you’re so clever, huh?” A sadistic smile was painted on his face as he nipped on her skin.
The blood belonged to the man she ‘flirted’ with, he didn’t kill him despite the burning urge he felt. Instead, others at the party had to pull him away before it escalated.
And the sick truth? She liked it.
“Don’t you know that you belong to me?” He grabbed her throat with a tight grip, staining her skin with blood.
The hot water poured on their naked bodies as he rested his forehead against hers, with his cock nestled deep inside her heat.
“I do.” She shivered from the thrill of it all.
“Tsk tsk, looks like your little brain forgot again.” He thrusted inside her, causing her head to tilt backward against the glass wall.
He refused her help once they arrived home, dismissing the need to clean and stitch his hands. That wasn’t what he needed. He craved having her warm walls engulf his cock as he watched her facial expression change for him.
The steam from the hot water covered the glass walls, and Harry had her body supported with his.
“Silly girl, pushed my buttons on purpose and now look what happened.”
The wet sounds caused by his thrusting could not be overpowered by the dripping water. He adored hearing how his cock penetrated her, and he was extra rough this time.
“Whose slut are you? Hmm?” His grip on her jaw would surely cause visible bruises in the morning.
“Yours.” She replied weakly and incoherently because of her smushed cheeks.
“Oh look, the brainless slut can speak. Looks like I’m too easy on you.” He suddenly stopped mid thrust, raking his eyes all over her gorgeous face. A grin slowly made its way before he pulled out and slid in again with a rough force.
He used his hands to bounce her body on his cock quickly. Her screams were music to his ears.
“Bet you liked how I almost killed him for you. You want that, don’t you?” His wet curls covered his forehead while he bit her shoulder.
Her answer was muffled by her moans and whimpers. He lived to hear her beautiful sobs and cries of pleasure. His cock was made to pleasure her always soaked pussy—or should he say his pussy?
“Not gonna answer, eh? No need darling. I felt the clench of your dirty cunt when I asked.” She tugged at his hair knowing how much he adored the pain.
If not for her mushy brain and feelings of euphoria, she would’ve answered him properly. She wasn’t even ashamed of it because he had corrupted her to the core. Fuck yes, she liked it.
She wanted him to protect her and loved the idea of him going crazy for her. Loved the idea of her man, exploiting his physical strength for her.
Her hands held onto his biceps as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His thrusts were merciless. He hit her G-spot repeatedly and stopped whenever she clenched a lot which was an indication of an orgasm.
He followed it with a wicked laugh and more aggressive kissing. His mouth nipped all over his body, whether it be biting, sucking, or ‘gentle’ kissing. He made sure to leave his marks everywhere. The bruises that will form on her body were the smallest example.
He would soon cum inside her walls, plant his seed deep inside her womb and give her the feeling she begs him for. And over the next few days, soreness will follow.
“Would you look at that?” He chuckled as he glanced down to where his cock pulled out from her warm pussy again. It was coated with their wetness but more specifically her juices.
“Pathetic slut, getting off the fact that I hurt other people for you.” He pulled her hair, causing a stinging sensation in her scalp. He gently tapped on her cheek signaling for her to open her mouth. He spat inside before guiding her lips to his and clashing his tongue with hers.
“Should’ve just spat on you instead from how filthy you are, and you’d like it anyways.” The steam from the hot water caused fog to arise in the small bathroom. She genuinely could not think straight. Everything was too overwhelming and euphoric. She couldn’t resist dropping her gaze to his glorious body where his cock was hanging.
No wonder her pussy felt empty.
She swallowed down her throat at his size, she really wondered how he fit inside her sometimes, but she was immediately reminded of how many tries and lube it took for him to fit in.
After that, he had her stretched properly to his shape and curve because he simply owned her.
“Little bunny, you’re about to drool.” He tsked, raising her chin with his finger. She gave him innocent doe eyes that had him weak in the knees.
“All for a cock?” He laughed, pushing hair strands out of her face.
“Fuck me.” She begged, digging her nails into his tatted skin.
“Should I though? I mean it’s too big for your tight cunt.” He pretended to hesitate, placing his cock from the base near her pussy, allowing it to stand reaching her stomach.
“See? I could probably move your womb if I want to.” He mocked her with every single word he spewed. And of course, she loved it.
She went crazy for how he degraded her and made her feel small. He knew that her exact weakness was their size difference and how he rearranged her insides with how deep he went.
“Please, I need to cum.” She grinded her dripping pussy against his shaft, earning a harsh slap to her her engorged clitoris.
“So fucking needy and whiny for my cock.” He lined up the tip with her entrance and slid in swiftly.
The relief on her face once he entered her was fucking priceless. God, he lived for her pussy and intimacy. She had him hooked.
“Is that how you want me to treat you? Like you’re just a hole?” His hips snapped against hers as her cries filled the small space.
“Well guess what darling? You’re nothing more than that.” He landed a harsh slap to her ass, before bringing his hand to her throat.
“Harder. You own me, Harry.” She managed to speak despite the tight grip.
“I know I fucking do.” He sneered, plowing into her like a madman.
It was on a whole other level of pleasure and craziness. A psychotic lust. He placed all of his godly stamina into claiming her pussy.
Her face scrunched in both pleasure and pain. An expression that he loved.
“Oh good, does that hurt?” He tilted his head to the side, not forgetting to glance at her bouncing breasts.
She nodded weakly at his question, with her nails scratching down his back over previous scars caused by their rough sex.
“As it fucking should. My pretty fuckdoll. What do you say?”
“Tha—Thank you.” She breathed out.
The sound of skin slapping intensified, he was hitting her cervix with every thrust, deeper and deeper. Their fucks were filthier than orgies.
“Now cum on my cock so I could fill this pussy up.” He whispered in her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.
She had been waiting all night for his cue, almost cried even. He teased her continuously for his pleasure and mocked her tightness when he knew how stretched she was.
“Uh—ohh.” Their faces were inches apart and he stared into her eyes right as her orgasm hit her. Her body was lit on fire as she moaned audibly, and clung onto him. He kept fucking her through her high, feeling the wetness drip down his thighs.
He was about to follow her and allow himself a release but instead, he turned the water off.
“Can’t have the water wash my cum away, it should be deep inside of you.” He panted heavily and caressed her flushed cheeks.
The moment he said that she knew she was in for a long night of rounds, orgasms, and humiliation.
And she wouldn’t want it any other way.
——————————————————
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stylesharrys · 10 days
Text
special brownies [weedrry]
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authors note: i came up with this idea very randomly and i have written it as fast as i possibly could lmao anyway, the whole thing is about accidentally getting stoned, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read! if it doesn't, enjoy <333
word count: 2,396
warnings: mentions and use of weed (edibles), being high, swearing, kissing, biting, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk.
summary: harry and y/n accidentally eat their roommates special brownies.
//
It’s been a long week and Y/N is feeling it. Between classes and shifts at the cafe, her feet are sore and her mind is tired. She wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa with a good tv show and pass the fuck out.
And tonight is supposed to be her lucky night. Tom has a night shift and Harry has a hot date. No boys, no roommates, no interruptions.
There’s just something about knowing she’s got the flat to herself all night long, and she can lounge about like the lazy girlie her heart yearns to be.
She starts with a long, relaxing her aching body in the hot soapy water until her skin begins to prune. Y/N takes extra time to moisturise her body and brush her hair. Even treats herself to a face mask while she does so.
When she leaves the bathroom, it’s almost 7 p.m. and Tom has already left for work. The apartment is clean, and most importantly, quiet.
She’s a bit too excited in her movement to the sofa, a squeal slipping from her lips. Too caught up in her head, she doesn’t notice Harry leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded across his chest.
It’s not until he clears his throat that Y/N jumps out of her little happy dance with a scream. A smirk sits on his lips, amused by the way she scowls at him.
“What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be out on a date!”
Her tone is accusing, pointer finger jabbing at the air in his direction. She notices his attire; grey shorts and a white hoodie. Y/N’s shoulders slump.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs.
“What? I thought you liked hanging out with me?” Harry follows her to the sofa, sitting on  the opposite end of her.
Y/N crosses her arms furiously. “I do! But I was so excited to have the flat to myself for just one night.”
Harry’s brows are raised suggestively, that sick fucking smirk on his lips again. Y/N lunges a pillow at his face. “Not for those reasons, you perv.”
He barks out a laugh, hugging the pillow close to his chest as he props his feet up and on Y/N’s lap. He watches how her bottom lip pouts out and his face softens.
“Look, if you want me to fuck off out for the evening, I can.” Harry offers.
She scoffs. “That is what you were supposed to be doing.” A moment of silence passes and she sighs. “Sorry, that came out rude. I'm not about to kick you out of your own flat – though I am going to force you to watch the last three episodes of The Rookie with me.”
Harry makes no attempt to hide the groan that follows her words. It’s not that he doesn’t like the show, it’s that he hates the show. He’ll never understand Y/N’s weird obsession with emergency services.
First, it was Criminal Minds, then a month later she binge watched 9-1-1 Lone Star in six days. Now she’s on the newest season of The Rookie and he’s sure she only started season one at the beginning of the month?
“Do we have to?” he grumbles.
Y/N throws another pillow at him. “Yes. You’re the one interrupting my night, you could at least do it quietly… and with snacks.”
Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence and Harry has to bite back a grin. She could never be mad at Harry, she loves him and his company far too much. Tom, on the other hand… yeah, she would definitely be mad if it was him crashing her lazy girl night.
Harry stands from the sofa, wandering through to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of water in one hand and scans his eyes through the cupboards in search for a suitable snack.
They’ve not been shopping for a few days, so there’s only some dry crackers, a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts (ew, Tom), and granola. Harry contemplates ubering some cookies and milkshakes when his eyes land on a bakery box on top of the microwave.
He squints as he reads the writing on the top of the box.
Tom’s. DO NOT EAT!
Harry flips the lid, six thick slices of dewey chocolate brownies. They’re like fucking slabs… he’s sure Tom won’t mind if he and Y/N share just one between them.
He pops a (massive) slice on a plate and toddles back to the kitchen. The show is paused on the opening scene, Y/N shuffled to get comfortable on the sofa. She raises a brow at the snack in question.
“We’re sharing a brownie?”
Harry huffs as he sits. “S’all we’ve got in the kitchen, and they’re Tom’s. Didn’t wanna take the piss when his little sticky note clearly says DO NOT TOUCH!”
Y/N snorts, breaking the brownie in half and handing Harry the bigger slice. She takes a bite, face screwing slightly.
“These taste a little funny… nutmeg, maybe?”
She turns to Harry who doesn’t say anything and still hasn’t taken the brownie. The look on his face irks her. She huffs, swallowing. “I feel bad that your date cancelled on you.”
His eyebrows almost raise to his hairline. “And what makes you think she was the one to cancel?”
“Was she?” Y/N asks.
Harry takes the brownie with a sigh. “Yeah.”
//
They can’t stop fucking giggling.
The show is long forgotten about, has been for the past thirty minutes. They’re both feeling warm. Harry stripped from his jumper and Y/N changed into some little shorts and one of Harry’s baggy t-shirts.
Neither of them know where this amusement came from, but there is absolutely no calming either of them down. They’re sneakily sharing a second slice of Tom’s brownies; eyes on the door in case for some reason, he comes home an hour after his shift has started.
“They taste so weird, but I can’t stop eating it.”
Harry chokes out a laugh, eyes welling with tears because he just finds Y/N so fucking funny tonight.
She’s a mess too, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched as she laughs uncontrollably. They’re both crossed-legged on the living room floor, knees knocking gently.
The more she chews, the more she begins to recognise that unfamiliar taste… the way it lingers on her tongue. Her laughter slows for a moment, as if realisation is beginning to dawn on her.
She stares at Harry with wide eyes and parted lips, mouth still full.
“Oh, my god.”
“What?”
“They’re fucking weed brownies!”
Harry can’t breathe, struggles to look away from the fear and shock on Y/N’s face. His whole body begins to shake with laughter and Y/N finds herself following.
“Harry, it’s not funny!” she shrieks. “This is so bad, Harry.”
She’s laughing through her words. Even she can’t take herself seriously in this state.
“D’you wanna play Just Dance?”
Harry’s words only make her laugh harder. The remainder of her brownie is thrown at his naked torso. Harry wastes no time to tackle her to the ground, hovering between her legs as he tickles her sides.
He's blowing raspberries on her neck, eliciting loud cackles from her mouth. Y/N tugs at his hair, her legs flailing around his hips when he nips at the skin on her throat.
They don’t say anything. She continues to chuckle, and Harry continues to bite.
Their laughter has fizzled out into breathy giggles. Neither of them are sure when Harry’s bites turned into kisses. When their fingers became intertwined. When her legs closed around his middle.
And neither of them say a fucking thing about it.
Harry’s lips travel up her neck and across her jaw. She finds his mouth feverishly, nothing but tongue and teeth but to the pair of them, it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.
They’re needy, hot and wanton all of a sudden. Like a switch has been flipped and they’re clinging to one another like lifelines.
Harry holds her hands above her head, fingers tangled. He’s hard, rock hard. Pressing into Y/N’s tiny fucking shorts so much he’s sure he can feel her arousal through both of their clothes.
He ruts against her, testing the waters. The moan he receives sends all blood down south. He’s always known sex to be incredible when you’re high. The thought of him sharing it with her? God, he could bust there and then.
He releases her hands so he can feel up her thighs, skin hot and smooth. Their lips don’t separate, not once. She lets her hands fall into his curls, nails scratching at his scalp and she tugs at the roots.
Harry’s moaning into her mouth, eager and desperate for more. He takes her shorts off quickly and strategically. So quickly that she doesn’t notice until she feels a cool breeze between her thighs.
Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, more than ready for whatever the fuck he wants to do to her.
They haven’t hesitated, not once. Not until Harry's hands are at the waistband of his shorts and he wonders if he should grab a condom or just go down on her. He knows she’s on the pill, just like they both know they’re both clean.
Harry gets tested once a month and Y/N doesn’t sleep around.
She answers his inner turmoil for him and tugs his shorts down the best she can. Harry breaks the kiss for a split second to tug his shorts to his knees. He’s back to kissing her as quickly as he pulled away, tongue against hers. Hot and messy.
Y/N feels his tip twitch against her clit, an airy sigh echoing into Harry’s mouth. He lets his fingers swirl around her wetness, smearing it across her smooth cunt and coating his thick shaft in her arousal.
They’re panting messes, eager, desperate and horny.
When he lines himself at her entrance, she locks her legs around his waist. Harry bumps forward, a shrill cry slipping from between their lips at the sensation of one another.
Harry wants to give her a moment to adjust, but Y/N doesn’t. She wants it hot and hard. She wants the pain. She wants to feel every fucking inch of him.
She probably should’ve warned Harry how she gets when she’s high. How much of a whiny, cock-hungry whore she can become. Then again, how was she supposed to know they’d accidentally eat their roommates special brownies?
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry chokes as he bottoms out.
Y/N’s struggling to catch her breath but she’s never loved the burn in her lungs more. “Fuck me, H.”
He twitches inside her. “Fuck me hard.”
His hips begin to roll, cock nuzzling itself deep inside her. He can feel everything. Every bump, dip, swell. God, she’s fucking soaked, leaking down to the floor but neither of them care.
Harry slowly begins to quicken his pace, arms bent at the elbows either side of Y/N’s head to prop himself up. She doesn’t loosen her legs around his hips. She needs him as close as he can possibly get.
Even his cock buried to the brim in her cunt isn’t enough. She needs his soul touching hers.
“You’re so fucking tight.”
“Yeah?” she breathes. “You gonna fuck my tight cunt, baby? Fuck me like you own me.”
He can’t believe his fucking ears. He’s always found Y/N attractive, but never in his wildest fucking dreams did he expect her to be this goddamn filthy.
Harry loves it.
His thrusts grow harsher. She has no time to catch her breath between hits, her mouth in a constant state of slack – eyes rolled back and eyebrows pinched.
“My perfect little cunt.” Harry seethes.
The noises of her pussy are like electric waves in Harry’s ears. He feels them in his soul, like sparks and jolts. He’s never felt more alive.
He’s fucking into her manically. Behind closed eyes all he can see shapes and colours of need and desire. Sex has always been good, always been great high. But this? Fuck, he’s never felt something so otherwordly.
He never wants it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life fucking her like a whore. She’s tugging his hair, likely making his scalp bleed but he loves it. He’d bleed a fucking river just to feel her cunt around him again.
“I’m gonna come!”
Her words awaken something animalistic within Harry. Like his life depends on feeling her release around him – like it’s what he was born to experience.
He chases her high, nipping and suckling on her neck, fucking into her cunt as fast as his restrained hips will allow. Y/N’s a blubbering mess, a sight Harry never wants to forget.
Fuck, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. This will forever be etched into his mind – her face, her body, her perfect cunt. Jesus, he’s never been so into sex in his life.
Her body begins to tremble uncontrollably, legs locked tight around his middle as she cries his name and pours over him.
Harry’s gruff and desperate moans mix with hers. She’s impossibly tighter, squeezing him; begging him to never let her feel anything but full ever again.
Harry wants to die buried in her cunt.
It takes every single fucking ounce of willpower he has to pull out and release across her thighs – painting the filthiest picture anyone could imagine.
It’s a struggle for either of them to catch their breaths. Hot and heavy panting that soon turns into light laughter, that even sooner, turns into contagious giggles.
Their bodies shake with every chuckle, Harry’s mouth ghosting hers until he nips on her bottom lip.
“We are never to talk about this, understood?”
He grins widely. “Whatever you want, Princess.”
She hums, eyes full of lust. Harry’s still achingly hard, despite coming more than he ever has before. He dips his head to her neck, sucking at her soft skin. His cock twitches against her thigh and she breathes deeply, blinks slowly.
“You wanna go again?” his voice is muffled by her neck.
She grins, legs wrapping back around his middle.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
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freedomfireflies · 3 months
Text
Better Not Pout*
Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.
You.
Word Count: 10.6k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)
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December 24th, 1945.
The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.
The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.
You.
You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.
You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.
And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.
But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.
Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on. 
Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.
That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.
You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.
The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.
“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”
A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.
Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.
And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.
In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.
But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.
Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.
He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.
But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.
He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips. 
Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.
Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.
And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.
Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.
The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.
Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.
Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.
And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.
But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.
Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.
Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.
You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives. 
He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.
“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.
“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”
Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.
You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.
After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.
It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.
Right beside a photo of you.
Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.
It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.
You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.
Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider. 
And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.
What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.
He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.
A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.
The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”
You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”
“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”
You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”
“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”
“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”
He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.
You nod.
“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”
And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath. 
“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.
“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”
The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.
And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.
“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”
The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”
"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”
Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?
And where the hell is Johnny?
He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors. 
The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.
However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.
In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.
“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”
“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”
The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him. 
Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”
With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.
You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.
He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.
Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.
He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”
Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.
As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.
Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.
“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.
“You think so?”
You nod weakly.
He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”
You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into. 
But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.
“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”
The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”
A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”
The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”
And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”
Your reaction loosens his smile.
“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”
You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.
Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own. 
“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”
He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:
You spit.
The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.
His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.
“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”
You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.
“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.” 
His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.
Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second. 
“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”
The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”
You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”
Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”
And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.
“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”
“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”
“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”
You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him. 
“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”
It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.
“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”
Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.
“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”
You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you. 
However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.
Johnny.
It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.
Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.
“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”
But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.
For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens. 
“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”
He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms. 
A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?
Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.
The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”
Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”
Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.
Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.
“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”
Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”
“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”
Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.
Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”
Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”
“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.
But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.
Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.
Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”
Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.
You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”
Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”
The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”
Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.
“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”
Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”
With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.
However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”
There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”
Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”
 His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.
Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.
The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.
Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.
And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”
“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.” 
Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”
Things move quickly from there.
Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple. 
“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.
“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”
“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”
Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.
And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.
You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.
“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”
With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”
He smiles.
It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”
Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”
“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”
“None of your goddamn business—”
The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air. 
One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.
“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”
The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.
“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”
Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”
Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”
However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture. 
And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.
“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”
And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.
The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself. 
But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.
You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.
And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.
He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.
And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.
Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.
He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up. 
All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly. 
Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.
“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor. 
You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”
“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.
Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”
Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”
But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”
He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow. 
Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”
“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”
“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”
Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.
“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”
Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.
He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.
“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”
You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.
“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”
“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.
Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.
“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”
“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.
“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”
“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”
Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”
And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.
No matter the cost.
Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”
You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.
“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.
He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.
The picture of you.
It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.
Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.
There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.
It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern. 
Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.
It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.
This is what he came for.
“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”
With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”
You both smile.
Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.
Three.
Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.
Two.
His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.
But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.
One.
The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.
Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.
You’d bought him that shirt.
And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.
It’s over.
Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long. 
“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”
If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.
But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.
No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.
And that’s where you came in.
Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.
And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect. 
The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.
You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.
You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”
“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”
“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”
You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”
“Is that right, doll?”
“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”
His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”
“What…did you do?”
The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.
He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.
He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.
Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.
Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”
Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”
“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.
And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”
You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.
He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”
And you can’t help but smile.
You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.
You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.
But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him. 
And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.
You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.
The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.
But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.
You have him.
You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.
This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.
Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.
He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use. 
You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.
He grunts. “What?”
But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.
And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.
Perhaps it does.
He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.
“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”
He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.
It makes your insides twist.
You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.
“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”
His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs. 
“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”
You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.
But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”
And you don’t doubt that you will.
You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.
You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need. 
Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.
And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.
He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.
So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.
You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”
You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.
“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”
“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”
He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”
You only nod.”
“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”
He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.
“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”
You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.
“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”
You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.
“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"
“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”
Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.
In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”
“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.
“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.
“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—” 
“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”
You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest. 
You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it. 
Not because Johnny loves you in red.
But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.
The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.
Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.
In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.
You’ve missed this.
Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.
His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.
And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”
Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.
Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.
Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.
And it makes you grin.
You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.
Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.
But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.
He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.
But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face. 
After all, he got to have his fun this evening.
Now it’s your turn.
You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.
“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.
This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.
You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.
Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…
Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.
But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.
And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.
After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.
He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.
So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”
The twitch of his cock is answer enough.
You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.
His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.
Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.
Then…you kiss him.
And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.
You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.
And pressed tightly to your clit.
The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.
You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”
Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.
His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.
“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”
You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”
“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”
You wish he had.
“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”
And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.
“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”
You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.
And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.
The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.
So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.
Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.
At least in moments like this.
He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling. 
You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.
He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.
And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.
But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.
And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.
He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt. 
Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.
It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.
He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.
You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.
Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.
You got Harry back.
After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.
“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.
He hums. “Yes, mama?”
“I love you.”
And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.
Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.
Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.
You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.
“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”
Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.
The necklace.
He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.
He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart. 
And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.
“You like it?” he whispers.
You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”
He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.
Everything. All of it.
Him.
Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.
Once, twice, three times. 
Midnight.
“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock. 
His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”
And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.
Snow.
With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.
A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.
“Merry Christmas, Mama.”
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I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
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angelisverba · 5 months
Text
praise
in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny
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word count: 5.5k
pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)
warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.
author's note: happy late halloween!
When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.
She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.
Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.
Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.
Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.
He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles. 
So y/n had a little crush.
A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it. 
She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her. 
In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.
Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.
But she couldn't.
Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.
She could imagine it.
He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.
And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.
So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.
With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.
A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.
She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.
But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.
She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.
***
Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.
He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.
Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.
A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.
He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.
It reminded him of one his students, y/n.
She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.
But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.
Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.
She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.
Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.
But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.
Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by. 
Not that he noticed.
Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.
Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again. 
This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.
He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.
Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.
Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.
It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.
Her hearbeat.
Calm. Steady. Alive.
It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.
He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.
He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.
She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.
Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.
Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.
He had to get her to speak.
The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.
Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”
At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.
Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.
Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.
"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.
But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.
In fact, he looked almost... mad.
Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.
Everything, including her breathing.
He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.
Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.
"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."
She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.
Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.
And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.
One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.
This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.
"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"
***
Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.
She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.
He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.
“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.
“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.
"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.
"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.
"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.
She was wrong.
Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.
Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.
And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.
Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"
She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"
"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.
In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."
She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.
“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.
He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.
"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."
When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.
"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.
"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.
Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."
"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.
The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.
"I'm sorry, Professor."
Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.
"You were a bad girl, y/n."
Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.
She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.
His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"
"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.
He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"
Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”
“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.
“I need to cum, sir. I need-” 
“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”
"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.
She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-
"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.
"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.
"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.
"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.
"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.
Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.
Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.
He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"
"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.
"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.
"I understand, Professor"
He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."
*****
happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!
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eveningepiphany · 6 months
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go with it | H.S oneshot
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my masterlist!
summary: your ex boyfriend— someone you never want to talk to again— is searching for you at a party. trying to do anything to deter him or get away, you spot harry, and a plan comes to fruition.
warnings: cheating ex, surprise kiss, sexual tension, partial mentions of sexual stuff, love/hate relationship, protective! h, fluff, cuddling and lots of kissing
a/n: I’m sorry but this gif actually has me in a chokehold. his jawline, his chewing, his FROWN. literally melting 🫠
———
There was never a day you thought you’d be b-lining to Harry of all people.
Especially not with the intention of once getting there, that you would be slamming your lips against his.
However, you already know you’d rather face a pit of blood-thirsty snakes then be forced into a conversation with your asshole of an ex boyfriend.
Who you know is currently seeking you out, because when you’d caught glimpse of him scouring the groups of people inside the kitchen, after coming back from the bathroom— your stomach dropped, and someone tapped your shoulder.
“He’s your ex, right?” The girl had said this with a light scrunch of her nose as she looked over to him. Her face riddled with a sense of disgust you couldn’t relate to more If you tried.
You had nodded, to which she replied, “Well, he’s asking everyone if you’re here and where you are. Going by his personality I’m assuming you’re gonna want to avoid that.”
You’d never wanted to hug someone more then her in that moment.
At the information she’d so kindly shared with you, your first priority was getting out of the house.
The front door wasn’t an option since he is near the only hallway that leads it it. So out through the back patio, where a smaller group of people were mingling by the fire, was easily your best option.
You knew this was where he’d be likely looking next, so you ran out the door. Unsure if you are about to just find a way to jump the fence and make your escape or…
Either way, you knew if he managed to talk to you, you’d be getting an unwanted earful of advances.
He’d beg with his nasally voice for you to give him a chance, and then go on about the same bitter ending you’d both faced. To his own fault, of course.
He was talking to multiple other girls over the damn state while you were together. And once you found out, it confirmed your outlook on his person.
He of course was charming and nice at first. But it was almost in a sleazy way when you think back to it. He’d yelled at you when you bought up his adulterous habits, and you never looked back after that.
Once you were outside, you were considering your options, but you spotted a person on the other side of the decking.
The second your eyes locked on Harry, it was a done deal.
If you were to seem like you were in another relationship, he would be much more likely to back off. Much more likely to never contact or try to find you again.
He was petrified of other men. Always felt so inferior around them. So this would be perfect, if you could just make it work.
All your past with him fell from the forefront of your mind as you practically ran in his direction. Maybe you had argued countless times over college projects and he could be a bit of an ass, but you still knew you could trust him.
He was leaned against the wooden beam of the patio, skin casted with a warm glow from the fire a few feet away, down on the grass.
He had a signature frown. One that creased between his brows and pouted his pink lips. Creating his almost intimidating persona. Protective in a perfect way.
“Harry.” You state frantically, moving at a pace you’re not used to, shoes hitting the wooden decking hastily.
His scowl deepened as he heard his name, being pulled from his intense train of thought.
“What—” He looks honestly pissed off, but when his gaze snaps to you, it softens a tiny bit. Still annoyed, but just a sliver less.
Also confused at your frantic and rapidly approaching frame, which is now suddenly breaching the usual metre-wide distance you both would maintain on any other day.
“Y/N? What are you—“
You plant your hands on the side of his face, and the look of surprise in his eyes is evident.
His cheeks are warm and smooth under your palms, “I need you to just go with this okay? Can you do that for me?”
