Meeting her || H.S
Author's note: The following piece is based on The Golden Boy one short from earlier in the year. This story will be how Harry and Y/N met. This took place before the World Cup . This is going to be a three-part story! This is part one. I hope you enjoy! The next part will have smut. Let me know what you think
PS: these IA pictures are getting out of hand.
masterlist
word count: 5.1K
As the autumn leaves danced in the crisp Manchester breeze, Y/N found herself lost in the beauty of this new city. Having recently moved here, her life felt like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with new experiences and adventures. One such adventure awaited her on a chilly evening, as her friend Emma invited her to dinner with her new boyfriend, Harry.
They first met in college during their second year. Y/N got invited to her first party but didn't know anyone. Everything turned around when Emma bumped into her in the kitchen. As the years went by, their friendship got stronger. But when Y/N switched her major to art, things took a turn. Emma didn't like the decision and started keeping her distance.
Y/N came back to Manchester after spending nearly a year in Italy. During her time there, she learned a new way to paint and work with ceramics. Even though her family was closer, she felt a bit out of place, like a foreigner, in her own native country.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N's phone buzzed with a message notification and a follow request on Instagram from Emma. Curiosity piqued; Y/N opened the app to find a warm greeting from her old friend. Emma had just learned that Y/N was back in town and was eager to reconnect and catch up on all the happenings since their last meeting. Ever since, they've been regularly meeting up for lunch dates, dinners, and various events.
Emma had been excitedly telling Y/N about Harry for weeks, and tonight was the night she was going to meet him. She kept going on about how he was a professional football player, having just joined Manchester United, and how his salary was sky-high, potentially making him extremely wealthy. Emma was evidently proud of this and made sure to let Y/N know, almost bragging about it.
They met at a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, where the aroma of delicious food filled the air. Emma was beaming with excitement, introducing Y/N to Harry as he greeted them with a warm smile. He was handsome, with kind eyes that seemed to reflect his genuine personality.
"Y/N, this is Harry," Emma said enthusiastically.
"Nice to meet you, Harry," Y/N replied with a friendly smile, extending her hand for a handshake.
"The pleasure's mine," he responded politely. "I've heard that you're an artist."
Y/N nodded shyly, "Yeah, mostly into paintings and ceramics."
“Anything that we might have seen?”
"Nothing. She's just a beginner, honey," Emma interrupted before Y/N could respond. "She just returned from Italy from picking up a new skill, hoping it might help her sell and turn a profit. You know how it is in the art world – always searching for that breakthrough.”
Y/N felt a momentary offense, a twinge of embarrassment sweeping over her. Not everything Emma had said was entirely accurate. While it was true that everyone aspired to a breakthrough, Y/N had already experienced one, prompting her journey to Italy. Having been invited there, she returned to Manchester with a renewed focus on opening her first gallery. Whispers of her name began circulating in the corners of the art world.
"Fortunately, Harry has already had his breakthrough," Emma added before taking a sip of her martini.
Emma's chatter mostly revolved around Harry's career, the glamorous lifestyle associated with professional football, and the immense potential for wealth. While Harry remained modest and humble about his achievements, Y/N could sense a hint of discomfort in his eyes.
Y/N was someone who valued depth in conversation, she yearned for more than just the superficial. Emma's constant emphasis on Harry's financial prospects was getting on her nerves, but she held her tongue, not wanting to jeopardize her friendship. It was rare for her to have friends, and she didn't want to ruin this budding friendship.
Throughout the evening, she observed Harry, realizing that he was a genuinely kind and down-to-earth person. He seemed uncomfortable with the focus on his financial success, preferring to discuss other aspects of life. Their conversation flowed naturally when they discussed their interests, hobbies, and favorite books.
As the night progressed, Y/N found herself connecting with Harry on a deeper level, appreciating his humility and kindness. Despite the initial annoyance caused by Emma's bragging, she discovered a potential friend in Harry—one who valued genuine connections over monetary gains.
