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elioslover · 2 years

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Grapejuice (fic) Part One

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember. But she still refuses to see him as anything other than her brothers goofy obnoxious bestie omg omg loads of pining and sexual tension (even more sexy sex) and ofc angsty angst.

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Smutty suggestions, drug/alcohol use, mind-blowing banter.

Part Two / Part Three

Fashion Board

Masterlist

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The soft thumps of music muffled behind the apartment door were audible the moment you reached the last step of your ascent, arriving on the third floor of the new apartment block your brother, Jack, had recently moved into. It was sweet of him to wait until you were back in town before hosting the house-warming party.

You stopped briefly, taking one final look in the grand, gold-framed mirror- touching up your cherry gloss as an afterthought. The building was impressive- completely out of your price range, and quite a statement buying the penthouse- well you thought so anyway, but as you had reminded yourself, at least it wasn’t your money.

The hallway was empty, aside from a small hardwood table, elegantly decorated with a vase of marvellous, and surprisinglyrealwhite lilies. At the end of the lengthy passageway- walls tiled in deep ocean green, marbled floors- was an elevator, complete with an old-school golden gate, and totally unnecessary.

“Just take the bloody stairs” you mumbled, approaching the front door.

You had hardly knocked once before the heavy wood swung open, your brother- cheeks rosy, eyes glassy but glimmering- was standing on the other side.

He let out a sort-of cheer, arms raising before he fully engulfed you, lifting you off of your feet. You had seen him only a month ago, but if he had had it his way, Jack would have you both remain attached at the hip- as you had been almost your entire lives.

He put you back down, pressing a brisk kiss to your forehead and thanking you for coming,

“It really wouldn’t have been the same without you here,” he said, slinging an arm loosely across your shoulder, pulling you into the entrance hall of his…penthouse.

Your eyes were darting across the room, taking in the style, size and of course judging his choice of paintings- hung on almost every available wall. Jack led you through the house, giving a half-hearted house tour on your way to the kitchen.

It was by far your favourite room so far, decorated in pale baby blue with white cabinets and an island that was, perhaps the size of your entire kitchen put together. Nevertheless, it was the bar that really caught your attention- though it was barely visible under an array of what looked like crystal-glasses, a variety of expensive bottles and fresh-cut fruit.

Before you had even fully stepped into the kitchen, your brother was whisked away by the mention of the delivery guy arriving. “Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder, and without hesitation you made your way over to the countertop, fixed on the idea of a G & T complete with those irresistible blueberries.

You had all but finished the final touches on your mix, humming along to a familiar song spilling through the speakers- when the sudden warmth of something- no- someone’s breath on the back of your neck sent contradicting goosebumps up your arms and spine.

“Fancy seeing you here”, his voice was deep and familiar, fresh mint filling your senses.

He leaned into you slightly, bringing you to your senses. You intended to remain unbothered, going back to garnishing your drink with juicy berries. You took a lengthy sip, closing your eyes momentarily before turning around to face him.

He took a small step back in order to see you better, letting his gaze flicker shamelessly over you, taking a second to admire the way you looked,

“I could say the same about you” the mere sound of your voice drew his attention back, a cheeky smile growing wider by the second,

“Is this the part where you make fun of my lifestyle? Y’know, rag on me about drinking too much… smoking too much…. fucking…” he was beaming proudly now, eyes never leaving yours in anticipation,

“…too much? I would never,” you feigned disapproval, adding an eyeroll as you took another sip of your drink, hummed with satisfaction.

He tilted his head back with a slight chuckle, the corners of his eyes creasing with pleasure,

“Oh, how I missed this,” he teased, “Always good to see you, Y/n” he meant that part.

“Likewise, Harry” you tended to your drink once more.

He mimicked, taking a long sip of the glass of scotch wrapped firmly in his hand and you took the opportunity to actually take him in. He had been dressing better lately, and thank god for that you had thought. Harry had even started to impress you with certain ensembles- not that you would ever make him aware of that.

He wore a tight, but comfy burnt orange and purple tee-shirt. He paired it with a pair of low-rise, faded denim jeans that flared at the calves, and were rather well-fitted. His classic trademark of several rings decorated his hands, and a gold, tennis-link necklace lay across his chest.

He looked good. Annoyingly so.

It had become one of the things you dreaded about coming home- the confusing thoughts plaguing your clarity over the last couple years was well, sheer madness. What had he done differently to his hair? It suited him, short overall but slightly longer at the top, styled up and out of his face. It framed his eyes... his jawbone… his entire face really.

None of this made him any less annoying though, which was the only saving grace. You feared what would have already happened between you two otherwise.

Harry was your brothers oldest, and best friend- they met the afternoon your family moved next door to the Styles’ and the two had instantly bonded over their love for football. And even now, though they lived very different and separate lives, they were as close as ever- annoyingly close. Unfortunately for you this meant dealing with your brother- times two- and there was rarely an occasion where Harry didn’t turn up at one point or another.

Though he was terribly sweet, the Harry from your childhood lacked a filter, and had far too much energy to spare. You were only a few years older than them, but Harry seemed to have no off-switch, and it was hard not to engage in trivial arguments with him. Jack was no help either, always encouraging and taking pleasure in seeing you get so riled up.

When you got older things had changed slightly, and Harry was far less insufferable than before- though he still showered you in attention, most of it stirring the same negative reaction you expressed as a child.

To make matters worse, Harry had never kept quiet about his attraction for you. You were his best friends’ hot older sister after all. In Harry’s opinion, you got prettier each year- and he rather enjoyed making sure you knew this. And you always responded the same, with a scoff and an eyeroll.

Your thoughts had already started to wander and you were somewhat grateful Harry broke the short silence before you could continue,

“How long have you been back in town?”

“Since Sunday,” you swallowed another sip of your drink.

His brows furrowed slightly, “Jack didn’t mention you were back.”

You shrugged his statement off, “Speaking of Jack, I have my reservations but overall, I do quite enjoy the apartment,” his slight furrow warped into raised curiosity, “though I can’t imagine the size makes sense for one person” you added as an afterthought.

“Then it’s a good thing he isn’t living alone,” he said simply.

It was your turn to let your brows furrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

“I’m living here too. There’s three bedrooms, it made sense,” he shrugged before sipping his beer.

You straightened up, “And I assume you stay here when you aren’t out galivanting across Europe, or LA or whatever?” you were being testy.

He placed his hand over his heart, “Ouch klutz, you know it hurts me when you trivialise my profession,” he was only half joking.

You rolled your eyes, “Well don’t take it to heart, apparently Jack doesn’t tell either of us much.”

Harry was full of mixed emotions - he had been from the moment he stumbled upon you in the kitchen, your back to him. He almost walked straight past you, stopping in his tracks the moments those familiar custom black and white Docs adorning your feet caught his attention.

His frustration only grew when he finally got a proper look at you. You wore straight-legged black jeans that you paired with an abstract black and white knitted sweater. A couple silver chains lay across your neck- they matched perfectly with the pair of large, hooped earrings and bracelets you wore.

Your hair was pinned away from your face, lest a few loose strands. Harry liked you this way, he could see your face with clarity, and he was certain you were nothing short of beautiful. Your lips were slick and glossy from the remnants of gin and tonic, and they looked awfully tasty.

Longing was mixed with confusion now, disappointed that he felt so ill-equipped in your presence, completely unaware of your attendance this evening. Harry’s mind was beginning to race, thinking about all of the things he could have- would have done differently. For starters he might have put more than two minutes into picking out an outfit. A sudden wave of insecurity flushed over him and he was praying you wouldn’t notice.

Any sign of confidence had momentarily dissipated, and Harry felt like a foolish teenager all over again, hopelessly pining over a woman who hardly ever paid him any attention.

He was more than grateful that Jack chose that very moment to reappear, going on about how the delivery guy had attempted to short-change him, before he grabbed a new bottle of beer and took a large gulp. Within a moment Jack was mid-discussion with you about his experience in the new neighbourhood so far.

Harry tried his hardest to keep his gaze from focusing on your features, letting his eyes roam the many familiar faces of guests nearby. But he faltered several times, settling on the way your eyelashes fluttered, or how the chunky ring on your thumb fit you just right.

He was so distracted he almost missed Jack asking him if he had heard what had just been said, for the second time now, mind you.

“I was saying it completely slipped my mind- forgot to even mention Y/n would be visiting this week.”

Harry mustered up a scoff before finishing off the last of his drink,

“Absolutely guttered over it, honestly mate” Harry feigned disappointment while glancing over at you,

“You know the ache in my heart for Y/n needs to be soothed, it’s simply selfish you would attempt to keep us apart.”

Jack only let out a bellowing laugh and nudged your shoulder with his own.

Though you found Harry more than attractive, you were also aware that the same thoughts always followed your admiration, you still saw him as your baby brothers’ best friend, goofy yet cocky, but all bark and no bite- surely.

The idea of him being a compatible lover was to a large degree, incomprehensible. Nevertheless, you did thoroughly enjoy Harry, at times, grateful that age had brough him more stability than just good looks.

“Oh, but Harry, as I’ve told you on numerous occasions, you would hardly be able to handle me.” You were playful, familiar teasing, but some truth still rang through.

His face changed, and then his stature followed suit. He leaned forward, his voice deepening, and his gaze remaining on you and you alone,

“I think we both know that’s not true.” And there he was again, as annoying, and full of cheek as ever.

Your eyes quickly darted over to Jack, his attention already straying elsewhere, then you turned your attention back to Harry, scoffing but working hard to remain unbothered.

“Well, uh, this is my… cue to mingle… I guess,” you nodded in their general direction before turning on your heels, leaving Harry with the same view of your back as before.

🍷

Harry remembers the first shot, and the second, but things were becoming less coherent after the third and fourth. He had a habit of overthinking these days, somewhere between the last breakup and the new album release, it had become far too easy for his thoughts to start spiralling- and by cruel repetition, you were once again the reason for his head being a million miles away from this party.

Speaking of, Harry had yet to see you again since your brief encounter in the kitchen- granted this is where Harry had remained the entire evening so far. He assumed you had to return, eventually, for a drink top-up, at the least.

He let the tequila slosh in his mouth for a moment before allowing it to burn its way down his throat. Still in his own head, no plans of leaving any time soon.

“Harry!” he could hear Jack calling from somewhere in the apartment.

He began following in the general direction, stepping into the crowded living room. Jack’s face lit up in an instant, pushing gently past a few people to get to him.

“Hey, where did you disappear to?” he asked, but hardly gave pause for Harry to respond before he was guiding the two of them through the mass of people out towards the balcony.

At first, he was resistant, but that was soon replaced with a hundred different feelings all at once when he spotted that you were already outside, your back leaning against the balcony’s railing- a Marlboro perched neatly between two fingers.

He was indulging in the idea of you once more, thinking back to the several fantasies he had always so ambitiously cast you as the main character in. You were always so cool, so calm, and collected, and well-defined. He had wanted to be more like you, to be with you.

Harry had always looked at you like he knew your secret- like he was somehow aware of how naughty your really were- hiding under the sly juxtaposition of a hard-working, put-together, golden-child. He could hardly recall this version of you nowadays, after the things he had heard you say- to him and about him.

Harry was more than grateful that Jack had already started walking towards you, giving him the needed excuse to speak to you again. He was hardly subtle with the way he was looking at you, so much so that you felt the need to draw attention to the man standing beside you.

Had he always been standing there?

Harry hardly flinched though, and if he had felt some type of way about it, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he took another step forward before directing you,

“Looks like some things never change,” he knew you weren’t fond of his constant referencing of the past.

“Fuck off,” You responded with an eyeroll, taking a drag as he continued,

“You’re the splitting image- I mean minus the septum piercing, and the douchey boyfriend… well…” he glanced briefly, but noticeably at the blandly dressed guy still lingering by your side.

“Fuck you,” your tone was still playful though.

“Yeah? Been on my mind since I can remember.”

“Bet?”

“On my life,” he was careless with the wink he directed at you.

Harry would be lying if he said the thought of you being disinterested in him still crossed his mind, you were clearly humouring someone else this evening. The man next to you looked to be older than Harry, and like he worked some preppy nine-to-five. Surely nothing that could possibly catch your interest.

You were full of personality, intrigued and interested in so many things – Harry often accepted he could hardly keep up with you, but he was still certain the two of you had potential -not including the things he would let you do to him should you pay him even the slightest bit of attention.

He wanted to make a move, he always wanted to- but you were so beyond his reach- older and completely unwilling to acknowledge the fact that yes, he may still be irksome, but he was definitely not a young boy anymore.

Harry no longer wanted to get under your skin, but he would gladly settle to at least get under your garments. He was certain that if you were to, for just a moment, entertain the idea of you and him, he was sure to change your mind.

The guy to the left of you was particularly unmemorable, at least in your opinion, but it was better than standing and smoking alone. And you knew the tiniest part of you had been relieved, but only because you were aware it would annoy Harry - and you took almost any opportunity to do such.

Harry- who you hadn’t seen the entire evening - and don’t think you hadn’t acknowledged how bizarre it was of you to even notice that.

Naturally, you could and would never go looking for him- what reason would you even have to talk to him?

Nevertheless, you reached over and passed him your cigarette, an old habit that only registered when he met you in the middle, accepting your offer in a heartbeat.

Harry could hardly forget your little routine of bumming smokes together, hiding behind walls and bushes, afraid someone would catch you two in the act. There was a mutual sense of mischief and fondness- it was a time Harry could say with certainty that you definitely enjoyed his company- even seeking him out before sneaking through the back door, always ensuring he was by your side.

Everything about this evening was so out-of-character, from how calm Harry was - usually so full of boyishness fuelled by alcohol- down to how attractive you found it when a thick cloud of smoke slipped past his puckered lips, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion- what the fuck was happening?

You definitely needed another drink, suddenly remembering the half-empty bottle of Cirocque your date had pinched from the kitchen long before starting a conversation with you.

You had long forgotten the need for a glass and were already on your third sip, careful not to let any of the expensive liquid slip past your lips.

“Classy” Harry all but scoffed.

You stopped, the bottle leaving your lips with a soft squeak,

“Suddenly you don’t enjoy the idea of me being sloppy?”

You didn’t even bother looking at him, moving instinctively closer to Nick... was that his name? If Harry had wanted to say something he didn’t, thoughts of you being sloppy, slobbering for him were far too much to ignore.

Jack was filling the awkward silence by asking your ‘company’ several questions, which to Harry’s dismay, Nick was rather eager to answer.

“I actually bumped into her tonight, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to strike up a conversation, and thankfully she didn’t seem to mind,” he laughed, but it oozed gawkiness, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted towards you looking for confirmation.

You forced a soft laugh but felt nothing for the man in general, he was good looking enough, and money probably wasn’t an issue for him, but saying you found him boring would have been an understatement.

Still, Harry was quick to resume irking you. He got under your skin in almost an instant, and you were always left a frustrated mess. He opened his mouth, ready to share a snarky remark, when the guy’s phone started ringing. He apologised briefly before stepping aside- but not before saying- and Harry couldn’t believe it,

“Ex-squeeze me for a moment.”

Your eyes went wide with the ick, and Harry was hardly subtle when he giggled and stole the empty space next to you.

Harry shifted to face you, meeting your side-profile before stating matter-of-factly,

“I couldn’t imagine you putting up with that kind of boredom, you should quit while you’re ahead.”

“And what exactly does your opinion have to do with anything? Considering you can’t speak from experience,” you huffed.

“Not from a lack of trying-”

“-but rather from my lack of interest,” you finished for him.

Harry was grateful that Jack had lost interest the minute it looked like you guys were starting to squabble, he wasn’t even facing you anymore.

“Think you’re missing out though.” Harry was uncertain about almost everything in life, but not about the idea of being with you.

“Have we not had this conversation before? And didn’t it end with me saying something like, ‘No Harry, I’m not interested in one measly round of missionary that leaves me nothing but dissatisfied.’”

Harry wanted to disagree, to give you a vivid idea of the things he would do to you right now just to prove you wrong- he would ensure he fucked you so good there could be no round two. But he knew that wasn’t the way to go about things.

Instead, he simply said,

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions.”

You rolled your eyes, and stood up straight now, turning to him sternly,

“For your sake, I surely hope assuming is as good as the real thing,” tapping his chest condescendingly before you turned on your heels and headed back inside the party and away from Harry.

🍷

You hadn’t seen Harry so moody in years. He seemed to have no interest in partaking in the ongoing festivities. In fact, he was brooding in the corner of the kitchen, back pressed firmly against the wall. He was deep in thought, brows furrowed, jaw slightly clenched.

His hair was starting to look slightly dishevelled, from all the times he had ran his hands through it. He was looking good though. You decided he would look perfect underneath you, or perhaps even looking up at you.

But you quickly, and aggressively, shook your head, trying to eradicate these inappropriate thoughts, almost scolding yourself aloud before quickly accepting a tequila from an old schoolmate you had been catching up with in the kitchen.

You called out for Jack, looking at the shot glass sitting on the countertop filled to the brim. You were starting to feel good- really good, buzzing slightly. That familiar playfulness you always felt after indulging in vices was making its appearance.

When he failed to respond, you only shrugged before taking the shooter on his behalf, tossing it back with little regard before turning to look back at the living room, eyes finding their way back to Harry- who was still brooding in the corner all alone.

Without coherent rationality you found yourself heading towards the bathroom having to pass him in the process.

Maybe you did enjoy the attention Harry gave you- or perhaps this was just another attempt to reciprocate the frustration he had left you with just earlier.

As you began past him, you slowed to a complete halt- his head snapping up, the surprise evident on his features as two of your icy fingers reached up and hooked themselves onto the collar of his shirt. You tugged it down and to the side- exposing part of his collarbone and bird tattoo. With one finger, you gently tapped his skin twice before releasing the shirt altogether,

“Hm,” your gaze slowly lifted and met his- he was too scared to blink. You leaned forward,

“Swallows,” you paused and thought about it for a moment,

“Your tattoos and I have that in common.”

You didn’t wait to see his response, stepping back and heading towards the bathroom. His skin felt scorched in their wake.