He is struggling to make sense of the situation, let alone get a sentence out without being interrupted.
“What do you—“
“I— I’ll explain later just—“ you take a final glance over your shoulder, and see your ex inside still, but seemingly headed for the sliding door to come outside.
This drives the final surge of adrenaline you need to tug his face to yours, melding your lips together. His are puckered in tense shock, and a noise of surprise sounds from the back of his throat.
His hands jump to your hips, gripping them like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer, or push you away.
Your mouth moves against his, and he reciprocates with a sense of hesitation.
His own brain is in absolute overdrive. The interaction far to short to go from being people who merely tolerate one another to people who are currently kissing.
And somewhere inside of him he acknowledges the feeling of how warm your lips are pressed to his.
He senses your urgency now though, hands tensing around his jaw at the sound of the access door getting slid open.
Parting his lips, he impulsively drags his tongue over your bottom lip. You sigh a sound of almost gratefulness at his action.
Harry turns his body swiftly, pressing your back into the railing, his lips moving harder against yours.
“Y/N! Are you bloody out here?” A grating voice sounds, and he quickly picks up the pieces of the story he was missing.
The voice also pulls him out of the half trance he’d gotten himself in. Your mouth so warm, he genuinely forgot his own name for a second.
One of your hands slide down to the neck of his black shirt, securing it in an anxious grip.
The pace quickly picks up, him plastering himself to you as close as physically possible. Clashing mouths as he shadows your body with his.
“Oi, mate!” He ignores the yell, and is met with the footsteps of this guy coming closer.
“Have you seen—“
Harry pulls from your mouth, turning his head to look at the dickhead who you’re clearly attempting to get away from. And who just hypothetically interrupted someone’s makeout session— which is just fucking rude anyway.
“Do I look like I have?” Harry scowls, an angry tone over his voice.
The guy frowns, an ugly look casting upon his features, he steps closer, “No need to be a fucking di—“
He moved just close enough to see you, frowning, making sense that you were just essentially making out with someone, “Y/N I—“
“Can you fuck off? We’re in the middle of something here, that you’ve just so kindly interrupted. Read the room you twat.” His sentences come out harsh, and it’s clear he means it.
Your ex tries his luck a final time, “look I just want to talk with—“
And Harry interjects it again, “She’s not interested.”
You stay quiet, and at this he gets a disgusted look. It appalls you that he thinks you owe him anything.
There’s a stare down between the two men. But you can see in his face he’s intimidated. Also humiliated, that you’ve seemingly moved on with someone else, and that he’s clearly got no shot at winning you back.
“Fucking ass.” He hisses, and turns around, storming down the patio and back inside.
Harry turns back to you, shielding your frame with his. A sigh of relief passes through you.
You look a little shaken up, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. Both your lips still puffed and shining from the exchange you unexpectedly shared.
“Thank you…” you pant out, not sure if you’re out of breath from the situation or because of Harry.
The reality of what just happened comes pelting down on you both.
And it’s quiet a moment as you both clock over in your brains that you just practically made out. It takes a second for him to break the silence,
“So, stalker? Ex? Random guy who can’t take no for an answer?” He quizzes.
Feeling embarrassed, you purse your lips— but are able to to taste the remnants of his own mouth on yours. “Ex.”
“Ex?”
You nod.
“You sound surprised. Didn’t you think I could land anyone?” You scoff, trying desperately to bring back the usual snarky vibe between the two of you.
“No, not at all. Just that he was clearly batting above his level. He was a proper dickhead, and that’s rich when it’s compared to you.” You thank god he plays back into your banter.
But he pries further, “What exactly did he do to you?”
“Long story.” You attempt to brush it off, but he has none of it.
“Love, y’just came over here and slammed your bloody mouth over mine, and now you’re not going to tell me why?”
“But—“
“No,” he interrupts, still very close to you as he shakes his head, “No buts. Y’said you’d explain after.”
A sigh rattles out of you, feeling a little pathetic you’re telling Harry you got cheated on.
“He cheated on me. Like with multiple girls.”
To this, his face immediately drops.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Unfortunately.”
He fights the overwhelming urge to go hunt him down and lay a hand into the side of his fucking face. An absolute scumbag.
“What a pathetic excuse for a man.” He scoffs, “Lucky to have even got a pretty girl like you, and he blew it.”
You flush, another brief wave of quiet falling over the two of you. His compliments throwing you.
You quietly speak again, “I’m sorry about the… kiss. Didn’t really get as much consent as I’d have liked.”
You did feel guilty, you don’t usually go forcing your mouth onto unsuspecting men.
“No, it’s okay. You did it for a reason.” He shakes his head at your apology, and in all honesty, he enjoyed it.
Somehow it meant more than many of his others have. And he can’t quite pinpoint why.
“I… I carpooled here so, I think I’m gonna call an Uber and go home ‘cause…”
You had no interest in sticking around, incase your ex comes back— and you don’t want to spend the rest of your night glued to Harry’s side, because you doubt he’d want that.
“You’re not catching an Uber home.” He scoffs aloud, fishing his keys from his back pocket, “I’ve only had one drink, I’ll be fine to drive, so I’ll take you.”
“Harry, no. You’ve already done plenty for me tonight, I’ll be fine—“
He grabs at your hand, lacing them together and beginning to walk you down the patio.
“I’m driving you home.” He states, leading the you inside.
He clutched your hand tight, eyes forward and uncaring of the heads that had turned your way.
You on the other hand had burned up at the curious— and quickly jealous— eyes.
Harry was by no means a whore. There were plenty of rumours of him sleeping with certain girls. Mostly outlandish stories that eventually fizzled out to nothing.
He’d had a few girlfriends here and there, but it’d been a while since. And he’s maybe had one actual fling over the last couple months.
It just seemed he was harder to get. And many women tried their luck around the school. Yet to no avail.
You cast your sight down, walking behind him out the front door. Relishing in the quiet surroundings of the front lawn, free of prying glares.
He unlocked his car that was parked on the side of the road, and he opens the side door for you to get in. Chivalry mustn’t be dead.
Once you’re both in the car, you fight the urge to say again that he really doesn’t have to take you, because it’s clear there is no other option on his end.
So instead, you let out a tiny thank you, and he nods while starting the car.
However, your self restraint only branches so far— matter-of-fact, you weren’t even out of the street— before you blurt out, “Everyone was staring.”
He veers his gaze momentarily to you, then flicking it back to the road. Silence stretches a moment, and he recalls the heat of your lips pressed to yours with no real prompt.
And when he thinks of it, the image doesn’t leave his head. It unwillingly transpires, into something that bubbles into the pit of his stomach.
He had to blink it away, grounding himself when he hears your nervous swallow.
“I— what?” He’s confused at what you mean, while you kissed? When you walked out?
“When we walked out.” You reply, and he makes sense of what you’re talking about.
“People will always stare. They’re nosey.”
“I know.”
There’s another breath of silence, until he laughs, so suddenly that it almost makes you jump.
“Where am I going?” He asks, still chuckling as he realises he’s literally just driving aimlessly.
“Oh.” You sputter out a laugh as well, rattling off the side of town he needs to start driving to.
You wish you had more to say to him. That’s conversation usually flowed easily— filled with the sarcastic retorts it usually is. But now all that sat between you was a thick, hot slab of tension.
It wasn’t bad— not by any means— but it was easy to tell both of you were stuck in your own head. And you fear you’ve fashioned a permanent problem between the two of you.
Your voice only cut through the quiet once you were a few blocks away from your house.
He hummed acknowledgements to your each set of directions, and before you knew it, you were pointing out your house to him.
As his car pulled to a stop in the driveway, he didn’t hesitate to turn off the engine and get out.
Confused, you follow suit anyway, but wondered if he was about to walk you to your door.
And you weren’t wrong. Somehow, the guy who seems hardly like a gentleman, is waiting to walk the maybe 15 steps with you from his car to your front door.
You get your keys from your small bag, looking at him with an undeniably curious gaze as you meet his side.
He follows in sync by your side, hands in pockets. All the way up the patio steps, and he falls to a stop when you do, still next to you.
“Thank you for driving me home…” you smile, and can feel an unwilling red colouring spread over your cheeks.
“Was nothin’. Glad you’re home safe.”
“Were you seriously worried about me?” You frown, yet it’s undeniably endearing his concern for you.
A tiny scoff sounds from him, “Obviously?”
“That fuckin’ twat of an ex you have hardly seems like a good person. And who’s t’say he wouldn’t follow you home from that party and…” he stares off in thought, jaw clenching.
“Harry.” You state, stepping forward, wrapping a single hand around his wrist.
“Thank you.”
His distant gaze was snapped away at your touch. He’s never really considered himself an overly violent person, but your ex was easily about to change that.
And he hardly can pinpoint why. Or not yet.
The only thing he knows he wants to do again in sudden clarity, is kiss you. It almost shocks him, because he hasn’t felt an urge as strong as this in forever.
“Can— I need you to just go with this.” He mutters, being the one now very suddenly invading the gap between you both.
He’s mimicking what you said when you kissed him, yet you don’t realise “I’ll explain later.”
His hand cups the side of your jaw, and he leans to brush his lips against yours, a breath of relief fanning out his nose after finally feeling the contact.
You’re stood on your porch, and Harry is kissing you.
And somehow you’re all the sudden kissing him back.
Not because there’s someone you’re running from. Not because you have to. Because you want to.
He pulls you closer to him, allowing his teeth to graze your lower lip. Causing your hands to card through the hair at the nape of his neck.
You both play a back and forth game. Full of lips against tongue and tongue against teeth.
Until you’re both panting and running out of new places to map out with your hands.
“Care to explain?” You retort gently, stricken of breath.
He hums in the back of his throat, barley a rumble as he trails his mouth along your jaw, and down to the base of your neck.
“Is this enough of an answer?” He asks, sucking the skin between your two collarbones between his teeth.
Your knees almost give out at the sensation, and even the pressure behind his harsh mouth.
A near whimper comes from you, and he licks over the slightly bruised spot before he pulls back.
He cocks an eyebrow, expectant of your answer, despite having such a skilled mouth you’re pretty sure you forgot your own name for a second there.
“I— yes. That was… plenty.” You nod.
“Did it because I wanted to, and y’have an incredibly hot little mouth.” He provides anyway, a laugh coming from him as he pecks your cheek. All gentle, all loving.
You’re lacking for words completely, and can only lean your head against his broad chest. Unsure what exactly you’ve sparked between the two of you this evening, but simultaneously not caring of the future right now.
“I’m also probably not going to be able to stop thinking about it…” he whispers.
“Stay.” You blurt out, and then clarify a few seconds later, “The night.”
He chuckles at this, “Are you trying to get in bed with me now? Moving very quickly, sweetheart.”
You flush, “Not everything is about sex, you fucking addict.”
“So you were inviting me to stay the night so we could cuddle?”
“I was.” You affirm, despite not being opposed to his idea either.
Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your front door. Unlocking it and making quick work of sneaking him inside without the one of your three lovely housemates hearing.
All the others were luckily out at varying parties, and the only girl still home— Grace— sleeps like a log.
“You seem like a bit of a professional at sneaking people in.” He smirks, kicking his shoes off and leaving them in the corner of your room.
With only the lamp turned on, he’s lit with a warm glow, and he looks beautiful.
“Comes naturally when you live with housemates that are like your best friends. They wanna know everything.” You go to your cupboard, pulling out a jumper to change into.
He watches as you pull it over your head, yet managing to unclip your top and bra off underneath it.
“Impressive.” He nods at your easy change.
“I’m taking my pants off.” You state, “and not in a sexual way, perv.”
He lets out a defensive laugh, “I’m not a perv! You’re the one stripping off.”
You unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs to change over to sweatpants. His gaze strays around your room and you smile at his respectfulness.
Once you’re changed, you sit on the edge of your bed.
You lock eyes, and he gives a sly smile, not waiting to tug his shirt over his head and unbutton his own jeans.
You cover your eyes, sarcastically scoffing, “yea well, I didn’t plan on getting fully naked, but you go right ahead.”
“No different if we went swimming, darling. Still have my underwear on.”
You don’t get to reply as his hands tap your knee, “Budge up.”
You uncover your eyes, being met with his toned chest and calvin klein briefs.
Obliging silently, as he gets under the covers with you. The two of you rearrange until you’re comfortable.
Your head perched on his side as you cuddle into him, arm over his abdomen. His own arm curled underneath you.
“This is… an awfully weird situation we’ve ended up in.” You laugh. Because you’re cuddling in your bed right now, and if you told yourself even yesterday that would be happening, there no way in hell you would have taken it seriously.
“Guess it is.” He shrugs, turned his head to look down at yours.
“Still hate your guts.” You whisper.
“Mm, i don’t think I ever even hated you.” He muses.
You laugh, “Is that so?”
“Seriously,” he nods, “you’re too pretty. And even though you’re annoying, and can’t admit when you get a project question wrong, i think I have a little bit of a soft spot for you.”
“Gross.” You say, but he can hear in your tone— and the way it nearly shakes— that you actually are a little worked up over his minor confession.
“Cmon, you can’t even admit you like me a tiny bit?”
You shake your head, blushing profusely as you try to hide it.
He tugs you further up, so he can look at you properly, “You’re blushing though. Like you always seem to do when I get a bit sappy. Which is my most recent observation of you.”
He doesn’t let you respond as he presses another kiss to your lips again. And you smile into it unwillingly.
He pulls away mid-kiss, letting you whine a little at the abrupt ending to it.
“Admit it, and we can keep kissing.” He says, and it draws an eye-roll from you.
But he somehow knows it will work, because you quickly crack under his ultimatum, “Fine! Yes. I like you— just a little bit.”
To your response he laughs, murmuring against your lips, “I’ll take it, I suppose.”
He presses another kiss against you, and you press back again.
It becomes another makeout session, but despite being the third one of the night, it’s the first time hands can skate against mostly bare skin.
Which his own palms find their way under your jumper, and one cups gently at your breast, flicking over your nipple while his tongue dips into your mouth.
That’s as far as it goes for tonight though.
He kneads the flesh there softly, until you’re panting into his mouth with a heat budding between your legs.
Somehow there’s an unspoken not tonight agreement.
And you know that despite how needy you feel for him, it’s definitely for the best. And you’re still shocked you made it this far with him.
You roll into him further, chest rising and falling quickly as you sigh out to him, “I lied.”
“When?” He sounds completely unconcerned, despite your risky sentence starter.
“Before, when I said I only liked you a little bit.”
He chuckles at your response, “How was that a lie, hm?”
“I like you more than a little bit.”
“You’re sweet, darling.” He strokes his thumb against your ribcage, “so do I.”
To this you smiled. Eyes growing heavy at his rhythmic touches and soothing voice.
And his gentle words are the last that you hear before you fall asleep against his chest.
Both filled with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time.
———
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goldengalore · 1 year
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Intimacy
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An anxious!reader fic.
Summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with someone in a long time, which makes her nervous about having sex with Harry for the first time.
Word count: 6.5k
Warnings: anxiety, smut (featuring soft dom!harry, fingering, thigh riding, oral - m receiving)
A/N: This is one last idea (for now) that I had for the anxious!reader universe. Lots of smut, but it’s very soft and sweet and full of love :)
***
His hands. Y/N can’t stop staring at his hands.
There are a lot of things she finds attractive about Harry. Too many. It’s actually maddening how one person can have so many attractive qualities. Lately, her brain has decided to fixate on his hands. They’re pretty and elegant, strong and masculine.
His long fingers are often decorated with an ornate collection of rings. Sometimes his nails are painted with vibrant colours; other times, they’re unpainted but still clean and neatly trimmed. She can often see the veins that travel up the backs of his hands into his toned arms. He moisturizes them well too, so they rarely look dry.
Y/N would be lying if she said her obsession with Harry’s hands is completely innocent and merely about aesthetics, that she hasn’t imagined how those fingers would feel in her mouth or between her legs and orgasmed to the thought of that while lying alone in bed at night.
It doesn’t help that he’s a highly affectionate person, finding any excuse to place his hands on her whenever she’s within reach. Even now, as they lounge on his couch, he pulls her legs into his lap and begins massaging them. She’s wearing a knee-length dress today, leaving her lower legs exposed. His hands don’t move up past her knees, but that doesn’t stop her imagination from running wild anyway.
“Y/N?” His smooth, commanding voice—another annoyingly attractive feature of his—pulls her from her thoughts.
“Hmm?” Her eyes flick up to his emerald ones staring back at her. She realizes with embarrassment that she hasn’t listened to a thing he’s said in the past minute or so.
“What were you staring at?” He glances down in his lap, where her gaze was just a few seconds ago.
“Oh, just your hands.”
His brows furrow slightly as he starts inspecting his hands, turning his palms up, then down. “Why? Something wrong with them?”
“No! No, they’re just… nice. Nice hands. That’s all. Sorry, what, um, what were you saying?”
A teasing smirk forms on his lips. “Nice hands, huh? Never heard that one before.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “Please. I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.”
“Mmm, not really.”
She narrows her eyes at him, not believing him for a second. His smirk broadens.
“Anyway,” he says, resting his hands back on her legs, “I was just saying that I really missed you last week.”
Now she feels even worse about zoning out on him. He’s been out of town this past week for work. They reunited just this morning after his flight landed back in LA.
“I missed you too, H.”
“This week made me realize something.”
Her heart skips a beat. “What?”
“Made me realize how much I hate being away from you. I know our friendship started over Zoom meetings and phone calls and whatnot since I was on tour, but…” He shrugs. “After spending time with you in person these past couple months, I can’t imagine being away from you for weeks or months at a time. I think I’d go mad.”
His confession feels like being swaddled in a warm blanket. While he was away, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him. His fluffy hair and dimpled smile, his kind eyes and boyish laugh, even his cute nose consumed her thoughts from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she fell asleep at night. She found herself cursing the slow passage of time frequently throughout the week. To hear that her feelings were reciprocated makes her giddy inside.
When she takes a while to respond, he says, “I hope that wasn’t too intense. It’s just been on my mind lately and I had to say it.”
“No, I feel the same way.” I think I’m in love with you, she says in her head but struggles to speak aloud. She has never been the first to say those words in a relationship.
He smiles, relieved. “Okay, good.” He holds her gaze for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her legs still strewn across his lap. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw as he leans in for a kiss, sucking her top lip into his mouth.
She scoots even closer, practically sitting in his lap now. The movement causes her dress to ride up. Harry rests his other hand on her bare thigh, squeezing it lightly. Her heart quickens. His hand inches along her inner thigh, hiking her dress up even further. Suddenly, her whole body tenses up and she shrinks away from his touch.
“Sorry, I—I can’t,” she stammers, quickly removing her legs from his lap and tugging her dress back down.
She sneaks a glance at his face and detects some hurt there. It lasts for a split second, but her brain registers it anyway. She feels awful. This is the second time he has tried to get intimate with her beyond just kissing. The first was the night before he was supposed to fly out of the city. They were cuddling in his bed. She was giving him all the signs that she wanted to take things further—letting her hands roam all over his body, grinding her hips against him—but as soon as he started returning her touches, she pulled away.
It’s frustrating because she fantasizes about it all the time, yet when it finally starts to happen, she freezes up. It’s like her mind and body are on completely different pages.
“I’m sorry, H,” she repeats.
“It’s all right.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “You’re not ready for that. I understand.”
“But I am ready. I just…” She looks up at the ceiling as if the answers to her puzzling emotions will be there. “Ugh! I don’t know.”
A long silence stretches between them, though it probably feels longer in her head than it is in reality.
“I should go,” she finally says, rising to her feet, but he grabs her hand before she can go anywhere.
“Already? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“But I made things awkward!”
“No, you didn’t. Stop that.”
She was trying to avoid his gaze, but he tugs on her hand to make her look at him.
“We’ve been apart for a whole week. You think I’m letting you run off that easily?” He frowns a bit. “Wait, that sounded creepier than I’d intended.”
She giggles, feeling somewhat lighter. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay.”
They order sushi for dinner and crack open a bottle of wine. The awkwardness she felt earlier fades as Harry starts telling her about a deep conversation he shared with the five-year-old girl sitting next to him on his flight. Y/N is glad she decided to stay because if she had gone home to spend the night by herself, her overthinking mind would have eaten her alive.
After dinner, they transfer back over to the couch with their wineglasses in hand. They sit cross-legged, facing each other. The wine has helped her loosen up some more, granting her the courage to explain why she’s been so reluctant to get intimate with him.
“I’m not a virgin,” she tells him. “I know it probably seems that way because of how I act every time we try to do anything sexual, but I’m not. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one, obviously. I just thought you should know.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Although he doesn’t press any further, his eyes are curious and attentive in a way that makes her want to spill everything, just lay out all her secrets and fears and insecurities in a big, messy pile in front of him.
“I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t had sex in years,” she explains. “And I’ve always had to have a few drinks before doing it. I tried doing it sober once, and it was a total disaster. I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, and the guy didn’t know what to do. I just told him to keep going, so he did until he finished and—”
“Lovie, that’s not okay,” he interjects, brows pinching together in concern. “He should’ve stopped when he realized you were having a panic attack.”
“Well, to be fair, I told him to keep going. It was totally consensual.”
“Still. He should’ve at least stopped to make sure you were all right. Seems like basic human decency to me.”
“I guess....” She shrugs, knowing that he’s right but not wanting to think about it much longer. “Anyway, after he finished, he told me that having sex with me was like fucking a scared baby deer.” She forces a laugh, though the memory still makes her cringe inside. “Needless to say, I was mortified and never saw him again. And that’s the only time I’ve had sex while sober.”
“And all the times you weren’t sober, did you at least enjoy it?”
She hesitates. “Um, define enjoy.”
He appears even more concerned now. “If you’re having to ask that question, I’m afraid the answer is no. If you enjoyed it, you would know.”
“Well, I just asked because if by ‘enjoy,’ you mean ‘did I orgasm during it,’ then it’s a no. But my anxiety was a lot more under control, so I guess that could be considered a form of enjoyment… Right?”
Rather than answering her question, he asks, “You’ve never orgasmed during sex?”
She shakes her head. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but her cheeks still feel like they’re on fire.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“Oh, plenty. When I’m alone, that is.”
“I see.” He rubs his jaw and looks away, sinking deep into thought. She can’t read the expression on his face.
“So, now you know how bad I am at sex,” she jokes to fill the silence.
He looks at her with a raised brow. “I don’t know about that. If anything, it’s the guys you’ve been with who were bad at sex if they couldn’t even make you come once.”
“Oh no, they were all very experienced.” Y/N doesn’t know why she’s defending these men, as if they would do the same for her. Perhaps it’s because she’s spent her whole life thinking she was the problem and this is the first time someone has suggested a different perspective to the one she’s become so accustomed to.
“Experience doesn’t always equate to being good at something.”
“I guess not.” She bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do want to try again… with you. I just don’t know how to stay calm without having a few drinks in my system.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to work on that.”
His use of the word “we” doesn’t go unnoticed by her. We, as in this is our problem, not just yours. We, as in we’ll figure this out together, you don’t have to do it alone. She feels a surge of something in her chest, and the only term she can think of to describe it is love.
“I’m calm right now,” she says with sudden realization, placing her wineglass on the table so quickly that it almost topples over. “So, technically, we could try again—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having sex for the first time while you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk drunk though. Just a bit tipsy. I think we could still—”
“Y/N, it’s not happening,” he states firmly. “Other guys might have been okay with that sort of thing, but I’m not, okay?”
Her shoulders slump. She looks down in her lap. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just want you to know that I want it as much as you do.”
“I know. Hey”—he tilts up her chin—“we’ll get there. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”
He has no idea how much of a relief it is to hear those words. Her biggest fear this whole time has been him losing interest in her because she can’t seem to get over her anxiety around sex. It’s happened before. Guys often expect her anxiety to disappear after the first time. When it doesn’t, they take it as a blow to their ego and react by making her feel like a freak for being anxious at all. The humiliation leads to even worse anxiety the next time she gets intimate with someone. It’s a vicious cycle.
She doesn’t want to get her hopes up or anything, but maybe that cycle finally ends with Harry.
***
When it comes to Y/N, Harry just doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Even before they met in person, he would dream of the day he could finally have her in his arms, how perfectly their bodies would mold together, how electrifying that first contact would be. For months, he’s been dying to touch and feel and kiss every inch of her, but after hearing about her sexual history, it’s no surprise why she’s so hesitant to take that step with him.
Taking things slow is not a problem for Harry. If anything, he feels lucky to be the one who gets to show her how fun and exciting and stress-relieving sex can be when the people involved actually care about each other’s pleasure.
It’s been a few days since that initial conversation. They’ve had several more discussions about it since then, and he thinks they’re ready to try something now.
He stares at Y/N lying on his bed, looking cute and cozy in his forest green Pleasing crewneck. Her lips are swollen from all their making out, her neck and collarbone littered with red spots where he licked and sucked on her skin like an ice cream cone.
“Question for you,” he says, leaning his head on his palm. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
“Hmm… A couple days ago?”
“Would you feel comfortable doing that in front of me?”
Her eyes widen. “Y—you want to watch me touch myself?”
“Only if you’re okay with it.” Her reaction already indicates that she’s not.
“Oh, I… I don’t think I am,” she admits, confirming his thoughts. “I mean, I don’t even like being watched while I cross the street. It’s like I forget how to walk.”
“Okay, different question. How would you feel about getting in a bath with me?”
She thinks about it. “I’d be okay with that.”
He runs them a bath lightly scented with a lavender oil he bought recently, while Y/N leans against the doorway and watches. Once he begins to undress, she follows suit. Starting with his crewneck, she removes her clothes at an extremely slow pace, as if she’s on the verge of changing her mind at any moment. He finishes undressing before she does and pretends not to notice her eyes bulging at the sight of his dick. Instead, he leans over to the tub to test the temperature of the water.
“I’ll get in first,” he says. “Then you can sit between my legs. Sound good?”
She swallows. “Yup.”
He steps into the tub and submerges everything but his head and upper chest into the water. His back rests against one side, his long legs outstretched in front of him.
In the meantime, Y/N finishes undressing. He forces himself not to stare, knowing that it’ll only make her more nervous. She moves quickly now, striding over to the tub and climbing in on wobbly legs. He holds out his hand for support.
“Careful,” he says.
She sits down between his legs with her back facing him. There’s still a lot of space between them.
“Just lean back against me,” he tells her.
She hesitates for a moment, then leans back until she’s flush against his torso.
He smiles. “There you go.”
“Okay, what now?”
“Nothing. Let’s just sit for a minute.”
They enjoy the next few minutes in companionable silence. The warm water seems to dissolve all the tension in her body, which is exactly why he suggested this idea in the first place. Her shoulders relax. She sinks deeper into him.
After a while, he says, “I’m going to try something. If you don’t like what I’m doing or you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. My ego can handle it. Okay?”
She responds with a tiny nod.
“I need you to answer me verbally, lovie,” he says softly in her ear. “Just so I can be sure we’re on the same page.”
“Yes. Got it. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Don’t have to apologize.”
“Sorry,” she says again, automatically. “Fuck! Sorr— Shit! Why do I keep—” She starts to sit up, but he places a hand in the middle of her chest, gently pulling her back against him. He can feel her heart galloping like a racehorse.
“Y/N, relax. You’re okay. You’re doing great. Just breathe.”
She inhales a deep, shaky breath, then releases it.
“That’s good. Keep doing that.”
Her heartrate gradually decreases with each breath she takes. Once she appears to have calmed down, he moves his hand from the centre of her chest to one of her breasts, cupping it tenderly in his palm. His other hand comes to rest on her belly before making its descent between her legs. She squirms a little once the pads of his fingers make contact with her clit.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“Y—yeah.” She takes another deliberate breath.