"So, how was Italy? Is it everything that people say?" Harry inquired, his curiosity evident. Having not yet ventured outside the country, most of his experiences were rooted in local settings, particularly in the realm of his games. Eager to hear about Y/N's international adventure, he leaned in, genuinely interested in the tales she might share about the enchanting country he had yet to explore himself.
Y/N smiled, taking a sip of her drink before launching into her narrative. “It is everything and more. The art, the history, the landscapes – it's like a dream. I ended up indulging in the most amazing pasta dishes. And the art is in every corner.”
Harry's eyes widened with interest, "Really? What kind of art did you see?"
Y/N's enthusiasm bubbled as she shared, "Everything from Renaissance masterpieces to contemporary street art”.
As the evening came to a close, she felt a sense of contentment. She had made a new friend in Harry, someone who shared her appreciation for genuine conversations and meaningful connections. Little did she know, this chance encounter would mark the beginning of a beautiful friendship that would enrich her life in more ways than she could have imagined.
Throughout the week, Emma continued to invite her to various events, eager to integrate her into her social circle. One evening, she invited Y/N to attend a football game where Harry would be playing. Y/N was genuinely excited about the prospect of watching a live game and supporting Harry, but Emma's comment about dressing up and putting on makeup stung.
"You should definitely come to the game! It's going to be so much fun. Dress up a bit and maybe put on some makeup—you never know, you might catch someone of Harry's caliber," she said with a wink, attempting to make it sound like a lighthearted joke.
Y/N forced a smile, masking the hurt she felt. It was clear Emma was implying that Harry was out of her league or that she needed to "improve" her appearance to even be in the same league as her or him. She wasn't confrontational by nature, so she simply replied, "Thanks for the invite, Emma. I'll see if I can make it."
As the day of the game approached, Y/N debated whether to attend. The comment had left a lingering discomfort, making her question if she should subject herself to such superficial judgments. But her curiosity to watch the game and support Harry won in the end.
On the day of the game, she wore a casual yet presentable outfit, wanting to feel comfortable and confident in her own skin. She met Emma at the stadium, where she greeted her with excitement.
“I'm so glad you made it! This is going to be amazing," she exclaimed.
“Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," Y/N replied, attempting to infuse her response with enthusiasm, though beneath the surface, nerves churned. Anticipation mingled with apprehension as she contemplated the upcoming interaction. Y/N couldn't shake the memory of previous encounters, where backhanded comments and thinly veiled compliments had become a common thread.
As they took their seats, the atmosphere in the stadium was electric. The crowd's energy was infectious, and she found herself caught up in the excitement of the game. Watching Harry play was impressive—his skill and passion for the sport were evident.
Amidst the cheers and celebrations, Emma leaned over and said, "Isn't he amazing on the field? Imagine being with someone like him."
Her words struck a chord, reminding Y/N of the shallow perspective she seemed to have about relationships. She chose to focus on the game and cheer for Harry, pushing aside the hurt she felt. Deep down, she knew she deserved genuine connections and friendships that weren't based on appearance or someone's profession.
As the game ended and they made their way out of the stadium, she appreciated the experience and the opportunity to support Harry. However, she also realized the importance of surrounding herself with people who valued her for who she was, rather than making her feel inadequate or lesser than because of societal standards or external perceptions.
She continued to focus on her art, pouring her heart and soul into the canvas as she prepared for her upcoming art show. Emma's persistent invitations and comments had left a mark, and she found solace in the therapeutic strokes of her paintbrush. To protect her mental health and maintain her sense of self-worth, she began gently declining Emma's invitations and started distancing herself from her.
One afternoon, while heading to the art supply store, she unexpectedly crossed paths with none other than Harry. Her hair was up in a messy bun, glasses perched on her nose, and she was wearing baggy clothes slightly adorned with paint stains. She greeted him with a warm smile, surprised yet pleased to see him.
"Harry! Fancy running into you here," she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face.
"Hey! How have you been?" he responded, his friendly demeanor putting her at ease. Sporting athletic attire, he appeared in the midst of post-run casualness, on his way back to his apartment.