Harry was stunned, naturally, his thoughts in an absolute frenzy. He had been angry, actually upset after you had belittled him so effortlessly just earlier- this evening was quickly turning nightmarish. And now, you were teasing him- taunting him, actually. Harry hadn’t stopped thinking about you the entire evening. Why was he so fixated? This couldn’t be healthy.

He hadn’t - and didn’t feel this way about any of the other women in his life. There was just something about you. He liked you. Always had. Harry had a feeling there was still more to you and he had the aching desire to find out.

He had been back home for a while now, so focused on his album that his personal life had ended up on the backburner without a second thought. Tonight, in the comfort of his new home he could no longer ignore his thoughts veering astray. Particularly the thoughts entailing your thighs, bare and wrapped around his waist.

He stood there for a moment, your words swirling around, getting louder until he could hear nothing *but your sweet, sweet voice. And though you were probably just fucking with him, Harry was no longer thinking clearly – a man on a mission as he left his spot by the wall and followed after you.

You were just stepping back into the passage when you spotted Harry walking toward you with what looked like determination- and possibly certainty. He was just feet away from you within an instant, and you hardly had a second to comprehend before he pressed his chest to yours- pushing you back softly into the silver and white wallpaper.

You looked up, gasping as he pinned you between his arms, both hands pressed against the wall just above your shoulders. His face was closer to yours than ever before and your eyes darted back and forth, studying his soft frown, forehead crinkling, and brows furrowed. His frustration was blatant, but the lustful sparkle in his eyes was unmistakable.

“What-” you started but Harry was quick to cut you off, leaning that much closer,

“-give me a chance,” it came out in one breath, fanning across your face.

You blinked back. He was incredulous. This was worst-case-scenario- you had been avoiding this type of interaction the entire night, and with one sentence you had thrown it all down the drain. And now here he was, so close. His chest pressed against yours, leg slotted between yours, brushing against your skin, breathing fast, and heavy, he smelled good, and looked better.

The fluttering in your stomach was unfamiliar- intrigued and excited. You wondered what exactly he had in mind if you were to in fact give him a chance. Something told you that there was more to him; that he might be anything but all-talk. The way he looked at you, how filthy he spoke to you, even the way he touched you when permitted.

You were concerned about losing control, leaning into him, touching him- but concern wasn’t enough when you slung your arm around his neck, nails scratching the base of his neck. Harry’s eyes dropped, head tilting closer, your foreheads brushing.

His words still echoing, “give me a chance, give me a chance.”

“I said, I don’t think you could handle-” you tried,

“-I think you’re bullshit,” he interrupted, and you let out a soft gasp,

“That’s mean,” your other arm linking around his shoulders,

“You’re mean,” he muttered just above your ear, before a soft kiss was pressed below your lobe,

“Matter of opinion,” you sighed, raking your nails along his jaw,

“I disagree,” a chaste kiss to your jaw,

“You always do,” thumb sliding along his bottom lip,

Harry dropped his arm, hand coming up to hold the side of your jaw, tilting you upward until you were blinking up at him. He had never seen you like this before; it felt so natural and surreal, seconds away from rectifying the last twenty plus years.

You were ready to meet him in the middle, shutting out everything that wasn’t him. You were at his mercy, foolishly waiting on edge for him to finally kiss you. His thumb copied yours, brushing against your lip before slipping slightly into your mouth, grazing your teeth.

You rose off of your heels, leaning up to impatiently close the gap, his hands moving to cup your face- he was looking at you lazily, lips slick, plump and puckered just for you,

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered,

“No.”

“Please?” so softly, your eyes fluttering shut - when out of nowhere,

“Harry?” it came from far at first, but was quickly followed by another, “Harry!”

It was Jack- drunk and loud- bellowing from the kitchen and heading straight for the hallway.

As if you had been set alight, you removed your arms and gave Harry a harsh shove until he stumbled back and looked at you with a mix of sheer shock and confusion. Before he could speak, Jacked turned the corner and cheered,

“I found you!” he was drunker than when either of you last saw him, stumbling around, eyes barely open.

Harry was so startled and full of disappointment he could barely comprehend. He was seconds away from kissing you- and now, when he glanced your way, you were a blushing mess, averting eye contact, arms wrapped firmly across your chest.

He managed to come to a stop, leaning his shoulder and head against the wall,

“I’m so sleepy, have I spent enough time mingling? Can I go to bed without saying goodnight? I don’t think anyone would care and I mean, like I said, I’m really tired.”

Jack was pouting and the eyeroll Harry sent his way could hardly convey his annoyance.

It was then that you coughed softly, Harry’s head snapping your direction in an instant,

“Good plan. I think I should get going anyway, been a long day,” you shrugged, looking anywhere but in Harry’s direction.

You were mortified- and you weren’t sure if it was because of Jack, or Harry. Either way you were still fully to blame, and it was time to make a run for it. You could feel Harry’s unwavering gaze, so strong it made you ache with awkwardness.

Jack nodded along, head droopier, eyes drowsier, “Y/n, you rock!”

“Facts.” You chuckled.

“True rock n’ roller babyyyy!” he sung out, and it seems both you and Harry took that as a cue,

“Alright Jack let’s get you to bed,” Harry took him by the shoulder, taking one last longing look at you. You glanced up for a brief moment, eyes wide. And then you were mumbling your goodbye’s and heading for the front door.

As the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it and let out the longest sigh, pressing your face into your hands, pushing harder and harder, forcing all fuzziness to disappear. The embarrassment was seeping from your everywhere, and worse- you knew you would have to see him again.

🍷

Jack had not stopped moaning and groaning from the minute you both sat down across from one another. The breeze directs the sun’s glare directly above the table, and whilst you are most grateful for this marvellous weather, Jack does not seem to agree. Though, you could chalk that up to the hangover he was currently nursing.

You two had made plans for a brunch catch-up after the housewarming, but apparently you had failed to consider that your brother was obviously still a man-child. Did he need three-to-five workdays to recover?

After all these years, you would have hoped that Jack might have learned to handle his liquor, swap a few tequilas for a sip of water. He truly was a baby, looking devoid of sleep, hair sticking up in all directions, and after what felt like the millionth grunt, you finally looked up from your phone,

“Dude. It’s already midday. Is this going to be another one of those full day recoveries? Because we are not teens anymore; I am no longer obligated to take care of you-“

Harry interrupted your train of thought as he seemed to pop-up out of nowhere, towering over you and stealing the sun in the process. He’s sporting a chunky-knitted sweater, the black tank top peeking out matches his flared pants and boots. He looks cosy.

But he is soaking up all the warmth, stealing it for his own, peering down at you, green eyes half-hidden behind his ray-bans.

“For the love of god, sit down already.” You groaned, wrapping your favourite blue, corduroy overcoat across your chest as a small shiver took over your arms.

Harry chuckled, looking at you curiously as he slid out a chair and sat himself down next to Jack- who whined meekly when his and Harry’s elbows briefly touched.

“Christ. What is with you two today? Is this a Y/L/N thing?” he was amused, settling back further into his seat, removing his shades, and running a hand lazily through his hair.

Jack, whose head was now resting directly on the table, lifted up slightly and attempted to get out a coherent sentence,

“M’just alitt wreckddd is’all…” he tried.

Harry looked at him incredulously, turning to you with a smile so wide it reached his eyes. And he looked warm- warm and snug and somehow radiating an energy that quickly became contagious. It made you smile softly, and then you were chuckling along, happy be in his company.

“Last time you mix drinks, huh Jack?”

He whined once more.

Harry shifted towards you, elbows stretching out across the table, he let his stare linger for a moment longer than you both knew was necessary. You felt hot under his gaze, observed and uncomfortable with the sudden shift of attention. But before you could settle into this unfamiliar feeling, he sent a swift wink your way.

“See something you like?” your brows arched.

“More than,” Harry nodded in satisfaction. “I don’t want to do the things I want to do with you with people I just like.”

Now you were red in the face for another reason, eyes desperately darting over to see if Jack heard, unsurprised to find that he was almost fast asleep.

And you hope your eyeroll and lack of response will come off as a tactical choice- Harry didn’t need to know how he made you feel. Flustered and confused.

“Did you have fun at your little housewarming?” you attempted to deflect.

He nodded, “My favourite part was when you were about to let me kiss you… pity about the interruption,” eyes glancing over at Jack’s sleepy figure.

Now you were blushing for sure, steam threatening to spill from your ears and nostrils. You couldn’t have regretted coming home more than in this moment.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you. Interruption or not.”

“I believe otherwise.”

“I believe otherwise about your believing of otherwise” you huffed out quickly, brows furrowed.

Harry laughed fetchingly, arms sliding across the table until they were almost bumping your own. His stare was unwavering,

“You’re in such denial. If it weren’t so painful, I’d find it that much more endearing”

“All I heard was endearing.”

“Well, you are,” he leaned closer, “extremely endearing.”

Before you had a moment to react, Harry brought his hand down against the table, startling Jack awake. They looked at each other sternly before Jack scoffed,

“Dick.”

You took the final sip of your coffee before turning towards the two men; Jack was a sight for sore eyes, and if you spend any longer around Harry, your head might explode in confusion.

“Jack is it safe to assume we won’t be going to the market anymore?” you barely finished before he started protesting. Typical.

“Market?” Harry interjected?

“Some little art thingy Y/n heard about”

“On 4th street” your eyes rolled.

“Sounds fun” Harry shrugged.

“That’s what I thought” you mimicked.

Jack was already standing up when he got a bright idea,

“Harry, why don’t you go with Y/n? Let me get some damn sleep while she talks your ear off.”

You were a mess of protests, assuring them both that there was really no need. But Harry seemed married to the idea.

“Sounds perfect. 4th street you said?” Jack nodded.

“Really Harry, it’s not necessary- “you tried but he only shushed you,

“-Don’t worry sweets, I’ll gladly let you talk my ear off.” Winking, he joined as you all stood from the table and regrouped outside the entrance.

After a brief goodbye, Jack started heading home. And within a minute, Harry had wrapped his warm palm around yours, tugging you forward until you stumbled into line with him.

“It’s close by, lets walk.”

Harry didn’t even look your way as he moved you both forward, weaving past cars and a woman walking her Labrador. You take two steps at a time, trying desperately to keep up as you both made it safely across the road.

“Harry- “you tried, losing your footing for a moment as he powered forward, “For fuck’s sake Harry, slow down.”

He stopped abruptly, his back creating a wall for your chest to bump into.

Harry didn’t say anything when you protested, didn’t let go of your hand as he started walking forward again. He took small steps, making sure you were able to keep up with him.

Your hand felt warm and smothered within his, a fireball sparking and crackling between your palms; ready to set off an explosion that may swallow your head and heart whole. You try to focus on otherwise, taking notice of the shop windows blurring past.

Harry squeezed your hand gently, bringing your gaze to his, “Let’s go here.” he motioned towards a little bakery stand, guiding you both to the warm glass protecting a sweet collection of muffins, cookies, pastries galore.

He refused to let you go as he caught the attention of the server, “Everything smells so good!” he complimented her before continuing, “Could we please get a couple custard slices and a chocolate croissant?”

Your heart leapt as she nodded along enthusiastically and began bagging the pastries, turns out your croissant-obsession was so strong even Harry had caught on.

Nevertheless, you gazed up at him curiously, and he only smiled back sweetly before finally releasing you from his grip, fishing into his pocket for his wallet.

Your hand missed his- and you hated that, dismissing the thought completely as he handed you the warm paper bag; the sweet smell of fresh pastry had you almost burying your face forward, and Harry laughed, motioning you back towards the bustling street.

You were already stuck into the croissant, flakes fluttering everywhere- some even settling on your chin. Harry noticed you were no longer keeping up, looking over his shoulder before halting completely. You caught up; eyes still glued to your pastry, and you barely even noticed him, continuing forward- and now he had to take a long stride to catch up.

He was eyeing you intently as you devoured the remains, crumpling up the bag with a satisfied sigh. You hadn’t noticed his gaze, turning absentmindedly,

“What?” Your brow raised quizzically, using the back of your hand to dust off any excess crumbs.

“Nothing,” he mused, “you’re cute, is all.”

“Stop.” You huffed. Thankfully, the two of you had finally reached 4th street and there were stalls set up everywhere, bright colours of multiple mediums decorating the walls, the streets- the people.

Harry stopped next to you, unnecessarily leaning against you,

“Wow.” He sighed, “This is… amazing.”

You nodded along, “haven’t been to one of these in years.”

He looked over curiously, “Used to come to these things often?”

“Whenever I had the chance, yeah” you made your way to a stand nearby, getting lost in several lino-print’s, deep blue’s melting into mustard yellows and burnt orange. Harry joined you, leaning forward to get a better look.

After a few moments, you turned your attention to another stand displaying bold psychedelic canvases, varying in shapes and sizes. They were so beautiful, telling thousands of stories all at once. Harry was peering over your shoulder, studying the blotches of colour with deep curiosity.

“This one… is so… interesting.” He pointed slightly, eyes never leaving the artwork. Harry was often quick to forget the other arts. Music was now full-on lifestyle and left little time for much else these days.

“Hm,” you replied curiously, continuing to scan the other pieces.

Eventually, Harry stepped away, starting to head towards a stand further down the street. Clay ashtrays, figurines, jewellery, and other accessories decorated the table, and by the time you had caught up, he was already in the middle of purchasing several necklaces and bracelets ranging from royal blue to candy red.

“I like this one,” you pointed to a lime green bracelet, peeking out of the other beads strewn across his palm.

“I do too,” he agreed with a large grin.

You waited for Harry’s new purchases to be paid for and placed into a paper bag. He bumped his hip into yours, motioning for you both to continue down the street.

Harry was keeping as close as possible, ensuring his arm brushed your shoulder with every opportunity. As you turned the corner onto another street, and before you could hold yourself back, you were power walking towards a stall displaying, what you would later refer to as, a masterpiece.

Considering you were often surrounded by art; it wasn’t often that a piece had you this fixated. Harry had never seen you so engrossed in something- few had.

And Harry was patient as you observed, taking your time asking the artist questions- throwing around words that sounded so foreign to him, it only made you that much more attractive, seeing you in your element.

When you were finally content, you said a sweet goodbye, and gestured Harry to continue on down the street. A comfortable silence often fell neatly between the two of you, every now and then pointing out something, asking for one another’s opinion, preference.

“How’s work?” he asked,

“Loving it, actually. I was kinda nervous the job would be as trash as the one I had here…” you really hadn’t enjoyed the hustle-and-bustle of being smack-dab in the metropolitan area. Every other person was a cut-throat, a cry-baby, or just a complete asshole. It had drained almost every ounce of your passion and drive, if you had stayed a moment longer you were sure to have slipped into another bough of melancholy.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said genuinely- Harry had hated seeing you so stressed, always seeming on the brink of tears.

“I liked the new album, by the way.” that sparked his attention,

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “Don’t let it get to your head now,” you were teasing, but wanted to make sure he knew you were being genuine, “I liked it- I loved it.”

🍷

Harry was now running late, in his own home, spending an excessive amount of time deciding between which of two shirts to wear. As soon as he had settled on a loose, black cotton button up - which he had left partly-unbuttoned and had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows – he immediately decided to change his pants and shoes.

After slipping into his new silk, embroidered-lavender slacks, he paired the outfit with shiny, point-tipped black boots. Harry was putting on the last of his jewellery and spritzing his favourite cologne while the music droned through the gaps under his door- the number of voices growing by the minute.

Harry found himself rather nervous, palms threatening to clam up as he thought about seeing you again. He knew these feelings he was having were getting out of hand. He hadn’t been in such close contact with you in years- the last time was possibly after you graduated college.

And back then, you were wrapped up in your then-relationship, dragging him along to all events. Harry was sure he had only seen you on one occasion without them. It was an important night for him- when you two were temporarily alone again.

He was sure he was in love with you back then. You consumed his every waking thought. Harry would, and did, do anything to be near you – to make you laugh, to pick your brain, sometimes just to be in your presence.

Then life hurled forward, days turned to weeks, and suddenly it was at least a year before he saw you again. You had since abandoned your relationship- and were about to ditch your home and career here in London. Harry saw you a couple weeks before you left- he didn’t have to persuade you much when he offered to come over with Jack to help box up your apartment.

But by then, he was already hot in the middle of making albums and touring arenas, he couldn’t designate the time to properly mourn your departure. It only occurred to him that you were no longer home when he came back after the band’s final tour.

Every now and then he’d hear updates or see a few photos courtesy of your mom and Jack. For a moment his heartrate would pick up, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess – what does your new home look like? What do you do in your spare time? Are you having fun?

And now here you were with all your friends, celebrating being a decade older, in his house. If he thought about it too long, his nausea would resurface. All Harry could do now was take one final look in the mirror before leaving his room, making his way towards the party.

He couldn’t believe how many guests had already arrived – had he really spent that long getting ready? A small sea of people had already formed, mid-conversations, mixing drinks, having a smoke on the balcony.

His eyes scanned the room, acknowledging people he knew as he searched desperately for you. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure if you had even arrived yet.

He was about to give up and head over to the bar when he spotted something sparkly bobbing behind a group of people near the door to the balcony. He followed the shimmers, greeting guests as he wove through them. He stopped at the glass door.

Harry’s head, as well as his heart, had melted into a puddle as his gaze landed on you, leaning against the balcony with a cigarette perched between your cherry-gloss lips.

He couldn’t hear over the thumping in his head, the only thing comprehensible was how incredible you looked. Which was an understatement of note.

You had chosen an extremely well-fitted, watermelon pink dress. It settled neatly across your upper thighs, cinching in at the waist, white frill accentuating your cleavage and connecting to two delicate bows that worked as straps strewn across your shoulders.

You had swapped out your docs for a pair of white, latex boots (each with a hot pink heart) stopping just above your ankles, as well as white fishnet stockings.

And to top it all off, your head adorned some sort of princess tiara covered in sparkly glitter- the beacon that had just led Harry directly to you.