He rubs her clit in small, tight circles and kneads her breast at the same time. Her hands rest at her sides on top of his thighs. As he pinches her nipple, twisting and pulling it lightly, her fingers dig into his thighs and his cock twitches between their bodies. He wonders if she felt it. His middle finger prods around her slit now and slips inside without resistance. He pumps it in and out a few times before adding a second one, using his thumb to rub her clit.
Y/N is completely silent, but the slick substance coating her pussy and the subtle rocking of her hips is confirmation enough that she’s enjoying this. He peeks at her face to find her eyes closed and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth like she’s afraid of accidentally making a sound.
That is another thing they’ll need to work on. Harry likes being vocal during sex and equally enjoys when his lovers are vocal too. He doesn’t want Y/N to hold anything back around him. But they can work on that another day.
“Does this feel good?” he asks.
She nods, then remembers what he said earlier and answers out loud, “Feels good, yes. Really good.”
Satisfied by her response, he presses a third finger inside and pushes all three of them deep into her with every thrust, turning her into a squirming, quivering mess in his arms. Her back arches off his torso as she comes, the smallest whimper slipping through her self-restraint. He gradually lessens the stimulation on her clit, then removes his fingers completely. She lets her head roll back against his shoulder.
“Wow,” she sighs. “I’ve never… That’s never happened with someone before.”
“Wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No, it was great. Um… thank you?”
He chuckles. “My pleasure.”
Suddenly, she sits up and looks over her shoulder at him. “So… your turn now?”
He waves his hand, splashing some of the water with it. “Don’t worry about that.”
She frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, trying to act cool as if he can’t feel his dick throbbing furiously under the water right now.
He could take her up on the offer, but he wants to focus on her today. Y/N is too nice to admit it, but he has deduced from their recent conversations that her previous partners were too greedy in the bedroom, exploiting her selfless nature for their own benefit. It’s quite unfortunate. Someone like her deserves to be spoiled, not exploited. At least now that she’s with him, he can make sure she gets the treatment she deserves.
After they’ve cleaned up and stepped out of the tub, he grabs one of the towels off the counter and starts handing it to her, then stops.
“Can I dry you off?” he asks.
She seems surprised but not opposed to the idea. “Sure.”
“Okay, just one moment.” He quickly pats himself dry, then grabs the other towel and walks over to her.
Timid eyes gaze up at him. They fall shut as he raises the towel to her face and dabs away all the little water droplets. Next, he moves down to her neck, shoulders, chest, and so on… After he’s done with her upper body, he sinks down to his knees on the mat and works on her lower half, taking his sweet time and humming softly to himself. He glances up to find her smiling at him.
Once her entire body is dry, he leans forward and plants a kiss to her belly before standing up with the towel thrown over his shoulder. Y/N’s eyes follow him as if in a trance.
“All good?”
She just blinks at him.
“Y/N?”
“I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of her like a whoosh of air that had been trapped in a sealed container. “God, it feels weird saying it out loud. It’s been in my head for so long and I didn’t want to say it because that makes it feel more… real.”
“Why’s that a bad thing?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Because you think I don’t feel the same way?”
“Do you?” She winces slightly as if she’s bracing herself for possible rejection, as if the answer to that question could be anything but “absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent yes.”
“Of course I do, Y/N. I thought I’d made that pretty obvious.”
“You should know by now that nothing is obvious with me.”
It’s true. Even when they were just friends and Harry began dropping hints that he wanted to be more than that, they pretty much all went over her head. Y/N is a smart woman; she just happens to be totally oblivious when it comes to love and romance, which he finds deeply endearing about her.
“Well, take this as your confirmation that I am, in fact, very much in love with you,” he states, taking her face in his hands and giving her a big, sloppy smooch on the lips, which she accepts with a laugh.
***
“That’s it, lovie. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.”
Y/N rocks back and forth on Harry’s thigh, her cunt positioned directly over his tiger tattoo. His thick, firm quads provide the perfect amount of friction against her needy clit.
A week ago, the idea of riding his thigh while he watched her would have made her extremely self-conscious. But since then, they’ve spent each night exploring each other’s bodies. He has given her several more orgasms with his fingers and mouth, while she has given him some with her hand. They’ve masturbated in front of each other. One night, he gave her a full-body massage that turned her on so much that he hardly even had to touch her clit to make her come.
She doesn’t mind being watched anymore. Not by Harry, at least. His gaze is never judgemental or critical. She doesn’t need to fret over saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining the moment. This has made her fall even more head over heels for him.
“Look so pretty getting yourself off on my thigh like this,” he says, toying with her breasts.
A moan starts to leave her mouth until she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to trap it in. Harry reaches up and drags her lip back down with his thumb.
“Let me hear you,” he says. “Wanna hear how good this makes you feel.” He grips her chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping her mouth open.
She’s close now, the heat of her orgasm building in her core. Her hips grind faster against him. He lifts up his thigh to heighten the pressure on her clit. The tight knot in her lower abdomen unravels, and she comes with a loud moan, soaking his thigh with her juices.
“You make the sweetest sounds when you come,” he says, releasing her chin.
She pecks him on the lips and, before she’s even recovered from her orgasm, gets on her knees between his legs.
He frowns. “What are you doing?”
She looks at him like it should be obvious. “Returning the favour?” As she begins to reach for his cock, he grabs her wrist.
“Nope,” he says. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you have to pay me back for every orgasm. Sex doesn’t have to be so transactional, you know?” The smirk on his face conveys that he’s joking, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from having the sudden, embarrassing realization that perhaps she does treat sex like it’s transactional and just wasn’t aware of it until now.
“I—I know that,” she fibs a little. “I just want to make you feel good.” That part, at least, is not a lie.
Harry has been spoiling her heavily this past week, which has been delightful. She can tell he’s making every effort to gain her trust in the fact that he doesn’t expect anything in return for how incredible he makes her feel. But Y/N likes making him feel good too. She likes the way he hisses and shudders when she finds his most sensitive spots. She likes watching his usual composure crumble simply from her touch. She lives for it.
“Please?” she adds to her request, giving him her best doe eyes.
“Okay,” he says. “If you really want to.”
“I do.”
He lets go of her wrist, allowing her to reach for his stiff cock again. Nerves make her hands tremble, as she remembers how long it’s been since she gave someone a blowjob. She wants it to be perfect, but realistically, she’ll probably be a bit rusty.
She strokes him in her hand and runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft until, finally, she feels ready to take him in her mouth. Her lips wrap around his tip and slowly move down his length, tongue gliding against him. She considers deep-throating, then decides against it because it’s been way too long since she’s done it and she needs time to work up to it again. Any insecurity she felt about that disappears the moment she glances up at Harry. His eyes are closed and jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
Emboldened by the look of absolute ecstasy on his face, she bobs her head up and down his shaft and massages his balls with her hand. She moans around him, and he releases a low groan at the sensation it produces. Then she lets his entire length slip from her mouth, teasing him by flicking her tongue over his tip and leaving little kisses along his shaft until his fingers are weaving through her hair in desperation.
“Didn’t know you could be such a tease,” he says with a breathy laugh.
She grins innocently, then takes him into her mouth again, determined to suck him to completion this time. His hand feels good in her hair. She imagines him holding her head in place while he fucks her mouth. She never thought she would be into that sort of thing until now.
“I’m gonna come soon, Y/N,” he warns her as he gets close.
She doesn’t pull away. He thinks she didn’t hear him, so he repeats himself. She makes eye contact to convey that she heard him, that she wants him to come in her mouth, which he does moments later. She relishes the taste of it, swallowing every last drop. As she draws back and wipes her mouth clean, he stares at her in amazement.
“You’re really fucking good at that,” he tells her.
“Thanks! I had this boyfriend in college who only wanted blowjobs all the time since that didn’t involve having to make me come, which was basically impossible for him. He was kind of demanding, but he taught me how to give a damn good blowjob.”
Harry grimaces. “You know, the more I learn about your previous partners, the more I want to hit them over the head with something.”
She laughs. “I think I make them seem meaner than they were.”
“No, I think you make them seem nicer than they were.” He pats his thigh. “Get up here.”
She stands up and sits on his thigh with her legs dangling between his this time. His arm wraps around her back.
Locking his eyes on hers, he says, “You are worth so much more than being some guy’s blowjob dispenser, all right?”
“I know, I know,” she says. “I was just young and naive back then, but I know better now.”
“Good. Don’t ever let any man or woman treat you that way. Okay?”
His eyes are so full of care and concern for her that she thinks she might just cry.
“Okay,” she replies.
***
Harry loves writing about the initial euphoria that comes with falling in love. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating and all-consuming. Many of his most successful songs were inspired by this peculiar feeling. It’s no wonder that he keeps heading into the studio lately to harness all this creative energy and inject it into his music.
Today, Tom, Tyler, and Mitch are all in the studio with him. Mitch is riffing on his guitar while Harry adlibs over it when Jeff pokes his head into the room.
“H, Y/N’s here to see you,” he says.
Harry raises his brows. “She is?” She didn’t tell him that she’d be visiting the studio today.
“Yeah, she’s waiting out front.”
“Is she all right? Did she say why she’s here?”
Jeff shrugs. “No clue. She seemed fine.”
Y/N always seems “fine.” She’s quite skilled at pretending everything is okay when it’s not, which can be rather concerning. Harry tells the guys he’ll be back, then heads to the front of the studio where he finds his girlfriend staring at a wall decorated from top to bottom with framed album covers of legendary musicians.
“Hi, darling,” he says as he approaches.
She turns to him, eyes illuminating as soon as they meet his. “Hi! Sorry, I told Jeff not to go get you, but he did anyway.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something. I swear if you were writing your next Grammy-winning single and I just ruined your flow, I’ll be so mad at myself.”
“Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” He steps closer, taking her hands. “Now tell me what brought you here. Are you okay?”
He studies her as she replies, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m not here for any particular reason. I just…” She hesitates. “I needed to see you.” As soon as she says it, her eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, that sounds so needy.”
“That’s okay. We all get needy sometimes. Do you want to sit in the studio with me?”
She bites her lip, giving it some thought before shaking her head.
“Okay.” He brings her hands between their bodies, swinging them apart and together again. “Then tell me what you need.”
“I—I need…” She glances down in the general direction of his crotch.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “You need…?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”
He tilts his head to side, feigning innocence. “Say what?”
“Baby…”
He wanted to make her say it, but the pleading look in her eyes makes him cave. “You need my cock, is that it?”
“Shhh! Not so loud!” Her head spins around to make sure no one heard them.
He laughs. “There’s no one around, lovie.”
“Still!” She sighs and presses her hands against her flaming cheeks. “It’s not fair. You’ve been teasing me with it this whole week, and it’s all I can think about. Couldn’t even focus on my art today because I kept thinking about how…”—she drops her voice to a barely audible whisper—“how you would feel inside me.”
It’s been exactly a week since Y/N first hinted that she’s ready to go all the way with him. Harry was the one who wanted to put it off a little longer. He predicted that if he made her wait long enough, her hunger for it would overpower any anxiety that might crop up during the act.
Smiling, he brings his hand up to her cheek, her skin hot against his cool palm. “Aw, I know, sweetheart. You know the only reason I’ve been teasing is to make sure you’re ready for it.”
“I know. And I’m ready now. I really am.”
“Okay, but we can’t exactly do it here, you know that?”
“Why not? Isn’t there a bathroom in here somewhere?” She pushes up on her toes to look over his shoulder down the hallway where he came from.
“We’re not fucking in the studio bathroom, Y/N.”
She groans and lifts her hands up to his chest, scrunching his shirt between her fingers. “But I can’t wait any longer!”
“Yes, you can.” He wraps his hands around her wrists. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and wait until I pick you up from your flat tonight.”
She pouts and concedes, “Fine.”
He kisses her pout and gives her a hug that lasts for several minutes because she doesn’t want to let go and he never lets go until she does, so they’re in a standoff for who’s going to let go first until finally, Y/N releases him.
After that, the rest of the day moves at a snail-like pace. Harry can hardly focus; he’s too distracted by the thought of what’s to come tonight. Every lyric he comes up with sounds too raunchy to put in an actual song. Even his friends jokingly speculate about why he’s acting so strange—especially Tom, who just loves to make him squirm.
That evening, he has to make a conscious effort not to speed all the way to Y/N’s flat. The plan was to pick her up, take her back to his place, and maybe eat dinner before having their fun, but he thinks he’ll have to skip most of those steps.
Y/N buzzes him into her building. She’s on the second floor, so he doesn’t even bother with the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time. As soon as she lets him in, his mouth is on hers. She kisses him right back, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. They make their way to her bedroom and remove all their clothes, ending up on the bed with him on top of her.
“Naughty girl,” he says between kisses to her neck. “Came all the way to the studio because you were needy for my cock, hm?”
She covers her face with her hands. “H, don’t tease! I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
He gently pulls her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Do you have any idea how sexy it is that you want me that badly? Got me all hot and bothered at the studio. Could barely keep myself together for the rest of the day.”
A mischievous little grin makes its way onto her face. “Really?”
“Yes, really. That’s the effect you have on me.” His hand drifts down between her legs to find that she’s already drenched, so he grabs his cock and runs the tip up and down her slit. When he looks back up at her face, there’s a hint of apprehension that wasn’t there before. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just remembered that I haven’t had something so, uh”—she swallows, glancing down at his cock—“big inside me in a while.”
“Do you want to be on top? That way, you can go at your own pace.”
“What if my pace is too slow and you can’t come?”
“What if I come two seconds after I’m inside you? Would you still love me?”
“Of course!”
“There’s your answer then.”
She squints at him, her lips curving up. “Well played.”
They switch positions so that she’s on top of him, straddling his hips while he leans back against the headboard. She carefully guides his cock up to her entrance, inserting the tip before lowering herself onto him. Her tight walls stretch and expand to accommodate him. She winces from the discomfort. He massages her hips, reminding her to take her time.
It takes her several attempts to get him all the way in, but once he’s there, the feeling is indescribable. He curses under his breath, closing his eyes briefly.
“Is that okay?” she asks.
“Perfect,” he responds in a strained voice. “It’s perfect.”
She seems reassured by his response and starts moving her hips in slow circles, getting used to having him inside her. Then she lifts up and sinks all the way down again. Soon enough, she’s riding him at a steady pace, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts swaying gorgeously in his face, beckoning him to place his hands over them. He has pictured this moment so many times, he can’t believe that it’s finally happening.
He starts thrusting up into her, meeting her halfway. As his thrusts become sharper, her jaw drops open.
“Harry—”
The sound of his name slipping out of her mouth like that, all salacious and full of yearning, is a drug he can see himself getting addicted to.
“Please,” she whines.
He slows down, worried that he might have been too rough. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just— Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
“Feels good, huh? Someone finally fucking you like you deserve?”
She nods, her eyes rolling back as he resumes the movement of his hips.
“This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” he tells her. “Remember this.”
“Oh, I will.” She barely finishes her sentence before he pounds into her again.
He feels himself about to crest and reaches down to rub her clit. A final medley of moans and grunts leave their mouths as they come. Her pussy spasms around his pulsing length. As the waves of pleasure subside, her body goes completely slack in his arms, worn out from the intensity of the experience they just shared. She rests her head against his shoulder, basking in the afterglow while he brushes his fingers through her hair.
Her soft voice breaks through the silence. “I didn’t know it could feel this good. I’ve been missing out.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to catch you up. Don’t you worry.” He kisses the side of her head, earning a contented sigh from her.
***
Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST
5K notes · View notes
cupidsdolll · 23 days
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pairings: boyfriend!harry x fem!reader [1.8k]
content warnings: cockwarming, small bit of fluff
“Don’t. Move.”
Harry’s voice is low enough to not be picked up by his computer microphone but loud enough for the girl before him to hear. She looks up at him from her spot on the floor, her knees aching from sitting in the same place for long periods of time. She’s unsure of just how long she’s been sitting on her knees, eyes watery and mouth full of his cock, but she thinks a good chunk of his meeting has gone by she’s been sitting down. He had told her before the meeting started that it was an important one and that she should be good and keep herself busy until he’s through. That was his only request, she needed to leave him alone.
She nodded then, sure of herself and her ability to stay away from him. She was wrong. It only took twenty minutes into the meeting that the heat started to bloom within her. It started off as a small little feeling in her chest and she frowned. She started to read to try to distract herself from it but then the book started to get a little steamy which only made the heat worse. The longer Harry stayed in that room on his call, the more antsy she became, the more the heat grew.
He’s been in there for at least an hour by now, talking and laughing on the other side of the door and Y/N can’t wait any longer. She walks quietly into his office and he shoots her a warning look, reminding her of what he said earlier. Be good. She shakes her head and sits on an empty chair near him. She’s hoping that the close proximity will calm the heat licking at the inside of the girl’s body. She just watches him, her eyes roaming over every part of him, his slender fingers free from his rings minus one. It’s a simple little ring that Y/N had bought for him when they were just friends, a plain gold ring with a couple of small gems in a circle that just somehow reminded her of him.
Time passed and the girl was bored and horny and just itching to tease him just a little. She scooted herself closer to Harry, just out of sight of his camera. If Harry saw, then he acted as if he didnt, completely ignoring her, nodding along to whatever the man on camera was saying. She lays one hand on his knee, a touch so innocent seeming and just lets it rest. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, her main gaze focused on the screen, watches as he flares his nostrils and exhales deeply. He cuts her a brief glance with a hard look, another warning. He’s normally a very patient man, hard to visibly upset. She knows that he enjoys her being the slightest disobedient on a regular day, but he doesn’t tolerate it as much when he’s in business mode. He doesn’t like being distracted and she’s his biggest and main one.
Slowly she begins to start trailing her hand upwards on his lap, the feel of the rough cotton against her palm rewarding her but doing very little to calm the fire burning inside her. One hand swats at hers, a lingering tingle on the back of her hand remains. She can hear his mouse click a couple times before he turns his head to look at her.
“What did I say, hm?” He asks and she just shrugs.
“You’ve been on this call forever. I miss you.” She says and he just chuckles, a dry sounding laugh that just says he doesn’t buy it.
“So you think you can just ignore what I told you? You can do whatever you want, hm?” He says and she watches a glint pass through his eyes, one that only happens whenever she’s being a brat and she clenches her legs as the fire burns stronger inside of her. She’s warm, a little warmer than she’d like to be in all honesty. She shrugs, all faux confidence and brattiness. She’s trying not to seem eager at all this attention she’s getting from him and trying to ignore the wetness pooling in her underwear.
It’s no use though and she knows this, he’s able to read her like the back of his hand. He knows she’s turned on and trying to seem big and confident, knows that she’s squeezing her legs as tight as she can. He simply smiles, a genuine one as he turns back to his computer. He’s able to pick right back where he left off, adding onto the conversation as if he wasn’t talking to her just a second ago. She watches in disbelief as he goes back to ignoring her, acting as if she was outside of the door instead of right next to him. She huffs in annoyance before her hand is resting back on his leg, sliding upwards faster before she reaches his covered dick that’s beginning to harden underneath her touch. He breathes through his nose as she smiles and starts rubbing him over his clothes. He clicks his mouse and turns to look at her, the look in his eyes is one that she loves to see.
“On your knees, in front of me. Hurry up.” He says and she just tilts her head at him, feigning innocence.
“Why? Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on your meeting? I’d hate to distract you.” She says and squeezes his dick once over his jeans. He closes his eyes and sighs, she’s really pushing his patience and the both of them know it.
“On. Your. Knees. Now. Don’t make me tell you again, pet.” He says as he turns back to his computer and unmutes himself, she stares at him a little longer and then decides to listen to him. She stands up and sinks to her knees, crawling so she’s in between his legs, looking up at him with a smirk. She thinks she’s in control, she’s gotten what she wants so there’s no way she’s losing anything right now.
She has him wrapped around her finger normally as does he, they’re both equally whipped for each other and there’s no denying it. She thinks she has him in the palm of her hand, has him right where she wants him, but it’s quite the opposite actually. Harry knew she could only stay away from him for so long. Knew that she could only take so much before she gets all antsy and needy for him, just like she is now. He offers a soft smile, full of love and warm, opposite of the fire burning in his emerald eyes. He’s full of lust and the thought of punishing her while he’s actively on a call makes the fire burn brighter, hotter.
She stares at him, one hand tracing random shapes into his pants as she waits for instruction. He hums, an agreeing noise.
“Go ahead and take me out then, baby.” He says after muting himself, not wanting to alert his other coworkers, it’s none of their business and he does have a professionalism to maintain after all. She smiles up at him with excitement in her eyes as she begins to trail her hands up his legs, over his knees and begins to pull his pants down slowly. He lifts himself off of his chair as subtly as he can, disguising it as getting himself more comfortable. After all, he has been sitting in that chair without a break for over an hour. She stares at his hard cock, standing straight up and a small bead of pre cum begins to dribble out. Her mouth waters instantly at the thought of sucking him off, it’s one of her favorite things. He smiles at her again, this time it’s more of a smirk if anything. He knows she’s eager for it, she always will be. He coos at her gently before nodding once, letting her know it’s okay to go ahead. She wastes no time, eagerly leaning forward and taking him into her mouth. He closes his eyes briefly before he opens them again and tries to pay attention to whatever’s being said from the other side of the screen. He does his best to ignore the feeling of her mouth on him as she bobs her head and sucks on him greedily, her tongue gently circling around him whenever she reaches closer to the tip. Before she’s able to get too into it, Harry has to remember that this is supposed to be a punishment. She’s not supposed to be enjoying herself so he calmly takes one of his hands and tangles his fingers into the back of her head gently tugging on her roots.
“Don’t move now, just keep me warm.” He says softly, doesn’t want to keep having to mute himself in order to protect their ears and just chooses to talk quietly in hopes that his mic won’t pick up his words. She whines and shakes her head slightly, showing her displeasure but he doesn’t care. She brought this on herself. He sits hot and heavy on her tongue, the taste of his pre-comeum is salty and intoxicating. She’s always loved the way he tastes, and can never get enough of it.
She hates when he has her do this, hates just being still even though her mouth waters heavily, desire swirls in her stomach and courses through her body. She huffs at him to show her annoyance, trying to show her attitude even with her mouth closed. He simply chuckles at the girl and her efforts, amused at her antics. He pays attention to the screen, his boss droning on about numbers and marketing techniques that could help business. He finds that she listens to him, aside from a couple of tongue swirls around his sensitive tip and a few swallows whenever too much spit pools in her mouth. He smiles to himself as the meeting continues.
He’s not sure how much time passes, these meetings always end up being several hours long simply because no one can agree on one thing. He checks the time on his computer to see that thirty minutes passed, and he feels content. She’s been good, being as still as she can with just a few teasing licks and sucks. He smiles as he mentally decides to reward her, ettling deeper into his chair and subtly thrusting himself into her mouth and she immediately moans, her eyes fluttering close and the vibrations flow through him and makes him curl his toes. He clears his throat in an attempt to hold back the throat making his way up his throat.
He’s being mean, he knows he is. He can’t help it though, as he thrusts softly into her mouth again and she eagerly hollows her cheeks as she sucks him in deeper. He quickly mutters something to his team, some pathetic excuse of needing to get something as he mutes himself and turns off the camera. He begins thrusting slowly into her mouth and a rumble comes from deep in his chest as he watches her.
“There you go, baby. You did so good, I think you deserve a reward.”
523 notes · View notes
londonbelow · 1 year
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Honey Whiskey
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a continuation of American Honey | in which Harry is a single dad/rancher and continues his secret affair with his babysitter warnings: age gap (both parties are consenting adults over the age of 21), unprotected sex, dirty talk, spitting, rough oral (m receiving), slight degradation, a hint of choking, squirting, brief mentions of body insecurities word count: 6.6k (I haven't written anything in like a month and I'm trying desperately to get out of the hole I'm in so pls stick with me through this shit ily ily ily)
The sun was burning hotter than hell. 
I felt like I was simply melting into the chair that I was lounging on, a smile tugging at my lips as I watched my best friend Kelsey play with her cousin Maisy in the water. I had been playing with her all morning and Kelsey finally arrived a few minutes ago to give me a damn break. As much as I loved that little girl, she was a ball of energy that I struggled to keep up with. Especially on days like today when the heat was insane and I was nursing a bit of a hangover. 
I slid my sunglasses over my eyes as I turned my head to look around me, searching for any sign of Harry, Maisy’s father. He asked me to come watch Maze this morning so he could get some work done around the ranch and I hadn’t seen him since I first arrived. 
Seeing him this morning was the first time since things… progressed between us.
I expected it to be awkward, but he couldn’t keep his smoldering eyes off of me and I could practically feel the desire seeping off his skin for me. 
My hand was trembling as I lifted it to knock on the front door, my heart feeling like it might pound right out of my chest. Harry and I hadn’t talked since the other night. When I got his text yesterday, I hoped it would be about seeing me again, but it was only about babysitting. He was his usual self, friendly and short, which made me feel a little confused. Was he going to just pretend that nothing happened? 
The door swung open and my eyes dropped to see Maze standing there, wearing a black bathing suit and chomping on a banana. I smiled as the little girl lit up at the sight of me, wrapping her free arm around my legs in a hug. 
“You’re here, you’re here! Daddy, she’s here!” 
“Hey my little rain cloud. You excited to go swimming?” I asked her, watching her nod and jump on the balls of her feet. 
“Excited? She hasn’t shut up about it since I told her yesterday.” Harry’s voice called out, sending a wave of joy right through my body. 
“You’re the one who hasn’t shut up about it!” Maisy called back to her father, turning her big eyes up to me in an roll, “He asked me a BILLION times to check the front window for you.” 
He walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. Our eyes met and I felt my entire body flush, heat shooting right through me as his eyes took me in slowly. He started from my feet up, drinking in every inch of exposed skin and finally landing on my eyes. He smiled, the wrinkles near his eyes getting a little more pronounced when he did. His own cheeks went slightly pink and I shivered, unable to believe I could make a man like him blush. 
“Hi.” I said softly, chewing on my bottom lip to keep the very obvious smile off my face. 
“Hey there, honey. You want some pancakes?” He asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. 
Maisy groaned at the idea of having to wait for me to eat to get into the pool and I laughed, squeezing her little hand. 
“I already ate, but thanks. I better take our little mermaid outside before she just withers away.” I looked back up at him, watching his eyes fly up to meet mine from whatever body part of mine he was ogling. 
I’d never felt so good in my own skin before. The way Harry looked at me—like he wanted to devour every inch of my body, like he wanted to consume me—it made my confidence skyrocket. I’d always felt that I was too big to attract anyone, especially after my last boyfriend, who made constant hints about me going to the gym with him. But here was Harry, the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid my eyes on… and he couldn’t keep his off me. 
“Of course. Y’all have fun. Holler if you need me.” Harry said, licking his lips as his eyes searched my own. 
Maisy tugged me hard, dragging me past him. 
“We will.” I replied, silently praying he would reach his hand out and touch me as I passed him, but he didn’t. 
I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away though, stinging like a sunburn after a long day of baking. 
I couldn’t stop myself from craning my neck all the way around to look back at the house, desperate for any movement inside that could be Harry. Just as I was ready to slump in my chair with disappointment, he came walking around the side of the house carrying a heavy bag of what looked like soil on his shoulder. 
He was dressed in tight jeans and his usual boots, a light gray t-shirt on his body that showed off the sweat stains from how hard he’d been working. My mouth went dry at the thought of licking drops of sweat off of his chiseled body and I had to force my eyes away from him to stop myself. 
“Hey Uncle H!” Kelsey called out to him, making me wince at the reminder that this man I was infatuated with was my best friend's literal uncle. 
It’s not weird. You only met her two years ago, you’re not a lifelong friend, you didn’t grow up with this man. It’s not weird. I reassured myself silently, nodding to myself in agreement. It wasn’t weird. We met as adults. Sure, there was an age gap but it didn’t bother me. I sighed. I knew it would bother Kelsey, which is where my guilt came from. 
“Hey Kels. When did you get here?” He asked her. 