"I've been busy with work, preparing for an art show. It's been quite hectic," she explained.
"That sounds amazing! An art show? I'd love to see your work," Harry exclaimed, genuinely interested.
"Sure! You and Emma are more than welcome to come. It's on Saturday evening," she extended the invitation, acknowledging his enthusiasm. Including Emma felt like the courteous thing to do, although she harbored no intention of having her presence at the event.
"Where are you off to?" Harry inquired, his eyes drawn to her appearance and the sizable tote bag slung over her shoulder. He found the sight rather adorable. Harry admired her confidence and the unique way she expressed herself. While he hadn't seen her art yet, he was convinced that if it reflected even a fraction of her personality, it would undoubtedly be incredible.
Curiosity sparked in his eyes as he awaited her response, eager to understand the purpose behind the tote bag and the destination that had captured her attention on this particular day. The genuine interest he took in her pursuits was evident, a testament to the budding connection between them.
"I'm headed to the supply store. Ran out of a few things in the middle of a painting session," she explained, a hint of frustration in her voice. Having to cut her creative session short was always a predicament, leaving her feeling somewhat scattered. "That's why I look like such a mess," Y/N felt compelled to clarify, a touch of self-consciousness in her admission.
"Mind if I tag along?" Harry inquired, his reluctance to head to his apartment evident. The idea of being alone didn't appeal to him, and his living space still carried the lingering feeling of belonging to someone else.
"No problem. I just hope it won't be too boring for you," she said, a sudden nervousness creeping in. It felt akin to introducing a boyfriend to her parents, as he was about to witness a small yet intimate aspect of her life—her painting ritual. Despite the nerves, a giddy excitement bubbled within her. Rarely had someone shown enough interest in her work to accompany her in such moments.
As they strolled, they exchanged stories about their lives—his experiences with football, her passion for art, and the challenges and joys they both faced. Harry shared the excitement and pressure of being a professional athlete, and she talked about the joys and struggles of being an artist.
And Harry asked with genuine concern, "I noticed you've been a bit distant lately. Is everything okay?"
She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share her feelings. But seeing his kind and understanding demeanor, she decided to be honest. "To be honest, Emma's comments have been bothering me. It felt like she was implying that I'm not good enough” Y/N shook her head, attempting to banish the same thoughts that had haunted her for years. "Or maybe I just misinterpreted her words," she mused, a flicker of uncertainty lingering in her mind.
Harry's eyes softened, understanding the weight of her words. "I'm so sorry you felt that way. Emma can be a bit... oblivious at times.”
His words warmed her heart, reassuring her that true friendships were built on understanding and mutual respect.
"We're here," Y/N announced, swinging open the door of a small but charming store. "Hi, George!" she greeted, waving enthusiastically to the elderly man stationed behind the counter at the back.
"Ms. Y/L/N! Good to see you! How's that collection coming along?" George, a familiar face and one of her most significant suppliers, recognized her immediately. He had even gone the extra mile to order specific brushes and paints for her, a testament to his belief in her talent.
"Oh, it's going!" Y/N chuckled, making her way to the paint aisle. "This is my friend Harry, George." Harry beamed, waving like an excited child being introduced to a stranger.
"Mr. Styles! Number nine in Manchester, right?" George exclaimed, recognizing him. "Great season you're having! It's good to have you."
"Thank you," Harry responded shyly, still adjusting to being recognized and receiving compliments from strangers.
"You're not going to swap me for Harry, are you, George?" Y/N teased as she bent down to reach for spatulas and sponges on the bottom shelf.
"Never. Still my favorite," George assured, prompting chuckles from both Harry and Y/N as they continued their joint venture, collecting items from Y/N's list and heading towards the checkout.
As Y/N gathered her art supplies, Harry couldn't help but admire the quaint charm of the store. It was filled with the rich scent of pigments and the subtle aroma of wooden easels. The artistic ambiance enveloped them as George continued to chat with Harry, discussing his recent successes in Manchester.