Harry still hadn’t moved when Jack, who he hadn’t even noticed was standing beside you, caught his attention. And as soon as Jack lit up with eagerness, your focus shifted too, almost dropping your cigarette as you sent a wide grin his way- eyes beaming with excitement.

“Haaarryyy!” you enthused, arms waving as you did a little hip wiggle.

Harry felt like he had just stepped into a fever dream. But he was quick to reciprocate, matching your grin as he made his way over.

You were bouncing on your toes, and he had barely come to a halt before you lurched forward, flinging your arms around his shoulders for a boisterous, but doting embrace. Harry’s arms wrapped around your upper back, pulling you close, stumbling, and living for the sound of your giggles.

“Happy birthday, klutz.” He said in a sing-song tone, rocking you back and forth.

You pulled away, singing back a sweet “thank you” before leaning up to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Harry prayed it was too dark out- hoped you wouldn’t notice the way his face turned so red.

And you didn’t, bouncing from heel to heel back to your spot next to Jack. You picked up and sipped at a drink that was almost spilling from your glass, and as your lips met the sweet liquid your eyes widened with something else in mind.

“Shots.” You stated seriously but couldn’t help it as you began smiling mischievously.

“Shots!” Jack matched your energy and suddenly Harry was reminded that you and your brother were a deadly combination.

Usually, it was you who would end up responsible for reeling Jack and Harry in when they got too rowdy- chasing after them in a weak attempt to corral their belligerent bodies into whatever vehicle was on standby. But courtesy of making it another trip around the sun, you were two steps ahead of the boys, slipping past friends who all took turns attempting to halt you for a chat.

By the time the two men had caught up, you were already lining up four luminous shot glasses- they hadn’t noticed Nova [one of your nearest and dearest friends from school] had already joined you. The two of you were now chatting away, paying no mind as Jack took over the shot-dispensing duty.

In between enthusiastic exchanges, Harry greeted Nova and managed to get in a few catch-up questions before you completely distracted her with something so out of context he didn’t bother trying to keep up.

Thankfully it wasn’t long before a glass of Don Julio was being passed his way, your fingers brushing against his in the process.

Before anyone even attempted to take a sip, Jack was calling everyone to a holt, “We have to toast!” and everyone groaned. But he was unphased,

“Despite being the greatest pain in my ass, you’re also the greatest person I’ve ever known. You’re a real grown-up now, shithead, and I can’t wait to see what thirty has in store for you.”

You pouted sweetly, eyes bashful as your three friends started saying cheers, clinking their tequilas together. Harry tapped his glass against yours, seconds away from lifting it to his lips-

“Hey, hey- “you scolded, and he held back any panic, “You have to look each other in the eye before you cheers.”

Harry smiled in relief, locking your gaze as he brought his glass back to yours,

“Definitely don’t want seven years of bad sex,”

He sent a wink your way as your glasses separated, tilting his head back, swallowing quickly.

“Especially when you’re finally back in town.”

Jack spotted Mitch and Adam mingling nearby, quicky motioning them over. Harry wanted to keep talking to you though, his mind hadn’t strayed from you, nor had his gaze. But you were all amped-up, swaying from side-to-side, cheesy grin, eyes crinkling as you reacted to something Nova said.

Thankfully, Harry was gifted with an opportunity when Jack suddenly realised Nova hadn’t yet met the other guys. He called her over, leaving you leaning across the bar, perched on your elbows.

“Care for a drink, senorita?” your ears perked up at that, Harry was already pretending to roll up his sleeves, gently bumping his hip with yours. You turned, leaning your back against the counter now as Harry reached over and grabbed a cocktail glass. He got to work, grabbing an assortment of drinks and ingredients and you found your eyes wandering to his arms and hands.

Harry must have felt you staring, looking over at you in between mixing ice and some pink concoction,

“You look incredible, by the way,” he busied himself, grabbing different utensils, glancing back to reaffirm his statement.

“You reckon?” standing up straight, you did a good job doing a little show for him, making sure he got a good view of all the frills and your figure.

He stopped in his tracks and nodded profusely, “Incredible. Definitely designer right?”

“You’ll die,” you stepped closer, straight-faced. He waited,

“Lacroix, ’91. From their spring collection.”

Harry was impressed, excited to finish off this marvellous drink with raspberries and strawberries,

“Christ. What did you do to get your hands on it?”

“Sold my soul.”

“To the Devil?”

“No, her name was actually Giovanna- bitchy creative director from Milan. Love her to death.”

Harry found you more endearing by the second. He added a finishing touch of white sugar, turning to you proudly, his creation on display,

“Voila! Special birthday cocktail for the special birthday girl.”

“Ooh! It’s pretty,” you marvelled,

“Matches your dress,” he pointed out as he placed the drink in your hand.

You took a sip, eyes widening in delight. It was simply delicious, and you couldn’t be sure if Harry had even known what he was doing when he made it.

“This is incredible,” you whined, taking another long sip, “Do I taste watermelon?”

“And litchi, with vodka- which I recall is a personal favourite of yours,” he had hit the nail on the head, naturally.

“Thanks Harry,” you said sweetly, “I don’t think I’ve tasted anything so good.”

Your eyes widened in an instant, as did his, and you were more than thankful when he chose to substitute a snide comment with a cheeky smirk and wink.

Nova returned to your side, making a few remarks about how sweet Adam seems, asking Harry where he was from. She suddenly remembered something and excitedly tapped you, almost causing your drink to spill.

“- She’s here? No ways! I haven’t seen her since the debauchery of Nina’s baby-shower” you enthused, eyes hastily shifting around the room for this so-called friend, gasping softly when you spotted her in the near distance.

With eagerness you wrapped your hand around Nova’s, dragging her off into the crowd. Harry turned his attention to Mitch and Adam- who had already struck up a conversation - only catching a glimpse of your back disappearing amongst the guests.

Harry was starting to feel frustrated; confusion and longing were swirling around his head with such fervour it was moments away from eating him alive. It was time for him to make a conscious effort to stop thinking about you and to start enjoying the party in honour of… well, you.

But he was determined, fixing himself a straight scotch, sloshing it back before quickly refilling and joining in the heated football debate that was escalating by the minute.

🍷

With your absence, Harry found himself mingling with people he hadn’t seen in years – some of these exchanges even being rather pleasant. He was on drink three, Jack seemed to be on at least double that. Speaking of Jack, he had been itching for a cigarette, his favourite drunken-accessory, and Harry gladly followed him out- finally feeling relaxed and frankly, almost buzzing.

The balcony, though large, was crowded. The air was perfect, spring in full swing. To his surprise, Harry spotted two empty chairs off to the side, dragging Jack along. They were going back-and-forth, trying to figure out the names of several guests.

“I think our twelfth-grade English teacher is here, what was his name?” Jack clicked his fingers searching his thoughts for the right answer, “Mister… I wanna say Twat?” he pondered, “No, that can’t be it… Twatman?”.

“Watman. Mr. Watman.” Harry scoffed, “I’m surprised you remembered him to begin with. I don’t recall you attending a single class.”

“You’re just jealous I was skipping class to make-out with cheerleaders.”

“Which cheerleaders?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Harry lips parted to respond, his head snapping instantly at the sound of your melodic voice bellowing across the balcony. You were on your own, a small, abstract clutch in one hand, and now you were bounding over, calling out,

“I was wondering where you were.”

Harry wasn’t sure who of the two you was addressing, but his heart couldn’t help but jump at the possibility that you may have been seeking him out after all.

You stopped before them, scanning your surroundings before suddenly, and shamelessly, you plopped yourself down horizontally across Harry’s lap. In utter shock, he peered over at Jack who not only ignored the fact but sparked up a conversation.

“Do you remember that strange professor? Taught year twelve English lit, I think.”

You thought about it, further settling into Harry’s lap, paying zero attention to him as you began unzipping and searching through your clutch. You pulled out a dainty container of weed, blunt-wrap, and a tube of cherry lip gloss,

“Yeah, yeah. Twatman right?”

“See, Harry!” Jack exclaimed, pointing your way.

But Harry’s head was miles away, his entire body heating up, your skin burning against his thighs. Every time you moved, breathed- he had to calm his own, but he was more than thankful for the permanent view of your side profile- cute nose and all. You started rolling, telling Jack some bizarre information about their old teacher. You both theorized about a secret relationship, while Harry sat idly by, adamant on being your ideal chair.

It was only a couple minutes later when you finished up, poking your tongue out as you ran it across the length of the joint. You could feel Harry’s eyes on you, choosing to ignore them as you returned to your clutch to fish out a lighter.

You crossed one leg over the other, adjusting and taking subtle notice of Harry’s squeamishness before placing the joint between your lips, starting to light up.

Harry’s head was foggy for two reasons now, a thick cloud of smoke leaving your lips and fanning out across his unsuspecting face. He blinked back a few times, trying hard to maintain stillness. After taking another quick drag, you leaned forward, thighs momentarily pressing further into Harry’s as you passed the joint over to Jack.

The joint had barely touched his lips before Jack was coughing and spluttering, eyes watering as he hunched forward and put his hand across his forehead.

“Jesus, Y/n- “he was trying to laugh but it came out sounding like a failed-beatboxer, “-fucking strong. Where did you get this?” he attempted to swallow residual coughs as he stretched over and handed the joint back to you.

“Same place I usually get it,” you paused and took a lengthy drag, sharply inhaling before letting the smoke slip through your lips,

“Purple haze. She gave me extra courtesy of the big three-oh.”

“Seems your senior citizen discount has already come in handy,” Jack mused, still holding back from coughing.

“Get fucked,” you huffed, turning your attention to Harry, who instantly felt hot under the collar,

“Still up to no good?” your lips turning upward as you gestured to the joint perched between your fingers.

Harry nodded up at you, his doe-eyes blinking bashfully. With that, you lifted your hand and as he parted his plump lips, you slotted the joint between them. Your fingers brushed against his chin, nails grazing his lips as you held him in place, letting him take a lengthy inhale as your eyes trained the freckles scattered across his face.

Up close, he looked soft, and raw - your eyes felt like they had turned into magnifying glasses, noting the stubble scattered across his chin, the crinkles between his focused-brow, the stray curls slipping across his forehead- and before you could stop yourself, you had concluded that he was beautiful, and that denying your attraction for him was at this point, futile.

He looked up at you through his thick, fluttering lashes, leaning back slightly and you pulled your hand away, bringing the joint back to your own lips. You were still looking at Harry intently when the corner of his eyes crinkled, his lips parting to expose a pearly grin,

“See something you like?” he asked.

And you did your very best to remain unphased, inhaling sharply before you tilted towards him, speaking just above a whisper,

“I don’t want to do the things I want to do with you with people I just like.”

Your voice mocked his deep and slow tone, taking pleasure in exaggerating each and every syllable.

Harry gulped. You pushed the joint towards him, and he bent forward- more than necessary- gladly accepting anything you had to offer. His head was still swirling, convinced you were emitting a vibrant glow, aiming it directly at him.

Harry bravely tapped his fingers along your shin, feeling lulled and content. You had fully relaxed now, leaning your shoulder against his,

“Having fun, birthday girl?”

“Yes sir,” you rested your head- just barely touching his shoulder,

Harry must have been dreaming- stoned and hallucinating, either way he let his hands trail up and down your leg, tapping his foot side-to-side, humming almost inaudibly.

And then in the blink of an eye, you were standing up, leaving him cold and longing once more. You looked over at Jack who had finished coughing and was now staring directly up at the sky. His eyes were darting back-and-forth, acknowledging each star.

You let the joint slip from your fingers, using the toe of your boot to put it out,

“Well boys, I’m off to get a refill,” you tapped Harry’s shoulder gently,

“Glad you can still keep up.”

He looked over at Jack - who was still looking up – and without a word, Harry was out of his seat, hot on your trails. If tonight had taught him anything it was that you were quick on your feet, already at the bar as you scanned the scatter of bottles.

Before he could announce his presence, you turned to him briefly in acknowledgement, “do you still have that photo album I made for your eighteenth?”

“Random.” He said curiously, watching as you turned back and continued examining the bottles.

“I know,” you nodded your back still to him, “I saw a bunch of albums in the living room, just wondered if you still had it.”

Harry thought about it for a second, “I do.”

Thousands of memories flooding back to him, “It’s in my room actually.”

“Is this a just ploy to get me alone?” You turned to fully face him now, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Yes.” He teased sternly.

You nodded, turned, and grabbed an unopened bottle of 1982 Bordeaux, and motioned towards the direction of the bedrooms,

“Lead the way.”

You stayed close, following Harry down the hallway to the foot of his door. It was already ajar, and he used his foot to push it open fully, flicking on the light switch before stepping aside to welcome you in. You took a couple steps forward before he shut the door and walked off in search of the album.

You took in the room, pleasantly overwhelmed by how much it still screamed Harry. You remembered his last room and even spotted his old record player, his rustic bookshelf, a framed poster of Doctor Frankenfurter, and of course his first guitar- dinged-up and faded- just the way you liked it.

Harry was shuffling through one of the draws of his dressing table, his back to you, as you crouched down and began unzipping your boots. The carpet beneath your fishnets was thick, white, and fluffy- and before you could help yourself, you were now fully sitting down, legs crossed, arms working to remove the bottles cork.

Harry cheered softly as he found what he was looking for, grabbing the album- blue, with a hand-painted portrait of himself on the cover. When he turned and noticed your current position, he slipped off his own shoes and plopped down across from you, crossing his legs.

He dropped the album between the two of you, pairing a cheery, “ta-da” with jazz hands.

You did a little dance- what you could manage from your position- as the cork finally popped off and you took a swift swig before passing it to Harry.

He gladly accepted, and as the bottle reached his lips, Harry suddenly acknowledged the situation he was currently in. nerves rushing in from all directions, and he took an extra couple sips on account.

You were already flipping through the first few pages, grinning sweetly, and pausing to take a better look at some of the pictures. Harry was looking too, but mostly at you. He liked how you focused, how fondly you smiled, and he was only seconds away from getting caught staring.

“Oh god, do you remember this day?” you leaned forward, fingers tracing a photo of Harry dressed as a cowboy, sporting a fake moustache, and aiming a water gun at the camera. He nodded fondly, reminding you that shortly after the picture was taken, you threw up all over a rosebush- fully dressed as a brothel-lady - bonnet, and all.

With that, you flipped the page with haste, scanning some of the others, stopping to think- sometimes to reminisce. And then you came across the one picture Harry would have traded the world for. The two of you were sat on a couch, your legs draped across the armrest, your head Harry’s lap. The sun was setting, creating a silhouette of the perfect tableau. It was the beginning of one of his favourite evenings to date. Whoever took the photo hadn’t stuck around, the most important part of this memory was that it was just you two- an anomaly.

Before he could stop himself, Harry pointed down at the photo, “This one is my favourite.”

You followed his hand, looking down intently at the little moment caught on film,

“We drank so much wine that night,” you giggled fondly, careful not to give any feelings you may have harboured away.

“You sang,” He said,

“For you,” you emphasised,

“For me.” He nodded.

A silence settled and Harry took another sip, remembering your twirls, drinking, spilling from the bottle, the way your hair fell, the way he felt. The night way playing out on super speed, too many moments jumbling together, and then he couldn’t stop the blush from rushing to his cheeks,

“Oh god. I danced. A lot.” He remembered the moves far too well.

How could you forget? He was clumsy on his feet, creating a brand-new style. And he was so off-beat, no rhythm, moving any which way as long as it caused you some sort of reaction- preferably an endearing laugh, which you were of course currently doing,

“Yeah, you danced a lot.” You smiled innocently, “For me.”

“For you.”

Harry caught your gaze, the air between you thick with tension and lust. He wanted crawl right on over, grab your face and smother you in kisses. And the way you were looking back at him, Harry was almost convinced you might actually want him to do that too.

Neither moved, hardly blinked, and you were so hot under the collar it was torturous. You felt completely trapped, losing all self-control and about to slink straight into his lap. In sheer panic, you turned back to the album, flipping through pages at a time.

There was a photo of Harry, Jack, and an old friend of theirs from school. They were dressed in football attire, getting ready for a match.

“Oh, I remember this guy. Andy, right?” you taunted, glancing up to gauge his reaction,

Harry couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching, eyes rolling.

“He was cute,” you tried, “Didn’t he have a thing for me?”

Harry scoffed. Of course Andy had fancied you- Harry almost lost his mind every time he made any comments expressing crudeness or adoration for you. He had bitten his tongue so many times it was habitual when he found himself doing it now.

He still hadn’t spoken, you were fascinated as his pupils dilated, angst creeping up across his features. You took another sip of the wine, eyeing him before pushing once more,

“Maybe I should have given him a chance…”

Harry barely let you finish, “He couldn’t’ve handled it.”

You laughed harshly, absolutely amused, and horrifyingly, extremely enticed. So, you uncrossed your legs, splaying them out in front of you, toes tapping his crossed ankles,

“You really think you -”

“- Yes.” He finished for you.

In your opinion, his certainty was the most attractive thing he had ever done. He suddenly wrapped his hands around your ankles and gently tugged you forward.

You let out a small gasp as your bum slid forward, Harry unravelling his legs, all the while dragging you further into his grasp. You were lured straight into his lap, naturally wrapping your legs around his waist, settling atop his hips.

You were face-to-face now, chest-to-chest, and his hands came to rest on your waist. His breath was warm, eyes oozing with intention as your hand lazily draped across his shoulder, fingers finding their way to his hair.

“I don’t believe you,” you muttered.

“I’ll make you,” he persuaded, hand sliding up to rest on your lower back.

You were on the brink of total surrender, leaning closer until your noses were brushing, his other hand leaving your waist to cup your jaw, securing around your throat.

“Prove it,” you gave in.

Harry felt his stomach flip, holding back the urge to shove his tongue down your throat. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then another to the corner of your mouth. He took his time, enjoying the way his lips sparked against your soft skin.

And then he kissed you- just barely. So lightly you barely felt it.

He pulled back for a moment, bringing his other hand up to hold your face in place. Planting a soft kiss, and another, and another, and then he finally kissed you- properly.