My eyes followed him from behind my sunglasses, watching as he threw the bag down to the ground, straightening back out with a quiet little groan. My pussy clenched in desire when I heard that noise and then I was stifling my own fucking moan because Harry was reaching for the hem of his sweaty t-shirt. He peeled the material from his body, exposing his glistening chest and his tight muscles, which flexed every time he moved. 
His eyes slid to me as he tucked his shirt into the back of those gloriously tight jeans, his hand reaching up to rub through his sweaty curls slowly. I watched his eyes move down over the expanse of my body, which was stretched out on a lounge chair, sweat pooling in all of my crevices from the hot sun. 
“Just got here so our girl could take a breather.” Kelsey laughed, splashing some water in my general direction. 
“Yeah, we all know what a terror Miss Maze can be.” I teased, watching the small girl giggle and stick her tongue out at me, which I gave right back to her. 
“Anyone hungry yet? I’ll go in and make some sandwiches and lemonade.” Harry offered, moving toward the sliding glass door at the back of his house. 
“Yes, please!” Maisy called out, “And Doritos!” 
“Yeah, yeah. And Doritos.” He laughed, yanking the door open and stepping into the house, but not before shooting me another look over his shoulder. 
My heart was beating so fast that I swore Kelsey and Maze would see it right through my skin. My legs ached to move, to run into the house after him and beg him to take me in the kitchen instead of making lunch. I stayed still as long as I could and then I got up off the chair. 
“I’m gonna go see if he needs help.” I called out over my shoulder as nonchalantly as I could. 
“See if you can coax him into unlocking that precious liquor cabinet of his! I want some vodka in my lemonade.” Kelsey called out, which made me pause with my hand against the door. 
The irony. 
“I’ll see what I can do.” I laughed, shaking my head and prying the door open. 
The air conditioning was on full blast and I shivered as I crossed the threshold. My nipples went hard under my thin bikini top, goosebumps rising all over my arms and chest. I suddenly realized how nearly naked I was in the bright sunny kitchen and wished I would have thrown at least my shorts on before I came inside. I didn’t understand why I picked the tiniest bikini I owned, the one that showed off all of the dimples and dips in my skin, all of my stretch marks and imperfections. 
You picked it because you thought you could seduce him, so get on it! My thoughts taunted me. I pushed them away. 
I went to the fridge, yanking the door open to search for the pitcher of lemonade. I moved some things around and got onto the tips of my toes to reach the back of the top shelf where it had been shoved. 
“Need some help?” 
I jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, turning around to look at him, nudging the fridge shut as I did so. He was standing right behind me, so close to me that I was surprised I didn’t feel him breathing on my neck. Or hear him come in. I was too busy chastising myself for my exposed skin, the same exposed skin that his eyes were drinking in right now. 
He was still shirtless, glistening with sweat despite how freezing cold it was in here. He leaned back against the island behind him, holding a short glass with about an inch or so of amber colored liquor in it. I watched him swirl the liquid around inside the glass slowly before he lifted it to his mouth, tilting it all down his throat in one smooth go. 
“Hi.” I said softly, my voice nearly squeaking, “I thought I’d help with lunch.” 
His eyes took me in, gliding from my eyes down to my neck, to my chest, to my stomach, all the way past my thighs and to my feet. Then back up… just as slow, his gaze so hot that I swore it was burning every inch of my skin that it covered. 
“What are you drinking?” I asked, desperate to fill the silence.
“Honey whiskey.” He smirked at me, letting his eyes graze lower as he continued, “You know how I love all things honey flavored.” 
I blushed something fierce, trying to keep my smile as demure as possible as I discreetly positioned the pitcher of lemonade in front of my stomach. Harry’s hand shot out, fingers pressing to it so he could shove it back out of the way, exposing my body to him. 
“Sweetheart… you’re being cruel.” He whispered, smiling slowly as he put the glass down behind him. 
“Cruel?” I frowned at him, my eyebrows furrowing. 
He pushed off the kitchen island, stepping toward me, forcing me to crane my head back to look up at him. I was frozen like a deer in headlights. All I could do was stumble backwards away from him, but I hit the counter behind me with nowhere to go. He took the pitcher of lemonade from my hands and put it down for me. 
“I’ve seen you in my pool a hundred times,” He spoke quietly, his arms going to either side of me, locking me in against the counter, “And I’ve never seen you wearing a bikini this small before. Now why’s that?” 
“Um,” I swallowed, shrugging, “Maybe it shrank.” 
“Or maybe you picked it out knowing that I wouldn’t be able to keep my fuckin’ hands to myself when I saw you in it.” He said, leaning in so close to me that I could feel each word as he breathed them onto my mouth. 
“You haven’t touched me yet, so I’d say you—” 
His mouth crashed down against mine, hands sliding off the counter to wrap around my waist instead. I could taste the honey whiskey on his mouth. He was hot, so hot, his skin and his mouth and his tongue all feeling like they could burn me. I plunged my hands into his sweaty curls, tugging at them, rubbing my body up against his like a cat in heat. 
He moaned against me, his hands slipping down to grasp at every inch of flesh that he could get at. He squeezed at my hips, at the rolls at my sides, at the plump curve of my ass. He pulled me against him so hard that I thought I’d mold into him. 
“Harry…” I gasped out as his lips trailed down to my neck, his scruff rough against my delicate skin, “Please…” 
“You wore this just to tease me, didn’t you?” He growled out, lifting a hand up to grasp my jaw tightly, prying my mouth open when he did. He popped his thumb into my mouth and I groaned as I sucked on it happily. 
His free hand went to my bikini top, yanking the thin material away from my breasts to expose them to the cold air and his warm mouth. He moaned as he swirled his tongue around one of my hardened nipples, his teeth scraping softly around the sensitive skin. I gasped, my hips jutting forward to seek out some sort of friction from him. 
“Mmm… you taste so good.” He whispered into my skin, slipping his thumb from my mouth so he could slide his hands down to my outer thighs. 
I gasped loudly as he shoved me up onto the counter, spreading my thighs and pressing himself between them. The rough material of his jeans over his hard cock rubbed all over my pussy, making me moan at the friction. He bit down lightly on my sensitive nipple, dragging his hands up over my sides as he found my lips again. I panted into his mouth, eyes fluttering open to find his own staring back at me darkly. 
“What am I doing?” He whispered, almost to himself as he slid his hands up my chest to my neck, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 
He said the words but his mouth found mine right after, his tongue slick against my own, his hands exploring my body. They went to my hips, pulling at me until my ass was on the edge of the counter. I was desperate for pleasure, rubbing my cunt all over him, grinding against his hard bulge. His fingers gripped at my thighs hard enough to bruise them and I realized that he was matching my movements, just as desperate as I was. 
He was panting, shaking his head, but his mouth was still against mine as he murmured, “You’re too young for me.” 
“I’m just right for you.” I whispered back, nipping at his bottom lip, watching his mouth fall open, “I’m perfect for you.” 
I kissed him again, sliding my tongue against his in a sloppy manner, trembling at the feeling of his hands as they slid to my arms. He squeezed tight and I worried he would push me back, worried that he would stop this. He looked down at me, his eyes heavily-lidded, like he was drunk. I knew he wasn’t, he was just so aroused that he could barely think straight. I knew it because I felt the same. 
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He whispered, shaking his head slightly before he pulled me back to his mouth. 
I moaned as he dropped his hands back down to my thighs, accepting defeat. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me off the counter like I weighed nothing, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist tightly. I wanted to throw him down on the kitchen floor and ride him right here, but I knew he was taking me somewhere more private. We couldn’t risk being caught. 
He carried me into his home office, kicking the door shut behind him quickly. He gripped my waist with one arm as his other one swiped over his desk, shoving anything in his way onto the floor as he sat me down on the edge of it. He yanked his t-shirt out of his pocket and tossed it on the floor as he plopped down into his large leather chair. Our eyes met as he patted his hand against his thigh very lightly. 
“Get in my lap.” He breathed out, “You wanna be good for me? C’mere. Get in my lap, sweetheart.” 
I nodded eagerly, shifting down into his lap. I straddled him in the chair, my inner thighs squeezing him tightly as I rocked my hips down hard until I felt his cock pressing up against my pussy. I moaned against him at the feeling of him—rock hard under his tight jeans, the friction against my clit sending waves of warmth through my stomach. 
“That’s it.” He encouraged me, trailing his mouth away from my own so he could move it down over my neck. He bit the sensitive skin there, sucking it into his mouth until I was sure a red hickey would form. I didn’t know how I’d explain that. I didn’t care to think of it. It felt too good. 
I slid my hand up to his throat and pushed him back from my body by it, feeling braver by the second. Our eyes met, his lips swollen from our kisses, open and panting for more. I rolled my hips forward again, watching his eyes squeeze shut at the way I felt against his cock. 
“Look at me. Tell me you want me.” I whispered, not a beg or a plea but an order, “Tell me how bad you want my pussy… look at how you’re trembling for it.” 
“Fuck,” His hands tightened around my hips, yanking me down even harder into his lap as he jerked his body up to meet it, “I want you, I fucking need your pussy… need that wet, tight pussy gripping my cock. Need to see it, let me…” 
He urged me backwards to lean against the edge of his desk, the wood sharp against my spine. I didn’t care. I would have twisted my body into unimaginable positions to give him whatever he wanted. He looked down at my pussy, covered by my small bikini bottoms. 
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous...” He whispered, rubbing his fingers down over my slit. I wished he would rip them right off my body and feel my bare cunt. 
As if he read my mind, he began to tug at the strings that held my bottoms together, his eyes flashing up to mine. I kept my eyes on his, swallowing hard as he unwrapped my pussy like it was a gift. The bottoms fell away from my body and onto the floor, his eyes turning down to look at me as soon as I was bare. 
“Honey,” He breathed out, two of his fingers swiping up along my wet slit, shaking his head slightly, “Look how wet you are. You want me this bad? S’fucking pathetic for me, aren’t you?”
He watched my reaction as he showed me his fingers, glistening with my arousal. He offered them to me and I wrapped my lips around them, tasting myself on his skin. I swirled my tongue around his fingers, lapping at them desperately, watching his eyes glisten at me. 
“Such a good girl.” He murmured, pulling his fingers back, grasping onto my thighs tightly to yank me back into his lap. 
I snuggled down against him, grinding my pussy all over his lap. My eyes fluttered up at the feeling of his hard cock under me, so rock solid for me. 
He squeezed my cheeks to force my lips open so he could fuck his tongue into my mouth, moaning as he tasted me. I couldn’t believe how much I was aching from his kisses alone, I was never one to enjoy a sloppy or wet kiss but his were so fucking desperate. It was like he needed to fuck every hole on my body with his tongue, like he had to lick every inch of my mouth and taste every crevice of me before he was satisfied. I’d never felt that desire from anyone and I couldn’t stop shaking from the way it made me feel. 
Harry pulled away from the kiss slightly, but I yanked him right back, tasting him the way he just did to me. 
“Spit in my mouth.” I whispered against his lips, half-opening my hazy eyes as I repeated myself, “Spit in my mouth.” 
His eyes sparkled, “You wanna taste me? Open.” 
I gladly did, extending my tongue to him, watching his own as it worked behind his closed lips. His hold on my face turned softer, almost tender as he let his spit slowly dribble down onto my waiting tongue. He wrapped his lips around it right after, sucking on it and pressing his own tongue into my mouth. His free hand grabbed onto my cheeks and made me look down at his lap, squeezing my face tightly. 
“Look at the way you’re dripping all over my jeans. Should make you get on your fuckin’ knees and lick it off.” He said, to which I let out a whine and began to nod as much as I could, “Yes? You want to? Use your words, sweetheart.” 
He didn’t release my face, he squeezed it harder as he pulled me close to him, his eyes dark as they flickered over me. 
“I want to! Please, let me clean it for you. Let me taste you.” I begged him, my fingers desperately reaching under my body for his zipper. 
“On your knees.” He ordered me, his strong hands back to gripping my arms as he guided me off his desk and onto the floor in front of him. He gestured to the wet spot I left against the crotch in his jeans and my face went up in flames. 
“Lick it.” He whispered, reaching over to curl his fingers into my hair, pulling my head down, “Taste your cunt all over my jeans like a good girl.” 
My eyes flashed up to look at him as I carefully slid my tongue along the wet spot in his crotch. He shivered at the sight, shaking his head slightly as I continued to lick across my arousal. The taste of myself mixed with the material of his jeans was sharp, I was surprised and a little embarrassed at how well I could actually taste myself there. I really was dripping for him. 
My thighs rubbed together desperately trying to get any friction I could. I was so wet that I was dripping down my thighs and I couldn’t stand another moment of not having his cock in my mouth. 
“Need your cock.” I mumbled, looking up at him with pleading eyes. I flattened my tongue along the outline of his hard length through his jeans, feeling his fingers tighten in my hair, “Please, Harry… please, let me make you feel good.” 
A strangled sound escaped his mouth as he nodded at me almost violently, his fingers flying down to undo his pants. I thought I would have liked for him to tug those tight jeans down so I could see his thighs, but he didn’t. He only reached in and pulled his hard cock out for me. Something about only being able to see his dripping cock exposed made it feel inherently dirtier, made my entire body buzz with a thrill. 
His cock was perfect to me. Not too long, perfectly thick, the head of it flushed dark pink and dripping with precum for me. Thick veins protruded from the sides and throbbed along with his pulse. Harry wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and brought it up in one slow stroke. My mouth watered when more precum dripped out for me, his thumb pressing over his slit so he could spread it around the head. 
“Give me that tongue.” He whispered, guiding my face down to his lap as I bared my tongue to him. He tapped the head of his cock against it, letting me taste the slightly salty drops of his arousal. He gasped softly as he did this a few more times and then he pressed his cock into my mouth. 
I moaned when I finally tasted him fully, swirling my tongue around the head excitedly, lapping up every drop of him. He tangled his fingers into my hair, urging my face down gently, like he was testing me to see if I could take more. I could. I slid my mouth down until I met his hand which was still wrapped around the base. I pulled back until my lips popped off him and I spit onto his cock, watching my saliva slowly drip down to his fist. 
“Fuck. Fuck, baby…” He gasped out, sliding his hand up over his shaft once again, helping to spread my spit all over it, “You’re such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” 
I smiled as I slid my mouth back down around his cock, urging his hand to move away so I could take him all the way. He pressed into my throat, feeling the resistance, but I forced past it until I could feel his cock at the back of it. I held him there for a moment, held him there until he started to jerk his hips up, clearly needing to fuck something. I nodded around him and his hands were suddenly on either side of my head and he began to roughly fuck up into my face, slamming me down onto his cock over and over. 
“God!” He cried out, pulling my mouth off of him as quickly as he started. I was panting heavily and drooling, dumb for his cock. He held me very still as he looked away from me, trying his hardest to hold his orgasm back. 
I let out a whine, my hands going down to slip between my thighs so I could touch my aching clit finally. He stopped me before I could even get near my cunt. He reached for me, pulling me back until I was sitting on the edge of his desk once again. He stood in front of me, angling himself between my spread legs. 
Harry trailed his large hand down over my chest, yanking my bikini top down once more to expose my breasts. He pinched each of my nipples and then his head dove forward so he could wrap his lips around them, sucking them hard. His teeth grazed over my sensitive skin and I nearly screamed at the pleasure I was feeling. 
“Harry, please!” I cried out, my hips rolling against nothing, seeking some sort of pleasure out. I was humping the air, that’s how desperate I had become for him. 
“How wet are you for me now? Show me.” He whispered, his voice so calm despite the way he was shaking as he pulled back from his assault on my breasts. “Spread those fucking legs… oh, honey… fuck.” 
I leaned back on my elbows, spreading my thighs as wide as I could to show off my glistening cunt. His hand moved to begin stroking his cock again as he looked down at me. His eyes were heavy-lidded and black with lust, his pupils so blown out that all the green had disappeared. 
“Touch yourself.” He said, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle a moan as I obeyed, my fingers slipping down to my cunt. 
I scissored my fingers in a V shape, spreading my swollen lips open so he could see how absolutely dripping I was before I slid those fingers down to thrust them inside of myself. 
I was so drunk with lust and the need to come that I couldn’t even focus on putting on a show for him the way I would have liked. I could only press my fingers into my slippery cunt and feel how soaking wet I was as I pressed the heel of my palm into my clit. I began to shake at the pleasure that rolled through me, the only sounds being of our heavy panting and my wet pussy gushing as I fucked myself with my fingers. 
Harry couldn’t look away from me, but he was shaking his head, like he was fighting some inner demons about what we were doing here in his office with his family right outside. 
“Fuck it. I’m going to hell anyways.” He breathed out, and then he was wrapping his hand around my wrist and yanking me forward by it. 
He brought my fingers up to his mouth, shiny with my arousal, and I watched him guide my fingertips over his lips slowly. I could feel his cock pressing against my entrance below us and I quickly adjusted myself a little to give him easier access. Neither of us moved for a moment, both knowing that we shouldn’t be doing this but unable to stop ourselves. 
I made the first move this time. I pushed my fingers into his mouth at the same time that his cock sank slowly into my tight cunt. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sucked at my fingers in a greedy manner, his hands moving to grip at my waist. I knew there would be bruises on my hips tomorrow in the shapes of his fingers, but I didn’t care. I wanted a reminder of him. 
His hands gripped onto me tightly and he didn’t let me do any work. He just held me still while he thrusted forward into my cunt roughly, causing me to cry out in pleasure. He dropped his forehead against mine, his eyes flashing down to meet mine. 
“Do I taste good?” I asked him as I slid my wet fingers out of his mouth, moving them to grip his jaw in my hand, “Let me taste.” 
It was his turn to offer his tongue to me and I slid my own against it, slipping it around in a swirling motion as I pressed it back into his mouth. I could taste my cunt there, the musky, feminine taste of my arousal so familiar to me. I moaned into him as my tongue went wild, licking at every crevice of his mouth. He began to fuck me even harder, his cock stretching me open and making me feel like I was being split into two.
I had to pull back from the kiss to moan and cry out, my hands reaching out for something to steady myself on. One hand wrapped around the edge of his desk, the other tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. 
“Harder… make it hurt…” I whimpered out loudly, “Fuck!” 
“Shh.” He slammed his hand over my mouth, “Quiet for me, baby. Quiet. Can’t let anyone know what a delicious little fucktoy I have in here. Mine, mine, mine…” 
I whined into his palm, nodding my head vigorously. Yes, I was his. I was his this whole time. I’d be his forever if he wanted me that long. I tried to move, tried to match his thrusts, but he wouldn’t let me. He was in control of my body, he owned it, he was going to use me like a toy. Fucktoy, he called me. I enjoyed it more than I ever imagined I would. 
“You’re perfect, so perfect… your cunt is a fuckin’ dream.” He panted out, slamming his body into me harder and harder, “Touch yourself. I want you to feel you come around my cock.” 
I gripped onto his shoulder with one hand to steady myself as I slid the other between my thighs. He cursed softly as I started to rub my clit in quick circles. I moaned against his palm, feeling myself start to drool from how fucked out I was. 
I was weak, his cock slamming into me hurt so good and I couldn’t keep holding myself up. I fell back against the desk, his hand falling from my mouth as I did. The new angle made his cock press right up against my g-spot and I couldn’t stop the sob from escaping my mouth at how deliciously good it felt. 
“My little crybaby slut, shh…” Harry murmured to me, reaching a hand down to wipe my tears, “I know it feels so fucking good, honey… I know. You’re doing so good for me. Taking every inch of my cock… fuck, you feel incredible.” 
“I’m gonna come,” I whimpered out, “can’t hold it…” 
“Just a little longer, just a…” He gasped out, “Tell me… tell me how bad you want me…” 
I whined, feeling my stomach tighten up as my orgasm built faster and faster, “So fucking bad… I touch myself every night thinking about you. Dream about the way your cock felt inside of me, splitting me open l-like… like it is right now, fuck! Harry, please, please let me come, I’ll be so good for you…” 
Harry’s eyes flashed and his thrusts became that of an animalistic nature, like he had snapped and lost all grip on reality, “Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.” 
His thrusts were so feral that his desk actually moved, it rocked back a foot or so with force. I couldn’t stop to focus on it as my orgasm finally hit its peak and washed over me. My vision blurred and blackened as I came harder than I ever thought was possible, so hard that I felt as if I were seeing stars. I was shaking viciously as my cunt gushed once again, this time wetting his bare chest and his jeans much more than it did the last time. 
“Oh god,” He moaned at the sight, reaching his hand between us so he could start to rub my clit in quick, harsh circles, “Give me one more.” 
“I… I can’t…” I gasped out, shaking my head, but I was lying. I could. I could feel it start to build as soon as he touched my clit, but I was so sensitive that it almost hurt. 
“You can and you will.” He ordered me, his hand moving faster, pressing down hard, “C’mon, princess. Come for me, show me how good you can be.” 
“Fuck!” I cried out, my eyes flashing open to look down as I came once more, his hand working quick circles through my entire second orgasm. 
I had to reach down to wrap my hand around his wrist and stop him, holding him still as I twitched and squirted a little more. He thrusted into me only a few more times, his mouth claiming my own so I would muffle the sound of his moaning. He was so vocal, all slow moans and heavy breaths as he came hard. His hands slid over the sides of my body, groping at my sweaty skin as he pulled me into a sitting position. Our bare chests pressed together as his tongue massaged mine. 
My legs were trembling as I dropped them from where they were locked around his waist. His large hands moved over my shoulders and down my back, feeling over my spine. I didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. It made my entire body feel alive. I clung to him a little tighter, wishing I could rewind and relive this moment again and again and again. 
Harry held my face in his hands as he pulled back to look at me, running his thumbs across the apples of my cheeks.
“You’re all burnt.” He smiled, his voice low, “Didn’t your parents ever tell you to wear sunscreen?” 
“No. You wanna play daddy and teach me?” I lifted an eyebrow to him, tilting my face further into his palm. 
“Don’t be bad now.” He shook his head, smiling brighter and lowering his lips to mine, “Not after showing me how good you are…” 
He kissed me a moment longer before pulling back, reaching out a hand to pull a handful of tissues from the box that thankfully hadn’t been pushed onto the ground in our passionate state. He breathed out a quiet sigh as he pulled out of me, pressing the tissues against me to stop the spill of his semen from dripping out. 
I eyed him as he straightened himself out, zipping up his jeans as he reached down for my bikini bottoms from the floor. He examined them, looking confused by the many strings, as if he intended to figure them out and dress me himself. I shot him a gentle smile as I took them from him to do it on my own. 
“So…” He started to say, his heavy gaze on me as I pulled my bikini back into place, tightening the strings and adjusting my top. 
“So…” I repeated, giving him a look, watching him rub a hand over his face with a soft curse. 
“Are you…” He broke off, his hand working to the back of his neck as he looked at me sheepishly, “Are you seeing anyone right now?” 
“Hmm?” I cocked my head in confusion, “Like dating? No… nope. Not dating anyone.” 
“You’re not going out with that Jace Matthews kid?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face. 
“Jace?” I blurted out, my face heating, “No. I mean… no, we just fooled around a little.” 
Harry’s face hardened, his voice dark, “Last night?” 
“No!” My eyebrows knitted together. 
“Sam mentioned he saw you out with him last night… I just assumed.” He shrugged a shoulder, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. 
Sam Davis. One of Harry’s closest friends and probably the only person who knows how he actually feels about me. Maze told me how she overheard the two of them talking about my ‘honey’ and she thankfully confused it with me keeping bees. I didn’t know how I was going to produce a beehive for her if she ever actually insisted on seeing them. 
“Oh.” I straightened up, a lightbulb going off in my head. He was jealous. I relaxed with a soft smile, “God, no. Jace is old news, we just have some mutual friends now. I haven’t… there isn’t anyone else but you.” 
“Good.” He whispered to me, leaning up against the door behind him, his eyes flickering over my face. 
My face went up in flames again. I was grateful for the sunburn on my cheeks, praying that it was helping to disguise how often this man seemed to make me blush. He had a real talent for it. 
“What about you and that vet? Isobel, right?” I asked him, remembering the amount of times I watched in envy as he flirted with the pretty veterinarian who came to take care of his horses. 
His eyes narrowed slightly as he shook his head, “We had some sparks at one point, I guess. But not now. Not anymore.” 
He reached behind his body and popped the door open, pushing it out so I could pass him and head back to the kitchen. We’d been gone so long that Maze and Kelsey would certainly expect a gourmet lunch instead of sandwiches and Doritos. I hoped she wouldn’t question me about it later. 
“And what about me?” I asked him as I stepped forward, getting closer to him, “Do you feel sparks with me?” 
We stared at one another for a long, intense moment. He shifted forward, pressing his body against mine, trapping me between him and the door frame. His arms slid easily around my waist and his eyes were smoldering as they met my own. I thought he might kiss me again and send us both into another sexual frenzy, but he just leaned in close. He lightly glided the tip of his nose along the side of my face, inhaling my scent. 
“Not sparks, honey.” Harry murmured, his lips brushing over my cheek and toward my ear, “Wildfires.” 
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cupid-styles · 1 month
Text
renaissance (art teacher!yn x single dadrry)
Tumblr media
in which y/n is harry's son's art teacher and he develops a big dumb crush on her. or: kids art teacher!yn x single dad!harry
word count: 6.5k
content warnings: none, just kids! some mentions of different types of familial relationships/dynamics (death of a parent)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
"Alright, kiddos, let's clean up our big, beautiful messes!" 
Y/N claps her hands three times to signify that class is slowly crawling to an end. Her hour-and-a-half art course for kindergarteners is one of the longest and, if she's being honest, labor intensive classes that she teaches. It's set at the end of the school day from 2:30 pm to 4 pm, designed specifically for parents that work late or need to place for their little ones to go after school is over. Most of her students' parents are single and working full-time, or have intense careers like nursing or... whatever it is they do. 
Y/N weaves her way through the small smattering of children ambling over to the sinks. She watches to make sure they're having an okay time with washing out their paint cups and rinsing their brushes, followed by using the correct amount of hand soap to scrub paint stains away.
(That one almost always requires extra help — to this day, she tries not to get frustrated when she thinks about Johnathan dumping an entire bottle of Dawn soap all over his clothes because he had a tiny bit of yellow marker on his tee-shirt. It was the price she paid to teach kids, though.) 
"Clementine, do you need a little help?" she asks, peeking over to one of her quieter students. With fluttering lashes and a slightly baffled look on her face (Y/N could always tell when she was getting stressed out by the way her little eyebrows wrinkled together), Clementine nods, and Y/N makes quick work to appear behind her. She gets down to her level, where her Mary Jane-clad feet are resting atop a stool to help her reach the sink. "What's going on, lovebug?"
"'s everywhere," Clementine whines lightly, her bottom lip forming a sad pout. "Paint all over my hands!"
"I see that, sweetheart! But you know what?" Y/N makes a show of pretending to look side to side to ensure no one else can hear her. "It's okay if we get a little messy sometimes. The cool thing about everything we play with in this class is that it's colorful and pretty, and if it gets on our clothes or our bodies, it can get washed away."
Clementine considers this for a moment. Her hands are still stuck under the lukewarm stream of water, where the caked on hues of bright pink and orange are slowly starting to fade away. "What about on my art?" she asks slowly. "Will that get washed away?"
"Nope," Y/N shakes her head. "That stays forever. But on your clothes and body? It doesn't stand a chance."
"Oh. Okay."
And just like that, Clementine's minor stressed out moment floats away. Y/N smiles to herself as she pours a bit of soap into her small hands and helps her scrub them together, the lingering paint forming a pretty swirl down the drain. 
"There you go, lovebug," she murmurs as she stands back up, giving her head a light pat, "Don't forget to grab your painting when mommy picks you up, okay?"
Clementine nods and scampers away to her table. She chuckles, placing her hands on her hips as she takes stock of the kids. She has about 10 minutes until it's officially time for dismissal, and most parents are good about picking them up right at 4 pm. She thinks about playing a game with them to keep them occupied, until she sees it. 