As they bid farewell to George, the doorbell chimed, marking the end of their visit. Stepping back into the bustling street, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the support she received, not only from her favorite art supplier but also from Harry, who had ventured into her world with genuine interest and a bright smile.
"That was wonderful. Thank you for taking me," Harry commented warmly, carrying Y/N's tote bag through the lively streets. The cityscape buzzed around them, a backdrop to the shared experience they had just enjoyed.
Y/N smiled in response, her eyes reflecting gratitude. "Thank you for coming. It means a lot," she admitted, a subtle vulnerability in her tone. "No one has ever accompanied me to these sorts of things."
Harry's smile broadened, understanding the significance of those words. The weight of being the first to share in a part of Y/N's world tugged at his heartstrings. As they walked side by side, the city lights flickering overhead, an unspoken connection blossomed between them.
They found themselves enveloped in a comfortable silence, the echoes of their shared laughter still resonating in the air. The streets, alive with the rhythm of urban life, seemed to dance to an unspoken melody that mirrored the newfound understanding between Harry and Y/N.
Harry accompanied her all the way to her apartment, insisting on ensuring her safe arrival.
"I'll see you at the art show," Y/N said, her voice carrying a mixture of anticipation and gratitude. She gave him a quick but warm hug before disappearing into the foyer of the building. The promise of their reunion at the upcoming art show lingered in the air, a shared moment they both looked forward to. As Y/N disappeared from view, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of contentment. The day had been filled with meaningful conversations, different from his usual exchanges with his girlfriend.
On the night of the art show, the venue was buzzing with people who had gathered to appreciate and celebrate art. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with an array of colors, emotions, and creativity. She was both excited and nervous, eager to share her work with others.
Not only were her paintings displayed on the wall, but her ceramics pieces adorned the space as well.
As the evening progressed, Y/N noticed Harry and Emma arriving, accompanied by a couple of Harry's friends. She greeted them warmly, hoping for a pleasant evening. However, it didn't take long for the mood to sour.
Emma's disapproving looks and hostile demeanor became evident as she roamed around the exhibition. Her discomfort seemed to intensify with each piece she viewed, as if she couldn't bear to see Y/N in the spotlight.
"What am I even looking at?" Emma whispered to Harry as they stood amidst a sizable crowd gathered around one of Y/N's largest paintings. "And why is everyone gawking? It's not a big deal; everyone can do it." Harry stayed silent; his attention fully absorbed by the intricate details of the artwork.
"Stop it," Harry gently pulled her hand, attempting to hush her down. "You're being rude." However, he couldn't deny that Y/N's creation was something truly unique. The canvas held an amalgamation of colors and emotions that seemed to dance and intertwine, capturing the essence of her artistic vision.
As the crowd marveled at the masterpiece, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Y/N. Her work, a reflection of her passion and creativity, had garnered the attention and admiration of those present. He admired the way she fearlessly poured herself into her art, creating something that not only spoke to him but resonated with a broader audience.
Despite Emma's dismissive comments, Harry recognized the significance of Y/N's talent. He hoped that, with time, Emma might come to appreciate the artistry that captured the attention and imagination of so many.
“Let’s go. Why are we even here?” Emma turned to Harry and his friends, “She is not even that close of a friend. She is just a struggling artist”.
Unbeknownst to Emma, Y/N stood silently behind her, absorbing every single word that had slipped from Emma's lips. The gallery buzzed with the murmur of impressed onlookers, blissfully unaware that the subject of their discussion was right there, an invisible presence in the sea of admirers.
Y/N's heart sank at Emma's dismissive comments, her vulnerability exposed to the unintended audience. The weight of those words settled on her shoulders, adding a layer of discomfort to the pride she felt for her creations. Yet, she chose to linger in the shadows, absorbing the unfiltered opinions that echoed in the gallery space.
“Emma, that’s enough” Harry interjected, his voice carrying a mix of anger and concern.
As Emma turned around, her gaze met Y/N's, and the air grew thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N, having overheard every word of Emma's critique, stood there, a silent witness to the candid commentary. The sudden realization that Y/N had been present all along cast a veil of nervousness over Emma.