You were eager to reciprocate, tugging him as close as possible, kissing him with such fervour it could have convinced Harry that this was something you had spent twenty years anticipating.

Your lips detached, and Harry was quick to start scattering sloppy smooches up-and-down your neck. Nibbling and sucking now-and-then, dragging you further into his hold.

It wasn’t until you purposely pressed yourself down against his lap - desperate to ease some of this friction – when you suddenly came to your senses. Before he could kiss you once more, you went still, eyes opening to look at him in shock.

Harry stopped, eyeing you cautiously as you unravelled yourself, leaning back bashfully.

“We should get back to the party,” you suggested, scared to speak above a whisper.

Harry played it cool, nodding along as you climbed out of his lap, following suit until you were now both standing face-to-face.

Neither made any attempts to move, you watched him, shamelessly. Trying to figure out your next move, how to act, how to respond.

Suddenly Harry’s eyes lit up, surprisingly sending a wave of relief rushing through you.

“I got you something, for your birthday obviously.” He didn’t wait for your reaction, walking over to his bed before crouching down to reach for something hidden beneath.

You were eyeing him curiously as he started to reveal this surprise. The moment you caught a glance of what it was- that familiar blend of whites and purples, the abstract scatter of shapes and lines, the same feeling you felt the first time you saw the painting.

Your heart caused your ears to ring, a swell of emotions- aghast, amazed, admiration- and you were quick to realise that those feelings were for Harry.

He had barely finished revealing the artwork, not even fully standing straight as you came bounding over, causing him to drop what he was doing, only moments before you were grabbing his cheek, tugging him to meet your lips as you pressed against him with a blend of aggression and adamance.

He had no time to react, hands instinctively wrapping you up, pulling you into him, grabbing at whatever you would let him.

In a haze of needy kisses, he gently pushed you back until your bumped right into his dressing table.

You were tugging at his hair, making sure he stayed close. With your help, he used one arm to wrap around the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until you were sat atop the table.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in an instant, linking your ankles, tugging him closer. Harry was holding back a long overdue moan, hands on your jaw. You pulled back for a breath, taking in him- lusty, dishevelled, eager.

He reached up and gently removed your birthday crown, tossing it over his shoulder, and then his hands dropped to your shoulders, leaning down to press kisses to your collarbone, the nape of your neck, one final one – dragged out – beneath your ear.

Harry softly worked at the bows, pulling them loose, watching them fall, your chest on proper display now. Your hands were roaming his torso, back, his hair and finally, his jaw- leaning back in, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. His mouth parting slightly, and you stole the change to slip your tongue in- giving Harry a pleasant surprise.

You worked to unbutton his shirt, hastily shrugging it off of his shoulders, forcing him to help you remove it completely. Your hands were roaming his torse, lips following suit. Harry couldn’t help the soft sighs he let slip, trying to keep his hands on any part of your skin.

The impatience was growing – neither of you wanted to address it. But after the third time you pressed yourself against his crotch, Harry decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.

He stepped back, softly chuckling at the bratty whine you sent his way. Harry’s hands pressed firmly into your hips; his thumb drawing circles up your thighs. He let a few fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it up to reveal your deep red, lacy undies.

Harry tutted, trailing his fingers closer and closer,

“I am very, very fond of these.”

He was inches away from getting exactly where he wanted, patiently dragging out each action. He knew you were certain- your incapability of letting him out of your grasp was proof.

Your hands were still all over him, desperately grasping at any free skin,

“Shut it.”

“Yeah?” he snickered,

“Yeah,” you huffed,

“What if-”

“Harry. I said shut it and put your mouth to good use.”

He blinked, blinked once more, and nodded profusely,

“Yes ma’am.”

---

Get ready for part twoooo! - Emmy xox.

#elioslover #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles smut #elioslover writing

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elioslover · 2 years

Text

Grapejuice (fic) Part Two

Premise: In the aftermath of your birthday party, your karma catches up with you, and bumping into Harry seems to be a running theme.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Smutty smut [head, head, head baby!], Alcohol use, mind-blowing banter.

Part One / Part Three

Fashion Board

Masterlist

In a haze of needy kisses, he gently pushed you back until your bumped right into his dressing table.

You were tugging at his hair, making sure he stayed close. With your help, he used one arm to wrap around the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until you were sat atop the table.

The impatience was growing – neither of you wanted to address it. But after the third time you pressed yourself against his crotch, Harry decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.

Harry tutted, trailing his fingers closer and closer,

“I am very, very fond of these.”

He was inches away from getting exactly where he wanted, patiently dragging out each action. He knew you were certain- your incapability of letting him out of your grasp was proof.

Your hands were still all over him, desperately grasping at any free skin,

“Shut it.”

“Yeah?” he snickered,

“Yeah,” you huffed,

“What if-”

“Harry. I said shut it and put your mouth to good use.”

He blinked, blinked once more, and nodded profusely,

“Yes ma’am.”

With that, he squeezed your hips, earning a surprising moan when he suddenly licked a warm strip over your pantie-clad clit. Harry was filled with further encouragement – a desperate need to hear you omit such pretty little sounds again.

He tugged your hips closer, and you were now sitting right on the edge, relying on him to keep you balanced. He did a good job holding you in place; tongue pressing flat against you now, sighing when he felt such dampened lace,

“All worked up just for me?”

He looked so pretty, innocently looking up at you. Looking right through you, knowing he finally had you where he wanted.

And that made you swoon, your stomach in knots, a flush of electricity- a nod of approval sent his way. Harry smiled knowingly, going back to placing sloppy kisses along your inner thighs, ending with a harsh nip before he slipped one hand into the band of your panties. He was ponder-some, toying with the lace between his fingers, looking up at you,

“You’re not gonna miss these are you?” it wasn’t really a question,

“They’re expensive-”

With little to no effort, he tugged the material until it ripped, and slipped from his fingers. You couldn’t decide on disapproval, or endearment, reacting with a soft gasp at your sudden exposure,

“You owe me,”

“I owe you,” he nodded with a soft smirk, spreading your hips further apart.

Harry sighed with satisfaction, slowly taking you in. His right hand left your thigh, his thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing slight circles before his middle finger slipped into you with ease – slick and warm, and Harry bit down on his lip, looking up at you with approval,

“So wet,” he muttered with fascination, “all for me” – that one was under his breath, almost going unnoticed by you. He pushed his finger in further, thumb continuing to work at your swollen clit.

You were biting back soft whines, holding onto any stubbornness you had to spare. But he was making it difficult, pulling his finger out altogether, moving back to your clit, using your wetness to help increase his speed.

Harry both looked like and was in paradise. He removed his fingers completely, leaning back to take a proper look at you. Your face was flush, lip clamped between your teeth, chest heaving. Harry decided he liked you best this way, his cock pushing up against his briefs at the fact that you were reacting this way, just for him.

And then Harry took another moment tell you what a “pretty, pretty pussy” you have, using his thumbs to spread you open, admiring how slick, and wet you were, all for him. You whined above him, on the verge of begging him to do more – touch you, taste you - anything.

He read your mind, leaning forward, curls tickling your thighs as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit, breath fanning over you, tongue darting out to lick you. When you finally moaned, Harry’s motivation only increased, flicking his tongue over your clit once more, sucking on the bud, hand coming up to help keep you spread before him.

His free hand reached out to the back of your ass, tugging you as close as possible- careful to avoid you toppling over. You whined, bucking forward, and Harry almost lost all balance.

He removed his lips, retreating from your thighs and the huff of disappointment you sent his way only had Harry’s heart swelling further.

“Needy little one,” he remarked, standing upright.

“Harry,” you warned, but that was long forgotten when he grabbed a hold of your waist, picking you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, hands rushing to the back of his neck.

He knelt down, carefully laying you flat on the carpeted floor. Legs still attached to his waist, you tugged him closer, luring him in for a kiss. His lips were slick, warm, and inviting- your tongue slipped past his teeth with ease, sloppily trying to find his own.

Harry kissed you back with adamance, tugging at your lips, sucking at your tongue, wetting your lips with his own. You sighed into his mouth, and he grunted, hips grinding down onto your own. His pants material rubbed against your clit, igniting a spark in your stomach.

He pressed down again, desperate for some contact. You hiked your leg up further, needily asking for more- and Harry was smitten with your impatience.

“Want me to touch you again?” he asked in between the kisses he was sloppily planting across your neck.

You nodded quickly, eyes pleading for him to do so. But he only tutted, tongue settling below your ear,

“You have to tell me, sweetheart.” Harry informed, and you awkwardly shuffled beneath him, frustrated but not surprised.

When he pressed himself down against you once more - hand reaching up to squeeze your boob, thumb grazing your nipple – you could no longer resist him,

“I want you to touch me,” you sighed in defeat, “please, Harry.”

He sat back up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, unlatched your legs from his waist, folding and spreading them out. He worked his way down your body, briefly stopping to flick his tongue over your nipple, before finally settling between your thighs.

He wasted no time, mouth attaching to your clit, hands spreading your lips, tongue dipping inside of you. You whined out, fingers digging into the carpet. Harry began lapping at you, tongue slipping in and out, flicking up to swirl and suck at your clit, nipping at you as your hips bucked forward, pushing yourself further into his mouth.

Harry moaned out, vibrating against you, and you hadn’t even noticed his name slipping past your lips in a soft mewl. But he certainly had, pushing your thighs further apart before flattening his tongue, licking at you with haste.

Your back arched, muttering profanities as Harry slipped his middle finger inside you, curling it upward. Your toes were curling, body wriggling beneath him, and Harry used his free hand to keep you still, pushing his palm against your pelvis.

He slipped his middle finger in, pumping in and out with both, while his lips came down over your clit once more, sucking, and swirling circles. You were a mess, breathing heavily beneath him, eyelids heavy as you watched Harry doing such a good job at making you feel good.

He praised you, reminding you what a pretty girl you are, how good you taste, how much he wanted to fuck you into next Tuesday. Your stomach clenched tighter with each praising, insides tingling. Harry was quick to notice how much it turned you on,

“Such a good girl for me,” he kept rhythm, fingers slick, almost slipping out completely before he thrust them back in, “so, so, good,” he licked and kissed your clit, “just for me.”

You were unravelling, legs threatening to shake. Harry picked up on this, licking you one last time before he pulled back, cool air rushing to your clit as you whined out.

He shushed you, fingers still lingering at your entrance as he crawled on top of you, sweet, sticky lips meeting your own, tongue pushing past, wrestling with yours.

His lips barely left yours as he brought his hand up, slipping his thumb into your mouth, waiting for you to suck on it.

You did, slowly, spit leaving a trail from your lip as he pulled away, reaching down to coat your clit. He began rubbing small circles, taking his time, swirling bigger, smaller, longer, and shorter, you rocked your hips into his hand, and Harry finally soothed you, sliding his middle and ring finger back into you.

“Fuck, Harry, please,” you groaned, head pushing further into the carpet.

“Please what, angel?” he whispered against your lips, slowly pumping his fingers in and out.

“Faster,” you panted, “please, Harry.”

You didn’t have to ask twice, Harry picked up his pace, rhythmically thrusting his fingers into you, curling them upward, covering your lips with his own, kissing you deeply. Your orgasm was bubbling within - threatening to spill over -hands desperately wrapping around the base of his neck, tugging at his curls.

Your hips could no longer stay down, ass lifting off of the carpet, letting his fingers slide deeper into you. A particularly loud whine left your lips, his name dancing off of your tongue, and Harry’s muffled your moans with his own, pumping faster- overwhelmed by the sound of your strained breaths, and his fingers dipping into you.

You were reaching climax, nails digging into his skin- tugging at any part of him you could. Harry could see it in your eyes- pupils dilated, hazy and desperate.

“Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?” he asked so sweetly- with such kindness it made your heart thud, nodding profusely, tugging him closer, chest weighing down your own,

“Yes, please,” it came out so soft - so politely - that Harry almost bust right then and there.

“Good girl,” he muttered against your lips, fingers gliding in and out with fervour, his thumb rubbing figure eights against your clit. “cum for me, baby. Please.” He was so rewarding; you couldn’t stop the wave of arousal- tingling and sparking your insides. Your body was no longer your own, euphoria washing over you – body desperately succumbing to your climax, whining his name over and over, frantically grabbing at his forearm and neck.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, never slowing down, watching the way your body squirmed beneath him, hips rocking against him, your frantic breathing, and all because of him. Your nails were sharp, digging into him in a way he was certain would leave a mark. His name was tumbling from your lips, falling in synch with each thrust, Harry was adamant to help you ride out your high.

Your body started to relax, slipping down onto the carpet, legs still apart- too fatigued to move them. Your hands were still weakly wrapped around him, his finger lazily rubbing circles against your clit, slowing to a halt, before he brought his hand up, sucking both fingers into his mouth, eyeing you contently as he licked off the taste of you,

“Hm,” he pondered, and your brows raised in unnerved curiosity. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “never knew you could be so polite.”

---

You never thought you’d say it, but you were glad to be leaving London after this weekend; ready to get back home to your nook- your safe place.

Two things needed to happen before you left though: going on this date- with a man you met through a friend at your birthday. And successfully avoiding Harry until you touched down in Italy. So far, you had done a good job, tonight would tick off both tasks on your list.

You had just barely stepped into the restaurant, music a tad too loud, an unnecessary amount of fluorescent lighting- the feeling of total excessiveness was swallowing the place and all of the people in it- you wondered how the two of you would even manage to get seated- everywhere seemed taken, this restaurant was up-and-common; on the map and on demand, and as of right now, you couldn’t understand why.

Still, you scanned the room- hoping to find somewhere that would seat just two. You were already resenting your date, annoyed for picking somewhere so inaccessible. Before you could dwell on it, he seemed to spot a free table in the distance, and he barely looked to see if you were following before walking off.

You worked to avoid bumping into anyone, weaving your way through the maze. You could now see the table, dimly lit, and trapped between other tables and booths. As you neared, the sound of someone calling your name stood out from the pumping music.

Considering the bustling atmosphere, you would have normally ignored it, but something deep within you knew that someone was definitely calling after you.

Scanning the crowd, it took mere seconds to spot the group seated at one of the booths; the entire band, a few faces you had yet to meet, and at the centre of it all; Harry.

You weren’t certain he had been the one calling for you, but it wouldn’t come as a surprise. Nevertheless, they knew you had seen them – walking away would be rude, even for you.

And so, you gestured your date to re-route, willing to at least greet them all – hoping it wouldn’t cost you the other table.

There was a chorus of hello’s; everyone enthusiastically festive. It lightened your mood, until your gaze landed on Harry, who was grinning with what you assumed to be sheer delight. You rushed through introducing your date, after you were asked your reason for being here this evening.

You had had enough now, gesturing it was time to go. But as you woefully expected, your table had been swiped, occupied by another lucky couple.

You knew it was coming before you could protest, a rush of encouragement to join them – at least until another table became available. And if your date knew you better, he would have politely declined, instead of agreeing and immediately slipping into the newly open spot next to Mitch, patting the leathered cushion for you to join.

And begrudgingly, you did so. Your first loss of the evening- dreading it wouldn’t be the last.

As predicted, the rest of the group was extremely warm and welcoming. They enveloped your date in pleasantries, and you cursed yourself for finding it relieving. Your habit of agreeing to go on average dates with the hope of a good time - or at least a good meal – was beginning to feel like more effort than not.

Nevertheless, you feigned interest and joined in the conversation. It was becoming clear that you would be sat here for a while, so you reached across the table and pinched Sarah’s G&T, taking a few sips as she faked a gasp, smiling and pulling you in for a chat.

🍷

One drink in, you were starting to relax – settling back against the booth, crossing your legs beneath the table. And though you feigned sheer ignorance about Harry’s gaze, which was burning a hole through your forehead, it was taking a lot more effort than you liked.

It was only when your date started another story - only when you found your thoughts straying, your fingers started tapping the table, knee bouncing – only then did you finally give in and glance up.

You knew he was still looking at you – you felt it - but it still threw you off guard though when you found Harry was indeed looking at you, eyes slowing switching between you and your date; still acting far too smitten for your liking.

You challenged him, for a moment - refusing to break eye contact, holding off blinking, and even raising an eyebrow before looking away. You turned your attention, as well as your body, to face your date. Resting your head in your hand, elbow on the table. And though you shouldn’t have, you hoped it would make Harry feel some type of way.

But the man to your left was making it so incredibly difficult to stay interested – he hardly finished the first story before diving straight into the next, surely stock exchange couldn’t be that interesting? He didn’t even stop babbling as his arm brashly slid over to rest across your shoulders, keeping you close but still directing his attention to the group of friends all huddled together.

Harry was still looking at you though, a valid excuse he found since your date was the one carrying majority of the conversation. He didn’t get you. And now he was certain that your date didn’t either. Why did you continuously humour these men? You were out of their league – always. From the first boy you had brought home, to the one sitting beside you now, they never brought out the spark within you, never created a podium to elevate your excellence; and Harry could only wonder if he had the compatibility to ascend alongside you.

It didn’t help that you were so evidently losing your composure, slumping further into your seat, fingers still swirling circles into the table. Harry found the man so boring; he had never tuned in to begin with, and he admired your strength and persistence for even trying.

He knew you had a habit of getting yourself into these situations; he also loved taking a backseat, endeared and hot under the collar, watching you huff and puff. Harry would revel in the opportunity to soothe that frustration into something closer related to ecstasy.

And so, your frustration slightly transfers, Harry grasping onto it, and onto the fact that you were right here, in front of him, choosing the company of someone else. Someone else’s arms around you – someone who you were willing to give a chance.

Harry was still smiling slightly though, finding this whole situation more amusing than not. Especially when you gave up, not even trying to hold back your eyerolls, certain your date couldn’t see you doing it. After your third attempt to resist a scoff, Harry did actually chuckle now, all eyes suddenly landing on him.