Riley Styles. With globs of red paint in his curly, brown hair. 
"Oh my god," Y/N mumbles to herself, rushing over to Riley's table, "Riley! Can I ask what happened here?"
She tries to keep her voice at a measured, not-freaked-out level, but it's kind of impossible given the child standing before her is dripping with paint. 
"My cousin has red hair." Riley answers simply before shrugging his shoulders. "I think she uses paint, too."
"Ohhhh, I see," Y/N replies, pressing a gentle hand to his back, "Well, Riley, I think it would be best to clean this up. It look like it feels a little messy and icky." 
Her stomach is bubbling with anxiety as she glances up at the clock. There's now eight minutes to dismissal time, and Riley's dad is never late. 
"But you told Clementine that messes are okay—"
"Messes are always okay!" Y/N exclaims in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice, "Um, why don't you come with me to the bathroom, Riley?" 
She doesn't give him an opportunity to reply before she's looping his hand with his and making quick steps to the faculty bathroom. Realizing she's just left 15 kindergartens in a room unsupervised with a plethora of art supplies, she peeks into Lea's classroom. 
"Lea! Hey, um, Riley and I need to go to the bathroom to clean up a little mess! Can you keep an eye on my kids?" 
Lea, who already has her jacket zipped up and looks like she's about to walk out to her car, furrows her eyebrows. Her eyes widen when Y/N backs up slightly to give her a view of Riley, who has been trailing red paint with every step they take. 
"Oh my god!" she all but squeals, and Y/N's jaw clenches, "Yeah! Sure! No problem! Good luck with that mess, Riley!"
Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes at her friend as they finally make it to the bathroom. She glances down at her watch, which tells her that took a whopping three minutes of their time. Swallowing tightly, she tries to figure out the best plan of attack, ultimately deciding that it would be best if she just attempted to wash his hair with soap and water while he stood there. 
"Alright, Riley, can you try and stand still for me?" she asks, already pumping an absurd amount of hand soap into her hand, "I'm going to try to help get this mess out of your hair. Don't you miss those pretty curls you have?"
He shrugs as she begins to lather the soap between her hands. "I thought my cousin's hair was pretty."
"I'm sure!" she replies, massaging the foamy liquid into his hair. She's never been so thankful for washable paint before as the tints of red that latched onto his strands begin to wash away. "She probably didn't use paint though, and it's important that we keep the paint on our projects instead of our hair."
"Messes are okay, though. You said it."
She grimaces. Why do kids remember everything?
"You're right, messes are totally fine! But those are accidental messes. It's alright if we get it on our shirts or hands, but paint doesn't go in our hair. Does that make sense?"
His hair is completely saturated with hand soap now. She doesn't have a better way to wash it out (other than dunking the poor kid's head in the sink, which definitely feels unethical), so she's simply getting her hands wet and washing out section by section. It's going moderately well, especially since Riley's hair is on the shorter side, until the bathroom door bursts open, followed by angry footsteps.
"Riley!" 
Y/N turns, her mouth forming an embarrassed o-shape when her eyes make contact with a seething Mr. Styles. 
"Daddy!" Riley exclaims, rushing over to his dad. He latches his arms around his leg, giving them a squeeze, and getting the watered down red paint everywhere in his wake. Y/N winces. 
"What are you doing alone with my son in a faculty bathroom?" He demands, jabbing his finger in Y/N's direction. 
"I'm so sorry! H-he put red paint in his hair and I needed to wash it out, this was the only place I could do it since the kids' bathrooms aren't big enough—"
"And you didn't think to take another faculty member with you?" He spits angrily. Riley's now running around in circles, shaking his hair out like a dog. "How do I know you weren't doing anything—"
"I would never do anything inappropriate and you know that, Mr. Styles," Y/N cuts him off, feeling rage bubble up in her chest, "You've been sending Riley here for two years and this is the first time anything has ever happened. Until now, both you and him have only ever been happy with your experience here."
Mr. Styles clamps his jaw shut, his gaze falling to Riley, who's now pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. 
"It's washable, then?" he asks through a clenched jaw. "The paint?"
Y/N swallows, then nods once. "Yes. Everything we use is washable and water-soluble. It was coming out fine before."
He straightens his posture and runs his tongue over his two, slightly overlapped front teeth. "Okay. Riley, come on, we have to head home now."
Mr. Styles stretches out his hand and Riley takes it happily, his smaller one clutching his dad's fingers. The sight makes Y/N's stomach squeeze, but she quickly diverts her gaze and clears her throat. 
"I can grab his backpack and jacket," she says, boots clicking against the tiled floors as she walks out of the bathroom. Her face is warm and she feels tears lining her eyes, but she refuses to let herself cry in front of a parent. What she said to Mr. Styles — it's true. She's been working at the studio for five years and nothing has ever happened. She supposes a fuck up was overdue, especially since she works with kids, but it doesn't lessen the sting any.
She's surprised when she hears footsteps behind her, realizing that they're following her. She swallows the lump of tears in her throat and flashes Lea a small, forced smile when she returns to her classroom. The rest of the kids are gone already, their belongings and paintings with them. 
Y/N walks over to the cubbies, where Riley has his jacket and backpack hooked. Gently, she removes them, and turns to hand them to Mr. Styles.
"Again, I apologize for today. I was helping another student clean up and I must have missed this entirely," she says, trying her best to keep an even tone. 
Mr. Styles nods awkwardly, taking Riley's stuff into the crook of his arm. "I, um, apologize for insinuating that you'd do anything... unsavory. I know you wouldn't. I just panicked."
"I understand completely." she replies, and she means it genuinely. 
"Daddy?"
They both look down to see Riley tugging at his dad's pant leg. 
"What does usavory mean?" 
Mr. Styles and Y/N's heads both snap back up, eyes wide as they stare at each other.
"...Nothing," he says with a small smile, making Y/N's own lips curl into a grin, "I got you dino nuggets for dinner. Doesn't that sound yummy?"
Mr. Styles waves goodbye to her as he pulls Riley out of the classroom, chanting dino nuggets! dino nuggets! on his way out.
. . .
When Riley doesn't show up for class the following week, Y/N sincerely contemplates poking her eyes out with paintbrushes. 
She feels stupidly embarrassed. It took her two full days to move on from the whole red-paint-in-the-hair thing, in which she replayed every single moment of Mr. Styles staring her down like he wanted to pummel her across the city. And while she thinks things ended on a relatively decent note, she wonders if he was just being polite and now he was pulling Riley out of her afterschool art classes. 
She's never had a parent unenroll their kid for reasons that weren't out of her control. Moving? Sure. Wanting to try a new activity? Understandable. Parents wanting to spend more time with their child? Y/N wouldn't dream of getting upset over that. But Mr. Styles, who always showed up at 4 pm on the dot in his neatly pressed slacks and crisp button downs to retrieve Riley from class? 
She didn't know much about him. Unlike other parents, Mr. Styles didn't care much for idle chatter or small talk. For most of her students, she knew at least something about their personal lives or home dynamics — Reese's mom was a pediatric nurse, Tyler had a twin sister who preferred playing soccer after school, and Sabrina's dad passed away when she was a baby, so she lived with her grandparents and mom. 
Anything she put together about Riley's home life was from pure speculation: His mom never picked him up, so she wasn't sure she was in the picture. (She doesn't think Mr. Styles is married, either, considering he doesn't wear a wedding ring, but that's neither here nor there.) He alway showed up to the art studio in professional work clothes, which led Y/N to assume he came straight from wherever he worked. Riley never spoke about having any siblings, so she thinks he's an only child.
And that's about it. 
She spends the entirety of class holding her breath and mentally preparing for her boss to ask to see her once all the kids were picked up. Nina would probably start out by thanking her for all of her hard work over the past five years, and then before Y/N even realized it was happening, would switch over to her lack of care for Riley and the complaints made on Mr. Styles' behalf. She could envision the words leaving her mouth now: And so, we have no choice but to let you go, Y/N. 
Except... to her surprise, that doesn't happen. Nina doesn't come in after dismissal and she even tells her to drive safe on her way out of the building. There aren't any meetings placed on her schedule in the week that passes by before Y/N's next course with Riley's group, and she's damn near shocked when her students come bustling in seven days later, the curly haired boy included. 
Today, Y/N teaches them about working with oil pastels. She breaks the medium down to a very basic, understandable level for kindergarteners and lets them go wild after her usual 15 minutes of instruction, instructing them to let their creative minds run wild. It's one of her favorite parts of teaching art to kids — they rarely overthink it, instead just allowing whatever flows to come through to the paper. 
Unsurprisingly, oil pastels aren't as messy as paints, so there's less clean-up required than their previous unit. At 4, the parents arrive in quick succession, though when her eyes flit to the clock, she's surprised when Mr. Styles still hasn't picked Riley up by 4:07. 
She doesn't like to bring attention to late parents (she's found that some kids get all knotted up about it, worrying that something happened), so she usually has a few busy activities prepared for this very event. She grabs her folder of coloring pages to bring over to Riley's table, who's busying himself with peeling glue off of the worn, messy table. 
"Okay, Mr. Riley, what are we in the mood to color tonight?" she asks, flipping open the folder, "We have a garden, a firetruck, or a puppy!"
Riley silently contemplates the pictures in front of him and for a moment, Y/N feels like some childhood psychiatrist analyzing his decision. She has nothing to examine, though, beyond the fact that she's hoping he opts for the puppy or firetruck so she can work on the garden as they wait for Mr. Styles. With his small tongue poking out from the side of his mouth, Riley taps his finger decidedly on the puppy.
"This one, pwease."
She smiles and nods, stuffing the firetruck back in the folder and keeping the garden and puppy out. Riley always expressed good manners, and his sweet "pwease" and "tank you"'s always warmed her heart. 
"Sounds like a plan," Y/N pulls the cup of used Crayola crayons so they're within easy access. She buys a new pack every semester because, as she expected from her very first year working here, kids love to destroy crayons, even if they don't always mean it. Even from just a few months of use, the current 64-array is in rough shape. "Do you have a puppy at home?"
Riley shakes his head as he immediately grabs a teal color to color in the fur. "No. I want one, but Daddy says no."
"Puppies are definitely hard to take care of," Y/N nods as she pulls out a light pink for the flowers on her page. "I have a cat. Her name is Biscuit."
"Biscuit?" Riley giggles. Y/N grins. 
"Mhm. She loves to jump up on the kitchen counter and eat whatever food I make," she leans in closer and lowers her voice. "It's pretty naughty, if you ask me."
Riley's giggles erupt into full-fledged laughter. Y/N can't help but chuckle, too, but it's almost immediately cut off when Mr. Styles rushes in, looking frazzled with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 
"Oh! Daddy's here, Riley," Y/N announces, standing up from the little table. Riley turns around with a grin, excited to see his dad as always. 
"Hey!" Mr. Styles greets loudly, though his tone teeters on nervousness more than excitement. "I'm so sorry I was late. I had to, um... make a stop, and there was a lot of traffic. Rush hour."
Y/N nods understandingly, "That's alright. Riley, do you wanna show Daddy what you made today?"
"Actually, uh, one sec bud— why don't you keep coloring that... blue puppy, huh?" Mr. Styles's eyes peer over the page he's diligently working on, an expression of confusion making Y/N press her lips into a small smile. Completely content, Riley continues on, and Mr. Styles darts his eyes back over to Y/N. "Um, do you have a moment?"
She nods, swallowing harshly. She assumes this is it — the moment when he tells her that he's pulling Riley out of the program because of her unprofessionalism. It kind of hardens the blow a bit more given the massive flowers in his hand, which he assumes are for a girlfriend at home, maybe Riley's step-mom to-be. Or maybe he's trying to work things out with his birth mom. It's none of Y/N's business, but for some reason the thoughts swirl around in her brain, making her feel all the same — anxious, worried, self-conscious, and even a little down.
She leads him to the corner where her desk is so they're able to speak quietly and freely, out of Riley's earshot. Mr. Styles doesn't say anything for a brief minute. He's always been quite kind to her, so she figures he's trying to figure out the nicest way to say, "you're the worst art teacher and I never want my kid to be around you ever again."
"These are for you," he says, stretching his arm out to hand Y/N the flowers. Her eyes go so wide they feel like they could pop out of her head. It takes a second for her brain to compute the words and he looks at her expectedly, waiting for her to accept them. Finally, she does, hand clutching the brown wrapping around the excessive bouquet of stems. (Seriously, there's at least 25 in here.) "I wanted to apologize for last week. Again. It was... so rude of me to say anything even remotely close to that. You've been nothing but a bright light in mine and Riley's lives and I was just having an awful day already, and... kids are kids, they do silly things, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
Y/N's eyebrows still feel like they're glued to her hairline. She's beyond surprised. In her years of working with kids, she's had parents say way worse things to her, and she never received an apology for any of it. 
"Oh... Mr. Styles, this is—"
"Harry." he cuts her off, a wrinkle forming between his brows. "You can call me Harry."
She nods slowly, still processing the information. "Harry, this is very kind of you, but so, completely unnecessary. I didn't— I love Riley, he's a great kid, and I was worried you didn't want him to come back when he wasn't here last week."
Harry quickly shakes his head. "No, no. He had the flu. Ever since he started kindergarten, he's been getting sick left and right."
"Oh," Y/N says dumbly, beginning to realize that she worried herself sick for a week over quite literally... nothing. "Oh. That makes a lot more sense."
He chuckles and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his slacks. "Yeah. So, anyway, I hope you accept my apology, and even if you don't, I understand. Just know that I'll have Riley try to dye his hair blue next time or something," he teases, his face instantly falling the second the words leave his mouth. "That was a joke. I'd never do that."
Y/N laughs. "See, and I think pink would fit his complexion better."
Harry grins widely, and she realizes she's never noticed the cute little dimple that pops out of his cheek when he does.
She secretly hopes she gets to make it happen again sometime soon.
. . .
"How was Riley today?"
Y/N smiles knowingly at Harry as she wipes off one of the empty tables. "You know the answer to that. You don't have to ask."
Harry shrugs, putting his hands up in mock defense. He still has one of the Clorox wipes in his hand, quickly returning to cleaning off the crayon- and paint brushed-filled cups. 
"I just like to make sure he isn't a complete menace, that's all."
"He's never a menace," Y/N replies, tossing the wipe in the garbage, "He's always very well behaved and well mannered. Kind of wondering if you built him up in a lab."
Harry chuckles. "Nope. Not quite how those things work."
Y/N's cheeks warm so she turns on her heel to glance up at the clock in the front of the classroom. It's edging closer to 4:30, which is about as long as she likes to stay after work. She always makes quick work of cleaning up the floors and tables, de-sanitizing them little kid germs for her 11 am disabled adult class tomorrow morning. 
Ever since she and Harry had that chat with the enormous bouquet of flowers (they're all nearly wilted by now, but Y/N refuses to just throw them out), Harry comes to get Riley a few minutes after 4. By then, Riley's the only kid left, save for one or two on days with bad weather. Y/N will have them set up with their coloring pages and, instead of immediately helping Riley pack his things up to leave, Harry just... sticks around. Riley doesn't mind because he adores the different print-outs he gets to choose from, and Y/N can't help the way her heart hammers in her chest as Harry offers to help her clean up or ask about her day. 
It's been nearly a month of this — once a week, dancing around tiny tables and conversations accompanied by the scent of Clorox — but Y/N secretly hopes that it's because Harry wants to spend time with her. She doesn't see any other reason why he'd do it, but she doesn't want to seem cocky, either. 
"Okay, let's get you two out of here. It's already dark." Y/N announces as she unlocks her small closet in the corner, pulling her coat and bag out. 
"Is it alright if we walk you to your car?" Harry asks. 
She turns around to see Harry helping Riley zip his jacket up. The sight makes her chest tighten. The love he has for his son is so incredibly sweet that it makes her feel crazy some days. 
"Um... sure, if it's not too much," she eventually replies, swallowing harshly, "I'm just a few rows back."
Harry nods and stands up from his place on the floor. He reaches down, a silent request for Riley to fit his smaller hand in his. 
"Ri, what do you say to Ms Y/N for all the cool coloring pages?"
"Tank you!" he exclaims, his free hand in a tight fist, wrinkling today's coloring of a dinosaur.
"You're very welcome, cutie! I love that you made the dinosaur purple today." Y/N says with a grin. She follows them out, but not before turning all the lights off and locking the door. 
"Daddy puts all my pictures on the refrig—refig—refigerator?" 
"Refrigerator," Harry says as they walk down the empty hallway, "But close. Good job, bud."
Riley looks up at his dad with a grin. "Yeah! Daddy puts them all up. He says they're pwetty."
"They are pretty." Y/N nods, agreeing with a smile.
"He says Miss Y/N's pwetty too, and that's why we always stay late now—"
"Ah!" Harry yelps, cutting Riley off with an embarrassed flush. Y/N presses her mouth into a line nervously, trying to hide the excited smile curling at her lips. The conversation ends after that, though Y/N has trouble ignoring the butterflies flapping in her tummy. She clears her throat when they approach her car, her mitten-clad hands pressing the 'unlock' button on her keys.
"This is me," she says, pulling open the passenger's seat door to put her bag in. 
"I'm so sorry," Harry rushes out. "I— that's not why we stay. Well, it is. Well, I mean, I think you're very nice and I like being around you, and I do think you're pretty, however I'm not trying to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just— I, um. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Y/N replies, this time allowing the smile to flower over her face, "We can always... we don't have to just hang out here. Like, we can get a coffee or something. Not in the company of your very sweet child."
He scoffs playfully, nevertheless pulling his phone out and opening his contacts. Hesitantly, he hands it to Y/N, who pulls off her mitten before accepting it and putting her information in.
"Text me when you wanna get together," she says as she gives it back to him. "Also, for the record. I think you're pwetty, too."
. . .
Harry texts her the following morning: I haven't asked someone out on a date in a long time, so I'm a little rusty... would you want to get dinner with me on Saturday night?
Y/N, who learned the whole wait-10-minutes-before-you-text-back thing back in college, doesn't even let her screen go dark before she messages him to say that Saturday sounds perfect, and he did a great job. 
On Saturday evening, he picks her up at 7 pm on the dot. She's not sure what she was expecting, but she definitely didn't anticipate him getting out of his car on such a dreary, cold evening, ringing her doorbell, and bringing her yet another bouquet of flowers. She tries her best to hide the fact that she's shocked by his presence on her doorstep, her boots clacking against the wood floors of her rental, as she promises him she'll be back in a second once she puts them in some water. 
Gentlemanly as ever, he escorts her to his car, a sleek, black sedan. She's not sure what he does for work and assumes he'll tell her tonight, but it's apparent that he has money — she doesn't think she's seen Riley in the same outfit twice and he's always showing up to pick-up in a stylish suit that may cost Y/N's entire biweekly salary.
They make slightly awkward, first date small talk on the way to the restaurant, which feels silly for both of them considering they know each other outside of this. 
"What did you do today?" Harry asks, and Y/N's not quite sure how to say "I stayed inside all day doing nothing" without sounding like an elderly woman. 
"Um, caught up on some TV. Painted a bit. Nothing too exciting, really. How about you?"
"Riley and I went to a kids science museum. It was fun, he enjoyed it," he replies, tapping his thumbs against the leather of the steering wheel. "Do you do a lot of art outside of work?"
Y/N nods, "Oh, yeah. I went to school for it. I actually wanted to be a museum curator."
"So how'd you end up working with snotty-nosed brats like my kid?" he asks teasingly. Y/N laughs. 
"It was supposed to be a side gig until I found something more permanent, but... I started five years ago and got too attached, I suppose."
Harry hums. "Well, you're great at what you do. I've only seen you work with kids, obviously, but I'm always impressed with you."
Y/N shrugs, trying her best not to seem slightly overwhelmed by his compliment. He had a habit of doing that — making her feel dizzy and melty, all because he looked at her for a beat too long or said something she wasn't expecting. 
"Thank you. It's nothing special, though," she says softly, swallowing tightly, "What do you do? I don't think I've ever asked."
"I'm in finances. It's incredibly boring," he replies almost instantly, as if it's a knee-jerk reaction. "But, um... pays the bills. You know how it goes."
It feels like an add-on, but nonetheless, Y/N nods understandingly. It seems like it does a lot more than pay the bills, but she doesn't question it.
The rest of the drive is on the quieter side. It makes Y/N's stomach bubble with anxiety, wondering if she's being too boring and attempting to come up with talking points that fall flat — every time she thinks of a question, she talks herself out of it, assuming it would sound silly leaving her lips. 
Thankfully, Harry pulls into a parking spot not 10 minutes later. They're in a quaint part of town and, despite the holidays coming and going, the streets are still lit up with pretty snowflake displays. It's on the quieter side, which Y/N also appreciates — considering the fact that she already assumed Harry was fairly wealthy, she had worries that he'd take her somewhere far too fancy. 
He looks slightly dejected for some reason when Y/N gets out of the car, burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket. He hurries over to where she's standing on the sidewalk, locking the car with the key fob.
"You look like you're freezing, I'm so sorry," he mumbles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It's an act he wouldn't do under any other circumstance if she wasn't all but shaking. "I should've dropped you off at the restaurant."
Y/N shakes her head, "No, don't be silly. Where are we going, anyway?"
He gives her shoulders a small squeeze as he guides her down the sidewalk. "Well, you mentioned not being able to find a decent sushi place nearby. This has been a favorite of mine for a few years."
She glances up at him, a look of confusion on her face. "I said that?"
"Yes," he chuckles. "A few weeks back."
She knows it's true — she gets a mean sushi craving at least once a week but has yet to dine at a spot that she dubs her go-to. She tries to think back to their conversations over the past month or so, but it's a fruitless effort, especially once he holds the door open for her, his large hand pressed against the small of her back. Immediately, the warmth of the restaurant is a welcomed sensation, but the feeling of his touch feels even more delicious. 
"Reservation for Styles." he says to the hostess, who, without even looking down at the book on the podium, grabs two menus and walks them over to their table. Y/N's thankful that they're placed in a back corner, where she can cozy up and, perhaps slightly unattractively, stuff her face with spicy tuna rolls and sashimi until she can barely breathe.
"This place looks incredible, Harry," Y/N says softly as she looks over the delicate menu. "You come here often?"
She only says it because the prices are on the more expensive side, so it's difficult for her to imagine casually ordering in from here. She glances up to see him shrugging his shoulders lightly, eyes still glued to the menu. 
"Every now and then." he answers vaguely. 
As if on cue, a waiter approaches their table, placing down a bottle of wine. 
"Your usual, Mr. Styles," he says, and Y/N swears she watches Harry's jaw clench, "Shall we do another tasting menu tonight?"
Her eyebrows furrow and a zap of anxiety electrifies her chest. Clearly, he does come here often. Why would he lie to her then? Was this where he took all his first dates? Y/N clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her bum as she starts to let her mind spiral. Suddenly, she feels like just another pawn in a man's game.
"Give us a few minutes, please. No tasting menu tonight, we'll be ordering entrees." Harry says curtly. The waiter nods with a smile and leaves them be.
Without thinking much, Y/N leans over the length of the table, the bones of her elbows pressing into the bright red tablecloth. 
"Do you always take girls here?" she demands, a bite to her tone. Harry's head snaps up with wide eyes.
"What? No, why would you—"
"Because you said you come here 'every now and then', but the waitstaff knows your wine order and asked if you wanted a tasting menu again," Y/N replies briskly, blinking at the man in front of her. "You know, I'm not just some girl you can mess around with—"
"Y/N," Harry breathes, shaking his head. "No. No. It's not like that at all. I take my employees here quite frequently and do business dinners here. I'm aware that it's on the expensive side and I just... money is an awkward subject."
"Well, it's even more awkward when you pretend like you don't have any—"
"I wasn't pretending," he mutters, swallowing tightly. "I know you're not like that, but I haven't dated in a long time. Partially because of Riley, but also because people I've been with have only cared about the money. So I just try not to let it be a focal point, especially on the first date. I'm sorry if I didn't do a good job of that."
Y/N's stomach plummets. She feels sick — she hates that she assumed the worst out of him, letting her own dating traumas get in the way of him just trying to protect himself. God, she was the worst first date ever.
"I'm so sorry," Y/N breathes out shakily. "I'm being an asshole."
"You're not." Harry mumbles as he looks down at his lap. "Just... first date jitters, maybe?"
She smiles gently. "Can we start over?" Harry flicks his eyes up at look at her. "I like you, Harry, and I really, really want this to go well."
She watches as his throat bobs, a smile curling at his lips.
"So, Y/N. What is it that you do for work again?"
. . .
Harry feels like he's known Y/N for his entire life. 
When they leave the restaurant (she attempts to put her card down and he can't help but snicker at her before explaining that they already have his on file), her hand curls around his as they walk back to the car. It makes his entire body erupt into flames as their palms press against one another's, intertwining their fingers tightly. Their shoulders bump into each other's with lopsided, goofy smiles on their lips. 
"Tonight was fun." she says as they approach his parked car. He gives her hand a final squeeze before unlocking the doors. 
"It was," Harry echoes her sentiment. They separate briefly to get into the vehicle; Harry immediately turning it on to crank the heat up. "Would you wanna do it again sometime?"
"Yeah. That would be nice." She nods, grinning. "What did Riley get up to this evening?"
He chuckles, "He's with the babysitter for the evening. She's used to my late nights with business dinners."
Y/N hums, peeling her hands out of her jacket pockets now that they're a little less chilly. "So you're not in a hurry to get home, then?"
Harry's chest dings with a bead of nervousness. He swallows and flexes his hands in his lap. 
"Sort of. Riley has swimming lessons in the morning."
It's not a complete lie. Riley does have swimming lessons, but Harry wants to stay out with Y/N more than anything. He's not in any kind of rush — he's just anxious about what she's thinking about proposing after not dating anyone since his son was born.
"Oh, sure," she smiles, and Harry's surprised by the way her face maintains its happy composure. "Well, we can just end the night here if you need to get back. No worries."
That makes Harry feel bad — the fact that she's just so incredibly understanding, even if he's feeding her excuses based on his own insecurities. He clears his throat awkwardly and attempts to shift in his seat to face her. 
"I haven't done this in a long time," Harry blurts out. "And I'm very nervous."
Y/N's face crinkles into an adorable smile. "The date is over, Harry. I thought we established that we had a good time."
"We did!" he rushes, lifting his hand to run it through his hair, "No, we did. I had an incredible time with you. I really like you."
"So what are you nervous about?" she asks softly, reaching out to take his hand into hers.
That.
That's what he's nervous about.
"It's just... it's been awhile since I've liked anyone. Since I've... touched anyone." His throat bobs and his eyebrows shoot up as he realizes the insinuation of his words. "Not like that! Well, yes, like that, but— I meant, not just sexually. Holding hands. Kissing. We don't have to do a single thing anytime soon, but I haven't done this in years."
"You're nervous about physical touch?" Y/N says gently, her voice soft. He nods. "That's fine, Harry. Like you said, we don't have to do anything anytime soon. We can go at your pace, whatever that means."
"I... I want to kiss you, though," he admits in a raspy tone. "I just don't know... how."
Y/N's heart feels like it shatters into a million pieces. With a thumping chest, she leans into his side over the middle console and gently takes his cheek into her palm. His face feels cold from the chilly winter evening and he can't help but press into the warm, comforting feel of her touch. His eyes flutter shut and she smiles, nibbling on her bottom lip as adoration fills every inch of her body. 
"Can I?" she whispers, punctuating her question with a nervous swallow, "You can say no. I just... I'd like to try."
"Please."
She's hesitant in her movements, not wanting to overwhelm him as she slowly inches closer. She tilts her head ever so slightly and presses her lips to his raspberry ones, eyes flittering closed as fireworks explode between their chests. It's perfect — it's slow, and it's leery as both of them try to find a comfortable pace, but of all the first kisses she's ever had, she's positive this is the best one she'll ever experience. 