Caught off guard, Emma's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The vibrant atmosphere of the gallery seemed to dim momentarily; the weight of the words exchanged lingering in the space between them.
Ignoring him, Emma cleared her throat, her voice sharp and accusatory, "You've been avoiding me, Y/N. I don't appreciate being treated this way, especially after everything I've done for you." Caught in the discomfort of the moment, Emma felt the need to assign blame. Admitting fault was inconceivable, especially in front of Harry and his friends; maintaining a positive image was paramount. Emma couldn't afford to be perceived as a negative force, and so, the instinct to shift responsibility to another party took hold. The desire to preserve her reputation and uphold a facade of positivity outweighed the need for genuine self-reflection.
Y/N tried to maintain her composure, choosing her words carefully. "I've been busy preparing for this show and focusing on my art. I never meant to make you feel ignored."
Emma's face twisted into a bitter expression, and she snapped, "You think you're so special with your art, don't you? No one cares, Y/N. I stopped talking to you in college because of these same reasons. You need to realize that you made a mistake by changing majors. Art is not going to feed you.”
The threat stung, hitting close to home. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and collected despite the rising humiliation. "Let's discuss this later, privately."
She was relentless, determined to exert her dominance. "No, we'll discuss it now. Harry, tell her she's out of line."
Harry, torn between loyalty and what was right, looked conflicted. "Emma, maybe now's not the best time—"
Emma cut him off, her voice venomous, "Oh, so now you're siding with her? Fine, have it your way."
She stormed off, leaving Harry visibly troubled and Y/N mortified in front of his friends and other attendees. She wished the ground would swallow her whole, but she reminded herself that she had done nothing wrong.
Harry approached her, his eyes filled with apology. "I'm so sorry. She was completely out of line."
She forced a small smile, trying to brush it off. "It's alright, Harry. Let's not let this ruin the evening."
Deep down, she knew she deserved better than Emma's toxic behavior. As the night unfolded, she chose to focus on the genuine appreciation she received for her art, determined to rise above the negativity and continue pursuing her passion and genuine friendships.
After the tumultuous confrontation with Emma, the art show continued, and she tried her best to immerse herself in the joy of sharing her work with appreciative art lovers. The support and admiration she received from the attendees helped ease the sting of Emma's outburst, allowing her to refocus on the success of the evening.
As the night came to a close, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Several of her pieces had been sold, and the positive feedback had boosted her confidence as an artist. She was both proud and grateful for the experience.
As she started to wrap things up and close the gallery, she noticed Harry waiting outside. His presence was a comforting sight after the rollercoaster of emotions she had endured throughout the evening.
"Hey," she greeted, trying to offer a genuine smile despite the lingering discomfort.
"Hey, congratulations on a successful show," Harry said warmly, genuinely pleased for her.
"Thank you. It means a lot," she replied, feeling a sense of relief knowing that the worst was behind her.
"Look, Y/N, I'm really sorry about Emma's behavior. That was completely uncalled for," Harry apologized again, sincerity in his eyes.
She appreciated his concern and understanding. "Thank you, Harry. I know you tried to intervene, and I appreciate that."
Harry nodded, and then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about we grab a bite to eat?"
A pang of hunger reminded her that she had skipped dinner in the whirlwind of the art show. "That sounds perfect. Let's go."
They found a nearby café and sat down, the atmosphere much more relaxed and pleasant than earlier in the evening.
Harry's presence was a balm to her earlier distress, and she was grateful for his kindness and understanding. Despite the events of the night, she felt a genuine connection with him, appreciating the way he had handled the situation and his willingness to stand by her.
As the night came to a close, and she bid Harry farewell, a mix of emotions swirled within her. There was a flutter in her heart, an undeniable attraction that had grown stronger throughout the evening. She had started to like Harry more than just a friend, and it made her nervous.