You were both on the brink of blushing; but relief washed over him when your date only smiled in Harry’s direction, mistaking his laughter for encouragement, and continuing the story where he had left off. Slowly everyone around the table returned their attention to the anecdote, somehow engrossed in this arbitrary relay of the ‘imminent crash of wall street’. Except for you; eyes still lingering on the boy sitting across from you - his own flickering under the dim-lighting, lips sweet and slick.

You caught his gaze with your own, remaining stern-faced at first, luring him in for another stare-off, before sending a cheeky wink his way.

Harry’s head tilted back with a bellow of laughter, your date foolishly chuckling along.

🍷

You were outside now - tucked away- a cigarette the only thing keeping you company. The night was cool, but it was a welcomed contrast to the pulsing atmosphere you had just escaped from.

Leaning your back against the bricked wall, your eyes fluttered shut, slowly letting the smoke slip past your lips. You needed a breather now more than ever- a moment to gather your frazzled feelings back into their box.

At least you could relax now knowing your date was certainly back in there, talking everyone’s ear off. You couldn’t believe he had so much to say – even for you, someone who was willing to speak until hoarse, toppled over with the nagging realisation that you were actually more than grateful that the two of you never made it to your own table.

But as you finally started to feel at ease, and before you could take another drag, your cigarette was cruelly snatched, pinched by Harry- suddenly perched beside you. He took a long, and dramatically slow pull, closing his eyes for emphasis, milking the idea of your current annoyance towards him.

He finally finished, but eyes remained closed, foot tapping along to the muffled beat as he turned, leaning one shoulder against the wall to face you.

You were still looking at him expectantly, quickly soothed when he reached over, placing the cigarette back between the parting of your lips.

Your fingers brushed over his briefly, replacing his hold of your smoke, and Harry took the moment to unnecessarily graze your bottom lip with his thumb. You were instantly wound right back up the moment his own lips parted to say something,

“Wondered where you’d snuck off to. Date got you that bored, huh?”

When you didn’t respond and instead huffed out a smoky cloud, Harry continued,

“Now, had you invited me instead…” he took the ciggie back, dragging quickly, smoke slipping past his teeth as he continued on, “I doubt youd’ve been out here in the first place.”

“Didn’t have to invite you. You’re here regardless, innit?” gesturing towards him,

Harry inched closer – ever so slightly - his voice low and dripping mischief,

“True. Though I can imagine there would still be a distinguishable difference.”

“Hm, What might that be?” turning to mock his stance,

“Well for starters, if I came with you…” he extinguished the bud’s sparks against the wall between you two, “I’d make sure I wasn’t the only one coming…”

“I won’t dignify that statement with a response,” you derided, and it was now Harry’s turn to scoff - though his was merely frisky- and playful.

“You disagree?” he was genuinely curious,

“I think you’re very optimistic.”

“Y’mean opportunistic.”

“That too.” You paused, “bordering cocky.”

“I prefer confident,” he said righteously.

You didn’t reason back this time. It was true - and charming - and disputing the matter would only cause you to flounder further under his guaranteed interrogation.

You huffed; tired of being tired – and Harry chuckled softly, reading you like a book. A fleeting thought about the strangeness of him being able to read you – to understand what you were thinking through a mere sigh.

He shifted closer, tilting his head towards you- close enough to notice the familiar mix of bourbon and mint slipping past his lips,

“So, which is it then?”

“Care to elaborate?” you asked,

“Are you hiding from that snooze you called a date… or from me?” Though his tone remained jovial, you suspected he desired an honest answer.

“Both, really.” You said, and Harry delayed his reaction in hopes of a warmer follow-up.

You took a risk edging closer, and you’re not certain why, guiding him directly back into your trap, hanging onto any words you threatened to spill. And when he was close enough to see the purple glitter flickering across your eyelids, you spoke up,

“Avoiding any repeats of my last sexual escapade.”

“You’ve been messing around with someone else I don’t know about?” Harry feigned hurt, his right hand reaching over to clutch at his chest.

“Grow up, Harry,” you huffed, retreating- but only slightly.

“I thought you writhing below me was testament enough that I have in fact, grown up”.

And to your utter dismay, he wasn’t wrong. Not in the slightest. You had started thinking of him differently - not to mention how you ruefully indulged in several steamy flashbacks of his warm and wet tongue pressed flush against your skin. But naturally, you were always quick to dismiss such thoughts, convinced that you were merely caught at a weak moment.

“Well as much as you might have enjoyed yourself, I hope you didn’t get too attached,” you attempted to make it perfectly clear that what had happened between you and Harry was purely a one-time thing.

“What if I said it was already too late?” He tested, eyes flicking down briefly to study your lips.

“Then I’m better than I thought.”

“I agree. Better than I thought,” he mused,

“Think about me often, do you?”

“I think about you, always.” Neither were certain on his definition of always, but Harry was aware it was increasing tenfold.

When it was evident you weren’t going to say anything more, Harry tried to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in his chest. A small part of him had hoped you would confirm that you had enjoyed his gift of birthday-head as much as he had. The way you had responded to him, so well - your moans still etched in his brain, the feeling of your nails raking down his neck – Harry didn’t doubt he had made you feel good. But he wanted – no - he needed to hear you say it.

“This is the part where you say the feeling was mutual, darling.” He still rejected all discouragement,

“Oh, is it now?”

“Mm. Something along the lines of ‘Harry, you ate me out just right!’” he sighed out, teasingly,

“Harry, you ate me out just right!” you tone mocked, dripping with sarcasm,

“Come off it,” he groaned,

“And cum on you instead? Where would you prefer; face? cock?” you seemed indifferent even when taunting him.

Harry further closed the gap between the two of you, leaving only a few inches distance. You could almost taste him now- trying desperately to ignore the familiar goosebumps threatening to break out all along your spine as he said,

“Your stubbornness knows no bounds. Frustratingly so that you seem to be in total denial.”

“Denial?” you pondered,

“Did I stutter?”

“Marginally,” you squinted, annoyed by his incessant need to pester you.

Harry closed the small gap between you, his lips resting just above the lobe of your ear, his hot breath threatening goosebumps to spill as he spoke,

“I said, you’re in denial.”

Cue the bubbling in your stomach, the thud in your heart, the sudden head rushing mercilessly to the gaps between your thighs- the urge to clamp them shut in disapproval, shadowed by the thought of Harry catching you doing so.

Instead, you remained as calm as ever, head tilting up in the opposite direction, chin raised to elongate your neck and throat – a last ditch effort to create distance between the two of you.

But your actions only seemed to encourage him, as the sudden sweet fragrance of Chanel seeping from the crook of your clavicle, and the bare offering of your throat- begging to be licked at, only heightened his fugue of attraction.

“I’m not in denial.” You finally stated, all focus directed to maintaining a steady breath – managing to subdue the pulses of excitement, all trying to push their way past your skin with fervour.

Harry sort of huffed - almost laughed, and when the warmth of his breath fanned across your skin once more, your goosebumps overruled, prickling up all along your neck.

“Y’are. Acting as if those pretty lips of yours weren’t slipping my name out in whimpers just the other day,”

And before you could protest, Harry used his free hand to cup the side of your face - tilting it further upward - before latching his teeth to your jaw, harshly nipping at your skin.

You bit back a whimper, adamant that you wouldn’t fall into submission, as Harry’s tongue darted out over the reddened skin, gently lapping at it.

Things were escalating, and from your experience with Harry, they were sure to go from one to a hundred before you were able to properly register. But when he used his tongue to lick a strip up your neck, before gently biting your earlobe, that held-back whimper escaped past your lips.

“And you seem to have no problem whining around me now…” he remained close, letting his words tickle your cheek,

You remained mum, slowing your breathing, turning to look at him, his hand still loosely holding your jaw. You looked up at him, batting your lashes, eyes doey. Harry was lost in the feel of you, with one hand still on your jaw, he extended the other, looping his finger through the belt loop of your pants, tugging you forward. You stumbled over your feet, your chest bumping against his, closer than you needed.

His hand left your hip, sliding up your waist, hand lying flat atop your ribs - inches away from the swell of your breasts.

When you emitted a soft gasp, he tutted and squeezed your skin. A second gasp came tumbling out- mouth ajar, and he took the chance to slip his thumb between the gap, resting it atop your bottom lip. You closed your mouth around his finger, instinctively sucking it further past your lips, swirling your tongue around it- but only once.

And just like that, he pulled his thumb back, hand wrapping around the back of your neck. He leaned as close as your noses permitted, brushing against one another as Harry trapped your lip between his front teeth, tugging on it. You sighed and he bit down harshly, his tongue forced its way toward your own, lapping at it, covering your lips with his own.

Your body was melting beneath his touch, sparks of provocation igniting your body from your head to your thighs. But you refused to give in completely, pulling back before he could do anything further. even so, you allowed yourself to stay close, his lashes fluttering against your skin, chest flush against your own.

Resisting him was fast falling off of the table, toppling to the ground with the threat of tugging Harry back in for a proper kiss. And with a surprise that shook you to your core, Harry dropped both hands, stood up straight, sent one last smirk your way, before turning on his heel and heading back toward the door- the music pumping as he opened it and stepped through, taking the music with him as it shut in his wake, and you were left alone in silence.

🍷

Still struck with awe, you shook your head, stood upright, and made your way over to the door. The restaurant was even busier – if possible – now closer resembling a nightclub. You weaved your way through the mass of people dancing or just standing around, huffing in relief when the table finally came into view.

And Harry was seated as if he had been all along, now occupying the spot Sarah had taken up, now she had moved closer to Mitch, and it took you sitting down to finally remember you had left your date at the table. Mortified when you noticed he was now sitting next to Harry – both across from you, both looking expectantly. But Harry’s smile was wider – cheekier - signalling he was completely aware of the new seating arrangement, and how amusing he found it.

And you would have sent daggers his way if it weren’t for your date. So, you smiled sweetly, all the while using the heel of your docs to stomp on Harry’s nearest foot. He winced in astonishment, jumping slightly. You sent a satisfied smirk his way, hoping he now understood that teasing you would not go down well.

Everyone around you seemed to be enjoying themselves, and it was certainly time for another drink. Looking down at the couple empty glasses sitting on the table, both men seemed to take note, their hands flying up to summon a waiter. You hid an eyeroll- only because it had worked, and the waiter was now heading your way.

Your date, not wasting any time, ordered himself another peer – some craft nonsense, and you were finding it harder and harder to reason with yourself for accepting his invite out tonight. Without taking a breath, he turned and added input to the group chatter happening to his left. Harry politely went next,

“Scotch with ice, please.” As you opened your mouth to order, Harry continued on, “And a double G&T for the lovely lady.”

You wanted to scold him. But for what? He knew your order, he did something your date hadn’t. To top it all off, it sent a rush of desirability up your spine, only deepening your attraction for him.

So, you muttered a ‘thank you’, and he smiled, playfully tapping your ankle with his foot.

Before the waiter could turn away, Mitch gestured him over, ordering a round of don julio for the table. And by the time they had arrived, you were already a third of a way through your gin, moving it over to make space for your shooter.

You waited until all tequila was dispersed amongst the group, picking up the glass in anticipation of a group-cheers. But your date was quicker, tossing his shot back, slamming the empty glass back on the table, puffing out a sigh as he stretched his arms out in satisfaction.

The look on your face must have been awestruck, who the hell was this man? Before he could catch you staring, Harry tapped your ankle once more, leaning his arms across the table, sliding his shot glass over to join your own. He looked at you with a fondness that left you feeling like the only person in the room – the only other person in the world, and you smiled up at him – a real smile.

As he smiled back, he picked up and held out his shot, waiting for you to lift yours. You did so, watching as the glasses clinked against one-another. You started pulling back, slightly tilting your chin upward, but Harry gasped in horror, kicking your shin,

“Hey, hey. You have to look me in the eyes.”

“Ah, preventative measures. I see.”

“Yes. Preventative,” he confirmed, his foot sliding all the way up your calf. You bit back a yelp, almost covering yourself in tequila as Harry winked, mouthed ‘cheers’ and tossed his drink back.

He was clearly enjoying this- given the opportunity to see if you would squirm. And your insides were squirming and wriggling their way to the surface, pushing up against your skin in the form of goosebumps.

You caught up with him - finishing your tequila, chasing it down with some of your drink – and then you decided it was time to get some revenge. You stuck your foot out, hooking your own heel against his nearest leg, intertwining it with your own.

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, sitting very still as your foot started to wander along his shin, trailing further upward. You looked at him sternly, foot sliding up along his calf- stopping briefly at his knee before continuing on up, settling against his inner thigh.

For a moment, you make no further moves, sending a challenging stare his way. He started to pout, eyes like a puppy dog. You reached for your glass, downing the remaining contents, and then you used the point of your boot to lightly tap his crotch.

Harry bit back the urge to moan – to sigh. Mouth agape, sucking in. He looked at you in astonishment, desperate for your next move.

You turned to Sarah, asking if she would accompany you to the loo. She nodded along, enthusiastically shooing the men blocking her exit. They piled out one by one, and now both your date and Harry were looking at you.

You ignored their stares, waiting for Sarah to make her way over. When she finally reached you, motioning toward the bathroom, you smiled in their general direction knowing they would both assume it was intended for themselves alone.

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

🍷

Harry was at the bar now, nonchalantly leaning against the countertop. Sarah hadn’t noticed him, spotting the group mingling around an impromptu dancefloor. She walked ahead of you, but as you caught a glimpse of Harry, he quickly ushered you over.

He turned slightly, saying something to the bartender as he waited for you to join him. He was slotted between other partygoers, leaving little space for you to create any distance. You slipped between him, nervous as you pressed up against him, everything touching but your faces.

The bartender placed a scotch, and two shot glasses before him, filling them with silver liquid. Harry slid both glasses over, shuffling around to accommodate for the lack of space. Once you were finally able to rest your arm atop the counter, Harry leaned down, lips hovering above your ear,

“Don’t forget to look me in the eyes this time, sweets,” he used his free arm to tilt your chin upward, maintaining eye contact as he took his shot, even waiting for you to finish your own.

Your eyes crinkled shut, lips puckered in a sour pout. Your body wriggled around in an attempt to expel the rush of burning spirits coursing through your veins. Harry bit back a sigh as you unintentionally rubbed up against him, aghast as you snatched his glass of scotch, downing half of its contents,

“Jesus, Morpheus.” he feigned shock.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Seriously… before you took off your jacket, I almost mistook you for-”

“-for Morpheus? You’re joking right?” you were bewildered, deadpan, “If this was the Matrix, I would definitely be Neo,” you told him matter-of-factly.

“You wish you were cool enough,” Harry sent an eyeroll and a cheeky grin your way.

“Okay, Freddie Kruger,” you turned to walk away, Harry hot on your heels,

“I do not look like him,” he defended, catching up to you on the dance floor, gently tugging at your arm.

You stopped to look at him and laughed. He was pouting cutely now, waiting for some rectification. Eyeing Harry up and down, you closed the distance, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to tilt him closer. He didn’t hesitate in assisting, leaning in to hear you better,

“Guess it just means I’ve been seeing you in my dreams,” you turned to join your dancing friends.

🍷

Dancing was tiring, and you were already overheated, out of breath as you sat down at the edge of the empty booth. Most of the group was still dancing – or drinking – and like clockwork, you could barely settle down before Harry motioned you to scooch on over.

You did, too tired to fight- too willing to indulge in how good he looked, nightmare on Elm street, or not. His hair was slick, and damp from dancing up a storm, sweater hanging loosely along his collarbone. His hands were on the table, tapping along to the beat.

You mindlessly reached out - because of the alcohol, you defended -taking his hand in your own, fiddling with the ring on his middle finger,

“I like this one,” you twirled it around. A large silver band, dancing bears carved all around.

“Figures,” Harry chucked endearingly, and you dropped his hand – something he instantly missed – turning to look at him,

“What?”

“You still love teddy bears.” He said knowingly, smile still lingering,

“Hush,” you blushed, looking away in shame.

But Harry only laughed endearingly, reaching over to tilt your chin up, directing you to look at him,

“I think it’s adorable,” he grinned sweetly, and you couldn’t help shyly smiling along.

His hand dropped from your face, and it was your turn to miss his touch, far too grateful when he chose to rest it atop your leather-clad thigh.

He leaned in – voice deep; low – and for the first time this evening, you were willing to accept that you hoped he wouldn’t leave,

“Where’s your date?” he asked. It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had, in fact, come here with a date. You weren’t sure the last time you saw him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care,

“Honestly? No clue,” you tried to say sternly, but a burst of giggles betrayed you.

Harry laughed along, all the more enamoured by you. Even more so when you leaned closer and continued,

“Suppose I should have invited you after all,” you shrugged the statement off, head bobbing along to the music.

“Yeah?”

“Could at least be certain you’d still be here by the end of the evening.”

“How could I possibly leave knowing you’re here?” his tone was teasing, but his words were far from it.

“You really think I look like I’m from the Matrix?” you pondered, and Harry let out a bellowing laugh,

“I love the pants. Your ass looks amazing,” he emphasised, and then went on to further inform, “you do look like you’re from the matrix… but that, is so fucking sexy.”

Your lips were on his before you could find reason, hand cupping at his jaw to keep him in place. He was only happy to reciprocate, his tongue teasing your bottom lip.

You pulled back before he could slip his tongue in completely, releasing his jaw and pressing his chest firmly, motioning to leave the booth.

Harry looked at you befuddled but did as told and slid out for you to exit. You stood up, shook yourself off and started to walk past him. He started following after you, almost colliding as you stopped and turned to see if he had caught on. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but you stood up on your toes and looked at him suggestively,

“You said you wanted to come tonight.”

You turned around and continued your way through the crowd, knowing he was close behind. As you neared the bathrooms, he wrapped his hand around your own, pressing up against your back in an attempt to let you guide him.

And you did, not letting him go until the door of the bathroom stall shut, until you harshly pushed him back against the door- his head bumping back against it.

You were on your knees before Harry could blink, fingers working at his belt- removing it with impressive haste.

He was beaming down at you, eyes hazy, lips swollen with anticipation. You unzipped his pants, tugging at them until they were barely settled around his waist. You looked up at him with innocent eyes, lashes batting as he leaned forward, pressing the softest kiss to his cotton-clad cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed, head tilting back, eyes screwed shut.