They sit in Harry's car kissing until Y/N's breathless. Neither of them know how long it's been but eventually, she breaks it apart, panting quietly through spit swollen lips. He keeps his forehead pressed against hers with a dopey smile. 
"'s good," he mumbles, and she mimics his grin, "That was... yeah. It was so good."
She giggles and her tummy feels like it's filled with butterflies and carbonated bubbles and excited tingles. 
"So good." she echoes.
He's surging forward with a grin to reconnect their lips not a moment later, and they're both positive they've never been so content before.
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jarofstyles · 3 months
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Baby, It's Cold Outside
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So basically this was meant to be a shorty, but it turned into almost 9k of cuteness and smut. So happy holidays, my loves! Here is some friends to lovers cuteness and filth <3
Check out our Patreon for over 100 exclusive writings!
Warnings: Smut
WC- around 9k
------------
Y/N hadn’t meant to fall asleep on Harry’s couch. Honest.
But anyone who had the pleasure of sitting on the cloud like crimson couch could tell you, it was hard to get out of it once you were in. Harry had to answer some business emails, of course, because as much as she liked her friend, she was well aware he was a workaholic. Lawyer by day, and by night. He had invited a few people over for a movie night but Y/N was the only one who was free- but it was fine. It meant more popcorn and pizza for them anyways- and he had been a doll and ordered her the BBQ Chicken pizza on a flat crust. She got it all to herself as they watched the original claymation of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, which was a classic if you asked her. Her stomach full, she still picked at some of the M&M’s and tried to ignore the little jump her heart gave when their hands brushed. Their thighs had already been knocking together and Y/N had been trying to talk some sense into herself considering she knew there was no meaning to it. He sat close to her so they could both reach the popcorn and share the candies! He kept the bowl balanced on his thigh so she could reach over and get it. Duh. 
But after their second movie, Elf, his phone began to ping. Why, Y/N didn’t know. It was literally 9 in the evening, there was no reason to do so, but when Harry asked if she was okay with him stepping away for a few moments to answer some things in his office, she didn’t make a fuss. No, she continued watching albeit with a slightly heavier heart when 30 minutes had passed and he hadn’t reappeared- but that was neither here nor there. 
She can’t remember doing it, burying her face in the pillow that he had been using and curling up into a little ball on his couch, snoozing away. The warmth of his home was welcoming, and she was vaguely aware that the wind had picked up outside- but she fell asleep shortly after. Firmly planted in dreamland where she was picking blueberries for a pie in the summer. Why that exact dream, she wasn’t sure. What she did know is that she stirred to the feeling of a warm hand stroking her head, soft whispers of her name coaxing her from the impromptu nap. 
“Y/N?” He murmured, sitting next to her with a furrowed brow. Her eyes peeled open and blinked sleepily at him, confusion written in them as she looked over his face and the fact that the TV had the ‘are you still watching?’ notification on the screen. “Hey, sleepy girl.” He smiled slightly before it dropped. Her heart fluttered in her chest from the close proximity and fondness in his tone. “M’so fucking sorry. Time got away from me and before I knew it I was up there for an hour and a half- and m’a shit friend.” He frowned, unaware of the tantrum Y/N’s stomach was throwing from his hand resting on the side of her head. His thumb was brushing right before her ear, the slight sound tickling a part of her brain she hadn’t even known existed. He made her so nervous. 
“Oh.” She said quietly, unsure how to reply. It kind of sucked that he had spent their movie night tucked in his office. Y/N didn’t get to spend a lot of time with Harry lately, his workload picking up, and she had been going on about how good it was to see him for once. The lighthearted teasing held a semblance of truth and Harry could tell, which made him feel pretty shit right now when he saw the slight dejection on his face. If only she knew.  
“I know. M’sorry.” He whispered. “But uh….” his eyes strayed to the window. “We’ve got a bigger problem now.”
This had Y/N sitting up, silently mourning the loss of his hand that had flexed slightly as it fell back to the couch. “What do you mean?” Her nerves shot up, turning to look at the window as well. It was significantly cooler in the house now, her arms erupting in chills as her blanket fell from her shoulders as she got up to look. She’d seen a peek of white, but she hadn’t been prepared to see the truth outside. The blur of snow, piling up high and showing no sign of stopping. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, cursing under her breath. She’d gotten an uber here, but there was no way in hell any would be out right now. “Fuck.” Her tone was a soft groan, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “There’s no way I can get a ride home now.”
“I know.” Harry said back. “But it’s a good thing I’ve got lots of blankets, yeah?” He didn’t want to admit to her that there was something in him that was almost excited that she would be trapped here with him. That the reason everyone else had canceled was the weather, apparently, that neither of them looked into until Harry had checked his phone just moments before waking her up. It was going to snow all night, and all day. Y/N was stuck here, and he didn’t know for how long. 
“Are you sure?” Nibbling her bottom lip, Y/N worried. She didn’t want to be a pain but there was no way she was walking home in this. No way Harry would ever let her either- and it wasn’t like she could ask him to drive her, it wouldn’t be safe. There was no other option other than staying. 
“Course I am. Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “We can just continue watching. I really am sorry- we’ve got this case, the wife is trying to take half the assets.” He moved towards the couch and began to move things back to neaten it up. “We were trying to negotiate but then the PI that the husband hired found the proof of her infidelity, so it changed the case structure completely. I got in my own head, and I apologize.” It was obvious he actually felt really bad about it. Harry was passionate about his job, working with personal injury, divorce, and estate law. It made sense to her considering he was a busybody, and apparently could argue with anyone about anything- she’d seen it first hand with a tipsy Harry and Niall at karaoke night, arguing over the perfect color for those little drink umbrellas. 
“It’s okay, Harry.” She smiled softly. “I wish I could find something to be as passionate about and make my job. M’just stuck at the cafe for now.” She joked. The cafe was fine, she liked her coworkers, but there was no passion there. She did her job, collected her money and went home. 
“You will, love. It’s never too late.” He was always encouraging of her going after her dreams, especially over one drunken conversation about wishing she could do art full time- but Y/N was a realistic person and she had real rent to pay. Being a no-one in the art field would lead to ‘exposure’ work and exposure didn’t pay the bills. She needed to work on it but she was always so tired after work- eventually she would get there, but it was nice to know that someone believed in her. One of her paintings hung over his fireplace, actually, making her smile every time she came over. She painted his cat for his birthday, which had actually made him tear up. That had gotten her a very long hug and a solid appreciation for how muscular he was. 
Y/N decided to help him out, readjusting the blankets and pillows as he brought the now cold pizza and treats into the kitchen. It was then that it hit her- she was going to spend the night at his house, and possibly the whole day tomorrow. Snowed in at Harry’s House. He was pretty choosy about the people that came over, citing that ‘his home is his sanctuary and he needs to protect it’, which she sort of liked. When she was in college, she had opened her home up for a bit for the parties and decided that she wasn’t a fan of a lot of people in her space either, so knowing he felt similar made her feel special. 
“Okay.” He brought out the hard cider. “I’ve got the holiday version and the regular. Both are good, the holiday version is a bit more cinnamon-y.” He held up the bottles, teetering them in his hands. “Which would you like?” 
“I’ll go with regular, please. Too much cinnamon makes me sneeze.” She admitted. “Weird, but even when I get it on my coffee I get a bit sniffly.” It was weird, considering it wasn’t exactly an allergy- but maybe a sensitivity. 
“Oh, shit.” He raised his brows. “Okay, We’ll do regular then.” He handed it over to her after snapping the cap off with his bottle opener. “Don’t need a sneeze storm along with the snow storm.” The poor attempt of a joke made her snort, shaking her head. Harry’s jokes were infamously horrible, genuinely cringe worthy, but he had to have some sort of flaw. No one was that good looking and went away without something. Taking the frosty glass bottle in hand, she blamed it for the shivers- and not the fact his fingers brushed her own. 
“Let’s get started again, yeah? Let me turn my phone off for real this time.”
—-----
The movie watching had turned to more of a movie and chat. Harry sat closer to her than before, claiming it was ‘cold as fuck’ before starting a fire. The room was dim except for the flat screen mounted above said fireplace, his twinkling christmas tree and the comforting warm glow of the flames crackling
“I really am sorry, you know.” He murmured, breaking her out of thought as he let his fingers play with the ends of her hair. Harry had been a bit more touchy tonight, she noticed. She was trying not to let it be known how much it actually affected her. She’d managed to keep her little crush under wraps for months now, and she didn’t want to slip up. It was hard not to, especially after they’d kissed on halloween. It was a dare, of course, everyone tipsy as shit, but it had done something to her. Their costumes accidentally ended up matching, so it was pushed and she didn’t mind. The girl had been so sure she was immune to Harry’s hypnotic charm, but the kiss had been… really fucking good. It wasn’t something that was rated R, but she got a bit of tongue from him, his hand cupping his jaw carefully enough to not mess up her makeup, and the length… If she had been a bit more drunk, she would have pulled him back for more. Since then she’d been a bit fucked. It was both fortunate and not so that Harry got a lot busier at work after that. 
“What for?” She asked, giving him a questioning look. Harry had already apologized for taking so long and it wasn’t something she was still upset about. Not with her body buzzing and heating up with him so close to her. 
“I’ve been kinda selfish. Forgot to ask more about you.” He frowned. “We’ve been a gossipy bunch tonight but.. You’ve been holding out a bit.” He teasingly tugged her hair. It was hard to keep her shiver from that hidden, as she really liked the feeling. “Remember you told us you’d been seeing someone. How’s that going?”
Y/N was confused for a moment. What was he talking about? Y/N hadn’t gone on a date in months. She wracked her brain, trying to place what he was talking about- when it hit her. Not too long after they’d kissed, Bradley had opened his mouth and asked Y/N about the date she had been on with his friend. Someone she had been set up with, and definitely didn’t like. Her nose crinkled as she shook her head. 
“God, you remember that? It was awful.” She said in distaste. “We went to like.. Two dates. The first one and then the second one only happened because Brad kind of pressured me into it.” Her eyes rolled, still annoyed at her lack of a backbone when it came to hurting people’s feelings. She’d been really trying to work on that. The whole putting yourself on the line just to ensure other people are happy and god forbid you hurt someone’s feelings thing.
“Pressured you?” Harry’s fingers paused in her hair. “How do you mean?” She could see it in his face, his irritation rising. One of the things she liked the most about Harry was how respectful he was towards women. It was a hard thing for some men to conceptualize, apparently, but Harry naturally knew how to be a decent human being. It said more about other men than him. 
“Well.. After halloween I told Brad I wasn’t feeling it with his friend when he asked me how it went, but he told me how much his friend liked me and I shouldn’t give up on it so quickly. Give him another shot. And then I was a stupid baby and decided to put the random man’s feelings above my own, and it was a second sucky date. I mean, there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the guy. I was just bored. He just wasn’t my person, y’know? I felt bad wasting his time and giving false hope.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. It wasn’t a thing she was proud of. “But yeah, I know you’ve been busy lately. Though I would have thought Brad would have told you when you guys worked out? You two love to gossip like old hens.” She knew they met up every week.
“Yeah. I would have thought so too.” He said, something underlying in his tone that she didn’t quite get. “He uh.. He told me that you guys still saw each other occasionally, though?” He looked thoroughly confused which in turn, made her even more so.
“I mean, yeah. Kind of? He comes into the cafe and we’re friendly enough. I ended up telling him after the second date that I wasn’t seeing it go anywhere but I’d like to be friends. I’d say we’re more acquaintances than anything else, but he’s got a girl he’s seeing. I served them the other day.” Y/N wasn’t sure why Harry looked upset, almost annoyed at the information, but she was going to find out. “I’m sorry, are you okay? You just look annoyed, is all.” She tried her best to be soft about it, but she had no idea why on earth he would be annoyed about what she just said.
“No- no, s’nothing you did.” He assured her, rubbing over her back once he realized she was taking his expressions personally. “It’s just- he kept saying you guys hit it off and made it seem like… like you were taken by him. I dunno why he’d do that when…” He paused, shaking his head. It confused her even more, unsure as to why Brad would do that either. What did he have to gain by lying- or stretching the truth?
“When, what?” She asked. What would be in it for him?
“I don’t want t’make it weird, but he knew I was plannin’ on asking you out after Halloween but… he told me you and his friend had hit it off.” He stiffened slightly. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, it’s water under the bridge, but I’m just a little upset that he lied.” 
Y/N’s stomach dropped. 
“He did what?” 
“Yeah, I’m not sure… what the motive for that was.” He scratched the base of his neck uncomfortably. It was obvious he hadn’t necessarily wanted to divulge that information to her but she was really fucking glad he did. 
She was also angry. Brad knew damn well Y/N and his friend didn’t hit it off and he had told him, albeit politely, straight to his face. It pissed her off immensely if he was being honest. It only made her hypothesis more glaringly correct the more she thought about it, but it wasn’t her place to tell Harry that Brad most definitely had a nasty, big crush on him as well. It was hard not to have one on him, having fallen victim to the Styles Charm herself. 
“I don’t either but… No. M’single. I have been for months.” She admitted, not sure if the feeling in her stomach was caused by the alcohol, the anticipation, or the revelation. “I would have said yes, by the way. If you’d asked.” Finding the nerve to meet his eye, she was taken aback at the pure green mixed with a splash of oceanic blue. She’d been up close before but this felt other worldly. Knowing that he was planning on asking her out in any capacity had the feeling in her stomach intensify, looking into eyes that were so pretty it shouldn’t be allowed. 
“Yeah?” He asked quietly, the air stilling slightly in the room. He was looking back just as intensely, just as intently, making her body react in ways she hadn't felt in a long time. Giddy, like a kid on christmas from the revelation. “Well… I feel a little silly now. Should have just asked you myself. But… he said you were happy and I didn’t want to intrude on that but it was hard t’be around and not want to tell you so, I kinda buried myself in work for a bit. I didn’t want to be a miserable bastard, like some child who had his toy taken away, but I felt sad that I’d missed my chance.” 
The frown on his face made Y/N want to coo. He was so, so sweet. This man. He was incredible, wasn’t he? So human, but honest. Admitting his honest feelings to her despite them being potentially embarrassing. Y/N took a bit of his confidence in tow as she replied to his words, still anxious but knowing that if he could, so could she. 
“I missed you. Was sad you stopped coming around.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. There was a new energy, a static between them that she could feel on her fingertips. “It wasn’t silly, though. Your feelings are valid. I understand. I’d probably be a bit hurt if I had a great kiss with someone and then found out they were supposedly seeing someone else not long after. It’s an icky feeling.” Y/N truly couldn’t blame him. She could blame Brad, though. She would. 
“Yeah, but I should have… I dunno. Something felt off, I should have trusted my gut as you like to say.” He teased lightly, moving his hand up to the side of her neck. “But… ‘great kiss’, huh?” His raspberry lips, still wet from his sip of beer, turned up in a smirk. “You thought so? How great was it, really?” 
Y/N could feel herself flush. God, she had been speaking truth so it hadn’t crossed her mind on how she worded it but somehow, she wasn’t regretting it. If anything, she felt a bit of relief, though his teasing made her flustered. “Stop.” She pushed his shoulder. “I was just- I was just saying.” She grumbled, eyes falling from his back to his curled mouth. She remembered just how good it felt against her own, how his hand had tightened on the back of her costume and urged her closer while the other had delicately held her jaw. A gentle, commanding presence. A will she was willing to bend to. 
“Oh, don’t look away, sweetness. M’just teasing.” He cooed, lifting his knuckle to bump her chin back up. “Look cute when you’re embarrassed though. It’s sweet.” His confidence seemed to rise again at her words, which relieved her slightly. At least one of them was feeling it. “For the record- it was a really, really great kiss. S’part of why I wanted to ask you out, hm? Wanted more of that. You’re such a sweet little thing. Always so kind to everyone, maybe a little shy but… s’cute.” Laying on the praise was making her feel like she was boiling, a shy mewl leaving her mouth as she went to divert her eyes again but was interrupted by his hand. 
“No more of that. Let me see your pretty eyes when m’talking to you.” It was like he had shifted, making her eyes widen. Her body wanted to respond, blinking rapidly before nodding at him slowly. “Good. Can’t believe there was so much wasted time. M’gonna have words with Brad later, but I don’t think we should wait much more. Do you?” his thumb brushed her bottom lip, making her thighs want to squeeze together. This was a side of him she had only seen the tiniest blip of when they kissed, but god, did she like it. Her body hanging on to his words. 
“N-No.” She tripped over the word. “How d’you mean?” The tone was breathless, still in awe of how the situation had shifted. How his hand held the back of her neck and his hand kept her chin up so he could see her eyes. They hooded slightly, tummy twisting in anticipation. He was close, much closer than she had originally thought, and holding her face in a similar fashion to their first kiss. 
“Shouldn’t wait to do what we both obviously want. I’d like t’take you out when we’re able to get out of the house, but we were held back because of some lies… and I had a lot planned for us all from that one little, really good kiss.” He murmured. The side of his face was illuminated by the roaring fire, the movie fading into the back of her mind as her eyes searched his face. “It’s been hard to be around you knowing what this mouth tastes like and knowing the pretty little noise you let out when I went t’pull away. Didn’t even want to but you seem to forget to breathe when you’re being kissed, silly girl.” He chuckled under his breath. 
“Only with you.” She whispered. It hadn’t been something she meant to say out loud but seeing his smile was worth it- even a tiny bit of a blush if she was seeing correctly. He was stealing a bit of her brain power, she thinks, but at this point she didn’t mind. Harry could take over and she would happily follow. 
“Yeah? With me?” He taunted, leaning closer and feeling his nose brush hers. It was cooler than his own, the fire only now starting to heat the room up- but he wanted to keep her warm in another way. At her nod, he let out a sigh. “So can I kiss you again? It’s all I can think about, y’know. When you’re around. Been dying to kiss you and even more. Such a sweet thing, y’are. So good to me. Make me laugh, make me smile. Was gutted when I thought you were with someone else. I’ll tell you a secret.” his thumb brushed her chin again, close enough that his breath could be felt against her lips. “It drove me mad, thinking about you with some other bloke. Someone who I know can’t make you feel half as good as I can. Can’t treat you like the perfect thing you are. Proper princess, aren’t you?” 
Y/N was hanging on to his words, nodding along. She always wanted that, wanted to be treated like she was a diamond. To be delicately handled when need be, spoiled with affection. Harry had that quality to him, a man who could take care of business but also come home and dote. At least it seemed that way. She had to imagine him after work, suit jacket strown against the side of the couch and his tie undone, glass of bourbon in his hand. Imagine climbing in his lap and pressing kisses to his face and watching the tension in his body melt away. Let him take out his frustrations on her body instead of letting it fester on his own. 
“I can be.” She replied, leaning into him. “I’d like it, a lot.” It felt hard to come up with the right words to express how she felt, how much she genuinely felt the urge to just jump on him- but he beat her to it.
Buttoning their lips together, he scooted closer to her and held her jaw tenderly. Touching her in a way reminiscent of the way he had before, she was stiff for a mere moment before melting into his touch. He was warm, much more so than her, and the blanket that had been thrown over his lap shifted so he could get closer to her. Y/N followed suit, lifting her hand to his chest, palm down on the heated shirt. His heart could be felt thumping away underneath her grasp, cluing her into the fact he was just as worked about about it as she was. 
When he pulled back for a second she let out another whine, though the air felt good in her lungs. It was hard to breathe when he was kissing her, not wanting to waste a single second of the experience. Her brain was a loop of his name, not thinking about the oxygen she needed. Now she was needy, knowing that her feelings were returned in a way. She whined again as he halted her from going in again. “Breathe, sweetness. I’ll keep kissing you, but you’ve got t’remember to breathe for me.” His voice was hypnotic and he had all the control. Y/N willingly let it go. She wanted to give it to him. 
“Sorry.” She peeped. “It’s hard.. Hard to think.” There was nothing but honesty in her tone, making him want to coo. Y/N was so precious, it hurt. Harry loved that he had this effect on her. The girl was putty in his hands, marshmallow fluff seeping between his fingertips. He hadn’t gotten to see this side of her before and he loved it. Being a man who was in charge most of the time and thoroughly enjoyed it, he loved that she put her trust in him and made herself malleable. 
“Mm? S’hard to think when I’m kissing this pretty mouth?” He smiled, “Good. You don’t have to think. I’ll take care of you, sweet thing.” He brushed hair off her face before sitting back on the couch. “Come sit on my lap, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.” He was taking the reins now, and Y/N eagerly followed. Clambering onto his thighs, he had shucked the blanket to the floor and let her warming body settle on top of his. Her body melting into his lap, she clutched his tee shirt before surging back in and connecting their mouths back together.
Y/N was needy in a way she hadn’t experienced before. One of her hands slipped into his hair as he returned the kiss with matching fervor, sliding his hand down her waist and pulling her in so she was pressed against him. Breasts against his chest, the plushness of her body making his fingers dig a bit deeper as he licked into her mouth. She was his willing accomplice, his sweet escape as she mewled softly against his tongue. This was even better than their first kiss, in the privacy of Harry’s home where she could let herself go fuzzy. She’d known him long enough, trusted him, pined after him- Y/N was ready and willing for him. Spreading her thighs over his lap further and making sure they were touching in every single way possible. 
A noise she wasn’t familiar with left her throat, a little grumbly moan as he sucked on her tongue and pulled off before taking more. She hadn’t been kissed like this before, her body burning as it got heated rather quickly.The revelation of returned feelings, the pining they’d silently been doing, the kiss they’d shared that haunted them, the desperation to make up for lost time- it all was a perfect concoction to the perfect storm. Hand sliding over one another, revving up the neediness as she slowly began to shift in his lap. Rolling her hips. A dangerous but necessary move. 
“Careful, Darling.” The warning was mumbled against her mouth. “M’burning for you. Keep rubbing yourself against me like a little kitten and m’gonna take care of it.” All of the pent up neediness was showing itself, rearing its head and spilling over onto the carpet. Y/N would be embarrassed if she wasn’t so into him, and if he didn’t help guide her hips on him. She wanted to be his, wanted to know what he sounded like. She was in awe of how good it felt to just rub up against him. The large hand cuffed around her waist while their spit slicked lips hungrily kissed one another. Harry was unraveling her and he barely had to try. Pathetic, maybe, but he had a strong effect. 
She continued the movement, even going as far to rub a bit harder before she was physically stopped, his hand gripping her chin and tugging her away. It was disorienting, making her whine in sadness, but she looked at him with a bleary gaze ad his thumb wiped at some of the wetness smeared under her mouth. “Need you to tell me how far t’go.” Harry wanted to be sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries. He needed to. With any of his partners he established those, but Y/N especially. He would weep if he misunderstood and make her uncomfortable. “C’mon, pretty girl. I know you’re a bit out of it, but let me know what you want.” He could feel her squirm on his lap, but a simple raise of an eyebrow made her freeze. 
“Anything.” She whispered. “Anything, please. Just want…” She swallowed, trying to say it properly. “Just want to make you feel good. Want you to want me. S’cold, I need you to keep me warm.” Her tone was a little pathetic, but Harry seemed to enjoy it. Relish in it, actually, with how much she was desperate for it. 
“Oh, sweet baby. Want you regardless of what this body offers me… But if you want me to do anything I want, you won’t mind me slipping these off?” He plucked at the waistband of her fuzzy pajama pants. Light blue with little penguins and snowflakes. “And this?” Her white cropped tank top. Her cardigan was hung over the back of the couch, and he had access to the bare skin of the sliver of her stomach. “Yeah?” He replied to her head bobbing in agreement. “I can see my pretty girl and keep her warm?” 
“Mhm.” She agreed. “Take it off. Want it off.” Her hands tugged at his shirt, making it lift up slightly. It was well known he was covered in tattoos but she wanted it up close and personal. She wanted bare skin against her own, wanted to bite on the curve of his neck and see what sounds he would make. 
“Okay, needy thing.” He laughed through his nose, tugging his shirt over his head to expose himself. Swallows at the collar bones, a dusting of chest hair, the butterfly on his stomach. His arms showing off more ink, his muscles- god, he was good. So fucking hot that Y/N felt herself ruining her panties even further. How was it possible for a man to work her up just from a little kissing and grinding, merely looking at his shirtless form in the way it had for her? “How’s it, hm?” 
“So pretty.” Her voice mumbled, running her hands hesitantly down his chest. Brushing his nipples slightly, making him groan before they reached his butterfly tattoo. “You’re so pretty, H.” It made the man’s ego raise up, not really being called pretty all that often. Sexy, handsome, sure. But pretty was a newer one.
“You’re prettier.” He kissed her jaw, tangling his digits in the hem of her top. What he hadn’t expected was for her bare breasts to be exposed as he lifted it up. The top had a built in bra, leaving little to the imagination to begin with but… god, he was in heaven. Dipping his head down, he kissed the top of her chest before making his way down with sticky kisses. “God, fuck me. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He hissed, palming one of her tits. “Been trying to hard to keep my eyes away from these but, but I keep droolin’ over them. Imagined them covered in my cum, did y’know that?” He worked over the curve of the exposed one whilst squeezing the other. Enjoying the feel of her in his palms. “That’s the only way they could look prettier. Covered in me.” His tongue found her nipple, making her squeak. 
Y/N let out a squeak, moving a hand to his hair as he worshiped her chest. Licking, kissing, sucking, even biting down softly on her nipple before switching sides, letting his thumb brush over her now wet and slightly swollen nipple. Her cunt wept, her clit throbbing as her breathing got heavier and she tried to withhold her noises. She was making some, sure, but it was embarrassing how much wanted to pour from her lips. 
“Don’t hold back from me.” He pinched her nipple harder than before, making her squeal. “Said I wanted to hear those noises, didn’t I? Be good for me.” The slight scolding only made her hotter. Something about the tone, something about Harry having complete and utter control over her body in this way had her panting. 
“Sorry, m’sorry.” She simpered, spreading her legs further on his lap. Her hot cunt needed some relief, desperately. Her clit rubbing against him and the fabric of her now useless panties had her mewling, his mouth sucking harder on her nipple, hungry for it. “It feels so good, I can’t think.” Her words came out almost as a cry. She was obsessed with this feeling, albeit a tad overwhelming. 
Pulling away fro her nipple with a soft pop, Harry licked over his shiny lips before cooing at her. “Who said you need to think, baby?” He stroked her hair, tangling his fingers in it and firmly tugging her head where he wanted it. “My silly girl. Just let me do the thinking. All you’ve got to do is focus on warming my cock so I can keep you nice n’warm too, yeah? Let me take over a little bit.” His tone was intoxicating, the cadence of his speech placing her under a spell. She wanted this, she wanted him to do this for them. “Good. S’time for these to come off. Want to take a peek at that pussy.” He playfully smacked her ass, motioning for her to stand on her shaky legs and let him tug her leggings down. 
“What have you done, sweetness?” He crooned, looking at her panties. “Messy little thing, you’ve soaked right through them.” Nimble fingers rubbed over the gusset of her panties, the warm, wet fabric doing nothing to hide her cunt. The soft pink had gone transparent and sticky, making his cock jerk in his sweats. God, she was exquisite. A complete angel. How had he managed to keep his hands off of her? “Love that you got this sticky for me, baby. Y’like me that much?” 
It was almost humiliating, the burn in her cheeks making her hot but… she liked it. She liked how he was talking to her, sweet but a tiny hint of condescending to it. It wasn’t something she knew she liked until this moment- perhaps it was something she just liked with Harry. But she shivered at the feeling of his warm fingers finding her pearled clit under the fabric, rubbing lightly over it. “I do.” She whispered. “Like you a l-lot.” Her words stuttered when he pressed his thumb over her, wiggling it back and forth. It was slightly humiliating, standing in just her wrecked panties in front of the man, but the shame licked into flames of arousal as he pulled her in and peppered kisses to her stomach. Soft, sensual ones that left a print of his saliva there before he pulled back to tug the silly waste of fabric down her legs. They were tossed to the side, Harry switching positions to have her sit on the couch. 