Y/N knew the reality of the situation. Harry was Emma's boyfriend, and pursuing anything beyond friendship with him would be a betrayal of their relationship. Loyalty and respect were paramount, and she wouldn't compromise those values for her own desires. She couldn't deny the chemistry and connection she felt, but she also understood the importance of boundaries and staying true to her principles. It was a delicate balance between her burgeoning feelings and her commitment to doing what was right.
In the following days, she wrestled with her emotions, trying to put distance between her heart and the potential complications that could arise. She focused on her art, pouring her feelings into her creations, finding solace in the brushstrokes that paint her emotions on the canvas.
That was until one day when she found herself at home, and the intercom unexpectedly rang.
"Ms. Y/L/N, there's a Harry Styles wanting to see you," the voice on the other end announced. Shock rippled through her; it had been a few weeks since she had last seen him. Y/N had purposely kept her distance, fully aware of the feelings that had developed within her.
"Yeah, let him in," she replied, a mix of anticipation and nervousness lingering in her voice. As she unlocked the door, she settled back into her painting, attempting to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions.
The front door creaked open, and soon, a soft knock echoed through the space. "Y/N?" Harry's rough voice called out, filling the room with a mixture of familiarity and uncertainty.
"In here," Harry heard from the foyer, prompting him to close the front door behind him. He followed the sound of her voice, traversing through the space until he finally located her. There she was, sitting on the wooden floor with legs crossed, her hair fashioned into a bun, and wearing glasses that complemented. her.
Harry cradled a warm brown paper bag, emanating the aromatic allure of Chinese cuisine. He knew of this particular restaurant that served delectable dishes, a tantalizing choice for his unhealthy food cravings. Eager to share this delightful find with Y/N, he approached her with a welcoming smile, lifting the bag in presentation.
"I brought some food," he announced, the tantalizing aroma wafting from the bag.
Curiosity sparked in Y/N's eyes as she inquired, "What is it?"
"Chinese," Harry nervously replied, hoping that his culinary choice would meet her approval.
"Good choice," Y/N commended, setting aside her brush and rising from the floor. It was at that moment that Harry couldn't help but notice her attire – a pair of overalls, worn with an easy casualness. However, the revelation didn't stop there; the absence of anything beneath the overalls exposed the side of her breast, a subtle detail that heightened the air of intimacy in the room. The vulnerability of the moment lingered, as did the tempting aroma of the Chinese delicacies. “Are you alright?”
“Y-yeah” he cleared his voice, “just hungry” Harry didn’t know if he meant for the meal or fo the sudden urge that he had to feel her breast. He recognized that Y/N had distanced herself, a mirror to the sentiments he harbored toward her. The desire to be close to her lingered within Harry, fueled by a genuine fondness. He admired her, not just for her presence but for the profound connection that blossomed in their conversations.
Harry appreciated the way she listened, her attention genuine and unwavering. In those moments, he felt more than heard; he felt understood on a level that transcended the superficial. Y/N held the key to unraveling his thoughts and emotions, creating a unique bond built on mutual understanding and genuine connection.
"How have you been?" Y/N inquired, taking the lead as she guided Harry towards the living room. The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and a hint of vulnerability. "I saw your match last week. You played really well."
Harry's response held a touch of concern, reflecting the echoes of unanswered messages that lingered between them. "I haven't heard from you since your art show. I thought you were mad at me," he confessed, revealing the worry that had gnawed at him.
"I just thought it would be best to gain some distance between us," Y/N explained, her movements deliberate as she set plates on the coffee table. The unspoken complexities of their connection hung in the air, entwined with a hint of secrecy. "I-I am sure that Emma wouldn't like to know that we are spending this much time together."
As soon as the word 'distance' left her lips, a palpable tension surged through Harry. Panic set in, triggering a rapid response. He hastily placed the bag down, reaching out for Y/N. In a swift motion, he grasped her wrist, pulling her towards him with a sense of urgency.
"Harry," Y/N cautioned, her hand pressed against his chest, attempting to maintain a boundary. Yet, defiance glinted in his eyes as he refused to relent. He freed her wrist, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other found its place behind her head, gently pushing her closer.