You looked at him a moment longer before kissing his cock again, hand coming up to palm him over his briefs. It seemed Harry had less patience than you – shocker – his hips bucking at the slightest touch,

“Now, now.” You scolded, fingers slipping beneath his waistband, hand wrapping around his cock- the mix of surprise and your cool hand made him whimper.

You liked that.

So, you wasted no time in removing his pants and briefs, pushing them down to his ankles as his cock sprung up, Harry sighing in relief. You reached out, wrapping around him, slowly stroking him. He was hard, needy for your mouth to soothe him; and you wanted nothing more than to help him out,

“So pretty,” you muttered – mostly to yourself – leaning closer to his throbbing cock, “I could just…” you stuck your tongue out, licking him from base to tip.

“Please,” Harry whined, hand reaching out to cup your cheek,

“Please, what?” you gently kissed the tip, lips spreading his precum,

“Please suck me off.”

Your lips wrapped around him, swallowing as much of him as you could, bobbing back up to swirl your tongue across his tip. Harry was vocal, he had your own panties soaked.

His hand found its way to your hair, careful not to tug it out of place. You stroked him, kitten-licking his tip, before you started bobbing your head up and down, hand wrapping around the base of his cock, pumping in rhythm. He groaned above you, fingers tightening around your hair, and you moaned softly at this sudden pleasure.

Your moans vibrating around his cock had Harry in shambles, instinctively bucking his hips forward, pushing himself further into your mouth; accidentally causing you to gag. Harry didn’t have the chance to feel bad, because the look you gave him was something he had yet to see- so lustful he didn’t have to ask twice before doing it again, whining at the sight of the string of spit trailing from your lips to the tip of his cock,

“Can I fuck your mouth?” he asked so sweetly, and you nodded like your life depended on it.

Harry was slow at first- testing the waters -but after a couple thrusts, and a couple moans from the both of you, he picked up his pace, thrusting into you, tip touching the back of your throat, saliva pooling and dripping down your chin. His cock twitched at the sight of how sloppy you were, hand stroking the base of him, trying your hardest to stay steady as he fucked into you, over and over.

Your other hand found his thigh, nails digging into him, and Harry was yet again all too ready to remind you what a good, pretty girl you were. How good you were making him feel. His thrusts were getting sloppier, hand fisting your hair tighter.

You pulled back, licking his tip, tongue swirling around as your other hand continued to stroke at him. Harry was a mess of sighs and pants, and you knew he needed to be pushed over the edge,

“Fuck. I’m gonna come, Y/n.”

You picked up your rhythm, pumping him faster,

“Please come for me, Harry.”

All you had to do was look up at him, asking so nicely, and Harry came unravelled, muttering your name, his orgasm hitting just as your lips wrapped around him, swallowing him, leaving one last kiss on the tip of his cock.

Harry was in a daze, eyes hooded- body exhausted and still wrapped up in ecstasy. You stood to your feet, using your thumb to wipe across your lip. You stepped past him and started to unlock the door of the stall. He shifted over for you, and you leaned up once more to remind him,

“You owe me, again.” He nodded profusely, anything you wanted.

---

The day was sweltering, but in your opinion, it was the start of a perfect summer. A summer by the ocean, fresh and salty, the atmosphere was so relaxed- everyone embracing the holiday vibes. You had spent the last three weeks counting down the days, sitting at your desk in Naples, pining for a break by sea.

You held a brown pastry bag in one hand, mindlessly admiring the sky above, revelling in the smells of fresh croissants, and almost completely lost in your thoughts. You were strolling amidst a group of people- all headed in one direction- when your head snapped up, heart in your throat,

“Harry!” a man called in the distance. You could have sworn you were dreaming- allowing the man from back home to invade your headspace once more.

“Oi, Harry!” they called again, and this time you came to a halt, the people behind you bumping their way past.

It was definitely your Harry. Head peeking out through the sea of people, turned your way, the crowd being the only thing keeping him from spotting you. He was standing outside the entrance of a gelato store, only metres away.

Without thought - or hesitation - you decided to make a run for it. Leaving the pavement, just barely avoiding two vespa’s cruising past. You ignored the hooting, picking up speed before reaching the other side. You were on grass now, plotting your next move.

Praying you had gone unnoticed; you spotted a palm tree and made a dash for it. It was large enough to hide you - twice over – and you leaned back against it, sighing in exasperation.

Your head was certainly spinning. What was he even doing here? You had deemed Naples your territory- let alone Capri. A damn island. Of all the places in the world, he somehow managed to end up here.

You hadn’t even decided to visit the island until a few days ago- lucky to receive a couple weeks off from work for the summer. Your plan to stay-put in Naples was quickly overshadowed by the idea of tanning, indulging in food and good wine, all done on the comfort of the sunny beach.

Your bestest-friend, and greatest confidant- Savina, was born in Capri and her family-home had remained there since. She was in the same business as you; tall, long curly hair and olive-skinned, with beautiful brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her sense of style often had you feeling underdressed, but she was your biggest hype-woman. The kindest, sassiest and most understanding woman you’d ever known.

Speaking of Savina, she had since crept up on you, a to-go coffee in each hand, standing beside the tree quizzically,

“What the hell are you doing?”

You almost jumped, eyes going wide. She looked around, puzzled, as you quickly ran up, grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her to join you behind the tree.

“Y/n!” Savina exclaimed, and at the mention of your name, you shushed her aggressively.

“You almost made me spill,” she whisper-scolded, “it’s boiling, you moron.”

Rolling your eyes, you were still totally distracted. You muttered a quick apology, shutting your eyes briefly to take a deep breath, after which you finally took the chance to peer out from behind the tree. You scanned the area you had last seen him, and your heart stopped. It was certainly Harry; eyes hidden behind familiar sunnies. Your quickly retreated, looking at Savina in shock,

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“What the fuck is who doing where?”

“Alright. If you look behind me-” Savina immediately attempted to step past you,

“Inconspicuously, Savina!” she waited,

“Outside the gelato place. There’s a man…” you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to say more, so you stepped aside and allowed her to take a look for herself.

She looked around, brows furrowed as she scanned the many people moving in every direction,

“Be more specific.”

You whined aloud, “White tee, goofy pin-striped pants,” as an afterthought, “And ray bans.”

Savina took another moment, gaze settling on Harry, who was now leaning against the glass window, arms folded across his chest. He seemed deep in thought, head slowly turning to watch the people coming and going. Another man -hair short and dark- joined him, holding out a sugar cone for Harry.

Savina nodded, stepped back calmy and addressed you,

“Harry Styles?”

“Yes,” you sighed, bowing your head shamefully.

She looked at you, thinking things through, remaining as placid as possible. You were pleasantly surprised, expecting some sort of chaos to ensue. And then she nodded once more,

“What in the fuck?” now exclaiming- struggling to hold back a combination of surprise and bewilderment.

“Listen I’d like to stand idly by and give you the whole story-” you spoke with haste, “-and I will tell you everything, trust me.”

You were searching for an escape route, settling on the nearest staircase- one that would lead you down closer to the beach, and further away from Harry.

Savina watched amusingly as you had so easily turned into a flustered mess- knowing you over five years - never seeing you so caught off guard. Regardless, she nodded along and awaited your next move,

“We just need to get as far away from here as possible,” you gestured for the stairs,

The two of you made a break for it- Savina a few feet behind you as she struggled to keep her coffee in the cup. And once you were both safely off of the final step, the thumping in your heart was finally starting to subdue.

Savina could hardly keep still - let alone quiet - as she lightly smacked your arm, scolding you for sending her on this senseless detour.

🍷

Harry was outside the ice-cream parlour, but his head was miles away. He found himself getting distracted with such ease these days. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he noticed his overthinking had gone into overdrive. And once he was in his head, he could hardly keep one straight-thought, millions of moments flashing past.

Maybe a holiday was exactly what he needed. As reluctant as he was to pack up and head somewhere last minute, Harry was more than grateful that Jeff had offered him to join. He had never been to Capri- though his love for Italy made this vacation a sure success.

He had only arrived a couple hours ago- the boat ride over was a lovely introduction, his excitement bubbling over when they finally stepped off onto the island.

Their first step was to drop off all luggage and belongings at the villa. This took less time than expected, and the combination of intrigue and warm weather was enough to have Harry and Jeff bounding out the door towards the village.

They were pleased to find how bustling the city was with both natives and tourists. There was so much to see, Harry’s head was swinging in all directions, trying to take in everything all at once.

So much so, Jeff grew impatient and left Harry outside as he went into the store. Harry was simply scanning the area- taking note of several stores, beach in the distance, people walking about enjoying the summer breeze.

He had finally connected his phone- tons of text messages pouring in at once; Gemma only now getting back to him, mum asking if he landed safe, Jack sending an unrelated gif. He was in the midst of responding, forgetting when and where he was,

The first time Jeff called for him, he didn’t even register. The second call brought him to attention, but before he could look over and confirm what flavour gelato he wanted, the sound of a vespa hooting aggressively, caught his attention.

In a haze of white silk, dodging the road, hair flying, disappearing into nothingness- Harry could have sworn he had just seen you. Running for your life.

But you were gone- if it even was you. And Jeff was calling his name a third time before he could look any further.

Harry begrudgingly peeled his gaze from the street, turning back to acknowledge Jeff. He asked for one scoop of chocolate, one of cookie dough, and he hastily returned his attention to the street.

🍷

Harry spotted a quaint café, situated with a wonderful view of the sea. The outdoor table he chose looked down at the boardwalk; people powerwalking, walking dogs, strolling down the stairs towards the beach; and Harry was enamoured. Large chromatic trees and bushes were scattered along the pathway, slightly obscuring his view of those below.

The smell of sea salt and cappuccino was intoxicating, the sun beaming down, the feel of relaxation so enticing. Harry really did need a break – a well-deserved one at that. He was even slightly relieved when Jeff chose to hang back at the villa for a nap- it gave him some time to address some of his thoughts- perhaps clear his mind a little.

He was periodically picking at the warm ciabatta stacked in a woven breadbasket, his sunglasses suddenly slipping down the bridge of his nose, obscuring his vision.

Harry stopped eating and took his shades off, deciding to use the bottom of his t-shirt to remove smudges on the lens. His focus was diverted by a high-pitched yelp – followed by a bellowing slew of Italian exclamations – a sudden scuffle happening somewhere on the boardwalk below.

He tried to get a better view from between the shrubbery - a middle-aged man; dishevelled, and waving his arms, called after someone. Harry looked further along the path- eyeing a gust of a floral dress, attached to the body of what he could only vaguely determine was you. His eyes were surely playing tricks on him; watching the woman - followed shortly by another taller one – run off further down the path, barely dodging the civilians obstructing their way.

And then they were gone. Vanishing into thin air, the atmosphere returning to normal as if it had never been interrupted to begin with.

Harry was starting to feel a tad ridiculous; apparently unable to leave his confusion over you back in London. He assumed he would have been over it by now- at least marginally so. Not allowing his head to be riddled with thoughts of you – particularly those that pertained to your hips slamming against his own.

Nevertheless, he knew there was always the possibility of him getting attached – how do you truly get over something so significant - so fucking memorable, so incredibly important? Harry needed to be okay with what happened between the two of you; needed to be able to acknowledge that it may have only been a one-time thing after all.

He was far too frightened to consider the result of being with you; so grateful and rewarded, and undoubtedly hoping it would finally change things between you.

But you hadn’t responded to his last two texts – he had refused to send a third; regardless of how much he wanted to – Harry was now forced to face the honest truth. Things were no longer the same between the two of you; and you weren’t willing to acknowledge or accept that.

🍷

Luck was not on your side- and you were convinced it was the consequence of your trip back home. Had you any self-control, this would have been the perfect summer- the one you so deserved.

As if losing your sense of control hadn’t bothered you enough, your frustration over liking it more than regretting it was ever increasing.

Having not seen Harry again since your almost-encounter yesterday, you were feeling relieved - but any time you were close to forgetting about it, you increased your alertness – certain you would prevent any further interactions.

Savina was kind - for your sake, of course – a rarity of understanding and patience that she never showed those around her. You were her soft spot, from the moment you met in the lobby of your new work building.

It was an electric start to an electric friendship – birthed courtesy of your desperate need for directions, and her total amusement watching you run in circles; only stepping in to assist after letting you wander around aimlessly for a good five minutes.

But as you reached the lobby, Savina was there once more, smiling sweetly at just the sight of you. You didn’t stop, heading for the exit as her heels clicked-clacked to catch-up. You whined something about being extra-late today – no help from her – and she laughed, grabbing your arm, exclaiming she was taking you out for dinner.

‘A celebration!’ she had cheered, quickly switching your perspective, and reminding you that not only had you survived your first day, but you had also succeeded in the first step of making a huge change. Your attitude had perked-up and hadn’t faltered since.

Savina worked in the editing department- you worked in animation. Your morning ritual consisted of taking turns picking up coffee and bagels, this tradition carried on even here on vacation.

After your silent freakout, she finally got the answers to her many questions. The two of you learned more and more about one another on the daily. Savina knew you well enough to understand your internal dilemma before your story concluded. She may not have agreed with your choice of action - running could only get you so far – yet she followed your decision; ready to assist and eager to see it all play out.

Your mood wasn’t exactly peachy today, tossing and turning all night; almost falling asleep before being reminded of Harry. And the cycle repeated for what felt like – and was – hours. Still, you were determined to make the best of your vacation, throwing a sheer black, daisy-printed dress over your swimsuit, before heading to meet up with Savina at your usual spot for brunch.

Mimosas and bread, cheese and fresh grapes were soon cheering you up, the clear skies and warm breeze was making it that much easier.

Your swimsuit was the first thing you put on this morning- Savina had done the same, packing a bag with towels and sunscreen.

Your goal of the day was to spend as much time out in the sun- the beach was bustling, family-goes and vacationers setting up spots all over. It reminded you of summer growing up, building sandcastles and surfing baby-waves with Jack.

As brunch ended, you began making your way down to the boardwalk, following the pathway. You scoped out possible beach-spots, finding it semi-difficult considering the beautiful array of trees and bushes had created a mini canopy, hiding the beach behind it.

You were glancing left to right, enjoying your stroll, but as you looked right up towards the scatter of restaurants above, you spotted Harry with ease. He was sticking out like a sore thumb- sitting right near the restaurant’s balcony- an entire view of the walkway below.

He was looking down- thank god- and you were certain this time that you had gone unnoticed. But that didn’t stop your body from going into flight-mode. Before you could stop yourself, you started ducking and running forward, bumping directly into a man walking opposite, apologising but not slowing down.

The man was exclaiming something rude, but you were tuning him out- forgetting about Savina completely. You dodged everything and everyone in your way, working with such precision you could have been mistaken for an Olympic hurdler.

Savina began a slow run after you- she would catch up eventually and, in the meantime, she had figured out why you had begun sprinting to begin with. This was becoming increasingly amusing, Savina almost hoped another run-in would occur - totally enamoured with this new side of you.

When you were absolutely certain you were now far away enough to slow down - precisely 200 metres-worth – you collapsed against the railing, totally out of shape and as a result, out of breath. Savina strolled along, finally joining you- acting as if nothing strange had just occurred.

She looked out at the view, deciding this was actually the perfect spot to sit and relax on the beath- quiet and cosy.

Without waiting, Savina began climbing through the railing, taking a small jump, feet sinking into the sand. She knew you were now following close behind, so she began unpacking and laying out her towel,

“Are you planning on running away every time you see him?” she didn’t look back.

You weren’t sure – really - refusing to accept that you might have to factor Harry into your holiday itinerary. It was unfair, unbecoming, and ultimately unnecessary. To fix things, you would surely have to confront him. And for some reason, that felt worse than the things that went down between the two of you in London.

At least then you were comforted by the literal feeling of pleasing and being pleased by Harry. That was the problem after all, the fact that you enjoyed – loved – it so much, the fact that you thought about it more and more as time passed; at the mere thought of him, the slightest reminders.

Seeing him now was worse than before; your annoyance was so prevalent, but the addition of lust, attraction, and neediness was something new to battle with.

Nevertheless, you had avoided him twice now, and that gave you hope that you might succeed at doing so the entire vacation- at least as long as he stuck around,

“I think I’ve been doing well so far,” you huffed matter-of-factly,

“By the skin of your teeth,” Savina reminded.

You removed the extra fabric, exposing your swimsuit and settling down onto the towel that had been laid out next to the one Savina now occupied. And you didn’t attempt a response; aware that you would see each other eventually. But until that occurred, you would remain optimistic.

With the sun so crisp, the sand so warm, the sea roaring and the city bustling afar. You slipped on your sunnies, plugged in your earphones, and attempted to find a level of mindfulness.

This seemed successful- so much so that you ditched your music, reached into the communal bag, and pulled out the latest book of your likings.

There was rarely time to read nowadays; you wondered how anyone found a moment to enjoy. So, you relished in any moment you found, relieving all guilt, and finding such entertainment.

Shade had been nowhere in sight, providing the perfect reading condition; so, when this changed, a dark cloud of coolness swallowing you, the cruel feeling of dread seeping through- you were afraid to look up and confirm your awful suspicions.

Harry peered down at you, eyes disguised, absent of shirt and shoes. He had a cheeky smile – something you found both taunting and humiliating. He had intercepted you; apparently tuning out for even twenty minutes had turned out to be detrimental.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said smugly as you removed your shades.

---

Here we go sweet pea's!! Let me know what you think, I really hope you enjoy ! We're in Italy now babyyy lets fuckin go!! - Emmy xox.

#grapejuice fic #elioslover #elioslover writing #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry x reader smut #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x y/n smut #harry x y/n smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb

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elioslover · 2 years

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hey love, do you have a masterlist ? i just stumbled upon grapejuice and it was amazing !! i’d love to read more of your writings ♥️

ELIOSLOVER MASTERLIST

Hi my darling! Thank you so much! I'm also gonna link all of the Harry writing I published back on my old account 💞

Masterlist (2015 - ).