“Good. Like you too, sweet girl. Felt so guilty, cumming all over my fist while imagining you. That perfect mouth and these pretty thighs…” He hissed, running his hands over them as he got on his knees in front of her. “But part of me didn’t care. Thought I was fantasizing about someone else’s woman, but it was you. So I did it anyway.” His lips found her sensitive inner thighs, kissing tenderly as he spread her open. “It’s a shame we wasted so much time, but m’not wasting another second. 
He didn’t. A gasp tore from her mouth as he licked up her slit, tasting the sweetness he had been deprived of. Something started to unfurl inside of him, settling further as he hooked his hands under her knees and urged them to stay spread as his arms moved to their place. His fands looped around, placing one hand on the mound above her cunt, eyes peering up at her as he took his time. Languid, long licks as he cleaned her up. She had made a mess of herself, and he was taking care of it. Of course he was. He had wanted to do this for months, now. Spreading her open and tasting her right from the source. 
It was like he fed off of her sounds. The tiny bucks of her hips that he quickly eased by holding her down slightly, only making her more wet. He was taking mental note of the things that she liked, and being controlled was one of them. He’d never have guessed, but he was having a beautiful time figuring it all out. His cock was throbbing, in need of relief, but he ignored it in favor of her pleasure. Pulling up momentarily, he kept their eyes locked as he let a line of split dribble from his lips to her cunt, stringing over it before he lowered his angled hand and gave her clit a few taps. 
“Fuck.” Y/N whimpered. “You’re too good at this. Gonna make me cum.” She was a mess, but Harry wasn’t going to give her that. Not yet, anyways. 
“No, sweetness. You’re going to cum around my cock. M’just getting you warmed up.. Although you didn’t seem to need it.” He slipped his finger inside of her after releasing a thigh to rest it on his shoulder. “Nice and wet for me already. I’m just being selfish. Wanted to taste you for ages.” His crush had been there for longer, he supposed. It had grown slowly over time, blossoming into what it was now. 
He was torturing her, she was sure of it. His finger, thicker than her own, curling slightly as his mouth attached to her clit, suckling on the swollen bud. How could she hold back from orgasm when it felt this good? She was getting closer and closer with each pull into his mouth, the wet, sounds of sucking filling the air and her hands clenching around his hair, pulling him further into her cunt. His nose brushed up against her and little she could do but take it, he continued on it, working her until her thighs began to shake and the pleasure began to boil in her tummy, almost- until he stopped. Cooing at her as she began to whine, squirming in his hold and almost tearing up at her orgasm that she had been robbed of until he rose up and shut her up with a kiss. 
“Told you what I wanted. Don’t pout, as pretty as it is. I’m gonna make you cum, baby.” He brushed their noses together before he walked over to his side table and opened the drawer. One day later she’d ask him about why he had a stash of condoms in there, but for now her eyes were far too focused on the obvious outline of his prick through the sweatpants. Nearly gagging for it, she felt, she peeped up at him as he stood back in front of her. “Normally I’d ask how you’d want it, but since you’re a bit thoughtless today, m’gonna choose. Lay back.” He pointed her in the direction of where he wanted her to lay. 
“Don’t- don’t you want me to suck you?” Her voice sounded much needier than she had wanted, but he was endeared. His sweetness was obviously wanting to, looking at him as he palmed over himself and shook his head. 
“Not today. I’ll bust right inside that mouth. As much as I want to, and I will have it later… Not now. Want to feel you wrapped around me when I cum.” Slipping down his sweats, Y/N watched as his cock bobbed up and the pulsing between her thighs intensified. He was big, thick, and wet. The tip ruddy, dark pink and weeping with precum and a prominent vein extending over the side, trimmed hair around the base up to the little line of hair that went over his stomach- yes, she had never seen a cock as appealing before, and she was feeling hot over it. He apparently noticed too, a smirk on his lips and dimple extended. “No. You’ll taste it later, but I need to be inside of you.” He liked licking her out a bit too much. 
Y/N blinked up at him, nodding her head as she swallowed thickly. Settling between her thighs again, this time on his knees, she watched as he slipped the condom on before taking his other hand and cupped her cheek. He softened his gaze, looking over her face before speaking. “Need you to tell me if you want to stop. Any time, any reason and we can be done and go back to cuddling. I like you for far more than your body, sweetness.” He sighed. “Want this to be good for you. Want you to use your pretty mouth and talk t’me so I know how you feel. Don’t hold back.” He was a homeowner and the walls were thick, so it didn’t matter. No one could hear them past the roaring winds outside. The snow itself was silent, his silent savior for making Y/N stuck with him. “Get me, baby? Words.” 
“Yes, I’ll tell you. I want it, I promise.” She whispered. “Think I’ll like anything you do for me. I know I’m safe with you.” And she was. Harry had always been a good friend and she would trust him with her life even beforehand, so handing her body over to his tender care didn’t seem half as scary as it may with someone else. Nerve wracking only because there were feelings there- real feelings they both admitted were felt. 
“That’s my girl.” He smiled, brushing the tip against her cunt. “Gonna push in now.” He paused for a moment, leaning over to give her a kiss before righting himself on his knees and giving her what they both wanted. Fuck, was it good. 
Y/N had never felt so full in her life. Her fingers curled around his wrists as he held her legs up, her stomaching jumping as she panted, Harry filled her up so well she could cry. So deep, so perfectly curved like his dick had been made for her, she dug her nails into him as she let out cries of pleasure. 
“That’s what I wanted, baby. Let me hear you.” He crooned, feeling sweat begin to bead on his brow. Working his cock into her, he listened to the sounds of their sex, how wet she had gotten solely for him, and he was happy. God, he was fucking happy. Not only was he inside of her, but her feelings mirrored his own. She wasn’t taken- but she would be now. 
“I feel so good.” She said up to him. “I’m so full and you’re so deep, I don’t know.. How does it feel so good?” It was evident her head was a bit in the clouds, but he was there to take care of her. “Stretching me… Don’t stop.” She babbled, closing her eyes as he hit exactly where she needed.
He continued, watching as her cunt spread open for him. Taking him deep, he was enamored with the sight of her wetness all over his cock, wishing he could ditch the latex covering his shaft. All he wanted was to leave traces of her on his skin, leave her smell and taste. This was only the beginning of their relationship, the very prologue, and he couldn’t get enough of her. “M’not gonna stop, sweet girl. You feel too good.” He exhaled. “S’only our first time. Gonna keep fucking you until you can’t take it.” It was serious. He’d held himself back from her for months now, and it was nearly christmas. “My girl… You take it so well, hm? Think you were meant to take my cock.” 
“I was- I am.” She replied, blinking up at him blearily. “Nothing has ever felt so g-good. Want it all the time. Please, I don’t want to feel empty.” Her eyes watered a bit, making his cock twitch as he cooed down at her. Something about it was so erotic to him, watching her cry for his cock. For him. She needed it, needed him and he was the only one that could provide the very thing she needed. He was the only thing she could crave and he would make sure of that. 
“Oh, sweetheart. So gorgeous… M’not gonna let you stay empty.” He cooed. “No, I like far too much. Want to be tucked as deep in you, as long as I can. You promised to keep my cock warm, yeah?” He wiped away a tear, bringing it off her face. “I’ll keep you warm too.” And he was. Y/N was beginning to get sticky with sweat. Feeling her hair start to stick to the nape of her neck from the room finally feeling the effects of the fire, or his movements and pleasure, she didn’t know the origin. She was almost hot, but that was welcomed. The storm going on outside, snow was coming down hard, but she was nice and warm with Harry. 
Y/N felt a bit speechless. This was not how she had anticipated her night going in the slightest, but she loved every second of it. Each thrust of his cock filling her up led her closer to her orgasm, knowing she was sticky with arousal and sopping wet on his cock, and he took it in stride. Lowering his hand down to thumb over her clit, soft grunts leaving him as he fucked her. It wasn’t too rough, wasn’t too kinky, but it was perfect. He was treating her with the care she needed. Looking at her with visible fondness, only teasing her a bit, it was evident that he cared about her and that only brought her closer. 
“M’gonna cum.” She whispered. “I’m gonna- I’m so close. Please let me- I was good.” Part of her worried about him deciding he wanted her to hold it again, depriving her of the pleasure, but he didn’t. He kept his thrusts the same, rubbing her clit a bit faster as he continued. 
“Go ahead, my sweet thing. Make a mess on my cock. Cum for me.” She had already dripped all over him, even some towards his thighs, but he wanted more. He craved the mess only she could give him, the wet slap of skin and her puffy pussy contracting around his length. She had been so close on his finger, so he knew she was reaching it from how she squeezed him, but it was almost too good. He was a goner, watching as she arched her back and let out a broken moan, trembling yet again before her mouth dropped open and she came on him. He could feel it, her cunt squeezing him and her body tightening up as it hit her. Pulsing around him as he continued his thrusts inside of her, the delicious heat nearly making him lose his damn mind.  
“Shit…” He hissed, feeling his own start to hit him. “Fuck, baby… fuck.” His voice turned slightly whiny as he held tight onto her leg, his thumb pausing on her clit as the first rope of cum spilled into the condom. Her contracting, hot cunt, her teary eyes, her swollen mouth, all of it was so beautiful that he couldn’t stand it. This was a long time coming, of course, but to actually have her on him, to feel her body react to his touch, to see her cum solely because of him? It was otherworldly. He doubted he’d felt this strongly about an orgasm before, jerking his hips as deep groans left him, imagining there was no barrier in between them as he filled the condom. He knew it was going to overflow, but he didn’t care at this moment. 
All he cared about was lowering himself on top of her and kissing her senseless, holding her face like it was a precious stone. Recovering from this orgasm and kissing her, the giddy feeling never went away.  It stayed as he checked on her, kissing her cheeks and her nose, wiping the hair that was stuck to her face away and murmuring praises to her. “S’my girl. Not going to let you go.” He loved this feeling. “You’re perfect. Can’t believe it took us so long, but now that I’ve got you… M’not letting go.” It was sappy, maybe, but he was finally getting what he wanted. Something he thought he’d lost the chance to have. 
“Don’t want you to let go.” She sniffled, taking his face in her smaller hands once she caught her breath, pressing their lips together again before letting him rest his forehead against her own. “That was perfect. I can’t believe it either…” She stroked his hair back, the slight dampness from sweat not bothering her at all. “Does this mean I’m yours?” It felt a little embarrassing to ask, but she wanted to be clear. 
“Mhm. And I’m yours. No more games. Don’t give a shit what any of our friends have to say… M’pissed I was kept away so long, but I’m not going to do it now. I wasted so much time…” He gave a bittersweet smile. “Been dying to make you mine.” 
“Well…. Merry Christmas.” She giggled, eyes light and bright. Happiness illuminated her features and it nearly stopped his heart. Y/N was so beautiful that it almost hurt. And now she was his. He took her in as the multicolor lights from his tree flashed over the side of her face, heart completely filled with affection. “I’m your gift. No refunds or exchanges.”  He laughed, not able to help himself from taking another kiss. “Best gift I’ve ever received.”
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harrysonlylover · 2 months
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Instincts*
Summary: Harry’s primal instincts catch up with him.
Trope: Husbandrry (non famous)
Warnings: breeding kink, a hint of corruption kink, dirty talk, a hint of degradation, mentions of pregnancy and body changes.
WC: 1.4k
Masterlist
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Harry lost his sanity in the best way possible.
His mind couldn’t put an effort into focusing on anything except his one and only goal.
Breeding his wife.
It felt like his only purpose in life for a while now. His thoughts were composed of nothing but her ovulation days and how many loads he needed to give her.
Though—she was a bit greedy today.
Her body rested on some blankets and pillows laid out on the ground, with a lit chimney nearby. He towered over her, body glistening with sweat as the fire casted light on his skin.
His tattoos were on full display, curls hanging loosely on his forehead with his cock erect against his stomach, and dripping on her pussy.
She let out small whines as his thumb teased her swollen clit. He coaxed two orgasms out of her with his mouth, something that was set in stone in their sex life.
But—his future baby mama was ovulating, and after giving her two orgasms, it was time to fill her up.
“Look at you darling, legs open and spread. Are you that excited for Daddy’s cum?” He spat on her pussy, allowing it to mix with his dripping pre cum that was torturing her. He didn’t give her his cum yet—he’s just teasing her by allowing a small amount of it to fall on her pulsing pussy.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded immediately, drooling at the thought of getting knocked up.
Everything felt warm and lovely. Their naked bodies being near the fire as he prepared her to receive his load did something to her brain chemistry. Besides, the sight of her husband—acting so primal had her spreading her legs as wide as possible.
“Hmm, gonna be a good mama?” He leaned down, pressing a torturous peck to her glistening pulsating pussy. His tongue licked up the pre cum that dripped down, as he enjoyed the smell of her ovulating pussy that ignited something in him.
“Fill me up, please.” The plea in her voice was rushed. She loved having sex with him, that was a solid fact. But, she was weak for his naked body and thick cock.
His mannerisms and actions changed after wanting a baby. Every single thing was ten times more attractive. Things as simple as his pumped biceps and chiseled abs—or his veiny hand that choked her throat a billion times before.
“Look at you, so pathetic. Begging for my cum, but you can’t help it, can you? You need me to breed you.” He felt lucky for not passing out at the erotic sight in front of him. His wife. His lover, so bare for him with her legs spread, giving him her pussy to use and breed.
Always so good for him.
He grabbed his cock and tapped it at her clit. She tried to jerk her hips, needing some friction, but he was quick to slap her pussy.
“Behave.” He ordered her. He had to breed her properly so he was very adamant on doing everything perfectly.
He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as his cock sank into her warm walls. It was an irreplaceable feeling—especially because he would be impregnating her.
She let out a loud whine, as her fingers gripped the pillows next to her. Her facial expressions displayed relief and ecstasy just like he expected.
“That was exactly what this pussy needed, eh? Felt relieved when I stuffed you.” He grinned, looking down at her body as she rolled her eyes when he went deeper.
Her warm wet walls were driving him insane. Just the idea of having her take his cock on her ovulation day made him dizzy.
He fastened his pace gradually, his hips moving perfectly to hit her favorite spot. Her moans were music to his ears. There was something so lustful in having her lie down and take his cock and cum.
He was ready to keep her up all night to make sure she got stuffed. Besides, his stamina and sex drive were unmatched—which is why she sometimes asked him to use her body and manhandle it as he wished.
“God look at that baby. My cock is so deep inside you.” He pressed his ring-clad hand on her stomach. “See, that means my cum will be everywhere.”
His thrusts were now rough, hitting her cervix and making her breasts jiggle. The sound of wetness has never been this loud, not to mention their skin slapping.The lit fire added to the ambiance, making them feel extra warm and hot.
“You hear that? That’s my cock breeding this pussy.” He smirked at her state—falling apart at the feeling of his thick cock fucking her warm pussy.
“M—more.” She smiled as if she was stuck in a haze.
“Oh, baby, such a cockslut. Used to be my shy virgin girl and now you’re begging me for a baby.” He tsked, feeling his ego inflate at the thought of her progress.
He corrupted his lover, but he wasn’t to blame. His cock was just too good.
He grunted upon looking down to where they were connected. His cock was slick with precum and her wetness, sliding in and out of her hole as she whined and whimpered.
“That’s right. Letting your husband use your hole for breeding.” He pulled away, watching her pussy clench around nothing upon feeling empty, before thrusting back harshly.
Her face was to die for. So pretty just for him. He loved watching her eyes roll back or seeing her sweet smile, knowing that he’s fucking her hard and fast.
She opened her mouth wide open, an indication of wanting him to spit inside. He immediately leaned in, grabbing her face roughly before spitting in her mouth.
“Shit. Dirtiest cockslut.” He sealed their lips together as he continued his brutal thrusts.
Sweat covered their bodies, and everything felt heated. The fire, their lower bodies—along with their skin on skin contact and intense kisses.
“You’ll look so beautiful with your bump and full breasts.” He panted, trying not to cum on spot at the idea.
“Yes—please.” A few tears slipped from her eyes at the intensity of their sex.
His pounding was ruthless. The way his hips drove into her could only stem from good stamina. As if he trained himself to last for her.
“Whose going to make you a mama?” He slowed down his thrusts, laying his forehead against hers.
“You.” She groaned, scratching his back.
“Whose cock is breeding you?”
“Yours.”
“Damn right.” He pulled his body away and wrapped his hand around her throat.
When she’s too gone for him, she wouldn’t tell him that she’s cumming. But he knows her body—so when she began clenching more and mumbled things under her breath, he knew.
“I know baby, let go for me. Let me give it to you.” She loved deep strokes at the end, so he switched to that.
She came on his cock without a warning. Her entire body shook under him as she moaned his name out loud, and scratched his back.
Her pussy gripped him tightly, pulsating around him and it was so fucking warm. He couldn’t hold it and followed her orgasm by filling her up.
It felt otherworldly, releasing in her like his life depended on it—making sure that he was so deep inside so that it catches.
“That’s it, let your womb have it.” The feeling of his hot cum filling her up was euphoric and intense. He prepped her face with kisses, mumbling love confessions, telling her what a perfect wife she was as she stilled his hips inside of her.
“No leaking until I pull out, m’kay?” She can still feel his cock twitching inside her as his cum flowed.
She was too lost in her thoughts, dreaming of her swollen belly and Harry sucking on her lactating tits—
“Baby?” Once he grabbed her chin, she was pulled out of her daydream.
“Are you my good breeding whore?”
She nodded immediately like it was common knowledge.
“Then clench your pussy for Daddy and hold it. No leaking please.” He whispered, before moving her hair away and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
He continued to whisper dirty things in her ear—how this was just the first load and that she deserved way more for being his good girl.
He promised her to stay up till dawn, and frankly?
She couldn’t wait.
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stylesharrys · 4 months
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love me like you do
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authors note: here's another old exclusive guys. there are lots and lots of fics lined up for you for the next couple of months while I work on a 20k realtor!y/n and a 20k ex-boyfriend!harry so enjoy!
word count: 2,361
summary: harry’s never had someone take care of him the way that y/n does. 
//
At first, Harry thought nothing of it.
The honeymoon phase, he told himself. It made sense, it was expected. His past lovers had all been the same during that time — always obsessed and seemingly in love. Seemingly. 
But after a few months, they always started to change. They’d distance themselves first, take a while longer to reply or to get in contact with him. Then, they’d get blunt and annoyed quickly with him. They wouldn’t want him close, wouldn’t shower him in affection. Wouldn’t let him touch them. 
And then, eventually, they’d leave. Maybe on the odd occasion, they’d butter him up and get a little splurge on his card, or go to him just for their release. A few had cheated, some just left. Nothing for Harry has ever lasted past a year and a half, and now it’s nearing the two-year mark and he’s confused. 
Y/N is a lovely woman. She’s kind, funny, smart, gorgeous. Harry thinks her kindness and wit is what attracted him to her in the first place, and in the two years he’s known her, he’s only started to love her more. 
It’s not like he thinks deep down she’s a horrible person, but Harry has grown accustomed to how things typically work in his relationships, and none of the above has yet occurred. 
Currently, he’s lying on his stomach with his face smushed into Y/N’s pillow. She’s straddling his lower back, her bum on his bum and his shirt is long gone as she massages the tender knots out of his shoulders. She’s been doing it for thirty minutes now. Harry’s been watching the clock. 
He’s been feeling a little ill the past few days. Migraine, sore muscles and the occasional fleeting moments of nausea. He lost his appetite and strength pretty quickly and Y/N has been on the ball with it — at his feet with a sick bucket, coddling his head to her chest with a cold compress against his skin. She’s done it all and Harry can’t quite understand it. 
From past experiences of being ill or caught with the flu, the only person to have ever taken proper care of him had been his mother. And now, his lover is doing what past lovers didn’t, and Harry’s confused.
It’s not that Y/N isn’t an overwhelmingly kind and compassionate person, because she is. Her caring and nurturing behaviour is nothing out of the ordinary for Y/N, but Harry has never experienced such care from a romantic partner before. 
It’s like Y/N has forgotten about the gruelling twelve-hour shift she just got home from, but Harry hasn’t ,and although he’s the one that’s sick, she’s the one that’s been on her feet all day. 
“Come on, I’ll do you.” His words come out gruffly, muffled slightly by the pillow that restricts the fluid movements of his lips. He can feel Y/N shake her head from above him. She sinks the balls of her palms into the backs of his shoulders. 
“You need to relax and rest.” She argues, thinks her reasoning will be enough for him not to ask again.
Harry shakes his head and shuffles beneath the weight of her body. Y/N lifts to her knees, allowing him to turn beneath her and onto his back. Harry’s eyes are bleary and sleepy as he blinks to gain his bearings. He stretches for her hips, hands finding them with ease. 
She’s sitting on his lower tummy, dressed in a pair of cycling shorts and one of his old Rolling Stones t-shirts that she changed into the second she got home. There’s dotting of mascara smudged below her eyes and a couple of pimples that are starting to show through the worn, minimal makeup. 
He knows she’s had a long day, could tell the second she got in and pretended that she was okay for his sake. Her hair is tied back low on her neck, stray strands wildly framing her face. She looks tired, burnt out. Harry just wants to look after her. 
“Bad day?” He finally asks. 
Y/N blinks twice and shrugs, head rolling as her shoulders raise and her cheek meets it. “Busy,” she tells him. “Nothing I’m not used to.” 
Harry squints. 
He knows she’s used to it — the long days with early starts and late finishes, the ones without a break in-between, where she doesn’t get to eat, save for a few grapes she manages to steal every now and then. He knows she’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting her.
He squeezes her hips gently. “Know you’re used to it, pet. Don’t make it any easier, though.”
She doesn’t say anything. Her hands are on his, encouraging them to sneak up her shirt to feel her skin. She’s warm, soft. Y/N pouts down at him. “Want a kiss.” She says, eyes glassy with affectionate need. 
Harry copies her expression, reaching up to caress the side of her face. “Can’t let ya get sick, babe. Why don’t you let me run you a bath and you can relax?” He offers, eyes gentle and she lets hers flitter closed for a moment, like she’s pondering over her answer. 
She shakes her head. 
“You’re the sick one. I’m going to run you a bath, and then I’m going to make you some soup for your throat. Know it’s still been hurting you.” 
Harry doesn’t say anything — knows that whatever he argues, she’ll bite back better. His body sinks into the sheets, head in the pillow as a heavy huff of annoyance and adoration slips from his mouth. 
//
When Y/N said she’d run him a bath, Harry didn’t expect it to be overflowing with bubbles or for every possible available surface to be littered in glowing candles. But the bathroom wasdecorated with such and Harry was overcome with an overwhelming amount of love for his girl. 
She let him take his time in there, relaxing and soothing his muscles while she cooked up some magic for his throat. Getting out of the bath, Harry most definitely does not expect to wander into the kitchen to see what he does. 
Y/N behind the stove, dishing up the soup with two fresh rolls from the bakery a mile from them. She’s got the lights dim for him — knows they’re hurting his head — and there are more candles around the living room. 
The coffee table is littered with them mostly, Netflix is up and ready on the TV and as he looks to the sofa, he notices she got out her favourite blanket — the soft one that Harry swears is made from angel wings. 
And he looks at her, starry-eyed and all. She’s got a gentle smile on her lips when she notices his presence and Harry is fucked. 
He can’t stop the rush of emotion that consumes him. His eyes turn glassy, nose tingling and heart aching. Harry reckons he’s easily the most loved man in the world and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 
He can’t help the single tear that slips down his face but he wipes it before she notices. 
Harry approaches her, arms wrapping around the middle of his love and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you, for all of this. Love you so much.” He rasps into her skin. 
He can feel her body warm against his touch and she smiles, rashes down to hold her hand over his. “Love you loads, too. And you haven’t got to thank me, this is just what you do when you love someone.”
When you love someone. 
She shrugs her own words off like they’re the most obvious thing she’s ever said, but Harry can’t stop falling harder for her. 
He’s loved people before, he knows that. But now, looking back, he wonders if anyone has ever loved him before her. 
Harry doesn’t remember a time that a previous lover put him before themselves. Where they cared for him and put his needs first. Where they showered him with care and adoration just because. 
No ones ever loved him as she does. 
The tears start to pool again as he pulls away and helps her carry their bowls and drinks to the sofa. They sit close, dipping pieces of bread into the creamy soup Y/N prepared and keeping their eyes on the TV. 
Harry is struggling to focus though when Y/N takes a glance at the clock and carries their empty bowls to the kitchen. He cranes his neck across the back of the sofa to see what she’s doing, but her back is to him as she runs the sink tap and rummages through the cupboard. 
What he does see is her shuffling back to the living room with a small glass of water and a curled open palm carrying three little white tablets atop it. 
Y/N settles beside him, handing him the glass with a tired smile and offering him the pills. “They’ll help with your head and throat, hun.” She curls into the sofa, her knees to her chest and close to Harry’s side. Y/N props one arm against the back of the pillows and her fingers find the long hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck, gently craving through the soft locks. 
He watches her for a moment, completely dumbfounded and speechless if he’s honest. 
Something like Y/N taking care of him when he’s sick shouldn’t have him feeling so fucked and in love, but it does. He’s teary-eyed because his girl is taking care of him off her own back. Because she isn’t complaining once or making anything about herself. 
Because she’s loving him beyond the words of saying it. 
And he cries. 
Y/N’s stunned at the sight, thinks maybe he’s about to sneeze, but his body starts to tremble and she realises what’s going on. So, gently, she pries the glass and pills from his wanton hands and places them blindly on the coffee table before reaching back for him. 
“Hey,” she coos. 
Her hands caress the damp and flushed skin of his cheeks to bring Harry’s gaze to meet her reassuring one. “Why are you crying, H?” Her words are asked in a light and airy voice, one that isn’t serious as she chuckles softly, but he still knows she’s concerned for him. 
He shakes his head and pulls her into his side, laughing at himself too because, why is he crying? 
“Just never had anyone look after me apart from my mum before. Really fucking lucky to have you, love. No ones ever loved me like you do before.”
Her hand is sprawled across his gently heaving chest and she kisses his neck with a soft peck, offering a squeeze. His hand is brushing comfortingly up and down her arm but neither of them really know why he’s the one trying to comfort her.
Y/N swallows, reaching her right hand across her chest to find his hand that lingers over the front of her shoulder, and she interlaces their fingers, squeezing. “I wish I could show you how in love with you I am… no words can describe it.” She admits, bashfully. 
Harry squeezes her hand, using his other to wipe his face and he laughs again, because he’s so in love that it hurts. It hurts so fucking good because he knows this is it for him. She is it for him. Together against the world. Their future, their everything. 
“I know, baby. S’the same for me.”
His raw voice sends a shiver through her spine and her own eyes are watering with salty drops of emotion. It hurts her too. More so knowing nobody has ever treated him right, nobody has ever taken care of him and loved him like he’s always deserved. 
“I’m always gonna love you like this, H. Always gonna put you before me. Put us before anything else. You’re it for me, hope I’m it for you, too.”
He grins, cranes his neck to look down at her through hooded eyes. “‘Course you’re it for me. Been my future since I fucking laid eyes on ya, pet. It’s us forever, yeah?” 
She breathes, tears slipping but she nods her head. He doesn’t get the chance to stop her before she’s leaning up and smacking a kiss to his lips, eager and sweet. He doesn’t pull away either, as selfish as it is. 
Y/N reads his mind, knows what he’s thinking. “Don’t care if I get a bloody cold. You’re worth it.” 
“God, I fucking love you.”
2K notes · View notes
freedomfireflies · 6 months
Text
Jealous*
Summary: The fourth part to 404*
The one where Harry's even more annoying when he's jealous.