"No," he declared, the word hanging in the charged atmosphere. His lips met hers with a hunger that spoke volumes, a fusion of longing and passion. Initially resisting, Y/N succumbed to the intensity of the moment, reciprocating the kiss with an equal fervor. The living room became a stage for a silent exchange, where unspoken emotions and lingering desires found expression in the fervent embrace of their lips.
“Yeah, that’s exactly how I’d imagined it”
QUESTIONS OF CHAPTER (answer below) Do you condone Harry and Y/N’s actions? Do think Emma deserves get cheated on?
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Last Nerve H.S
Summary: Harry x Reader; Harry chooses a particularly rough day to be extra clingy leading to some events...
Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex, Sex, Spit
Word Count: 1530
Today was not the fucking day. It started this morning when Harry decided my sleep was more important than my 8 am board meeting, so he turned off the alarms. All of them. And guess who was late to one of the MOST important days of their career. That's right you guessed it, me.
Not only that but he's just constantly clinging to me from the moment I woke up in a panic to the moment I stepped foot through the door. I couldn't even take my shoes off without him near me. I love him but Jesus fuck.
I groan as I hear the handle in the bathroom giggle. "Yes, Harrold?" I huff.
"I just wanted to see you love."
"You've seen me literally all day" I sigh opening the door. "Actually, no I haven't." He smiles cheekily rubbing my side. I just roll my eyes and pad back to the bedroom. Unbuttoning my top and tugging my pants down. "How was work?" He asks from the bed.
"How do you think it was Harry?" Attitude prominent in my tone as I switch my shirt.
"Not bad?" He questions. I huff in annoyance as I turn to go downstairs but none the less, he follows. "So, was it bad?"
I just nod patience with him thinning incredibly fast. "Like bad or bad bad?"
"Bad bad Harry." He pouts and embraces me. "And all better now?"
Walk away. Walk away. "I'm gonna go pick dinner up, do you want anything?" He frowns "Why are you leaving to go pick the pizza up when they deliver?" He ask.
"I need the walk." And with that I head out before he can get another sound out.
-----25minutes later----
I think I'm okay. For now at least. Putting my key in the door and carrying the semi cold pizza in the other, I know one of two things may have happened when I left. The first being that he is mad or he's waiting. And I hope it's the first option.
"There you are, I thought you got lost." He sighs in relief.
"Its only three blocks away please calm your titties." He grins and I can't help but to smile back.
The pizza isn't half bad and where do you go wrong with old Friends re-runs. After we finish the show is still playing but Harry isn't paying it nearly as much attention as the hand he's holding. " You know I love you."
"I know Harrold." He just pouts
"You don't love me?" He asks pulling me into his lap discarding the remote.
"I do Harry, I really do but and I mean this in the nicest possible way, you're getting on my last nerve today."
He chuckles and points to himself, "Me? getting on your last nerve?" The aura in the room shifts, his eyes a deeper shade of green. Going to move from his lap he just places his hand on my hip.
"Where do you think you're going darling?" Before I could speak he just continues playing with my panty line.
"You know technically... " he says slowly with lingering hands. I feel my body shudder as his long fingers brush over my clit. "This is your last nerve." He continues rubbing the small nub through my panties, "I don't know about getting on it per say, but I'm sure there are other things I could do." When he halts his movements a whine escapes my lips with a sudden urge for him to make me cum. "Harry don't be a tease please."
"Tell me what you want y/n." He says smirking. "Shirt off Harrold." He grips the bottom of my shirt "nuh-uh Haz" he looks at me confused. "Yours." He quickly pulls his shirt over his head exposing his beautifully tatted body. I can feel my pussy dripping, but he knows better. Grabbing my shirt, I slowly take it off as he lets out an animalistic growl. Pulling my panties down while he watches I make my way to the arm of the couch as he hurriedly removes his pants and lays in front of me. Spreading my legs I run a finger through my folds he looks at me hungrily. Before I could speak to taunt him his lips where on my pussy .