🤭🍒 newest to oldest 🐞🌻

smut [💋] fluff [🌷] angst [❤️‍🔥] mix [🫧]

[Other Masterlists] Grapejuice 🍷 Dad!Harry 🧸 Trophy Series 🏆

✨Series:

Grapejuice - Part One / Part Two / Part Three (ongoing.) 🍷

Extras: Flashback (Halloween) / Green-eyed Monster (Prompts)🍷

In which Harry is Y/n's younger brother's best friend and she refuses to see him as anything other than a child.

Unrequited Love - Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four (fin.) ❤️‍🔥

In which Y/n has been in love with Harry for as long as she can remember- he just happens to be thicker than a batter of pancakes.

✨Main Writing:

Baby Fever [Dad!harry] 🌷

In which Harry really wants to start a family.

Red Herring ❤️‍🔥

In which Harry is an extremely petty assassin.

Worst Wingman 🫧

In which Harry seems to love sabotaging dates.

Newborns [Dad!harry] 🌷

In which Harry has underestimated how much his life is about to change.

Ray of Sunshine [Grumpy!H] ❤️‍🔥

In which a very grumpy Harry meets Y/n and she seems unwilling to humour his attitude.

Friday Nights [Dad!harry] 🌷

In which Harry cannot wait home to see his two favourite girls.

Silver Screen (Film Festival) 🫧

In which Harry finds out he isn't the only one who hates mingling.

Routines [Dad!harry] 🌷

In which harry wakes up to the sweetest surprise.

Afterparties on Tour [Italy!Harry] 🌷

In which Love on Tour is ending and Harry really needs to tell Y/n how he feels.

Masks On 💋

In which Harry visits a fancy sex club where everyone is wearing masks and zero clothing... and then he meets Y/n.

Run-Ins 🌷

In which Harry tries to brave a heat wave, and Y/n's dog knows just the thing to help him.

Bronze is Better (BRITS) 🫧

In which Y/n tries to thank Harry for his kind gesture, but he's a tad preoccupied.

Going for Gold (GRAMMYS) 🫧

In which Harry and Y/n have a meet-cute on the red carpet.

Slow Motion (Song Request) 🌷

In which Harry has been patiently waiting for Y/n to accept her feelings for him.

Teasing Tactics 💋

In which Harry has marvellous hands, and Y/n can only resist so much.

All I Want ❤️‍🔥

In which Harry and Y/n had a hasty break-up, but drunk Harry can't quite keep away, and sober Y/n seems to feel the same.

Heart Out 💋

In which Harry and Y/n are friends with benefits but she desperately needs a date to her ex-boyfriend's wedding.

Counting the Minutes 🫧

In which Harry walks in on his best friend naked hehe.

Eighteen 🌷

In which Harry has literally been in love with Y/n since they were eighteen years old.

Medicine 🫧

In which Harry and Y/n have an interesting relationship; this is what happens when they reunite.

She Way Out 🫧

In which Harry is the lead singer of grungy-band White Eskimo, and Y/n shows up at the local bar.

Nobody Compares 💋

In which Harry and Y/n have been flirting the entire tour and things get heated at the release party.

Sex Toys 💋

In which Harry and Y/n are best friends and he happens to stumble upon her drawer of goodies.

✨Blurbs / Suggestions:

#24 - Ballroom Dancing 🌷

#1 - Seated at a Wedding 🌷

#37 - It's not what it looks like 🫧

#60 - Marry me 🌷

Neighbour Harry 💋

Sex With Harry 💋

✨Coming Soon:

Grapejuice Pt4- Harry.

Bad Neighbours (series)- Harry.

💕 All writing published on this blog @elioslover [as well as on my other blog @cheap-packof-cigarettes] are of my own creation. I do not give permission for any of my work/pieces to be copied, reposted to this or other sites (AO3, Wattpad etc.), or copied and pasted into AI generators (ChatGpt, etc.) My pieces are also protected, and copyrighted under my Wix blog [The Online Archives ©]. All images are not mine unless stated otherwise- credit to the rightful owners. Thank you for visiting my blog, I hope you enjoy, lovelies! 💕

#elioslover writing #elioslover #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles masterlist #elioslover masterlist #harry masterlist #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you

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elioslover · 2 years

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GRAPEJUICE (FIC) MASTERLIST 🍷

Harry has always had an overwhelming fondness for you- his best friends older sister. He really wants to show you he's no longer a kid, but you aren't so willing to accept that just yet.

[Also known as the one where Harry goes after what he's always wanted, and you just might let him. Romance, red wine, wit, and a sweet, sexc summer in Italy.]

Premise: A slow-burn; deep pining; best friends brother; scandalous summer in Italy.

Warnings: 18+ Smut / Age gap (2 yrs) / Slight drug & alcohol use.

Word Count: 39k (as of Jan 2024).

Fashion Board - Fic Playlist - Other Writing

🍷 Part One 🍷

🍷 Part Two 🍷

🍷 Part Three 🍷

🍷 Flashbacks Halloween 🍷

🍷 Flashbacks Lhh! 🍷

🍷 Part Four [coming soon!] 🍷

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!

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elioslover · 2 years

Text

Slow Motion - Harry Styles

SLOW MOTION - harry x reader

Premise: Harry and Y/n have been friends for years, and Harry knows for certain that he has wanted more for most of them. Your reluctance for commitment runs deep, but your connection with one another is so much deeper.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Harry was already seated- and had been for the last ten minutes. He was early, but the anxiety of arriving even a moment late had him almost rushing out the house. He was already getting ahead of himself; hoping for the best- ignoring the worst.

He had changed pants twice- shoes thrice. No matter what he tried, he still wasn’t satisfied with the way his hair fell, he wished he hadn’t left his favourite jacket in LA, and now he was almost regretting inviting you in the first place.

But he couldn’t stop himself- he never could. He could never get enough of you; and he had long concluded that he never would.

His hands were crossed on the table in front of him, head bowed, trying to will his nerves to calm themselves- praying you hadn’t changed your mind.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts - a soft cough, a whisk of the opposite chair- and you were suddenly sat before him. As if you had been all along.

Hair pulled back, strands falling loose, lipstick faded, still wearing your work clothes. You took an exasperated sigh, tossing your clutch on the table, eyeing the waiter who was seconds away from placing the scotch Harry had ordered prior before him.

You politely addressed the waiter, putting on a charming smile as you ordered a dirty martini- extra gin, extra cocktail onion.

And then you finally turned your attention to Harry, who was trying his best to remain unstartled. He watched you curiously, reaching over for a sip of his drink, taking his time- ice clinking against his front teeth,

“Hello sweets,” you smiled; endearingly,

“Hi darling,” he smiled; fondly.

Everything- every fear, every nerve, unanswered question, or doubt was washed away- replaced with a warm feeling wrapping around his entirety, willing him to reach out and touch you.

But he refrained – for now – testing out the waters, always slightly unsure. Sometimes, Harry knew you loved him- with certainty. He didn’t need to hear it in words to know you felt it- to know it was completely mutual. And then there were times- more often than not- when Harry couldn’t for the life of him tell what you were feeling.

Your certainty was overwhelming; applied to almost every aspect of your life – except regarding Harry, apparently. To say this intimidated him would be a gross understatement.

You apologized for being late, whined about traffic and complimented his hair, all the while Harry sat put, smiling like a fool.

He can’t remember the last time he had seen you- but you could. Harry didn’t know the number of calls and texts you had avoided, but you certainly did.

Before you could slip into a puddle of dread and regret, your drink arrived and after two gulps, you were ready to face Harry head-on.

“I’m sorry I’m late, were you waiting long?” you looked concerned,

“No darling,” he lied.

🍷

You sighed in relief, settling back into your seat. Work had run late, but you had run even later when you arrived home and could not decide on what to wear. Everything you owned suddenly felt drab or over the top - nothing felt appropriate. After finally agreeing to meet up with Harry, your nerves were all over the place.

You had contemplated turning back twice- once out the door, one on the drive over. But every time you stopped, your thoughts went to Harry; and a sudden jolt of excitement was enough to re-convince yourself.

It had been thirteen months since you last saw him - eight months of no speaking, six missed calls, and at least twenty texts ignored. Each day that passed caused your guilt to worsen; promising yourself that you would respond to him soon. Sometimes you had even gone so far as to pulling up his number and typing out a text, only to toss your phone aside, always sighing in distress.

The fear of not getting back to Harry was unfortunately less than the fear of actually seeing him. You felt yourself being sucked back in over and over. It was becoming beyond frustrating attempting to keep him at a distance- none of this would be happening if you could have just resisted him in the first place.

He had as much of a hold over you, if not more, as he had for the past ten years. He was the most loveable, endearing man you had ever known.

When your drink finally arrived, you embarrassingly gulped it down in one-go. Only then did you look up at Harry with guilt-ridden, wide eyes. But he was only smiling back at you sweetly, taking a sip of his own drink. Thankfully, the waiter was still nearby, so Harry politely ushered him over and ordered you both another round. He also took the opportunity to order his starter- the same he always ordered when you ate here. Then turning to you, you classically ordered your favourite.

Drinks went by quickly; light catch-ups – not really concerning life, but rather, updates on recent movies you had seen, new albums and their best tracks, places and restaurants recently visited, books recently raved about.

Harry was leaning back in his chair now, arms slung lazily across the table. Hands swirling his almost-empty glass around, eyes training yours,

“I’m happy to see you,” he said,

“I am too.”

“Happy to finally get ahold of you,” he said,

“Yeah… things got chaotic.”

“Everything alright now?” he asked,

“Definitely.”

He wanted to ask more- you wanted to tell him more. but the air of awkwardness had quickly returned; losing touch with one another made Harry feel like he had missed out on a part of your life- he was willing to follow you to the ends of the earth, but he knew your aversions, he understood your distaste for commitment, and deep down he even knew why you were hesitant to let anything more happen between the two of you.

You always came back though- he knew you would, even if it took another decade. He was patient, and not going anywhere. Harry didn’t want anyone else; he took things slow, reveling in the friendship the two of you already shared- loving every little thing you did choose to do and share with him.

Dinner flew by with haste, and Harry was riddled with disappointment- he could sit here with you for the rest of eternity. The candle that was slotted between your plates had dimmed hours ago; sharp shadows emphasizing the structure of your jawbone. it cast a specter of your fluttering lashes across the apples of your cheeks – you looked as perfect as he remembered you to be.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you softly demanded,

“Like what?” innocently,

“You know exactly what.”

“Haven’t the feintest idea,” he winked,

Your eyes rolled, settling on letting this one slide; mostly because of the dessert being placed before you, partially because drink number three had started setting in.

🍷

Dinner ended with the two of you returning to your flat; you only had wine to offer, and you kept the main lights off to mask the current messiness of your living room.

Harry’s shirt had lost a button along the way – his hair disheveling more as the evening crept forward. Your lips were stained red, your shoes now long gone.

The two of you had settled on the balcony – the air was sticky, warm, and thankfully, followed periodically by a nice summer breeze. Still, it was degrees too hot for you- at lease whilst in the presence of Harry. He had a way of making you feel on fire- skin left scorched after even the slightest of touches,

Speaking of- you were now leaning against the balcony railing; looking out over the flickering view of the houses scattered all around you. Harry was stood next to you, standing far too close as his shoulder brushed yours. After a moment, he shifted even closer, resting his cheek atop your shoulder, and you could now smell his mix of bourbon and musk.

You tried your hardest to remain unbothered- unaware and unresponsive, but with each passing second your body heated up- mind becoming fuzzy. You softly cleared your throat, stepping aside to create distance,

Harry looked at you puzzled; head turning to send a quizzical arch of his brows your way. When you said nothing, only sighing and staring outward, Harry suggested sitting on the couch, leaving before giving you a chance to object.

He sat too close, his hand tapping against his own thigh. He was in the middle of telling you an engaging story of a time recently spent near the beach- his hand mindlessly moving to the middle of your outwardly spread legs. He was touching you ever-so-softly, just barely there,

Your heartbeat was deafening, thumping in your head over and over. The room was near spinning- thoughts of him touching you further were riddling your mind- demanding you give in and give Harry a chance.

Before you could get carried away with this feeling, you slid an inch away from Harry, causing him to come to a halt. His brows now furrowed- though a subtle, but cheeky smile crept its way across his face,

“Stop getting so close to me,” you tried,

“But we’re friends, “Harry’s confusion was growing,

“Friends don’t act like this.”

“Like what?"

“Like, touching.”

Harry thought about it, almost releasing a whole chuckle before turning himself to face you completely,

“Friends don’t touch one another, no?”

“No.”

He pretended to ponder your statement extensively, mocking a rub of the chin for extra emphasis. You knew he was hardly taking you seriously- refusing to let your words truly sink in; fearful they might shut the door between you completely.

Before a proper silence could revitalise, you sucked in a telling sigh, willing yourself to continue,

“And the other stuff...”

“What other stuff?” Now Harry was certainly confused,

“The talking...”

“Oh, so friends don’t talk to one another?”

“Not the way you talk to me,” you were losing momentum, almost begging yourself to remain calm and unbothered,

“Like what?”

Harry knew exactly what you meant; it was a large reason for his love of your relationship after all. You were always quick to initiate, or reciprocate,

“Messing around, making me laugh… you know you’re doing it. I know you do,”

You were almost doubting yourself now- questioning if this could have all been in your head. But the longer you had known Harry, the closer and friendlier you got, the stronger your certainty grew. You knew he wanted more; you also knew that a part of you longed for the same.

Giving in to this relationship had been the greatest conflict of yours- spanning over years; always inches away from developing into something more. it was the only thing that truly frightened you. Fear of the unknown, the thought of commitment so close to debilitating.

Each time the lines got extra blurry, your heart thumped out through your ears, stomach in your throat, and instantly you began searching for escape routes- coming up with just about any excuse to further the distance.

Harry never helped ease the situation; so easily lost in the connection, so much more willing to love and be loved by you. With each rejection, your hurt and guilt increased- you feared there would come a time where he would finally grow sick of you, grow sick of waiting for something you were clearly so reluctant about.

However much it hurt you to turn him away, you could only imagine it hurt him far more. And if it did, he was careful not to let it show. Harry always showed you the same amount of affection; remained perky and endeared, never letting you feel too guilty for your constant conflictions.

He was now facing you fully, resting his arm across the back of the sofa. Harry looked at you, taking his time. You felt warm under his gaze- observed, yet somehow embraced with total comfort and relief. If he continued looking at you that way, you became surer that things may be alright after all,

“What am I doing?” Harry sent curiosity your way, leaning closer to ensure nothing you said would go by unnoticed,

“Making me fall in love with you,” you all but groaned, cheeks blushing with mortification,

Harry tried his hardest to hold back the grin of relief from spreading across his features- failing miserably and embracing it, teeth showing, eyes crinkling with liberation,

“You’re doing it now!”

Harry was soaking it up, lapping at this sudden and well-overdue assertion. He worked hard not to scare you back into your shell- though he couldn’t stop his hands from raising in defense, smile never faltering,

“I’m not doing anything!”

There was no use arguing it, you had said what you had said- and you had meant it. But that didn’t mean you were ready to be subjected to Harry’s enthusiastic relief. Your cheeks like cherries, eyes averting his, head bowing indignantly,

The silence that fell between you was now pleasantly comforting, and you refused to consider what Harry might be thinking and feeling, trying to pretend this conversation was but a delusion,

“And is it working?” he asked, words slowed and curious,

“I think you know it is,” you sighed,

Any chance of Harry keeping his cool had dissipated, he had waited what felt like an eternity to properly show you what life could be like if spent with one another. Curiosity and love had finally gotten the best of you,

Harry slid over, legs bumping yours, chest pressing into your arm. He gently placed each palm on either side of your face, helping you lean forward, making closing the distance that much easier. Your eyes were fluttering shut before he could do anything more, nervously anticipation what came next.

His lips brushed against yours- softly and sweetly. You thought he might take his time; torture you the same way you had him. But Harry was not cruel, his insistence on remaining patient was everything you needed- and wanted.

So, he was kind, and kissed you properly. And you finally gave in completely, returning his kisses with nothing but intention. The fear of things changing had was substituted for willingness. Perhaps for the very first time.

---

Hi my lovelies! I finally finished this blurb request for Slow Motion by Karina Pasian! You can still send some requests for that if you like! Let me know what you think, feedback is always a bonus hehe xox - Emmy!

#elioslover #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #elioslover writing #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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elioslover · 3 months

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Taking a breather from the prompts in favour of writing a little assassin piece (I've been scheming about for YEARS) especially for @harrysonlylover who has been writing the most amazing assassin fic atm and has revived my love for this trope and actually just writing in general!

So yeah, keep a look out for Harry who manages to have a hit put out on him! - em. Xo 💞

#harry styles x reader #elioslover writing #harry styles x y/n

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elioslover · 10 months

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Talk to me about Grapejuice! What do you think of the characters? What do you hope happens? Literally anything!! I am in love with the characters and I need to talk it out!! Emmy. xo

#feel like I'm not sure #how people feel about klutz #jack is my fave tho #and savina is who I wish I was #elioslover writing #elioslover #grapejuice fic

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elioslover · 2 years

Note

slow motion by karina pasian!!

Here you go my sweets!! 💕💕 I hope you enjoy xxx

Slow Motion

Masterlist

#elioslover #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry x reader #elioslover writing #harry styles fic #harry x y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles request

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elioslover · 2 years

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Hi! will there be a graoejuicw 2? I LOVE it!

Hiii lovely! Thank you so much 🥺 I'm about 6k words into Grapejuice part 2! Hopefully it'll be up in the coming week or so 🥰

#elioslover #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles fic #elioslover writing #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb

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elioslover · 2 years

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Omg omg grapejuice part two should be up later today!! So excited to share it with you all!!

#grapejuice fic #elioslover writing #harry styles fic

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elioslover · 9 months

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Routines (Harry Styles x reader) dadrry!

Premise: Harry is stirred from his sleep by the best little surprise.