But he's kind of cute, too.
Word Count: 5.6k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)
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“Head back, tongue out.”
Quickly shifting onto your knees, you glance up at the man before you. Watching eagerly as Harry’s large hand strokes the hardened cock that lingers near your lips.
His other palm reaches out for your neck, slowly sliding up into your hair before tugging you back even further. “Like this,” he murmurs, only satiated when you oblige. “Good girl. Show me your tongue, Tink. Come on, not gonna ask you again.”
Quickly, you rush to obey, presenting it to him willingly as you scoot closer and silently plead for his offering.
He gives you a rare, pleased smile that makes your insides jump before he brings his cock closer to your mouth, tapping it twice. “Gonna swallow it all, yeah? Like a good little cumslut?”
Nodding fervently, your lashes flutter in a somewhat desperate attempt to coax him closer to release.
To this, he exhales an amused breath, smirk growing until you see that familiar and infuriatingly charming dimple. “You’re a lot less annoying when you’re desperate, you know that?”
You swat at his thigh. “Shut up and cum in my mouth already.”
“Eager, are we?”
“The fuck do you think? Just do it, come on.”
“See, there you go again. Don’t know how to romance a guy, do you?”
“And why would I ever want to romance you?”
He laughs and sweeps the tip of his cock along your bottom lip. “Because deep down…you like me. Don’t you, Princess?”
And before you can reply with another quippy retort, he’s sliding himself along your tongue, and filling your mouth completely.
It doesn’t take long for that warm, salty tang to go slipping down your throat. Effortlessly coating your taste buds as Harry tightens his grip on your head and releases a rather lascivious groan.
“Fuck…there you go, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, using his other hand to brace himself against the wall to keep upright. “Take it…fucking take it, Tink, good. Feel so fucking good, don’t you? Such a tight little mouth, yeah?”
He’s babbling, a string of nonsense and praises falling from his tongue, but you revel in it. Indulge in the way you’re the only one on his mind, the only one to make him fall apart so quickly.
And you imagine you’d both like to stay here in the lobby coat closet for at least a few more minutes (or a few more rounds), but before you can entertain the idea, your phone is going off.
The shrill alarm cuts the moment in two, slicing it right down the middle as you pop off his cock and reach over to turn it off.
In turn, Harry blinks, breathing still a tad ragged as he steps back. “What…what is that for?”
“Oh, I have a meeting with Mr. Prescott in five.” You straighten up onto your feet and swipe the back of your wrist across your mouth. “This was fun, though. Thanks.”
Harry blinks. “Wow. Way to dine and dash.”
“Funny,” you snort as you head for the door. “Anyway, I think I’ll be good for a while, so…no need to keep dragging me in here.”
“I didn’t drag you,” he argues with a huff while yanking his jeans back up. “I casually suggested it and you jumped at the opportunity.”
“Mm…wrong.”
“Mm…right. Face it, Princess, you can’t stop thinking about me.”
“Actually, I think about everybody but you,” you tell him. “Seriously, just the sound of your name kills my libido. It’s quite sad.”
His eyes roll. “Fucking go already, I have shit to do.”
“Fine, but you have to wait at least three minutes,” you remind him as you slip out into the hallway. “I mean it. Cassie almost saw us last time and I was mortified. So be less suspicious this time.”
“Come on, do you really think I want people to know we’re shagging?” he retorts, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall in wait. “Getting seen with you at the bar was already bad enough.”
“Yeah? Is that why you stuck your hand down my pants in front of everybody?”
“Okay, you know what—”
“No, I don’t. Bye,” you call before swinging the door shut.
Harry’s muffled grumbling follows you all the way to the elevator.
You can’t help but grin as you step inside and hit the button for the fifth floor, flashes of his hands and practiced fingers flooding the forefront of your mind.
You might still hate him, but you suppose you don’t mind his company as much anymore. He’s not as irritating as he was when you first started this little arrangement, and you’ve noticed his technique has gotten better. He’s always been good, but recently he seems to be trying incredibly hard to make each time the best. 
Not that you’d dare complain. After all, it’s not like you’ve really—
“Wait, hold the door!”
Quickly, you reach out and press your palm against the sliding entrance, keeping it inside the frame as the stranger swiftly slides through.
You watch as he gratefully slumps against the railing, seemingly out of breath as he nods his appreciation and allows you to release your hand.
“Thank you,” he exhales, head dropping back against the wall as the elevator takes off. “Thought I was gonna have to take the stairs.”
“No problem,” you return before gesturing toward the buttons. “Which floor?”
“Fifth,” he answers, smiling when he notices it’s already been selected. “You, too?”
“Yeah, I work in the lab.”
Curious, the man straightens up. “No kidding. You’re one of the engineers?”
“Mhm. For about four years now.”
“No fucking way,” he replies, studying you with interest. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, actually. Pay is good, hours are better.”
“Ah, very nice,” he muses. “In that case, do you think you’d be able to show me to Prescott’s office?”
“Sure. I’m headed there now, actually.”
“Yeah?” His head tilts. “Wait, shit…you wouldn’t be working on the Keaton Project, would you?” 
Surprised by his knowledge on your current work, you blink. “Uh…yes, actually. How did you…?”
“I’ve been hired to help with your development operations,” he tells you. “Just for a couple weeks, see where you’re at.”
“Oh, that’s good. Harry and I could use the help.”
The mystery man smirks. “Good. S’what I like to hear.”
With that, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, allowing you and the stranger to begin down the hall and toward the main office.
After a rather interesting discussion with Mr. Prescott, you learn a bit more about Lucas, your new project partner. 
He’s incredibly smart and well spoken, he’s got some wonderful ideas for the website, and he’s absolutely going to drive Harry up the goddamn wall.
You’re practically giddy as you lead Lucas back to the lab to help him get set up. Already imagining the scowl on Harry’s face when he learns he’ll be sharing a space with someone else. Someone arguably much better suited for the position and with much fresher ideas. 
Unfortunately, Harry has already left for the day by the time you return. And while you’re somewhat disappointed that you’ll have to wait on the introductions, you use the rest of the shift to get acquainted with Lucas.
Turns out, he’s delightful, and you laugh harder with him than you have anybody else in a long time. He’s rather flirty, too, you notice, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to have such forward attention and you revel in his sneaky smiles and playful remarks.
You leave the lab that afternoon with a large grin, laughing when he calls, “Goodbye, Duchess,” as you walk out the door.
Come Monday morning, Harry is in a foul mood. You notice it before he’s even set foot into the room, the exasperated expression on his face visible from the parking lot.
He walks differently when he’s upset, you realize. With his hunched shoulders, clenched fists, and heavy footsteps that echo through the halls.
Everyone within a hundred-foot radius takes notice, shooting him odd looks as he strides by, but he pays them no mind. Instead making a beeline for his corner of the room where you reside before throwing his things down with a huff.
“Morning, Sunshine,” you call, turning in your chair to watch while he slumps into his. “What the hell is going on with your hair? It looks…well, like shit.”
A venomous glare is shot through the dark frames of his glasses. “Blow me, Princess. I’m not in the fucking mood today.”
“I can see that,” you reply calmly, hiding a smirk behind the rim of your coffee mug. “Hope you’re at least a little nicer to the new guy.”
Harry’s frazzled and irritated shuffling stills. “What new guy?”
“The new guy,” you say, nodding toward Lucas who’s beginning to make his way through the lab. “Prescott told you, right? He’s working with us for the next couple of weeks on development operations.”
Harry’s attention follows the tall, lanky figure as he moves between the tables, a frown beginning to form. “What the fuck?” he scoffs quietly but full of repulsion. “I’m sorry, since when do we need a fucking babysitter?”
“He’s not a babysitter, Harold. He’s just extra help—”
“We don’t need extra help,” Harry bites back. “Okay, I had it covered—”
“Clearly, yeah. Is that why the simulation kept glitching—”
“It wasn’t glitching, the code was just off. But I had it handled—”
“Sure, yeah. Obviously. That’s why Prescott hired someone else—”
“Duchess,” comes a new addition to the conversation, forcing you and Harry to lean back as Lucas approaches. “Hey, listen. Thank you again for showing me where to set up my shit, I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” you return with a smile. “Seriously, anything we can help you with, just let us know.”
He nods. “Perfect, yeah. Most of it is just working on the HTML, but eventually I’d like your input on the file transfer.”
Peeved, Harry’s eyes flitter across the man’s face. “Right. And you are?”
“Lucas,” he replies brightly, offering you both a charming smile. “Yeah, sorry. Met Duchess here the other day on the elevator. You must be…Harry, right?”
Harry’s eyebrows begin to weave together, broad shoulders straightening up ever-so-slightly. “Why the fuck were you in our elevator?”
“Well, Duchess was showing me up to the lab," Lucas says, nodding his chin at you while you share a smirk. "Helped me set up, which was really sweet.”
You wave the compliment away while Harry slowly turns to you and subtly mouths, “Duchess?”
You shoot him a pointed look. “Yes. Well. Anyway, Harry and I are really excited about working with you. Aren’t we?”
Harry merely returns your stare with a glare of his own before gritting his teeth. “Fucking ecstatic.”
If Lucas picks up on the charged air between you, he doesn’t comment on it, instead grinning again as he steps back. “Perfect. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
You nod. “Absolutely. Oh, we’re still on for lunch, right?”
“Of course,” he calls before returning to the hallway, leaving you with a very displeased partner. 
You blink.
“Lunch?” Harry repeats, almost incredulously. “You’re having fucking lunch with the babysitter now?”
You snort. “It’s lunch, not an orgy. Relax, Harold—”
“And what the fuck is with the degrading nickname?” he continues, nodding his chin in the direction Lucas disappeared to before nudging his glasses back up. “He sounds like a fucking twat.”
“For your information, Duchess means queen,” you tell him haughtily. “And I love it. It’s a lot nicer than anything you call me.”
“I call you the same fucking thing—”
“No, you call me Tinkerbell,” you correct. “And Princess. Which is nice. But Queen trumps Princess. Sorry.”
He makes another noise before spinning around in his seat, turning his back to you. “Fucking ridiculous. Fine, have your fucking tea parties and your fucking nicknames while I get some real shit done.”
“It’s not a tea party, it’s lunch—”
“Oh, my apologies, your Royal Fucking Highness.”
You smirk.
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“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Got it stuck right up there. Poor thing had to go to the emergency room just to get it removed.”
Lucas laughs – a loud, infectious laugh – while glancing down at his plate with a shake of his head. “Shit. I bet he enjoyed that.”
“No. No, not at all,” you chuckle. “And he wouldn’t speak to me for about a week afterward. Honestly? It was the best week of my life.”
“I imagine.” He runs a long finger around the rim of his glass in thought. “So, he’s always been like that, then? Kind of…sullen? And moody?”
Smiling to yourself, you run through your memories of the brooding man you’ve known for years. Remembering the first day you met, and the way you instantly became enamored by those bright green eyes and chestnut curls.
“No,” you admit. “No, he used to be…fun. Nice. Shy, even.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he was…I mean, he was nervous, I think. It was one of his first jobs out of university, and I think he just wanted to do a good job.”
“Makes sense,” Lucas replies. “From what I’ve seen, he’s quite good at what he does.”
“He is,” you agree, almost begrudgingly. “Always has been, which is really annoying.”
He smiles. “So, what happened? What made him switch?”
You release a heavy sigh and shrug your shoulder. “Honestly…I don’t know. There was a bit of a dark period. He stopped talking to people, stopped going out. Got a motorcycle of all things. And then he just…wasn’t the same.”
“And he never talked about it?”
You snort. “No, Harry doesn’t…talk. About personal things. At least not with me. And asking never gets me anywhere.”
A quiet pause settles over your small table before Lucas leans closer.
“I think he trusts you, Duchess,” he says. “And I think he’s scared of how much.”
“That’s quite an observation from someone who just met him.”
“What can I say, it’s my superpower,” he teases. “But I mean it. His hostility felt…forced. Like he was putting up a wall to save face. And if he really didn’t like you…he wouldn’t spend so much of his time trying to be near you.”
It’s a nice thought. Sweet, even, and you’re almost tempted to entertain the idea.
But you know Harry. You know his cruel jokes, and his pensive demeanor. You know that he fucks to drown out the rest of the world, and that he’d rather spend the rest of his life alone than in someone else’s company.
So, you simply sigh, and offer Lucas another shrug. “Yeah, well. If that were the case, I’d hope he’d at least—”
“The fuck is all this?”
The two of you turn toward the sound of Harry’s huffed remark, smirking to yourselves when you see that familiar frown.
“Uh…lunch,” you reply calmly, raising an eyebrow. “Like I told you.”
Harry comes to a stop just beside the table, flicking his glare between you. “It takes you a fucking hour to eat?”
Your eyes narrow. “It hasn’t been an hour, and we were talking.”
“So you were wasting time?”
Lucas grins, and you catch the way he glances down at the table to hide his amusement.
You straighten up and direct your displeasure toward Harry. “We were not wasting time, we were eating and getting to know each other. Is that all right with you?”
“No,” Harry says simply, and it infuriates you. “You don’t get paid to talk shit.”
“We were not—” You suck in a sharp breath, silently commanding yourself to remain relaxed. “Do you want something?”
“Yes, actually. Prescott wants to see us.”
You blink. “Why?”
“Don’t know.”
You look to Lucas, confused and slightly annoyed while Lucas leans back curiously.
“I’ll come with you,” he offers as you both stand. “If it’s about the project, maybe I can help explain—”
“We don’t need your help,” Harry interjects bluntly. “And he didn’t ask for you. He asked for us.”
You shoot another peeved look his way. “Harry—”
“Really, it’s no problem,” Lucas tries. “I probably need to get caught up, anyway—”
“Then catch up on your own fucking time,” Harry nearly snaps, large hand outstretching to snatch onto your upper arm. “If we need you, we’ll ask for you.”
With that, he begins to drag you away from the table, leaving Lucas and his mystification behind.
Stumbling along, you begin to fight against Harry’s firm grip, already wildly annoyed. “What the fuck is your problem—”
“Your car is fixed, right?” is all he says, keeping his eyes forward as he leads you through the lobby and toward the parking lot.
You hesitate. “Uh…yeah? Why?”
“Where is it?”
Your lashes flutter as you look from him to the array of vehicles before you. “Um…there. By the tree.”
With a short nod, he yanks you forward, guiding you to your car without so much as an explanation. 
Still irritated, you slip yourself free right as he stops beside the trunk. “The hell are you doing—”
He opens the backdoor. “Get in.”
“What?”
“I said get in,” Harry repeats, “Duchess.”
You frown. “And why would I do that?” 
“Because I’m gonna fuck you.”
And you almost want to laugh because you can’t believe where he got the nerve. “You’ve got to be kidding—”
“I’m not,” he says, rather assuredly before guiding his glasses back up. “Get in.”
“Harry…this is so fucking—”
“Don’t care.” He nods his chin toward the backseat. “In, Princess.”
You reckon you should stand your ground and refuse him. Tell him how childish he’s being, how vulgar, how rude. Make it clear that he doesn’t get to stomp his foot and demand you do as you’re told just because he’s upset.
And yet…your legs urge you forward until you’re slipping inside the car and settling on the other side.
Harry follows suit, yanking the door shut to close out the rest of the world before facing you. “Take off your jeans.”
However, your expression is menacing as you begin to fumble with the zipper on your pants. “You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that?”
“Yeah,” he says simply, but he’s beginning to smile as he tugs off his own belt. “But I’m not as pathetic as whatever the fuck that was.”
“What was? A harmless, friendly lunch?”
“Please,” he snorts. “He was clearly flirting with you, and it was hard to watch.”
Your eyes roll as you tug your jeans down your legs. “He was not flirting with me, he was just being nice—”
“Guys aren’t nice,” he retorts. “Not for nothing. He wanted something from you, and I spared you from having to pretend you were interested. You’re welcome.”
“Oh, really? And what did he want? To fuck me? Like you so desperately want to do?”
He scoffs, but he’s smirking. “I fuck you to make you feel better.”
“Right, okay.” You wiggle your underwear down your thighs. “Who’s to say he wasn’t gonna do the same?”
“He wasn’t,” he replies simply. “Trust me. Get up.”
With a huff, you oblige, turning around so you can settle on your hands and knees while Harry gets situated behind you. Strong hands melding to your hips to keep you steady.
His fingers move to smooth between your cheeks and down to your cunt, stroking it softly to prepare you.
Then, he chuckles. “And who is this for, hm?” he taunts, dipping into your arousal to spread it around. Ignoring the way you inhale a sharp hiss. “Me or him?”
You brace yourself against the seat of the car, chin dropping to your chest. “Him,” you grit. “Obviously.”
Harry hums, thumbing at your clit. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, there’s a sharp smack to your left ass cheek that makes you reel, the pain instantly dissolving into pleasure as you whine. 
“Try again,” he tsks before slipping a practiced finger inside. “And this time…be honest.”
“I’m always honest,” you argue, already breathless from the feel of his touch. “How could it ever be for you?”
You can’t see him, but you imagine he’s smiling, entertained by your bratty behavior as he adds a second digit. Curling and pumping at a deliciously slow pace. 
“You’re right,” he finally answers. “You hate me. You’d never get wet for me.”
You swallow another noise. “Exactly.”
“And if I fuck you…you’ll moan his name. Won’t you, Tink?” 
“Yes.”
“Think about him the whole time. Beg him for what you think he can give you.”
“Shit—”
“Imagine his tiny, soft little cock. Too small to get you off. Probably wouldn’t even feel it, would you?”
He’s cruel. Sadistic and outrageously annoying. But he knows exactly how to play you, and you damn him to hell for how well it works. 
He reaches around your body to tug your shirt up, pushing it over your tits until he can take a nice handful.
You love his hands. Love the way his skin feels against yours. The way he tweaks your nipple and rolls it around.
“Like that, don’t you?” he coos, the rhythm of his strokes through your pussy ever steady. “Know you do. Cause I know your body, Princess. Better than he ever will.”
You try to ignore the pleasure that ripples across the deep of your stomach, keeping your focus on the stitching beneath you. You hate when he’s right.
Suddenly, and without warning, he rips his fingers out, leaving you empty and dripping while you groan.
“Easy,” he tuts, now tugging his cock free. He shifts some, propping his leg up onto the seat while his other foot remains on the floor. “Gonna have to be quick, aren’t we? Since you wasted so much of our lunch break with him.”
You exhale a scoff at this, glancing back just long enough to glare.
He grins.
“Stay still,” he instructs, dragging the tip through your folds. Spreading you gently and moaning when he sees his cock glisten with you. “Just like that, s’a good girl. Gonna make it better. Gonna fuck you right.”
The first push in is heaven. It always is, and you aren’t sure why. Like adding the final piece to the puzzle. Complete, in a sense.
Your nails curl into the seat below, a futile attempt at finding some stability as his thick cock stretches you open. 
You hear him hiss through gritted teeth, his hands once again finding your waist to hold you in place. “Breathe,” he suddenly calls, smacking your leg once. “You’re not breathing.”
“Sorry,” you gasp, forcing air back into your lungs. “Don’t…don’t know why I do that.”
He makes a small, entertained noise before allowing you a moment to adjust. “Feels that good, yeah? Do I take your breath away?”
“Blow me,” you retort, but you can’t help smiling. 
Finally, he settles himself all the way, sinking into your warm cunt rather comfortably as you both release sighs of relief. 
“There it is,” you hear him murmur, his fingers curling into your side before he pulls back. “Okay, easy. Easy, Tink, yeah? Shit—”
The rapid but hard pace is addictive. Perfectly full and pleasurable with each thrust and snap of his hips against your ass. 
Despite the somewhat small space, Harry finds a way to bend your body to his will. Keeping you below him as he drives himself faster and faster. Uncoordinated and unrhythmic. He’s merely chasing the feeling, chasing the way your pussy pulls him in. Clenches around him, soaks him, keeps him warm.  
“You know what?” he suddenly seethes, surging forward until he finds a new angle. “I think you were right…think you should have gone with him.”
You want to respond – want to make any other noise besides these strained whimpers, but it’s useless. Your voice forming around his name yet again as your toes curl.
“You were better before he came along,” he says, hand coming down to slap against your ass. The sound echoing around the tiny constraints of the vehicle. “Tighter. Needier. So fucking easy.”
Your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back. He’s feeding into the part of you that likes to be degraded, and you feel a chill dance down your spine.
“Did anything I fucking wanted. Took my cock like a good girl,” he continues. “Let me stretch you. Let me train you. Break you. Have my fucking way with my fucking pussy. Behaved so well for me.”
Another spank is had to your tender skin, and you cry out as you bury yourself into the seat below.
“Now, well…now you're just useless to me. Aren’t you, Princess?” His movements get sloppier. Faster. “Now you waste your time with him.”
In any other moment, you’d refute his comments. Play his game, egg him on.
But in this moment – a moment where your singular focus is him and only him – you find that you can only shake your head quickly and with misery. “No. No, just you.”
You hear him chuckle, and it makes a new wave of arousal rush between your legs. A type of praise you thrive on. “Just me, huh? But you’re not my whore anymore, are you? You’re his—”
“No,” you whimper, writhing when he reaches down to press his fingers to your clit. “Yours…you…only you.”
“I don’t know, Tink. Seemed awful smitten with him. Same way you used to be smitten with me—”
You can do nothing but whine pitifully as you push back into his touch, ass raised and spread in front of him.
Another smack ripples across your cheek before he kneads the flesh with his free hand, circling your clit with the other. “What? What do you wanna say, baby, hm? Wanna beg me to let you cum? Is that what you want?”
You try to nod, but your cheek is pressed firmly to the seat of the car. 
“I know you’re close,” he murmurs, shifting some so he has a better position to fuck himself into you quicker. “God, you’re so fucking close. Can feel your pretty little walls clamping down on me. You’re fucking shaking, baby, come on. Come on, let go. I’ll let you cum. Go ahead.”
To accompany his instruction, he begins to rub the sensitive nerves in a harder fashion. Pressing them down as he forces your body to comply.
It happens all in the same moment. There’s no time for preparation or warning as you release a strangled gasp that disappears into his equally fervent moan.
Instantly, he releases your clit to take hold of your hips with both hands, and slam his cock into you – sheathing himself completely as he releases his load.
It’s familiar and incredible. The car is hot and filled with the sounds of your ecstasy. You’re drowning in it – drowning in him. In the way he makes you feel, in the blinding pleasure that still travels down the back of your neck all the way to your toes.
It’s deep and it’s full and it’s endless. One of the best you’ve had, and you can’t help but smile as you work to catch your breath.
You begin to slump forward as Harry chases after you. Slipping his arm beneath your stomach to keep you upright and turn you toward him as his cock slips out. 
“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, glancing over the part of your face he can see. “You all right? You breathing?”
You nod weakly. “Mhm. M’good. So good.”
You catch his soft smile. “Good.”
He reaches for your panties, gently dragging them back up until they settle around your hips. Keeping what’s left of his cum inside of you.
“Just in case Lucas gets any ideas,” he teases, shooting you a wink before helping you sit up. 
You both begin to wrangle your clothing back on, redoing belts and buttons as you work to catch your breath. 
Oddly enough, Harry doesn’t rush to exit the car, and you find yourself somewhat surprised. Instead, he merely readjusts his glasses, runs a hand through his hair, and slumps back against the seat.
And for some reason, the sight of his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils makes you grin. And you find that you can’t resist moving closer and crawling onto his lap.
Once you’re straddled across his thighs, you dip down, and take his lips with yours. Kissing him hard and with everything you haven’t been able to give him before, ignoring his look of his surprise. 
But he kisses you back, exactly the way you knew he would. Taking hold of your body once more to keep you close.
Tongues and teeth clash – it’s messy and rushed, yet effortless and easy. And you can’t help but smile giddily as you tug on his bottom lip.
When you finally pull back to breathe, Harry is wearing a similar expression, seemingly dazed and amused as he holds you on his lap.
Chuckling, you swipe your thumb across his mouth. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”
He nips at your finger to make you squeal. “I know.”
A quiet moment settles then as you study him, feeling entranced and relaxed by the soft green behind his crooked glasses.
With a gentle smirk, you push them back up, and whisper, “Were you really jealous?”
His snobby scoff makes you laugh. “I was not fucking jealous, Tinkerbell. You just don’t know him.”
“Neither do you,” you retort. “He’s really nice. He just wants to help.”
He groans again, letting his head drop back. “For fuck’s sake, Princess. You’re so goddamn trusting—”
“Yeah, I am. After all, I trust you.”
His eyes fall to yours. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He smiles again, and you feel your heart flutter. Reminded yet again of the way things used to be – a time before the hostility and angry comments.
You think back to what Lucas said. His inquiry on the shift, and while you’re sure nothing good can come from your prying, you find yourself asking, “What happened?”
Harry blinks. “What?”
“To you. To us, I guess,” you ask, growing oddly nervous under his confused stare. “When you first started, you were so…nice. And happy. And sweet, even.”
His expression falls, settling into a chilling frown.
“And then…I don’t know, something happened,” you continue, now a bit quieter. “You changed, you got…angry, and tense, and you just…you hid yourself away, you know? And don’t get me wrong, I like bickering with you, I just…I guess I’ve always wondered what…went…wrong?”
You feel him tense beneath you. The way his hands tighten and the way that soft green turns into a raging storm of indifference and spite.
Almost within the blink of an eye, he disappears into another version of himself. One that refuses to participate in this discussion and one that desperately wants to remove himself from you.
You can feel him slipping away. Can feel the drop in your stomach – a pit a mile deep. Normally, you like to piss him off. But this is different, this is…this isn’t what you want.
He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing once. “Why does it fucking matter?”
“I don’t…I guess it doesn’t,” you stammer, shrugging once. “I just wondered, is all. I don’t mind, or anything, I just…I was thinking about it—”
“Why?”
“I…I don’t know. Lucas asked, and I thought—”
“Lucas?” It’s a venomous scoff that makes you jolt. “Let me guess. He was just trying to help—”
“No, he just…he asked what you were like, and I said that you…you—”
“I what?”
“That…fuck, I just said things used to be different,” you huff, but your cheeks feel warm. You’re embarrassed. Disappointed in yourself for pushing. For ruining the first calm moment the two of you have ever shared. “And it made me think about it, so I…I wanted to ask—”
“Well don’t,” he seethes, releasing your waist as if trying to get away from you. “It’s none of your fucking business.”
“I know,” you agree, sliding off his lap to give him a bit of space. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…I thought maybe I could help.”
He shoots you a look that splits right through you. It’s cold and it’s incredulous and it makes your throat run dry. 
“Why?” he says again, studying you closely. “Why the fuck would you want to help?”
Truthfully, you aren’t sure. “I don’t know. Maybe because there’s a part of me…a very small part…that doesn’t totally hate you? I guess?”
You wince as you say it. You hate the way it sounds. Hate what it implies because you do hate him. 
But not enough to leave him when he needs you.
Harry’s lashes flutter at your response, and he watches you for a moment more before he leans back, and his expression twists.
“Yeah, well…it doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, almost to himself as he reaches for the handle on the door. “So don’t fucking worry about it.”
Confused and somewhat dejected, you lean forward. “Har—”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“…what?”
He sighs, looking down toward the floor. Refusing your eye. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t…I don’t want to do this. With you. It’s too fucking…there’s too much extra shit. All right, it was fun, but I don’t…I’m done.”
There are a hundred things you want to say. A hundred excuses, a hundred pleas, a hundred retorts.
But none of them feel fitting as you watch him push the door open and step out. 
He hesitates, almost as though expecting you to stop him. To argue and call him back.
Yet you don’t. Because you know that nothing you say will ever be able to change his mind.
He’s already decided.
“Fine,” you whisper, offering a short nod. “Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”
He looks at you. Finally. Expression filled with a solemn sort of goodbye before he nods as well.
And the door slams shut.
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