"Fuck Harry, I didn't tell you to do that." I say between pants. He moans continuing to bury himself between my legs showing no mercy. His tongue teasing my hole. A string of moans and curse words leaving my lips and right now I'm praising this couch. He loops his arms around my thighs holding me in place as he continues to devour me, leaving no part of me untouched. Leaning on my elbows to watch him I feel myself nearing my edge as he looks at me. The sounds his mouth is making against my vagina is unholy for sure. He takes his thumb and presses random patterns onto my nub and I'm done for. My hands pulling his hair as my thighs clench around his head moaning out his name. He keeps kitten licking me as I come down from my high. "Harry." He raises an eyebrow while looking at my swollen labia "hmm?"
"Kiss me." He complies kissing me with force. I can taste myself on him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. His hand comes up to my throat applying pressure not too much but enough to make me want more. He forces my head up, "open your mouth darling, and don't you fucking close it. Got it?" I nod expecting him to stand and put his dick in my mouth but boy was I wrong. He inserts two fingers into my mouth and as I begin to suck them he pinches my bum " I said don't close that pretty fucking mouth." He says putting more pressure on my tongue. He looks like he's contemplating something before I could question it I feel something sliding down my throat.
My thighs clench together almost instantly. Its nasty but he makes it so hot, his spit gliding down my throat I swallow it as if it were my own. "Good girl." He takes his thumb and wipes my chin. Pulling me back down to the couch level. Looking at his throbbing length, his tip is so pink leaking with precum. I reach between us and line him up with my entrance. He runs his tip through my folds tapping my clit with it. "Am I getting on your last nerve y/n?" He whispers. "Are you Harry?" I ask before attacking the spot just below his ear, leaving a reminder for the both of us.
Grabbing his length and pushing him into me I begin moving my hips as he lets out the sexist moan in my ear. "So wet y/n" he grunts pushing into me all the way almost leaving me breathless.
"So tight" he moans as I clench around him. He feels so good inside of me. Rhythm of his own being made as he speeds up his thrust. He dips his head on my shoulder and attacks my collar bone with kisses sure to leave very visible marks all over. The pleasure from his lips sending my senses into overdrive but I need him to come first. Reaching up to kiss him it's just teeth clattering and moans being exchanged.
"You fuck me so good Harry." I whisper in his ear as he gives out a particularly hard thrust causing both of us to moan loudly, hitting a spot that has dots fading into my vision.
"M'gonna cum baby" he tells me as I tighten around him he pushes into me reaching around to rub my clit, I quickly grab his hand and lace our fingers together as he bites down hard filling me with his cum pushing through sloppy thrust. Once he finishes, he looks up at me.
"You didn't cum." He frowns. I grab his cheeks and softly kiss him.
" I don't think you know how hard it was for me not to cum again." He looks at me skeptically, " and why is that?" he ask placing little kisses on my breast. "You'll see if you ever take your dick out of me." He smirks and roughly grabs my jaw, " Your pussy's mine." He slowly pulls out watching our arousal drip out of me "fuck y/n" He whispers.
"Finish me off Harry, use it." He smiles at my request "You're such a dirty girl for me aren't you princess" He leans down and runs his tongue over the bruise he left on me as his fingers gather our mixture and he spreads it on my clit. He rubs fast circles edging me on using his middle and ring finger he pumps them nearly knuckle deep, occasionally brushing over my g-spot, whispering sweet nothings in my ears. My orgasm ripples through my body sending me into a world of pure bliss. Coming down from this high left me panting he just smirks at me, playing with the arousal that now adorns my thighs.
"look at the mess you've made darling"
A/N: Long time no see, well I have said that I wanted to get back into writing so here you are my loves. I wanted to disclose that this is also on my Wattpad ( fangirl_everythang) which contains more of my work that I’ll be posting. I figured I could reach a bigger audience this way but the nerves are wrecking me; I’ve heard so many stories about authors getting their work taken. It’s heart breaking and makes it all that much more scarier. I'm not too sure how I feel about this smut scene but I do think it embodies Harrold pretty well😊 Anyways let me know how you guys like it, or if you don’t. (I take request as well)
xoxoJanelle
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