[I could not help myself!]

Word count: 1.4k.

Warnings: . Other writing / More dad!harry

🧸

The sun is bright-even brighter than the curtains shielding it from the sleepy owners tucked away under soft and fluffy white sheets. Speaking of, Harry has been in a deep sleep, swimming across dreamland with gills and a tail. An extremely enticing activity that only has him lulling further into unconsciousness.

But it doesn’t take long for his dreams to start turning foggy, a soft and cute voice cooing out to him, coming from the sky above him, demanding his attention. He knows the voice well- knows he will be awake in a few moments. And how could he resist when the voice is so loving, a mumble of half-formed words and little giggles.

He can feel someone starts to stir beside him, a soft grumble threatening to roll over and tend to the little voice calling for your attention from the other side of the bed. Harry needs to stop you before you are fully awake and can't convince yourself to fall asleep, well aware that letting you rest will be one of the only graces he can still give you.

Blindingly reaching his arm out, Harry gently rubs his palm along your back, swirling circles along your skin, signalling your nearing return to slumber. Sighing out with relief, you shift and snuggle back into the plush sheets.

The giggling goes on, closer to his face now and Harry can't stop the sleepy smile that creeps along his feature, excitement for his eyes to flutter open so he can greet the needy little one who is only moments away from wrapping their chubby little fingers around his nearest curls, threatening to tug if he waits much longer.

This is a guarantee after a repeat of the same wake-up routine for weeks in a row- a tiny tot, reaching no taller than his knees, the perfect place to wrap around him to stay as close as humanly possible. A little baby, well rested, waking up with the sun and ready to sing their little songs for mummy and daddy.

She had stayed snuggled beneath her lilac and unicorn duvet for as long as her little thoughts could keep her company, but after a good moment of fiddling with her fingers- raised above her and aimed for the ceiling, creating wonky hand puppets- she is determined for only one thing; the company of the tall, all-knowing parent.

Her soft feet, devoid of creases, new to the whole living thing, pad along the hardwood floor, navigating from the safety of her bed in search of the main bedroom. The journey from one room to another is hardly existent- less than five footsteps away, and with the door already slanted, she is welcome to wander and waddle along to the king-sized mattress.

A smile turns to a little grin, baby teeth peaking past her gums as she makes her way over before coming to a clumsy halt at the foot of the bed. Both parents are buried between a mountain of sheets, heads pressed into the pillows, soft snores emitted in intervals, and she frowns with little furrowed brows, longing for them to wake up and smother her with lovies.

Harry obliges with another little smile, sending it her way from behind closed lids, taking a last second to enjoy the feeling of darkness before slowly squinting his eyes to open, slowly separating and embracing the harsh shining of the sun, peaking through a sliver of the crumpled curtain, bouncing along and illuminating the bedroom.

With one eye more open than the other, his vision blurs to clarity, he is met with the wide and gleeful gaze of his favourite little gremlin. She has him grinning from her mere presence, partially satisfied that she has managed to persuade Harry to escape slumber, giddy for the gush of greetings she is guaranteed to receive.

His voice is gravelly as a toothy grin spreads along his cheeks, shiny teeth cheesing up at the little lady looking over at him with the widest most innocent green eyes, thick black lashes fanning and framing her stark, fiery gaze,

“Good morning princess.”

He can hear you shuffle with surety and satisfaction, digging deep into the mattress and delving back to sleep with the reassurance that your little one is taken care of- for the moment, at least. Satisfied with his success, Harry turns all of his attention to the little girl currently clapping her hands together with anticipation as she answers,

“Hello, dada.”

Each time she chooses to verbalise her thoughts, Harry feels like it’s the first time- the first time he’s heard her little voice. Even if she’s only been absent for a couple hours, he cannot help the surprise that stirs in his heart, butterflies batting against the walls of his stomach, filled with excitement over his little creation beaming up at him with such pure adoration.

Harry rolls over fully, resting on his hip, one arm raising to cradle his head and the other reaching out in an attempt to reel her in closer. She obliges in an instant, bouncing up and down on the balls of her chubby little feet, bounding over to him, her hand wrapping around his own extended palm.

With her hand in his, Harry is always amused at how tiny she really is- with such a rambunctious and animated personality, it's hard to believe her third birthday is yet to pass- fitting in his palm like that of a petit flower, her half-scrunched fist sitting right in the middle of his hand like blooming petals.

“Did you have a nice sleep?” Harry ponders, a warm feeling melting his heart as she begins nodding avidly. She had no dreams, despondent to the world, wholesomely welcoming the darkness, and Harry longs for the days when his sleep was the same.

She is inching closer, clambering over in an attempt to settle into his custody, and Harry is more than willing to comply as he gently guides her closer with his grip, encouraging her to continue her climb up onto the mattress,

“Wanna snuggle with mummy and daddy for a little?” He already knows the answer, but he loves the way her eyes light up with excitement.

“Absolutely.” That’s a new one for her, replacing the repetitive answer of yes, Harry is reeling with amusement, in awe of her apparent skill in picking up and copying the words she has heard both you and Harry saying at some point or another. This is absolutely his contribution- he had said it a couple times just the day before.

“C’mere, clever little one.” He helps her crawl up, the mattress dipping so minimally as she cuddles closer into his hold.

Harry shifts further back, careful not to bump your body, but soothed as one of your hands sluggishly holds onto his shoulder, your own body squeezing closer to his until there is no space and Harry is being spooned by his sweetest companion, back slotted between your chest.

He provides enough space for his little one to snuggle over into him, her entirety curled into a half-moon, legs curled up and little arms scrunched against her chest. As soon as her head hits the pillow, she is starting to settle, little eyes struggling to keep from swelling shut with the promise of extra sleep. Harry knows it will be mere moments until she slips away with melatonin, leaving him with the promise that he will soon join her.

His eyes flutter shut as she snuggles in even closer- if possible- and his arms curls around her with comfort and security, making certain she knows she is always safe in his company. And it seems like seconds before her body stills, and relaxes into the bundle of sheets, little breaths evening out until Harry is sure she is asleep.

With sleepy eyes and a wholesomely swollen heart, Harry is wrapped up and warm, surrounded by the most important loves in his life, wondering how he got so lucky as slumber slowly seduces him back into darkness.

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elioslover · 3 months

Text

Worst Wingman - Harry Styles x Reader.

[Premise: Harry is a shite wingman... or is he?]

Prompt Requests- send a couple numbers and a trope or dynamic! (18, 26, 31, 32, 35).

"No goodnight kiss for me? " // "Are you daring me to kiss you?"

Main Writing

Word Count: 2.3k.

🫧

Harry doesn't even have a chance to pull up the handbrake before she has the door open, clutching onto her bag and stepping out into the brisk autumn air, her shoes swiftly scraping against the concrete, hardly caring if the door shut (or if Harry was following) behind her.

She is aggressively rummaging through a cluster of items in pursuit of house keys, huffing at the incredulity of the man she can almost guarantee is hot on her heels, ready to grovel his way back into her good books.

By the time she comes to a stop at her door, it’s difficult to ignore the sudden invasion of Harry’s presence nearing her own.

He keeps a small space available in favour of her comfort, but his confident energy is so palpable that she feels he might as well have his lips pressed against the crook of her neck, it felt as if his hands were already ghosting around her waist, holding her with soothing security.

The key takes far too long jingling as she repeatedly misses the lock, her hands start to subtly shake with nervous frustration, and though Harry- already peering over her shoulder- wants to chuckle, he pretends not to notice, and that’s an easy feat when his gaze dips to observe the divets of her collarbone and shoulders- almost bare of materials- dedicating his attention to the scatter of sunspots and freckles along her skin.

On the third and final attempt, the keys twist with triumph and the front door clicks, unlocking, and instantly she turns the knob and pushes the door ajar- just enough to slide a shoe- perhaps a leg- through.

Harry waits in anticipation as she readjusts her bag and slants the door wider, making sure not to leave any space for Harry to follow her through.

He softly chuckles at her petulant stubbornness, staying put as she slips through the cracks and peers back at him from behind the wooden barrier with a stern frown, secretly living for the feelings of empowerment that surge up her spine.

But, Harry is only amused, and it only increases the longer he studies the dramatism painting her wide eyes, blushed cheeks, and bushy eyebrows with adorable misplaced anger. Well, he seems to think it’s misplaced.

She does not. She and Harry have had a simple and seamless relationship up until the past couple of months when he suddenly started acting up.

An agreement of ‘we’re thirty, time is running out, we should be each other's wingmen’ has turned into a blurred line of kisses and touches behind closed doors, and her focus is now wavering from setting Harry up with someone else in favour of keeping him all to herself.

The entire agreement hinges on the fact that they're both looking for different things and as far as she’s aware, Harry’s mind hasn't changed, even though they have evidently adjusted the rules- romance definitely wasn’t initially part of the deal- her fears of rejected reciprocity help refrain her from fully indulging in the fantasy of what life could look like if they just chucked the plan and chose each other.

But Harry thinks he’s made himself quite clear- at least he thinks it’s quite obvious after the numerous times he has interrupted or completely compromised any of her recent romantic prospects.

He couldn’t recall the exact moment or reason why, but this little ‘agreement’ between the two had rapidly turned into something more for him, and he hoped that she felt it too.

Sometimes he’s sure she does- that she enjoys each touch and giggle with as much endearment as he does- but then moments like this have him questioning it all as she works her hardest to create distance, visibly frazzled and very disappointed.

Harry doesn't challenge her defence, he doesn't make any attempts to step forward or push back, only leaning his shoulder comfortably against the wall, cheekily smiling in light of her next move.

Naturally, her chest tightens at his borderline childish nonchalance, but, resisting the temptation to chide him for every single thing he does that irritates the life out of her, she takes a deep breath and puts on a sickly sweet smile,

“Thanks for the ride, Harry.”

As quick as the words leave her mouth, she uses her palm to weakly attempt to shut the door, hoping to leave Harry as confused as she currently is.

But he’s been expecting it- actually amused that it took her this long to formally dismiss him- and as gently as he possibly can, Harry uses his own palm to stop the door from swinging shut, ensuring her grouchy face remains on full display.

She is in no mood for games, and they both know it, but Harry cannot resist the electric currents of endearment surging through him as she scowls and scoffs with impatience, foot tapping in anticipation for his next- and sure to be audacious- action.

His chosen tactic is to smirk lazily, leaning further- if possible- into the wall, his arm still extended, holding the door ajar, head tilting, eyes enamoured and practically pouting along with his plump lips as he ponders,

“No goodnight kiss for me?”

“You’re incredulous!” Her voice raises, mortified, as she makes a final attempt to shut the door.

Without even confirming, she turns on her heels- ironically immediately starting to rid herself of this evening’s chosen stilettos- but by the sounds of it, Harry has followed after her, just barely standing in the entrance hall, his eyes like a magnet to her bent body as he mutters,

“You like that about me.”

Levelling on the ground, she whips back around to face him, arms angrily folded across her chest, and currently she has to crane her neck to address him directly,

“Right now, I don't like you at all.”

“Don’t be mean.” He whines.

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to be mean to me?” She huffs.

Harry feels slightly stumped by that one, his arms absentmindedly straying up his chest, crossing sternly with sudden defensiveness, frowning,

“When have I been mean to you?”

“When you kiss me!”

Her arms flail, brows furrowed with such frustration that Harry feels a new level of confusion, mostly focused on her plump, peachy lips as he asks,

“Are you daring me to kiss you?”

“Are you daring me to punch you?” She threatens.

“Ooh, kinky.” He mewls.

“You make my blood boil!” She all but tosses flames his way, pairing her verbal threat with a hearty step forward, entering his personal space.

“You make me happy.” He takes a mirroring step, meeting her in the middle, his features slowly sinking from jovial into a clusterfuck of perplexion.

But this only seems to make things worse, she seems close to fuming and Harry swears he can see steam spewing from her ears and nostrils.

And she only creeps nearer, one arm collapsing to her side, the other raising to press a stressed palm to her flaming forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, she has soothed her twisted stomach and the thumping in her chest has lulled enough for her to huff with unmistakable disappointment,

“What the hell are we doing, Harry?”

Harry’s stare swells and steals his confident security as he tries to sort through the clues she so sternly requires,

“Well right now I’m trying-”

“Not right now. In general.” She demands.

“What do you mean?” Harry- definitely discouraged- concedes and asks for her aid.

It’s a sting to his heart when her face only surges with what he sees as sorrowful hatred.

“I mean,” Her tone has lost all patience as she gestures wildly at him, “What the hell is this?” and then her body slumps sadly, “Us.”

“I dunno. Guess I thought we were having fun.”

Harry’s head bows, his heart has a headache, and all he really wants is to reach out and smooth out the furrow in her brows, rid her frown with reassurance.

But as soon as he attempts to get nearer, she furthers the distance,

“My wingman constantly kissing me and ruining my dates is not fun… For me, at least.” She hopes the severity of her hurt stays hidden.

“I haven't been ruining your dates.” Harry pouts, still puzzled.

“Oh c’mon. You know exactly what you’re doing.” Her eyes roll at his ridiculousness.

“I don’t!” He hadn’t consciously considered it until this current crisis, and… she’s right. He’s been actively sabotaging the same opportunities he so sweetly sent her direction. He concedes, “Okay, I do, but-”

“But?”

“I thought you liked kissing me.” With honesty, Harry shrugs weakly.

“I do! That’s the problem.” She can hardly stay still, dragging herself deeper into the depths of suffocating frustration.

“Okay, now I’m really confused.” He can’t conceive of what she’s trying to communicate.

Suddenly, she’s the one closing the gap, walking straight for him until the only thing separating their chests is an arm's length, peering up at Harry with a gaze he recognizes from brief moments in between the sheets, his head resting in her lap, and after midnight goodbye kisses.

“I like kissing you. And I like spending time with you.” She announces with certainty, “But I don’t think you want us to be more than… whatever this is.” Her shoulders slump as she weakly gestures once more, “The least you could do is be the wingman you promised to be.”

“Then I don’t want to be your wingman anymore.”

Harry says it with such simplicity that it seems like a total throwaway comment- like none of this meant anything more than a verbal agreement- like this whole thing was nothing to him from the very start. She feels a lot of things, but the shame of it all is sickening.

“Okay, fine! You could have just said that!” Her voice, booming- cracking on impact, “Didn’t have to pity me.”

Teary eyes trail down to stare at her shimmering toenails, blinking at a rapid rate to avoid any falls, she hopes to the heavens above that a miraculously giant bird would just swoop down and carry Harry away from this catastrophic nightmare so she can cry in peace.

He doesn’t wish for the same- in fact, he just wishes she would look at him- he needs her gaze to reassure his entire existence, for her eyes to confirm the words slipping past her lips.

So, with the softness of a summer breeze, Harry nears her and though she still won’t look up, he feels it okay to assert,

“I’ve never pitied you, and you know it.” He tries to sound void of accusation, “Just wanted to help you out.”

“Well, no need to worry, your job is done.” She spits, finally looking up. Harry almost wishes she hadn’t.

“Fine.” He scoffs.

“Fine.” She mocks.

They stay locked in a stare-off of lust and maybe love all wrapped up in a bow of a fiery gift box about to blow open and burst their bubble.

Harry’s chest huffs and his next exhale is as childish as the last,

“Good.”

“Great.” She grits through a sarcastic thin-lipped smile.

Harry loves the little strands of hair that have stuck to her skin with sweaty fervour, the promising taste of her peachy plump lips, chubby flared and blotchy cheeks.

Her eyes- tinted red and swooping lashes slightly damp- are as comforting as always and they give Harry the last little push he so clearly needs,

“So, can I finally ask you on a date now?”

“Excuse me?” She actually wants to ask, ‘What the hell is happening?’.

“I like kissing you. I like spending time with you.” His voice is as certain as his words, “I’d really like to take you out, properly, and I’d love to be yours completely.”

Timidly, she peers up at him and after a moment of glancing his gaze to seek out any reason for Harry to be lying. But, there’s nothing more than the glimmer of adoration swirling around amorously in the forest of green.

Then, shyly conceding with insurmountable relief, she somewhat cautiously asks,

“... Really?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay…” It’s becoming impossible to hide the smile creeping at the corners of her mouth, “I’d like- love- to go on a date with you.”

Harry sighs out and releases so much untended pressure that he feels momentarily lightheaded, or it has something to do with the words- he had unknowingly deemed a necessity- coming out in a silky ribbon of a sentence, sung like a prayer from the prettiest of lips from the prettiest of people.

He ignores how silly and giddy he must seem as he eagerly removes the remaining distance between them, shoes gently bumping against her toes. One hand makes a home on her lower back,

“How does tomorrow sound? Pick you up around 7?”

“Sounds good…”

“Good.”

Harry concludes as her palms tentatively press to his torso, lashes batting lusciously as his face boldly leans closer, mouth glistening, garnering full attention as his free hand comes up to cup her jaw.

She can feel her toes trying to leave the floor, ankles stretching to get closer, hand leaving his chest in favour of the nape of his neck, her fingers faintly brushing the base of his hair.

Harry’s thumb slowly strokes at her cheek, then trails along her chin and lingers along the pillows of her lips,

“Now, would it be cruel to ask for that goodnight kiss?”

💞

451 notes · View notes

elioslover · 10 months

Text

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation.

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance.

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin.

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant.

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him.

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you.

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put.

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding,

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.”

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace.

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you.

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets.

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features.

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso.

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat.

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake.

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you.

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers.

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release.

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck.

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth.

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep.

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock.

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface.

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically.

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar.

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him.

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you.

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines.

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible.

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more.

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state,

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again,

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder.

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear,

“Ask me nicely.”

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him,

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him,

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now.

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms.

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction.

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed.

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.”

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast.

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly.

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together.

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another.

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction.

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job.

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking.

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours.

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress.

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own.

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back.

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure.

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last.

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness.

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.”

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin.

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life.

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.”

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.”

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck.

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso.

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips.

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat.

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention.

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind.

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige.

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Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

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